#he likes to watch Steve’s morning routine

[ahhrenata]

Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie hears him. He keeps his eyes closed and just listens- to Steve grumbling to himself when his hair doesn’t sit quite right, who starts to hum and whisper some catchy song. Eddie turns his sleepy gaze onto Steve as he shuffles around their room- watching quietly as he slips on his clothes, his shoes, a simple chain with Eddie’s ring around his neck. A warm, affectionate smile breaks across his face. Before he leaves, Steve glances at what he expects to be a sleeping Eddie, but instead, he’s met with a rasped, ‘Hey.’ Eddie sits himself up, stretches his arm across Steve’s side of the bed, and reaches, fingers wiggling. Steve crosses the room to cradle his face.

Their foreheads press, noses bump, and Steve brushes his fingers across scars and dimples.

He breathes a quiet,

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Eddie huffs a tired laugh,

‘You know I never mind.’

Because, yeah.

Every morning Steve tries to stay quiet while he gets ready for work, but Eddie always hears him.

( another one from the poll | WIP )

[buckyalpine]

Some shy Bucky with meddling Sam and Steve and a cute little baker. 

Bucky hummed at the warm drink that danced on his tongue, a new creation that the sweet girl at the bakery had insisted he try. He wasn’t big on experimenting but ever since he’d visited the shop, he couldn’t say no to the human form of sunshine that stood behind the counter, always offering him something new to she’d made. Today, the flavors of vanilla and praline were infused in his coffee, your latest combination you had made just for him.

“So, thoughts?” You smiled hopefully, the twinkle in your eyes making Bucky blush like a school boy. 

“It’s delicious doll, thank you” He slid you a 5, shaking his head when you tried to give him back change, “Keep it, if anything I should be paying you more for something that good”

You giggled, waving goodbye to the handsome super soldier as he left, the dainty bell to the door of your shop ringing on his way out. What started off as a one time thing became a daily occurrence; Bucky would go for a morning walk or run and stop by the bakery before making his way back. He enjoyed his new routine, getting a coffee, talking to the angel that worked there, grabbing a cookie, getting to see her smile, trying a new drink, fuck, that sweet laugh. 

Now that it was getting warmer, you’d started to introduce him to cold drinks with fruit flavors and different colors. It had been almost three months since he’d first visited; your bakery was a sold part of his day now and he going to change it any time soon. 

“I’ll be able to open a whole new shop with how much you keep tipping me Jamie” you shook your head while he chuckled, sliding the change back to you. 

“Well if there's anyone that deserves it, it’s you” The smirk he gave you caused butterflies to fly madly around your tummy; you had no business crushing on the handsome soldier but he made it so hard! 

Bucky couldn’t stop smiling as he walked back to the compound, humming to himself with another new creation of yours to try. He wouldn’t quite remember the name of what you’d given him but he loved it nonetheless, adoring the sprinkles you added on top just because. 

"I thought you only drank black coffee” Sam cocked an eyebrow from where he was sitting in the kitchen as Bucky walked in, seeing the bright pink and blue drink the brunette was holding. A shit eating grin made it’s way to his face while Bucky groaned.

“Don’t start-

“Who is she. C’mon, big grumpy, staring machine like you drinking unicorn in a cup?” 

“There is no she” Bucky hissed while Sam raised his hands in defeat, not the least bit convinced. 

“Whatever you say” 

One nosy, sneaky Sam and Steve mission later,

“For fucks sake, Dear God” Bucky groaned seeing his two best friends already sitting at the counter chatting up his angel, both men grinning when they heard Bucky walk in. 

“Hi Jamie!” you smiled while Steve chuckled to himself seeing the brunette glower at them. 

“Awww, hi Jamie” Sam cooed, making a kissy face that Bucky would’ve smacked off if you weren’t standing right there. “We didn’t know you came to this place” 

“Jamie comes here all the time” You smiled, making his regular order while Bucky huffed, his annoyance melting away watching you flit behind the counter, handing him his coffee and a fresh cookie. 

“Does he now” Steve snorted, looking at Bucky watching you with heart eyes, 

“Y’know, y/n was saying she wanted to see that movie you’ve been going on about” Sam stated, nudging Bucky’s shoulder, “You know the one you’ve been dying to see too? Maybe you could both go. Thanks for the coffee y/n” 

Bucky stared at Sam with panicked wide eyes, the pink on his cheeks spreading to his neck and ears. Sam and Steve made their way out while Steve gave Bucky’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze along with a knowing smile. 

Go for it. 

“You - wouldn’t-with me- would-would you want to?” He sputtered out while you giggled with a nod making him relax. “Sorry, it’s been so long” Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, collecting himself. “and my friends are idiots” 

“I’d love you” you whispered, leaning over to give he blushing soldier a peck on his cheek.

“It’s a date, doll” Bucky winked, loving the bashful smile you gave him, his charming self slowly coming back. He’d eventually owe Sam and Steve $20 each when they end up being the best men at his wedding but it would be worth it. 

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Simmer #3

CH.3 Sunny Side Up | The Menu [4.3K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.

Talking to Eddie became a little easier after that night. Just a little. You greeted each other on morning shifts with tired nods, maybe a small ‘hi’ from you, a grunt from him that you’d learned not to take offence to. You’d watched time and time again as Jonathan brought his coffee to the kitchen, handing Eddie a mocha full of chocolate syrup and the boy received another grunt in thanks too. 

The diner became more familiar, as did your colleagues and it made your heart ache a little when you realised you melted into their routines, their little world as easily as they did with each other. Steve knew your favourite song, liked to turn it up when it came on the radio, pointing at you with enough fanfare to make you flush when he sang the lyrics into the end of a wooden spoon. 

Robin had invited you to hers, an unofficial girls night after a Sunday late shift that became a habit without meaning to. You shared her apartment space the way she shared yours, leftover pyjama shirts in each other's drawers, rented movies swapped between television sets. And at times, when she was home from college, Nancy would join you both, curled on the loveseat with Robin as they listened to your horror stories from Chicago. 

Argyle would offer you rides to work, always passing you on the days you missed the bus, pulling over his brightly painted van with a lazy grin and a yell of “jump in my ‘lil Chicago pizza.”

It was easy, comfortable, a slow kind of life that you craved in the city, the long days and quiet nights that you were more suited to. Hawkins was far from the white picket fence dream, but you loved your little apartment with its view of the cornfields, the long road out of town that you knew took you to work. And when the bus stopped on Sundays and you walked to the diner, you’d pass that old garage the same way you did on your first day in town and wave to Wayne. 

It was easy. It was simple. 

That Tuesday, you clocked in early after swapping a shift with Nancy, the heat rolling into the side door with you as the sun rose. It was the earliest you’d started and the diner was still quiet, a lack of customers between the midnight hours that the truckers frequented and the breakfast rush. The radio was up louder than usual, the smell of fresh bread coming from the ovens, a huge bowl of batter on the counter beside some chopped strawberries, glittering with sugar. 

“Hey! Hey what's the matter with you, feel right? Don't you feel right, baby?”

You could see Jonathan in the front of the diner, setting clean tables with new cutlery, Argyle trailing behind him - not necessarily helping, but definitely talking animatedly about something. Jim was in his office, groaning over receipts and copies of everyone’s vacation requests, two empty mugs of coffee in front of him. You weren’t sure where Ed—

“Jesus, watch it!”

You gasped on instinct as someone collided with your shoulder, a dull pain that wasn’t all that sore but scared you nonetheless. Eddie was glaring at you, holding a hot tray of morning rolls aloft with a dish towel. 

“I could’ve fucking burnt you,” he snapped, setting them down on his station with a clatter. 

You winced, an apology on your tongue, already tasting sour. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I didn’t hear you say corner, or, or door or—”

You watched as Eddie’s frown disappeared momentarily, a soft drop of his expression that made you realise at the same time he did, that he didn’t give any of those warnings at all. You thought he’d apologise then, maybe back track with a rare smile but instead his scowl deepened and he set about pulling ingredients out of the fridge. 

“Stumbling ‘round like a baby deer, man,” Eddie huffed, his voice low, like you maybe weren’t meant to hear. But you did. “Gonna end up seriously hurtin’ yourself— or someone else. Not supposed to be in the damn kitchen, told you you weren’t made out f—”

Tears burned the corners of your eyes at the first sign of conflict but your heart pounded and you let yourself get wound up. You squared your shoulders, sucked in a breath and let the sting of your eyes and the lump in your throat fuel you. “Hey!” You snapped, only sounding a little watery, a little soft. “It wasn’t— it wasn’t my fault. You’re supposed to tell someone you’re coming if you’re holding something.” You blew out a breath, acutely aware of how Eddie was watching you with raised brows. “Especially something hot. And I don’t stumble.”

You glared right back at the boy, hoping you looked as intimidating as he did, throwing your hands on your hips for good measure until you felt too much like your mom and dropped them back by your side. You squirmed in the silence, pulling self-consciously at the hem of your uniform dress, still trying to keep your lips in an annoyed flat line, your brows as turned down as Eddie’s. Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes, throwing a pound of butter into a huge mixing bowl. It made the station shake with a thud and he turned his back to you before he spoke, shoulders stiff, a tattoo that curled up from his back to the nape of his neck just visible for the way he’d pulled his curl up in a bun. 

“Why are you always in such a bad mood? Huh? And I’m allowed in the kitchen,” you added, hating that you sounded haughty, but fuck this boy and his attitude problem. The hot and cold act was starting to wear thin. “I work here too.”

He turned then, the sleeves of his chef whites rolled up to his elbows, ropes of muscle and lines of ink curling around his forearms. His fingers were covered in butter and sugar, and when he took a few steps closer, brows raised at you in a challenge, he smelled like cinnamon. “That right, sweetheart?”

You didn’t back down, even though your stomach flipped. You lifted your chin higher, tried to give it back to him as good as he gave it out. “You think I come here for the good of my health?” You wanted to bite, you wanted to sink your teeth in and draw blood. You wanted to hurt. The taste of honey on fresh sourdough lingered on your tongue.  “I heard the food is shit.”

Eddie’s nostrils flared at your childish barb, but as immature as it was, the boy gritted his teeth and stormed back to the work station. The bowls clattered against each, steel on steel and the spatula he’d been using got launched into the empty sink. 

“Just stay out my way,” Eddie grunted. 

 The sharpness of his words made your throat tight, face scrunching unhappily because what had you ever done to him? You decided not to answer, pressing your lips together instead and hoping Eddie didn’t see your watery eyes when you stalked past his table. You ducked into the office, slamming your locker door as you shoved your bag inside, shouldering into Steve by accident on the way back out. 

“Oh, sorry— hey, hey,” Steve frowned, catching sight of your face. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t answer, just smiling and shrugging him off, already pulling out your pad and pen from the front of your apron, as if the quiet diner was suddenly full of people who were desperate for their orders to be taken. You didn’t look at Eddie as you left, disappearing between the table and booths, hoping for something to clean until a table filled up. 

You didn’t see it, you didn’t hear it, but Steve walked to Eddie’s station with a scowl that matched the other boy’s and stole the spoon that was in his hand. 

“Hey!” Eddie’s head shot up, eyes narrowed, ready for a fight. “Give me th—”

“Stop being a dick,” Steve scolded, holding the spoon over his head when Eddie tried to grab it across the bench. “You’re being an ass, man. And for what?”

Eddie glared, reaching for the stolen utensil and swearing when Steve rapped the back of his knuckles with it. “What’re you even talkin’ about?”

Steve scoffed, “don’t act dumb, Munson, it isn’t cute. What have you got against the new girl?”

Eddie didn’t answer, giving up and crossing the kitchen to rake through a drawer for another spoon instead. He stalked to the refrigerator too, still scowling, piling more ingredients in his arms as he went. He walked back to Steve with eggs and fruit, jars of spices that were all different colours. Steve was still standing, shirt sleeves rolled up, his name badge on upside down. 

“Well?”

“Steve, just—” Eddie let out a huff and set a pan on the stovetop, flicking on the switches until a blue flame appeared. It bloomed into red, orange and Eddie spooned some butter into the pan. “I don’t have anything against her.” His cheeks were hot, he could feel it. A pink flush that went across his nose and attacked the tips of his ears. He cracked an egg too vigorously, shell in the yolk, making it burst. He swore. 

“No?” Steve didn’t look convinced. He handed Eddie back his spoon. “Doing your damn best to convince her otherwise. Poor kid looked like she was about to cry.”

Eddie’s eyes shuttered closed at that, guilt gnawing a hole in his chest. He cracked another egg, watched it turn white over the heat. He really wanted a cigarette. 

The bell for the diner door rang, signalling the arrival of customers, a bleary eyed bunch of business men that looked like they were from out of town. Their suits were too sharp, close shaven beards and briefcases making them look like sore thumbs against the garish decor and sticky booth seats. Both boy’s watched you approach their table, smiling sweetly and nodding shyly as you scribbled down their orders. When you turned to head to the hatch, a piece of paper ready to be slapped onto the stainless steel bar, Eddie watched as the men eyed your behind, appreciative faces and shared whispers about the way your legs looked in your dress. 

He cracked another egg, eyes narrowed, chest tighter than before. 

“Say sorry,” Steve finalised the conversation with a friendly slap to Eddie’s shoulder as he passed him. You were only a few tables away, head ducked down, eyes hidden as you approached. Steve looked serious as he said, “fix it.”

—————

By the time the clock hit eleven am, Jonathan was coaxing you into going for your break, handing your orders to Steve as he cleared the table your customers just left. He waved away your protests, voice quiet and soft as he handed you the dollar notes that were left for you beside a ketchup stain. 

“I’ve got it,” he tsked. “Go on, go get some food or somethin’.”

So you smiled and pulled off your apron as you headed through the back, already sipping on a glass of lemon water you’d poured yourself at the bar. You could hear Steve greet a family at the front door, all charm and sweetness, and the radio in the kitchen was still playing. Breakfast was almost over but the place still smelled sweet, syrup and cinnamon, cooked pancakes and fresh bread, maple bacon that the diners always ordered an extra plate of. 

Argyle was at the sink, washing a pot and he smiled as you walked across the tiles. “Wassup Chicago town?” There were bubbles on his arms, a walkman clipped to the waistband of his chef whites and headphones around his neck. “You lookin’ for Eddie?”

You frowned without meaning to, wondering if you could get away with pinching some leftover breakfast without anyone realising. Jim didn’t mind, but Eddie was way too particular with his leftovers. 

“Uh, no,” you answered. “Should I be?”

“Think he was lookin’ for you.”

You didn’t get to ask anymore questions, or even laugh at the idea of the chef seeking you out, because Eddie was coming back out from the pantry with a new bag of sugar. His eyes flitted to you as he walked to his bench, cheeks a little pink and he sprinkled some of it over a bowl of chopped fruit before he said anything. He nodded to the stool he made you sit on the other day, the one at his station and it was only then you noticed there was a plate sitting. 

Two perfectly cooked eggs, sunny side up with a huge slice of orange that was arranged like a smile. There was a single blueberry in the middle of the plate, plucked from the bowl that Eddie placed beside it, finishing off the smiley faced breakfast. 

“You hungry?” Eddie murmured, his voice softer than it had been when you last ran into him. He kept his head bent, curls framing his brown eyes, lips twisted. “You didn’t have breakfast.” 

“Wh—?” Your lips parted, your apron still fisted in your hand and you rounded the station slowly, eyes on the boy like you were waiting for the joke to land. 

Eddie’s gaze shot from you to the stool and he tilted his chin once more. “Sit.” His demand wasn’t bossy, despite the bluntness. His voice was so much more gentle than you’d heard it before. The frown was still there, the stitch between his brows but his eyes looked softer, honeyed caramel, brown sugar, the stickiest kind of toffee. “Gonna get cold.”

So you sat, looking behind you to glance at Argyle, wondering if this was strange enough for him to take notice too. Sure enough, the boy had stopped scrubbing, his hands still in the hot water as steam rose up around his confused face. He was watching the both of you, eyes glancing between you and Eddie as he tried to work out what was happening. 

Eddie turned his back on you as you stared down at the meal he’d made you, eyes still wide and something inside of you sank at the idea of his walking away. But he spun back, a fork and knife in his hand, wrapped in a napkin. He didn’t hand them to you, but he slid them across the counter, his expression neutral - you couldn’t work him out. 

“Thank you,” you whispered and Eddie nodded. You wondered if Steve and Jonathan got their breakfast made for them when they went on break, if they came into the kitchen to a bowl of fresh fruit - mangoes and berries and brightly coloured slices of citrus. You thought it would be best not to ask. “Looks good.”

Eddie hummed and nodded, waiting until you picked up your cutlery and unfurled it from the wrapping. He made his leave then, cheeks pink, curls going a little frizzy in the heat and he ducked away, picking up a crate that he took into the freezer, the large door thumping behind him. 

The napkin fell to the table as you took out your fork, marvelling over the way the yolk burst perfectly as you dug in, golden liquid pooling across your plate. You picked up the blueberry nose before it got caught, popping it into your mouth and humming at the flavour. And when you looked down, there was a word scrawled across the napkin, faded black ink on white tissue. 

“Sorry.”

—————

Eddie made sure he waited long enough for you to be gone by the time he appeared from the walk-in, nose red with the cold, skin goose pimpled under his uniform - because fucking hell, why did he decide to hide in the freezer? He came back out warily, keeping his back against the tiled wall as he peered around the corner. You were gone from his station, your twenty minute break already over and he could see your empty plate and bowl stacked at the sink beside Argyle.  

He squared his shoulders and tried to act normal as he stomped back into his kitchen, frown set back on his face but his heart was thundering. It made him feel ill, the way his chest got right, the way his stomach flipped. His station was clear of your plates, but you’d left the napkin there, the corner of it tucked under a plastic quart container so it didn’t float away. 

There, in your much neater handwriting and the pink pen you liked to take orders with, was a reply to the boy’s scrawled apology. 

“Thank you.”

Eddie stared at the words for too long, until the rosy coloured ink went blurry and his cheeks turned the same shade. He wasn’t sure where you’d gone, but he could smell perfume he assumed was yours, lingering between the stacks of chopped strawberries, the halved mango on the counter. 

“You got a crush, my friend?” 

Eddie’s head snapped up, a scowl set back on his face instinctually. He liked Argyle, he didn’t mind him at all, but the boy was standing by the sink and was looking at him knowingly. Argyle grinned and raised his brows, waiting for Eddie to answer. 

“What? No.” Eddie slammed the napkin back down on the desk. Argyle was still grinning. “Shut up.” Eddie waited until the other boy returned to the dishes before he took the napkin and folded it up, tucking it into his pocket. 

He’d bin it later, he told himself. It wasn’t a big deal. 

—————

The day Eddie was scheduled off on the rota was a much busier day. It seemed like bad luck, the main cook’s day off coinciding with the monthly farmers market that was set up in Hawkin’s Main Street. The square was filled with stalls, fresh fruit and vegetables in crates, the smell of homemade soap, lavender and rose on the breeze. The tiny storefronts helped funnel the crowds in the direction of the diner, lines of cars driving to the restaurant for breakfast, their trunks full of fresh goods and Mrs Sinclair’s apple pie slices. 

It meant your day went too fast, the tips good and the chance of a break slim. Argyle was pushed to his limit, the freezer used more than ever as the full tables called for a quicker turnaround, the frozen burger patties being used instead of the way Eddie liked to make each one fresh. But Eddie wasn’t here and you certainly weren’t thinking about him, so he didn’t need to know. And when your shift ended at five, the dinner rush was just as crazy so you stayed on until six and helped Nancy clear a table of twelve guests, two families from out of town that had too many kids and there were lines of coloured crayon along the walls that just wouldn’t shift until you gave in and brought out a bottle of bleach. 

She was grateful enough that she split the table’s tip with you, something you tried to wave away but she insisted and stuffed the dollar bills into the front of your apron, not caring about the stains, the dryer grease, the spilled coffee there. Nancy looked just as undone as you. But it had been a good day - you missed the chance to eat, and maybe get something made for you by Eddie - but you had enough cash rolled up in your purse to start a new stack in your freezer at home and the bus back into town should be due any min—

The bus rolled past before you could get to the stop, the tires squeaking in protest as it passed you by, your feet not able to take you out of the parking lot quick enough. And it was still fine, there was still a little light in the sky, that navy-lilac kinda way that told you nightfall was coming soon, or maybe rain. Maybe both. 

So you pulled the strap of your bag across your chest and wished your uniform wasn’t as starchy and tight, ‘cause the heat still lingered even in the evening, warmth collecting in the shadows even as indigo coloured clouds rolled in above. The rain didn’t hit until ten minutes into your walk, a Misty drizzle that had you scrunching your face until it turned into a downpour. A heavy summer storm where thunder shouted at you from the distance, way out across the cornfields and making the sky flash white. You ran down the sidewalk where there weren’t many places to stop, to shelter and you suddenly wished more than ever that you still had your shitty old car that you barely needed to use when you lived in Chicago. 

But the garage was coming up, a familiar building with peeling red paint on its walls and a huge shutter that was already closed a third of the way. You hoped and prayed that Wayne was still around, wondering if it would be too cheeky to ask if you could finally take him up on the offer of that ride he once asked if you needed. Weeks of passing by and waving to him - and offering a snickerdoodle from the box you once took into work for Jonathan’s birthday - had built up a quiet sort of friendship. 

The garage was quiet and the bell sounded as you pushed open the door, the workshop floor stained with oil and paint, leftover footprints that would never clean off. Cars sat asleep, some with their hoods up, engines ripped out and dismantled on the floor, and thank god, there was still a light on in the office. A warm glow through a window, the outline of a man sorting through papers and his head lifted when he heard you bump into the side of a workbench, a tool you didn’t know the name of clattering to the floor. 

You winced and raised your hand in a greeting and an apology. “Sorry, hi— I just— it’s raining.”

Wayne laughed after he got over his surprise, beckoning you in with an oil stained hand. His tiny office smelled like gas and burnt tires but his smile was as friendly and tired as it always was. “Miss the bus?” He asked. 

You nodded, crossing your arms over your chest. Out of the summer air, the garage was cooler and you were drenched, goosebumps trailing across your forearms. “Drove right by me.”

Wayne tutted, sympathetic and he pushed what looked like a stack of invoices into a tray for tomorrow. “That’ll be that Hagan boy, never should’ve been allowed the job. Doesn’t pay any darned attention to nobody.” The man patted down his pockets, searching for his keys. “Jus’ gimme a minute and I’ll drop you off, think the boy took my damn keys. Hey, son—”

Another figure appeared in the doorway, cutting off Wayne’s call. This man was tall and broad shouldered, with dark curls that weren’t tied back. They hit his shoulders, wild strands springing around brown eyes that quickly widened at the sight of you. 

“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”

“Hey!” Wayne snapped with a frown. He whacked the boy’s shoulder with a rolled up newspaper he grabbed from his desk. “That’s no way to speak to a lady. I raised you better than that, you little delinquent.”

Eddie looked astonishingly different out of his chef whites and your surprise showed on your face. Out of his uniform, you could see more skin, more ink. Tattoos curling around his forearms and creeping up towards his biceps, black leaking across lithe muscles that you didn’t get to see at work. He was all dark, black jeans with rips in the knees, a black T-shirt that was well worn, the band logo on the front unrecognisable from wear and from the fact that your music taste was wildly different. 

Jewellery he didn’t get to wear glitter on him, silver rings on almost every finger, skulls and orjer horned things around his knuckles, a silver chain peeking out from underneath his collar. There was a hole in the hem of his shirt, heavy scuff marks on his big boots. He was still scowling at you though, a familiar sight that made him look more like the Eddie you knew. 

You glanced at Wayne, still confused as to why he was scolding the line cook from your work. You looked back to Eddie, lips trying to wrap around an explanation. He made you feel like you weren’t supposed to be here. “I— the bus. I missed the bus.” You swallowed, an awful shyness coming over you, or maybe it was nerves. “It’s raining.”

The weather was making itself known as the storm closed in, heavy, fat drops of rain pounding on the tin roof of the garage, a deafening roar that only got heavier. 

“Yeah, no shit.” Eddie called back, raising his voice to be heard over the din and his cheek got him another smack from Wayne. 

“You better hope I don’t find out you talk like that in the kitchen, boy,” Wayne pointed an accusatory finger at Eddie, to which the boy merely rolled his eyes at. “I’ll ask Jim, he’ll tell me.” When Eddie didn’t reply, Wayne pulled on his jacket and set about collecting more sheets of paper. He asked Eddie for his keys and pocketed them before saying, “Ed’s, be a good ‘un and take my friend here home, yeah? I gotta finish up this mess.”

When Eddie raised his brows and dropped his jaw, you were pretty sure your expression was the same. Except you were burning, both at the embarrassment of Wayne being so sweet and the idea of having to spend time with Eddie alone. 

“Friend?” Eddie scoffed. “Since when?”

You wanted the floor to open up below you. “I can, I can just walk.” You jammed a thumb at the door, at the torrential rain that was still falling angrily outside of it. “I think the rain has stopped…”

Thunder bellowed from above. A leak in the corner of the work floor dripped onto an old tire. Wayne stared at you both, unimpressed. 

And that’s how you ended up in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. 

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 11

part 1 | part 10 | ao3

cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)

It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.

Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.

"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."

She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."

"You've literally said that you wouldn't."

"Platonically, I would!!"

She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.

And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?

She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.

He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.

He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.

—

Eddie's acting weird.

Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.

Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.

Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.

He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…

He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.

And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.

“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”

Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”

Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.

He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.

It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.

"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"

Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"

She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.

The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"

"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"

He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"

“Ew!”

“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”

“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”

His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...

There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.

"I think you should take me home."

"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."

“Like now.”

Steve tucks himself into his jeans.

—

part 12

tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of The Danger of Romanticizing. Part One. Part Two. Ao3 Link.

Over the next few days, Steve asks Robin to tell Eddie he says hi, adding it to his morning routine. And every day without fail, he gets a responding hi back. Sometimes, he even gets a question about what the polo of the day is. Robin starts shoving Steve sticky notes to write down whatever he wants to say which she hands off to Chrissy. 

He finds himself looking forward to the notes whenever he gets home, fingers tracing over Eddie’s slightly sloppy handwriting before sticking them to his wall. 

On Thursday, Steve comes home to find Chrissy sitting on the couch with Robin, fingers intertwined as they appear to do their separate class readings. “Hey,” Steve says, hoping that they’re not too deep into the studying zone. 

Chrissy gives him a bright smile and says, “Hi, Steve.” 

Steve can’t help but glance around, trying to find some trace of Eddie in the place. For some reason, he thinks that he would know if he was there. 

“He’s out with his... friend,” Chrissy explains, giving Steve an apologetic smile. 

Steve nods. “Right, the sort of boyfriend.” 

“I wouldn’t call him that,” Chrissy says with a slight frown. She shakes her head and turns back to her work. 

Robin stares at her girlfriend for a moment before asking, “How come you never talk about him?”

Chrissy glances at her and her expression immediately softens. Steve feels like he finally understood the phrase “heart eyes” when he first saw the way Chrissy and Robin look at each other. 

“I haven’t met him yet. But Eddie doesn’t have the best track record with guys. I mean, he deserves the world, but he doesn’t understand why. I used to make him recite these affirmations to try to make him understand his worth, but he’s Eddie, you know? A lot of those deep emotions he deflects with jokes.” Chrissy sighs and holds up a packet of paper. “Sorry, I’m currently learning about coping mechanisms.” 

“No apologizing, remember? You’re allowed to talk about the things you’re passionate about,” Robin gently reminds her. 

Chrissy leans over and plants a soft kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” she says softly. 

Steve turns away as he watches Robin blush and duck her head. He resists the urge to make a comment that will ruin their moment and instead goes to the pantry and pulls out a box of pasta. He silently starts on dinner contemplating if he can pry about this mystery man in Eddie’s life through the sticky notes. 

“Oh, Steve!” Chrissy says over her shoulder. 

“Yes?” 

“Eddie said that he’s sad to miss you and he hopes he can see you again soon.” 

Steve smiles. “Tell him I hope I can see him soon.” 

“Will do,” Chrissy replies with a bright smile. 

And god, Steve really hopes he can. 

-:-:-:-:-:-

The next morning is rough. 

Steve sleeps through his alarm and in the process of rushing out the door he forgets to write Eddie a note and spills a cup of coffee on himself on the drive to work. 

He walks in pressing napkins against his shirt, trying to soak up some of the liquid. Of course, this is the day he decides to wear a light pink polo. 

“Nice look, Harrington,” Collin says loudly, causing everyone else to look up from their desk at him. 

He already gets enough shit for being the boss’s son, so he’s sure that today will be worse than usual. 

And it is. 

It’s like everyone teams up on him to make jokes pretending to trip while holding coffee mugs in their hands. It gets old pretty fast, especially when his co-worker Aidan actually ends up pouring more coffee on him while he’s talking to a customer. And while he’s cleaning up again, Collin is able to swoop in and swindle his customer. 

It’s all bullshit. 

When the workday ends, he tries to grab his stuff and stalk off to his car quickly, but Collin manages to get in a quick, “Better luck next time, champ.” 

Steve ignores him but he can’t help but feel like the final straw was broken for him. 

He gets stuck in traffic and wants more than anything to just get home, shower, change, and put on a shitty movie. When he finally gets to his apartment, he manages to drop the keys while unlocking the door twice before pushing it open only to find Robin standing on the other side. 

“How was work?” she asks overly bubbly. 

“How do you think it was?” Steve asks gesturing to his shirt. 

Robin cringes and teases, “Clumsy day?” 

“Not now, Robin,” Steve sighs, trying to take his shoes off quickly. He finally gets them undone and finds that he’s wearing one navy and one black sock. 

Robin points down to them and laughs. 

“Seriously, Robin, I’m not in the mood,” he says and crosses his arms. 

Robin grabs onto his arms with a bright smile and says, “But I have a surprise for you.” 

Steve sighs and ducks his head, trying to make his way past her. 

“Hold on!” Robin says, blocking his way. “God, you reek of coffee.” 

For some reason, the comment really gets to Steve, and he snaps, “Can you just fucking give me some space?” He storms past her and rounds the corner to his room only to find that they’re not alone. 

He looks up and takes in Chrissy and Eddie standing in the living room looking extremely uncomfortable. 

“I...” Steve starts then turns around mumbling, “Fuck,” under his breath as he practically runs out the front door, grabbing his shoes on the way out. He jogs toward his car and pulls on the handle, realizing it’s locked. He digs into his pocket and mumbles, “No.” He checks his other pocket and comes up with nothing. 

Of course, he left them on the hook by the front door. 

He quickly puts on his shoes, wincing when he feels a rock in his right shoe. He sighs and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t run. He always runs. 

He hears footsteps thudding on the sidewalk behind him. “Hey,” a voice softly says. 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut a little harder before running his hands over his face and slowly turning around. “Hey,” he mumbles, making fleeting eye contact with Eddie before staring at the pavement. 

“Going somewhere?” 

Steve crosses his arms and leans back against the hood of his car. “I was, but I left my keys inside.” 

Eddie digs into his pocket and pulls out a set of keys, dangling them in front of him. “I have mine. Come on,” he says, already stepping back on the sidewalk and walking away from Steve. 

Steve pauses but follows him around the corner of the building where he’s parked. He wonders if he purposefully parked there in order to surprise him. God, it just makes him feel worse. 

He climbs into the passenger seat and stares ahead. 

“Where to?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs, “Whatever store carries pints of coffee chocolate chip ice cream.” 

Eddie starts his van and asks, “Your favorite?” 

“Robin’s favorite.” 

“Ah,” Eddie says as he backs out of the side parking lot. “I have an extra shirt in the back if you want to change.” 

Steve almost passes it up, but he doesn’t think he can stand the smell of coffee any longer. He twists in his seat and glances at the back, finding a random shirt thrown on the seat along with a lot of random shit that Steve wants to ask about. Instead, he tugs his polo off and quickly shrugs on Eddie’s shirt. 

In any other situation, he would’ve been ecstatic about the softness of the shirt and embarrassingly tried to smell the collar or something to commit the scent to memory. But the heaviness of how he treated Robin weighs too heavily on his mind. 

They sit in silence for a few moments, and Steve grows increasingly sorrowful. 

“Want to talk about it?” Eddie asks. 

Steve glances at him, noticing the lack of judgment in his expression which puts him at ease. “I just had a really bad day at work, and I was an asshole and took it out on Robin.” 

“Chrissy always tells me that we take out our stress on the ones we love the most.” 

“There’s definitely a reason she’s a psychology major.” 

Eddie snorts and shrugs, eyes not leaving the road as he talks. “She’s going to be an amazing therapist. But what I meant by that is that I’ve had my fair share of frustrating exchanges with Chrissy as well.” 

Steve sighs and leans back in his seat. “Yeah, but usually I save the part where I reveal that I’m an asshole at least a few months after meeting someone.” 

“Romanticizing yourself,” Eddie says with a small smile. He approaches a red light and turns to Steve to state, “You’re not an asshole. You’re just human.” 

“A little too human,” Steve argues. 

“The best people are.” 

“Sounds like you’re romanticizing me,” Steve says, trying to brush off the sincerity of what Eddie said. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and turns back to the now green light. 

They sit in comfortable silence as they make their way to the parking lot of a grocery store. 

With the words still weighing heavy on his mind, Steve finally says, “Thank you.” 

Eddie pulls into a parking space and replies, “No need for all that.” He gets out of the car before Steve can argue with him. 

As they make their way inside, Steve changes the subject, “Ever since you brought up how empty my room is, I can’t stop noticing it.” 

Eddie winces. “Sorry, I have a tendency to chronically put my foot in my mouth.” 

Steve shakes his head. “No, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. I just suddenly want to do something about it.” 

Eddie suddenly stops in the middle of the store, causing the person behind them to nearly hit him with their cart. Eddie turns and says, “Sorry,” before placing a gentle hand on Steve’s back and guiding him away from the frozen aisle they were walking toward. 

“Where-” 

Eddie puts his finger to his lips and says, “No questions.” 

Steve’s eyebrows furrow but he keeps his lips shut as Eddie guides him to some random place in the store. He lets the warmth of Eddie's fingertips through the thin layer of the shirt distract him for a few moments until he notices that they’ve stopped. 

Steve glances around and asks, “Clocks?” 

Eddie sighs and tugs him past the section to the picture frames. “Stay here and pick a few you like. I’ll be right back.” 

Steve can’t even give him a confused look before he takes off. He turns back to the frames, scanning them before he grabs a white frame with a gold stripe that he thinks looks nice. For some reason he also finds a small silver circular frame that he thinks is kind of cute and funny, so he grabs it. He holds the two side by side and smiles. They look horrible together, but he likes them. 

Eddie suddenly appears at his side, winded as if he just ran across the store. He holds up a small disposable camera and smiles proudly. “And this should be good for now. Time for ice cream.” He turns and heads toward the frozen aisle before stopping in place suddenly again. 

Steve runs right into him and stumbles back. “Do you do this often?” 

“Absolutely,” Eddie answers. He glances down at the frames and says, “I just realized I didn’t look at what you chose. The small one is funny.” 

“Right?” Steve says, relieved that he understands. 

Eddie looks him in the eye and his smile grows. “Good choices.” 

Steve finds himself flushing a bit red after the direct affirmation from Eddie. Luckily, Eddie doesn’t notice as he leads the way to the ice cream. 

It takes a few moments to find the ice cream, but Eddie suddenly excitedly says, “Yes!” and grabs a pint out of the freezer. Steve can’t help but think that he might be his good luck charm. 

They check out quickly. Eddie asks Steve to grab him a candy bar, taking the moment of distraction to hand the cashier money, paying for everything. When Steve realizes, he tries to protest but Eddie shuts him down saying, “I’m the one who told you to get those things. It would be a dick move to make you pay for them too.” 

“I could’ve at least covered the ice cream.” 

“And risked it melting while we wasted time with a second checkout?” Eddie asks, acting flabbergasted at the idea. 

Steve just laughs and at least takes the bags from him. 

“My hero,” Eddie jokes, fluttering his eyelashes. As they get to the car he asks, “By the way, what candy bar did you get? I forgot to check.” 

“A Three Musketeer. I hope that’s okay.” 

Eddie smiles and hits the center console excitedly. “That was the inspiration behind naming Dart! You know? D'Artagnan.” 

Steve shakes his head coming up with nothing. Eddie digs into the bags and grabs the candy, pointing it out to Steve. 

“Oh. Dustin’s going to be so excited to hear that. Three Musketeers are his favorite.” 

“You really love that kid,” Eddie comments with a smile as he starts the car. 

“He can be an annoying little shit sometimes, but I love him like a brother.” 

Eddie laughs. “I’m excited to meet him.” 

“Me too,” Steve replies and suddenly remembers what Dustin told him. “Hey, I didn’t know you also illustrated the book. I don’t know how I skimmed over that, but that’s incredible.” 

A light blush covers Eddie’s cheeks. “It’s alright. I used to design stuff for Hellfire in high school, but I’m absolutely shit at faces. That’s why you never see The Boy’s face.” 

“I somehow never noticed that. But I think it’s a good choice. It lets the reader kind of imagine themself in the role, you know?” 

Eddie pauses for a moment before asking, “Yeah? You can relate?” 

Steve shrugs and leans back. “I can relate to the found family, and I mean...” Steve trails off and looks down at his hands. “Sometimes I feel like an outcast. And yeah, that sounds ridiculous since I was a pretty popular jock in high school. But I had this kind of reality check and suddenly I didn’t see the appeal of being ‘King Steve.’ I spent the last semester of my senior year sitting next to my ex and her new boyfriend during lunch. It was a miracle that I put in my resume at this ice cream shop because that’s how I met Robin. But even at work now, I just don’t fit in.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” 

“Maybe we’re the same,” Eddie cheesily quotes the title of his book. Before Steve can ask what he means, Eddie presses on. “I have one question.” 

“Mhm?” 

“Did they really call you King Steve?” 

Steve groans, “Yes. God, I hate that nickname.” 

Eddie laughs. “Alright, I promise not to call you that.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Your Highness.” 

Steve sighs but he fails to hide the slight humor in his expression. 

“Okay, I promise to never bring it up... After this car ride, my lord,” Eddie says with a wicked smile. 

Steve buries his face in his hands for the rest of the ride home, trying not to laugh too hard at the ridiculous nicknames Eddie pulls out of his ass. But as they get closer to his apartment, his happiness dies down as he faces the reality of what he’s returning to. 

Eddie quiets down during the last minute, sensing the shift in emotions from Steve. He parks outside and quietly asks, “Are you ready?” 

“No,” Steve says, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his bags before getting out of the car. 

He slowly steps up to the front door but pauses to turn around to Eddie. “Thank you for all of this. Really.” 

Eddie just puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I had a good time. I hope your day has gotten a little better.” 

“It has,” Steve admits with no hesitation. “As long as I can apologize to Robin after this and hope she forgives me.” 

“Something tells me that she will.” 

Steve glances up at Eddie, wondering if he can express how much that fills him with relief. He steps forward, intent on wrapping his arms around the man and holding him for as long as he’ll let him. 

The door swings open before Steve’s arms can come up. 

“Hey, I thought I heard the van doors shut,” Chrissy says with a small smile. 

“How is she?” Steve asks immediately. 

Chrissy puts a hand on his arm. “She’s alright. I think she’ll be happy to talk to you.” She squeezes him before turning to Eddie and asking, “You ready to go?” 

Eddie’s eyes flicker to Steve before settling on Chrissy. He gives her a conflicted look, but Chrissy raises her eyebrows at him causing Eddie to sigh and turn to Steve saying, “Maybe I’ll see you soon? We’ll plan it this time.” 

Steve feels his face suddenly get very warm with embarrassment. “That would be great.” 

Eddie nods at him and turns away to make his way back to the van. Steve waves goodbye to the pair before going inside. He drops the bag with the frames and camera on their table in the small dining area before grabbing two spoons and the bag with the ice cream.  

He purposefully makes his footsteps a little heavier as he makes his way to Robin’s room to prepare her for his presence. He lightly knocks on the door and waits. 

“It’s open,” she says. 

Steve slowly pushes the door open and finds Robin lying in her bed staring at the ceiling. “Hey.” 

Robin turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey.” 

“I brought the goods,” Steve jokes as he walks toward her bed. 

Robin sits up and makes grabby hands at him, taking the pint and a spoon as soon as she can. Steve can’t help but think that’s a good sign, but he’s not going to pretend everything is normal. “I’m sorry I was an asshole to you. I shouldn’t have taken out my bad day on you.” 

Robin glances at him with a spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. She takes a moment to eat before she sighs, “It wasn’t just you though. I shouldn’t have been so pushy and glossed over your bad day. And I definitely shouldn’t have surprised you like that.” 

“Are you kidding? Any other day, I would’ve been ecstatic.” 

“Just not today,” Robin says, staring down at the ice cream before taking another spoonful. She glances over at him and asks, “Want to talk about your day?” 

Steve shakes his head. “Just Collin being an asshole and the other guys joining in.” 

“Charles and Ryan?” 

“Aidan this time.” 

Robin sighs, “I wish I could go in there and give them a piece of my mind.” 

“I think I deserved it today.” 

Robin raises an eyebrow at him. “No matter how much of a dick you can be, I’m not leaving you, dingus. And you definitely don’t deserve that shit.” 

Steve shrugs and takes a stab at the ice cream. “Eddie made things better.” 

“Yeah?” 

Steve nods and avoids eye contact as the coffee flavor melts in his mouth. 

“Speak of Eddie, is he the reason you’re wearing a Metallica shirt?” 

Steve glances down at the shirt and smiles. He had forgotten he was wearing it. “Yeah. He had an extra shirt in the back and let me change out of the coffee-stained one. I think I left that polo in his van though.” He shrugs and gets another spoonful of ice cream. “He’s really great.” 

There’s a longer pause before Robin rests her hand on Steve’s and asks, “Steve, do you... like him?” 

Steve’s eyes snap up to Robin quickly, swallowing a mouthful of cold ice cream in the process. His heart beats a little faster, and he hopes Robin can’t feel his pulse. “No, it’s not like that. Besides, I barely know him.” 

“Yeah, but you’ve liked people with a lot less information about them.” 

Steve sighs and puts his spoon down to lay his other hand on top of Robin’s and look her in the eye. “Even if I do like him, he has a sort of boyfriend. Plus, I’m not going to do anything reckless that will risk the happiness of your and Chrissy’s relationship, okay?” 

Robin stares at him for a few seconds too long before she nods. “Okay. But... you can talk to me if those feelings ever change.” 

“And they won’t,” Steve reassures her. 

Robin looks conflicted before she gives him a small smile and goes back to the ice cream. 

Steve is able to easily change the subject and things finally feel normal again once they’re both laughing so hard they have to wipe at the tears running down their faces. 

But when Steve lays in bed that night, his thoughts drift to Eddie. He can’t fall for him. Really, he can’t. He can’t do that to Chrissy and Robin. 

So, for once, he tries to turn off all the thoughts romanticizing the man. But he doesn’t know how to humanize the man when he’s been nothing but... perfect. 

He’s so screwed.

Part Four

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[weird-an]

There's no home Billy has ever been welcome in. His dad made sure that every house they lived in was a place that hurt, where he couldn't hide.

Steve's home is something Billy pays for with kisses and touches, pleasure and bites. Billy doesn't mind. He can't afford Steve, but he can take a loan.

He wakes up earlier than Steve, after they fall asleep, worn out from their orgasms, limbs entangled. He always watches the other sleep, long lashes fluttering when he dreams, listens to his breaths and soft snoring. Mornings like this Billy indulges the thought that he could wake up next to Steve every day. That Steve's home, a cluttered apartment above an Italian restaurant that always smells like cheese and tomato sauce, could be his, too.

He knows it's a dream, a pink bubble reality pops every time he goes back to Cherry Lane where Neil waits with his anger about Billy's lack of discipline, about his uselessness. When he goes back to the house where bruises bloom in purple and green every other night.

"You know you can stay here," Steve says one morning, when Billy is about to leave.

It's so cruel to say that. Sure, Steve doesn't know, chasing after more pleasure, still dizzy from sleeping in on a Saturday.

"We can have breakfast," he offers. "Robin comes over later. It's movie night."

Of course there's a limit. Don't meet the girlfriend. Or best friend. Or a person Steve cares about.

"No, thanks, pretty boy," Billy sucks on his cigarette and only tastes ash and bitterness. "Not hungry."

He is hungry. Hungry for more, hungry for Steve, hungry for home. He leaves with a rumbling stomach.

The next time it's before they fall asleep, when Billy is all blissed out and the pillow feels like a cloud, Steve's arms keeping him from floating.

"Stay tomorrow," Steve says. "I'm making pancakes."

Billy shouldn't stay, shouldn't fall asleep here. But then he can't count Steve's heartbeats in the morning.

Pancakes come with coffee, orange juice, bacon and eggs. Billy wonders if he can pay for it all, with his skilled tongue and lips.

Breakfast becomes routine. It's so easy to stay, it's scary. It makes the bruises turn bigger, too, but they don't hurt as much as the look in Steve's eyes when he leaves.

One day Billy comes over and there's pizza and pasta on the table, from the place downstairs it seems. Robin Buckley sits on the couch, waving at him.

"Finally you're joining us," she says.

Finally? His heart is in his throat when he sits on the couch next to Steve who hands him a pizza slice and then later wraps his arm around him. Robin doesn’t comment on it with words, but winks at Billy with a wide grin.

Billy feels like a fraud, like he has gotten a ticket to a place he can't be at.

A week later, when Billy sips on the coffee he doesn't deserve, another gulp of debt he can't repay Steve, he nearly chokes.

There's a key on the kitchen table. Shiny and silver. Way too expensive for Billy to touch.

"Move in with me," Steve says. "I want this to be our home."

Billy stares at Steve. The world turns all blurry and soft. All the words are gone as if Billy has run out of them.

A home is nothing Billy knows or deserves or can afford.

But maybe it's the garden of bruises on his back or his father's shouts ringing in his ears or the emptiness his mother left behind or the memory of Steve's arms around him, holding him together.

"Our home," he repeats Steve's words. It tastes sweet, almost like the fluffy pancakes Steve made when they first had breakfast together.

He nods and there's a tear running down his cheek, dripping into his mug and turning his coffee salty.

"I don't know what a home is," he admits, a little shaky.

"Whatever we want it to be," Steve says with a smile.

Maybe a home doesn't get bought, but made, Billy thinks.

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[ynscrazylife]

You know what I really miss? Avengers x teen!reader headcanons, there use to be so much avengers content and practically dominated tumblr🥲

It would totally make my WEEK if you would make some classic mcu avengers(before infinity war) x teen!reader x Peter Parker(romantic) headcanons just about reader having powers and what it’s like living with the avengers 💕

-possible your new 👾anon?

let’s do this 💪 and YES you’ll be my first emoji anon!! @ anyone else, feel free to claim ur emoji!!

avengers x teen!reader headcanons

The Avengers are definitely reluctant to add another teenager to the team. Having Peter is great but has been a big adjustment, as they had to train him and protect him, less they face the wrath of Aunt May.

However, you were a compelling case, with your extensive abilities. You didn’t have many other options as to where to go and you hit it off with Peter right off the bat, working very well together as a pair. So, they took you in.

Tony worked with you on designs for your suit, Natasha and Steve trained you in combat (which meant you were going on morning runs with Steve and Sam. How fun . . . Though Sam could be convinced to give you piggy back rides, and you became Clint’s personal arrow-picker-upper. If you had powers, Wanda would definitely help you manage them.

Peter was naturally in tune to science, which meant you hung around the lab with him and Bruce a lot. It became a nice time to get your homework done, as Bruce would definitely help you with that. Sometimes you acted as Bruce’s and Peter’s assistant with their experiments.

Bruce was also a very good listener and your go-to person to vent to about your life’s problems (when Peter wasn’t around).

One of the conditions to be on the team was that you didn’t lapse in schoolwork, so they were very on top of that and your grades. Tony even offered to go to parent-teacher meetings. Any one of them were ready to go to your teachers or principal if anything happened.

Natasha would routinely check in with you to make sure that you weren’t being bullied.

Pepper also became a motherly figure, as she cared very much about you and Peter. She’d offer you a Stark Industries internship.

Movie nights were chaotic, but absolutely the best. It was hard for anyone to agree, so the team had a system where they’d rotate who got to pick the meeting. Sam and Peter were also not allowed to make popcorn after many unfortunate incidents. Most of the time you fell asleep late into the night and one of the Avengers carried you to bed (they’d never admit this, but that also became an argument).

It was during a movie night when Peter realized he liked you romantically. You fell asleep during a movie, your head on his shoulder. Peter swore he never experienced something so precious before. He was adamant to keep your peace, glaring at anyone who dared to talk.

The team found your growing romance to be adorable and often teased the two of you about it. The only people who didn’t tease you were Bruce, Pepper, and Thor (because he didn’t really understand how to effectively tease).

If Flash messed with you, Peter was always on top of it. He’d always protect you.

Steve was also always making sure that you knew right from wrong. He’d give long speeches about how it wasn’t right to smoke, drink, do drugs, etc.

Then Thor gave you Asgardian alcohol once, not realizing how bad that was considering you’re both human and underage. That was a mess. Peter having to hold your hair back when you vomited and multiple Avengers escorting you to bed. Thor got an earful about it.

Clint was one of the ones who better understood you, seeing as he had experience with his own kids. He was always good at mediating and defusing the tension.

Laura also adored you, you were her favorite babysitter for the kids. Whenever they went on date night, they’d drop the kids off at the tower, and you would watch them (Peter would help when he wasn’t on patrol).

Patrolling with Peter was also very fun. More often than not he’d convince you to take a break, then swing you up on top of a roof to watch over the city and the sky.

On multiple occasions, KAREN would rat the two of you out to Tony, but he was never mad. He just wanted to know all about the “date”.

Prom was also very fun. Honestly, the whole team would want to come pick out outfits with you and Peter. They took many, many pictures on the night of. Peter also teared up when he saw you. He thought you were stunning.

Of course, you guys had a curfew, but it was alright. You and Peter had a fantastic night. All he wanted to do was dance and hold you.

You had Happy wrapped around your finger. You could really convince him to drive you anywhere you wanted to go.

You also managed to get an internship at the Sanctum Santorum, learning more about magic under Doctor Strange and Wong’s guidance. The Avengers weren’t particularly thrilled, as they were worried about you being hurt, but understood your want to explore.

You really wanted to see all the areas of being a hero. Clint taught you archery and Natasha taught you how to be a spy. You’d listen to Natasha and Clint’s spy stories for hours. Peter would have to pry you away.

Peter always insisted on having date nights and would go all out, making every date special. He’d do anything to make you happy.

And so would all the Avengers. They loved seeing you smile, it brightened up their whole world and made the team stronger.

[3minsover]

AUgust Day 30:

steve tries to employ his ‘act like you don’t care’ method when he realizes he has a crush on eddie.

it’s about a month or so after vecna, and the party are more inseparable than they’ve ever been, older teens included, and eddie’s settled in like he’s been one of the gang since day one.

the moment steve realizes that old familiar fluttering in his stomach, the telltale thrum of blood rushing to his cheeks as eddie plucks out nameless tunes on his acoustic or asks steve if he wants to come over to get high or watch a movie, steve knows exactly what’s happening. it doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would, falling for one of his best friends, especially not one who’s a guy. he doesn’t really know the protocol for a situation such as this, but some habits die hard, and something in steve’s brain is still hardwired to receive that hit of endorphins and return to the routines of old.

thing is, steve’s never put on this show when there’s another guy involved. with girls, he can be cool and suave and just the right side of dismissive until he has them begging to be even offered a palm to eat out of.

but eddie’s different. both in that he’s a guy, and steve’s pretty sure this same move isn’t going to work on him, but also, eddie’s different. eddie’s something special. something that feels like the first splash of rainfall after a drought. eddie has him yearning in a way he’d never thought himself even capable. and as fiercely as he longs to just grab eddie by the face and kiss the mischievous grin from his lips in the hopes it makes his insides smile too, steve brushes eddie off just as much. he waves quick, flippant ‘hey’s (but he longs to furl eddie up in a hug, bury his face in the collar of his leather jacket), he blinks away eddie’s jokes with just the practiced hint of a smirk (though he wishes he’d just let himself laugh), he offers backhanded compliments (when he’s desperate to tell eddie he has the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, and that he wants them to be the first thing he sees in the morning until the day he dies).

eddie shrugs it all off for a couple weeks with only a twitching narrow of his eyes, a deliberate, searching stare.

steve thinks maybe, just maybe, this has worked.

until eddie confronts him about it.

“hey, did i do something?”

“what?”

“did i- you’ve been- you got a problem with me?”

“why would you- what? no!” steve tries to protest, but eddie barrels on, sounds just so demoralised it’s hard to listen to.

“look, if you don’t like me being around or whatever, just say it, man. i can’t take all this cold shoulder shit anymore.”

steve blinks hard, dumbfounded, with the sinking realization that his trademark move hadn’t worked - if anything, it’d done the exact opposite of what he hoped. steve had felt that electricity with every glance at eddie, but he now fears he’s crossed some wires somewhere, and it was the spark of faulty cables, rather than the fizz of something mutual. and if steve’s plan has backfired, the only thing left for him to do is come clean.

“i don’t have a problem with you. i mean, i guess i kinda do have a problem with you, but- but!” steve preempts eddie’s inevitable crestfallen sigh with the raise of his pointer fingers, both staying and apologetic all at once. “but it’s not a problem you caused. it kinda is but it’s also not. shit i used to be so good at this. i have a problem with you because i don’t know what to do with you. i don’t know how to be around you without- without- you’re always so- so alive and fun and sweet and just looking at you makes me want to scream into my pillow, but in like, a good way? and my heart gets all- and your eyes are just- so. i guess i got a problem with you, because i… want you to be my problem. i want you- uh. yeah.”

eddie is silent for a long moment, and steve can almost see each of his words slotting into place behind eddie’s eyes. “steve. i… i’m not gonna do us both the disservice of pretending i understood all of what you just said, but i think i got the highlights?”

steve rakes a minutely trembling hand through his hair, finding anything to break up the sudden stillness.

“you did? cause even i feel like I’ve talked myself round in circles here.”

“i think so. let me get this straight. you… think i’m fun?”

“yup.”

“looking at me makes you want to-”

“scream into my pillow, yeah.”

“oh- oh okay. noted. and um, you,” eddie starts slowly, seems to be feeding the words out carefully like it’ll spook steve to hear them from another mouth but his own. “you want me to be your problem.” steve swallows, inhales deep, and nods.

“yeah. cause, i guess to me it wouldn’t really be a problem. it would- that would be something i wanted. you’re- something i wanted- want. god, this is harder than i thought.” steve chuckles nervously and eddie just stares, mouth hanging just a little open.

“but you…” eddie starts, brows knitting in confusion, “you don’t like me. you barely talk to me even though i wanna talk to you whenever you’re around, even when i’m trying to make you laugh you hardly even smile, and i try to make you laugh like, all the time- oh.” something flashes in eddie’s eyes as he stops himself dead in the middle of his sentence. “oh my god. you- you were- shit, dustin talked my ear off about this; act like, uh, like you don’t care, huh?”

steve’s already burning cheeks threaten to start giving off smoke, and he’s about ready to hotfoot it out the door and disappear forever, but then eddie smiles, and it’s one of those devilish, smirky, sparkling smiles that steve loves.

“you got me, harrington,” eddie admits on an exhale. “you got me good with that. got me hooked.”

steve winces a little, tries to smile back.

“i did?”

“shit, yeah. you’re better than i thought.” eddie chuckles giddily; it makes steve smile for real.

“so, i can admit that i actually do like you now? that i’ve been crushing on you for like, months?”

taking a step closer and placing his palms flat against steve’s chest, eddie drops his voice low, “yeah, yeah you can. because then i can say i like you back.”

turns out steve’s plan had worked, just not in the way he expected. but nothing with eddie ends up how steve expected, and that’s just one addition to the list of things he loves about him. that list will grow longer as the years pass, a never-ending record of things to love.

steve’ll apologize for the whole mind game thing later, but for now, he simply rests his hands over eddie’s, and tips his head forward until their foreheads touch. he whispers, “hey, eddie. i really like you. let me take you on a date sometime?”

and eddie whispers back, “hey, stevie. i like you a hell of a lot too. and yeah, obviously - thanks for finally asking.”

[shares-a-vest]

'i have writer's block', i say as i go back to a little ficlet i've had sitting in my drafts for months and immediately turn into 1.4k...

Summer, 1995

Wayne Munson's hearing isn't what it used to be, but he is almost certain he can hear a steady stream of cooing sounds coming from Eddie's bedroom.

He frowns and looks at his watch.

It's only 6:30am.

He yawns at the early hour as he shuffles to the kitchen for his prized coffee pot. And gosh darn it, he thinks. He really didn't want to be on a shiftwork sleep schedule while the boys are visiting with his granddaughter.

"Joanie-Bear..."

"Joanie-Bolonge..."

Yep – that is definitely Eddie with one of his silly pet names and a high-pitched sing-song voice.

Wayne can't help but stifle a chuckle as he fetches a clean mug from the drying rack on the sink. He's never known Eddie to wake up this early. Not even back when Steve moved in with his militant morning routine of jogging-showering-breakfast, all before Eddie's third alarm finally rustled him semi-conscious.

He sets his mug down with a clang on the bench as the incessant beeping of Eddie's blasted wristwatch sounds through his waning eardrums. He wishes he'd never bought the thing (in his futile efforts to make his nephew punctual) in the first place.

But the distant memory of Eddie's useless watch is quickly replaced with the disgruntled wailing of Joanie – a living, breathing tiny-human alarm that will surely be more than effective in getting his nephew up at a decent hour. For the next few years, at least.

He foregoes a courteous knock and opens the bedroom door to find Eddie sitting at the end of the bed with Steve in his lap as they both look into the crib that contains the source of the ruckus.

"What are you boys doing?" Wayne asks with fond amusement.

"Saying good morning to the light of our lives," Steve says, all syrupy-sweet as he reaches down and makes a shushing noise.

Wayne steps closer, smiling as he catches sight of his granddaughter.

"Hey, darling."

Joanie smiles so wide her eyes crinkle up, cheeks growing rosier as she kicks her feet with such vigour she could tear straight through her yellow onesie.

"We were basking in the peace and quiet," Eddie explains with an adoring sigh, "Gotta relish it before this little bean starts going about her busy day of toddling, talking and getting stinky."

"Talking?" Wayne is very much aware he sounds disappointed.

"Bee-shabba-fur," Eddie turns to Steve with complete seriousness, punctuating his babble-talk with a hand flourish.

"Eepa-nann-ca," Steve agrees, nodding up at Wayne like he is supposed to chime in.

He smiles, "I don't think you should be accusing anyone of being stinky, Eddie. I remember you at her age all too clearly."

His nephew frowns and hides behind Steve's shoulder to shield himself from any more barbs, even though his boy claps a hand over his own mouth to contain his laughter.

"A... app-ess," Joanie babbles and excitedly kicks her feet again.

"That means applesauce," Steve nods as Joanie starts grumbling again and makes grabby hands in the air.

"Looks like she's expecting that applesauce right now," he warns the pair as he scoops her up.

"But – " Steve protests.

"Shh," Eddie cuts him off as his eyes get all droopy, "Let him take her."

Wayne rolls his eyes.

Alright, so maybe Eddie still isn't a morning person. Parenthood has just forced it on him.

"Come on, kid," he says as his granddaughter cranes her neck to look out expectantly at the kitchen.

Although he is thrilled to have a whole two weeks with the boys and Joanie, the trio being back in Hawkins means that Wayne has to share them with others, including the Hendersons. Call him selfish, but he'd much prefer to just stay at home all day than pack half the house into the car for the short trip across town for lunch.

As Steve opens the car door to sit with Joanie, she grumbles and squirms, whipping her head about. Wayne dips his head to get a look at the fuss she beams, making an eh noise at the sight of him. He barks a laugh as she swivels to look at her father, her hair fashioned into two not-so-small buns giving her a disproportionate bobblehead.

"You want Pa to sit with you?" Steve asks the kid.

She shoots Steve a look like she is desperate for him to vacate the seat.

"You drive," Wayne nods, ensuring they arrange something before Eddie insists on driving.

He really doesn't feel like getting car sick before a Claudia Henderson-catered lunch.

With Steve safely driving, and Eddie being distracted by some local council drama playing out over the talk-back hour on the radio, Wayne can relax.

That is until he feels a little paw clawing at his hand.

"You wanna hold my hand," he asks Joanie as he offers his palm.

"Eh-ep...ish," she stutters out all spittle-filled.

"That means 'yes please'," Eddie chimes, leaning into the crackling radio as he scoffs at the disc jockey's quip.

Wayne chuckles, "Figured that."

He looks down to find Joanie now tracing the many lines on his palm. She's in a state of deep concentration, leaning as far forward as her car seat straps will allow as she goes.

She soon takes his thumb in her hand, clenching her fist around it as she grows tired, most likely due to the bumps in the road interrupting her tracing game rather than any actual sleepiness. Wayne can feel her soft fingertips press against the callous on his knuckle. She freezes and unfurls her hand to examine it.

She looks up with the same confused frown Eddie always had as a kid, her big brown eyes clearly expressing thoughts that she can't yet put into words. But she is most definitely thinking away in that little noggin.

She presses her forefinger to the callous to poke at it.

"Got a lot of those, I'm afraid," he explains, "Too tough for your hands."

She looks him over, eyes darting about as she opens her mouth like she is readying herself to respond.

For a moment, he thinks she might not have a damn clue, but then she takes his thumb again and pulls it close. He has to shift a little so his hand isn't twisting on the edge of the baby seat but sure enough, Joanie holds his hand for the remainder of the ride.

When they reach the Hendersons, Claudia announces she already has lunch well underway. She and Wayne think alike when Joanie is around. Rush through all that boring grown-up stuff to get straight to playtime with the kid.

Steve is going about his usual routine, carrying his daughter around the house to give her a tour while the others make the finishing touches on lunch.

Though Wayne is sure Eddie and Dustin are each sneaking samples and more getting in the way than actually helping. He smirks at the sound of something clanging in the kitchen and Claudia giving a scolding, "Dusty!" as he rounds the corner to the dining room.

Steve is walking around the table with Joanie in his arms, counting the chairs aloud. But Joanie isn't listening. She spots Wayne and beams.

"Pa!"

His heart stops – or maybe it swells.

Joanie outstretches her hands as she tries to wiggle out of her father's grip. And Steve, the poor boy, looks shell-shocked. He blinks, eyes as wide as Claudia's special-occasion dinner plates.

"Eh-Eddie!" Steve half stutters, half shrieks as tears begin to well up.

"What, what, what?" his nephew panics, walking in from the kitchen cradling a gravy boat like his hands are too full for anything else.

He walks right up to Steve and practically hooks his chin on his shoulder. Eddie frowns at his partner. And Joanie just keeps squirming, now turning her attention to her father.

"Pa!" she whines through a frustrated little hiccup as she points across the room.

Eddie yelps and cups a hand over his mouth.

Thankfully, Wayne doesn't hear the sound of the gravy boat dropping onto the freshly-vacuumed carpet. He doesn't even look to make sure. He's far too focused on his granddaughter.

"She said her first word," Steve whispers like he has a frog in his throat.

Joanie did say her first word.

Wayne's granddaughter said her first word.

And her first word referred to him.

Her Pa.

His bottom lip wobbles as they lock eyes once more.

But the moment is short-lived as the kid resumes wriggling about, pushing against Steve's possessive hold with some real force this time as she balls up a fistful of her father's pale blue polo shirt.

"Pa!" she dry-sobs.

Wayne shakes his head and steps forward. He'll have to save the serious emotions and a doting session with the boys for later if they want to avoid a catastrophic meltdown right now. He beams as he rushes the couple of strides it takes to reach his cranky granddaughter, who remains completely unaware of the marvel that has everyone at a useless standstill.

"Better do as she says," he laughs, taking her from Steve.

The boy has no choice but to give her up.

Joanie almost jumps into his embrace as she hooks her arms in a vice-like grip around his neck. Wayne looks at the boys, apologetic as he bounces his granddaughter.

Not that she needs settling now, anyway.

More of this au HERE

[fluffysucker]

Battered and Bruising.

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU) Boxer/Biker! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader Part of the Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince. AKA Bucky and his princess ALL ONESHOTS CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE

You received a distressing phone call.

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Also I'm very bad at describing places. Please forgive me. Hope it's clear to picture.

Main Masterlist

You couldn't sit still. You kept squirming and fuzzing in the taxi's seat. You were sure the driver was giving you dirty looks, afraid you would wear down the material of his vehicle. But you couldn't care. You were close to biting your nails off. You were so worried. Anxiety filling your body like the darkness of the sky at midnight. Tension running through your muscles and veins like water in oceans.

It was supposed to be a normal day. just like any other.

You woke up to the feeling of soft kisses on your neck and strong arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you closer than you were already. Sweet words filling your ears with your boyfriend's sleepy voice.

You lived for mornings like this, which is why you wouldn't be able to recall the last time you woke up alone in bed. It was either your place or his. A drawer in each of your dressers is now officially dedicated to the other's stuff. Pieces of each of you were spread at each other's homes. Because you became each other's home. Bucky was itching to ask you to move in together, but he was waiting for the right time.

After the blissful morning you shared together at Bucky's place with breakfast and your joint getting-ready routine, you left to start the day. It was a big bonus that both of your workplaces were separated by a wall. It gave you both a lot more time to spend together. Not only did you get to arrive and leave together, but you also got the chance to sneak in and see each other whenever you liked. You were lucky.

The minute you stepped in, you had so many things to do. Customers were following your tail as you walked in. Your business was growing, and you could never complain. As the day carried on, you got busier and busier. However, that didn't stop you from checking the time every now and then, so you didn't miss it. You would be sad if you did.

So when it reached five o'clock, you were throwing your apron off and leaving the restaurant. Ten minutes wouldn't hurt anybody.

You opened the gym's door and greeted MJ, who will be taking on the receptionist role since Peter was going with them tonight. You reminded yourself to stop by and drop off some food for her in a couple of hours. Maybe even a dessert.

Once you walked into the main area, your eyes were scanning the place for the person you came for.

"He is the locker room." You turned around as you heard Sam's voice.

"We could have left an hour early, but he refused. I wonder why." The smirk on Sam's face was big. Of course, he knew why Bucky didn't want to leave earlier than he told you.

"Have a good day, Sam." You walked towards the locker room with a smile on your face.

Bucky and the others had their own locker rooms other than the ones for the regular gym attendees. It was the one in the very back. Bucky chose it for privacy reasons. And since you got together, he had been enjoying this choice more and more.

As you were about to knock on the door, it was opened by Steve, who was walking out. A smirk, just like Sam's, found its place on his face as he saw you. Both men enjoyed watching their best friend being so head over heels in love, who was making them all wait for you because he never wanted to see the somber look on your face like he saw it once when he left before you stopped by. Never again. Everything could wait for you.

Steve stepped aside, letting you get in, and closed the door to give you both the time you needed.

Your boyfriend had his back to you as he was zipping up his duffle bag. But your sugary perfume and the smell of hours of cooking made him turn around. He would never miss your unique scent. the one that put him at ease and soothed his being.

"Hey, princess." He started walking towards you, and you met in the middle.

"Hey, you." You wrapped your arms around his neck and reached up to give him a peck on the lips.

"All ready?" You asked, keeping your arms around him.

"Yeah. Did the final training. Had a shower. Got everything I needed. We are ready to go." His arms were around your waist now.

"You are going to be so great. You are always the best." You gave him another peck.

"Just want one last thing." You looked at him, ready to help with whatever he needed.

"My good luck." Bucky easily lifted you up of your feet, kissing you passionately.

This is your routine now. Whenever Bucky had a fight, you would show up and wish him good luck before he left. He hadn't lost one since.

You were happy with this routine. Bucky was still strongly against you ever watching him fight; while you disagreed, you knew it was his choice, and you respected that. So you enjoyed whatever he gave you.

In return, Bucky let you in more. He brought you to some of the team gatherings and hangouts. He wasn't surprised when your sweet self managed to win all his friends over. They loved you. Who could ever meet you and not love you? Bucky certainly wasn't the one to answer this. And you loved them. Your ability and capacity to love everyone didn't exclude the rough people he thought of as family.

While he refused to let you anywhere near the brutality he called a job, Bucky learned to compromise. So he started opening up. He started telling you about his days, fights, and sometimes opponents more. He knew you worried a lot about him and about the stuff he never shared. So he was trying to find common ground. And if wishing him good luck before every fight was going to put your mind in the littlest of ease, Bucky could do that.

And that was the last time you saw him for the day.

Bucky told you pits and pieces about his opponent today, but nothing much. All you knew was that Bucky was training hard, and he spent lots of late nights at the gym. Some nights, you would close your restaurant and then join him and watch as he trained. Any support you could provide him with, you weren't going to hesitate. even as little as keeping his company.

Your worry about his well-being during the fights was growing each time. It grew with your love for him. And you were madly in love with him.

You busied yourself in the kitchen, letting your emotions under control while you went from recipe to recipe and from dish to dish as you waited for Bucky's text.

Another thing Bucky picked up doing to help ease your nerves was texting you right after the fight. Usually, he would tell me that he was fine and what he was doing after. Whether he was staying and going to Nat's bar or coming back to you, You only joined them in the after-fight victory parties a number of times. Usually, only when the fights were easy. Because parties after big fights weren't just for the team. There would be lots of outsiders, other boxers, and teams. You knew Bucky wouldn't be comfortable if you were there.

So you waited for him. He preferred your place after these kinds of days. You would have a meal ready in the fridge for reheating. The bathroom would be filled with soap and water. Clean, silky-smooth sheets would be in place, covering the bed. everything to help him relax. And you checked on everything before you left for his place last night.

The only thing you had to do now was wait for his text.

But it never came. Instead, you received a very distressing phone call.

That was what led you to where you are right now. Your mind racing, your knuckles white around your bag, and your leg bouncing up and down in the backseat of the taxi.

Stark's property was huge. You couldn't miss it, even if you wanted to. It made sense why it would be so deep into the city. It took a very large space that only such locations offered. The street was all dark except for the neon lights with the name Stark above the entrance. Other than that, it was nearly black.

You were able to work out the figure standing under the lights right next to the entrance. He was pacing back and forth on the pavement. You paid the driver once he stopped as you got out of the cab.

"Peter, what is going on?" With quick steps, you were standing right in front of the young man.

"Is he okay?" The slight shake in your voice was obvious. The question had been haunting you ever since Peter called and didn't answer it the first time.

"Yes," Peter replied, already seeing the worry all over your face.

"Physically, at least." Peter continued. Because if Bucky was okay, why were you here?

Before you could ask any more questions, Peter led you in. The bouncers at the door let you in immediately as they saw Peter. The inside of the place was nothing like the outside. It was loud, bright, and full of people. There were small food trucks, side bars, merchandise stations, and everything. You could see different kinds of sports and entertainment exercises scattered all over the place, with people around. However, the main area of the property was occupied by a huge boxing ring. It had the most people around it. There are lots of people.

You couldn't inspect more of the place as Peter was rushing the both of you to the back area. It was very clear since you got in here that you didn't belong at all. Your choice of outfit and aura were making you stand out among the sea of people. Peter put his hand around the small of your back, respectively, to guide you through the place. He was trying to get you inside as fast as possible. He wasn't as intimidating as Bucky or some of the others. And if anything happened to you, even as little as a snarky comment, Peter couldn't imagine the wrath he would have to endure. To say Peter was panicking would be an understatement.

The breath of relief Peter let out as you entered the back area was audible. The back area was similar to the one in the gym but much larger and busier. Peter led you to the one room in the back, which you suspected was the largest in the place. He opened the door for you, and you had to close your eyes for a second from the contrast of the lightning. The back area was dimly lit, while the locker room was bright white. You got used to the lights, then looked around to find everybody in here.

As Peter walked you in, you could feel the high tension in the room. The first thing that caught your eye was bleeding Peter Quill and Thor. You didn't know Peter Quill that well; you only met him when you met the team and never passed the greetings stage, but you were more familiar and friendly with Thor. And the sight of both big men holding their noses to stop the bleeding, with bruises forming on their faces, was troubling. Lots of the others were trying to help them.

Only did you take your eyes away when Peter kept moving further into the room until you noticed the small room separated from the big one with a door. You found Sam and Bruce talking beside the door. Peter came to a stop when you reached both men.

"Thank God you are here." Sam spoke quickly as he laid eyes on you.

"Sam, what is going on?" Up to now, you had no idea why you were here. Peter rushed you in and then brought you here with no explanation. You could feel your nerves starting to burn from anxiety.

Before Sam could say anything, a sound of something breaking coming from behind the door rang through the place. You shared eye contact with Sam for seconds, and you started to form an idea about what was happening.

You stepped towards Sam, indicating that you wanted to get inside. Sam looked at you, and you gave him a nod to assure him, and he nodded back. Sam turned and knocked on the door.

You flinched, from surprise, as your boyfriend's angry voice echoed around, shouting that he didn't want to see anyone.

However, the door was unlocked, and Steve stood in the doorframe. You couldn't read the hard expression on his face. But his eyebrows softened slightly when he saw you.

The shouting from your boyfriend made everyone wince in their places. You stepped forward to take Sam's place and stood in front of Steve, determination in your eyes.

Steve signed before he moved aside to let you in, closing the door with the three of you.

The room was small. You thought maybe it was for medical purposes, if needed. But you didn't have the time or mind to pay any attention to your new surroundings.

Your boyfriend was sitting on a chair, his head in his hands, grabbing his hair tightly between his fingers, and his breath was short and angry. Brokrn stuff and objects were scattered all around the room.

"Bucky." You called for him softly to make your presence known.

His head shot up. His eyes were red, bruises were all over his face, and his breath got angrier.

"You called her?" His voice was quiet, but it was deep, hiding many emotions.

"You called my girl?" He stood up, keeping his eyes on Steve, not looking at you at all.

"You brought my girl here?" His breath was getting shorter, with every word coming out as a growl.

"Bucky.." You tried to speak and find the right words to say so it wouldn't escalate.

"You made her come here all by herself and walk in here?" He started walking towards you and Steve.

"YOU BROUGHT HER HERE TONIGHT." Bucky shouted, his angry voice ringing in the small room.

Out of instinct, Steve stepped forward to stand in front of Bucky, keeping you behind him.

That seemed to snap Bucky out of the spell he was in. His red eyes are now coated with hurt. His breath stopped for a moment. Frozen in his place, he couldn't help but think of it. Did Steve think he would hurt you? Did Steve think he needed to protect you from him? Did Steve think that even in this state, he would cause you any harm?

It felt like a knife driven deep into his heart. Betrayal from his best friend, who brought you here against all his wishes, and then thought you needed a shield to be in the same room with him.

But no, that wasn't why Steve did it. He didn't want you to see Bucky lose his temper like he did numerous times tonight. Steve couldn't remember whose idea it was to call you, but he could remember the collective agreement that approved of the suggestion. All aware of the effect you have on the boxer. So Steve expected, like the others, that once you walked in and his best friend saw you, all the insanity that was tonight would come to an end.

But Steve should have known better. Bringing you in here would only make Bucky madder, and you would get to see a version of your boyfriend that Bucky tried so hard to keep from you. Steve regretted agreeing to bring you here.

The tension in the room got thicker. The only sound was the heavy breathing of the three of you. You weren't able to see the look on Steve's face, but Bucky's expression was crystal clear.

"Steve, can you give us a minute?" You stepped away from behind Steve, so you could be in Bucky's eyesight.

Steve turned to you with an unsure look on his face, and you immediately rubbed his shoulder to assure him you knew what you were doing.

Steve nodded and left the room silently. Now, it was just the two of you.

While Bucky looked anywhere but you, his eyes moving all over the room, you finally got to look at him. He was in a pair of black sweatpants, his chest left bare, making all the bruises and cuts on his upper body exposed to your eyes.

You signed, your heart breaking at the sight of your boyfriend battered like this. But it wasn't his physical pain that you were only worried about.

Bucky's eyes finally moved to look at you as you put your bag on the nearest table and started to move around, looking for something.

Bucky was confused. He wanted to ask you what you were doing, but he couldn't find it in himself to talk to you. Too many emotions are tormenting him.

Your little, quiet squeals told him you found what you wanted. You moved towards him with the first-aid kit in hand.

You grabbed the closest chair and positioned it in front of the chair, which Bucky was previously sitting on, and pulled a small table closer as well, where you put the first aid kit and started to empty its contents.

"You will catch lots of infections if you don't get the wounds clean." You spoke when you noticed that Bucky was standing still in his place.

"And God knows you become a big baby when you get sick." You joked. You tried to lighten the mood. to tell him that you were here to help. You weren't judging him. You would never judge him.

And he heard you. So, he came and sat back in the chair in front of you. This time, he sat with his back straight so you could patch him up.

You sat in silence, but there was so much hanging in the air between you. You didn't want to push him. You knew he would start talking when he felt ready.

"Who called you?" And he did.

"Does it matter?" You didn't look at him, sticking to cleaning his wounds.

"To me, yes." He regretted raising his voice immediately, even when you didn't move.

"You shouldn't be here." He continued when he knew he wouldn't get an answer from you.

"But I am." You looked up at him.

"And I want to." Finally, your eyes have met since you got here.

"Don't you see it? the damage I'm capable of doing. the chaos I can create. the pain I put others through. The mess I am."

Today's game was cruel, to say the least. Bucky's opponent played dirty. So dirty, that wasn't against the rules. Because this was never mentioned in any rule book. Mental hits.

Bucky's opponent not only studied Bucky's style and techniques so well, but he did some research as well. So, he would be able to defeat Bucky's strength. And he did.

The second he knew Bucky was winning, he ran his mouth nonstop. He brought up stuff that should never again be brought into the ring. Family stuff. Bucky's life before boxing, the team and their families.

It was shocking. Bucky almost lost his footing once or twice. Was this allowed? Well, it wasn't prohibited. Bucky tried to keep his head straight and not focus on the words coming from the man in front of him. However, it was getting harder and harder as the man kept getting more personal.

Until his opponent mentioned your restaurant's name, Every little drop of blood in Bucky's body ran cold. The noise around him became an annoying ring in his ears. And the opponent took his chance and started landing his punches.

Bucky was trying to regain his composure, but the man's words and punches didn't stop. He was talking nonsense about your restaurant, but he made a mistake that he never estimated.

"I heard you got soft because of that place and wanted to know why. I will tell you what. I would go soft for an adorable thing like her. What a shame that you are the only one who gets to ruin her."

That was the nail in the man's coffin.

Bucky was unstoppable. A monster. a beast with no restraints. You weren't a subject to bring into such a rotten place, and that man was going to pay for even thinking you could be involved in this circus.

Bucky only stopped when he heard the whistle and the referee breaking them apart. Bucky knew that if he didn't stop, he would have to face a penalty of sorts. So he did. But the mental troll has already happened.

The team was taken aback by Bucky's actions once they got out of the lights. They saw him angry after fights before. But this was different. He had lost his mind, and he wasn't willing to talk or tell anybody what happened. And he was getting worse by the second that they had to lock him in the medical room so nobody more would get hurt. They had no clue what to do.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

So here he was, shame and guilt eating him as you were, once again, showing him kindness he had never encountered before.

"I never wanted you to see that."

"I didn't want you to think that I could hurt you."

"Bucky.."

"I would never hurt you, I swear."

His voice got smaller with each word. It was why he never wanted you anywhere near this. so you wouldn't get scared and run away. So you wouldn't see what he looked like when he lost control. And today, he did, and you saw it.

The opponent's voice is still ringing in his ears. He was ruining you. Everyone could see it. You being here just proved it. Because if it hadn't been for him, you would have never stepped a foot in here. Maybe he was already hurting you.

"Bucky." Tears were starting to form in your eyes. You put the stuff down and put your hand on his cheek.

"You can never hurt me. Never."

It was painful to hear the person who became your source of safety and security, the one you relied on the most, think like this.

"The only person you are hurting is yourself, and I can't stand by and watch." It was time you told him the truth.

"You need to stop living these two versions of yourself. You need to stop hiding from me."

"I love you, Bucky. I love you more than I have loved anything in my life. I knew who you were when we met, and it didn't change anything. I still got to fall in love with you."

"Nothing you do is going to change that. I know you think that I won't be able to handle it, but I will, and I want to know. all of it. Everything."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to hide parts of yourself from me. like you have to be someone else. I love everything about you and everything that made you."

"I want you to be able to share stuff and talk about your day freely without thinking too much about it, without keeping parts that you think I won't like."

"I want to sit in the front row and cheer for my boyfriend as he beats people up. I want to get to brag about my strong man." That brought a small laugh from the both of you.

"Nothing is ever going to make me leave or hate you. Nothing. So whatever you think is going to drive me away, it won't. Never."

You meant every word you said. You didn't want to be in a one-sided relationship where Bucky felt like he couldn't be himself. No, you wanted to be his safe place. You wanted to be the person he came to, and poured his heart out. You wanted to take care of him. You wanted him to let you love him. all of him.

"I love you so much that I won't care if you turn out to be a secret assassin."

"You won't?"

"I will bring you the knives in the kitchens."

Bucky thought he couldn't fall in love with you more than he already was. But he was wrong.

Bucky could feel his eyes getting glassy. All his fears weren't real. You weren't going to run away and leave him. You wanted to do the thing he believed he could never have. You wanted to share his life with him. You were giving him something nobody ever allowed him. to be himself openly.

Bucky never thought he had good luck. It turned out he had all the good luck in you. And he couldn't be happier.

Bucky was glad they called you.

[thxliaaa]

all because i liked a boy | steve harrington

synopsis: nancy is steve’s ex who is closer to the group than you are. when you start dating steve, they all start to be cold and harsh to you. 

pairing - steve harrington x reader

warning/s - angst, the group being mean towards you

author’s note - there’s definitely a part two to this don’t you worry

part 2

masterlist | join my taglist

Nancy has always been the mother of the group. She has been through a lot with them, and has protected them from all the troubles they’ve been through. During the problems they had with Vecna, it’s no secret she has been starting to develop feelings for Steve, again. 

You were only a part of the group for not that long. When they needed your help, you gladly gave it to them, and in the process of defeating Vecna, you and Steve fell for each other. So, when he asked you out, you accepted. Not long after, you two had started dating. 

–

The only peaceful time at Hawkins was during mornings. No shouting, no nosy neighbors, just peace. Making a cup of coffee before starting the day became a part of your daily routine. As you got ready to go outside, you saw Steve pulling in your driveway. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” You smiled as Steve pulled you in for a kiss. 

“Why? Is it wrong to pick up my beautiful girlfriend?” He pulled you in for another kiss as you chuckled. You definitely got lucky with Steve. He’s everything you need in a man, someone who’s caring, and sweet, I’m talking like flowers everyday type of man. He was perfect. 

When you both got in the car, you started jamming to your favorite songs on the way to school. As he dropped you off, you both shared a passionate kiss. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later babe. Love you!” He blew you a kiss as he drove off 

“Love you too!” You replied as you were waving at him. 

What you guys didn’t know was that someone else was watching. 

– 

As you were walking along the hallways, you stumbled across Robin whom you waved at. She just glared at you in reply. Weird. She’s not usually like this. Figuring that maybe she was just in a bad mood or was having a bad day, you shrugged it off. 

During lunch, you usually sat with Robin and Nancy. However, when you noticed they weren’t there, you just sat with your other friends. That was interesting, you thought. Maybe it was just a coincidence, paying no attention to it at all, you decided to shrug it off again. 

After school, your day just got weirder, when you tried to talk to Max, it seemed as if she was in a hurry. You kept on asking if something was wrong, yet she just kept on insisting that she had something important to do. 

“Hey Max!” you said with a smile

“Hey” she muttered as she hurriedly put her stuff away in her locker before going in the other direction. 

“Max! Is something wrong?” You said with a worried look plastered on your face. She nodded as she continued to run away from you. What was going on?

– 

Worried that something wrong happened, you went to Dustin’s house hoping to get an answer. He was smiling when you saw him but as soon as he saw you at the door, it was quickly replaced with a frown. 

“Ok that’s it! What is going on? Why is everybody being rude to me today?” You said as you furrowed your eyebrows. Dustin sighed. 

“(Y/N), look it’s not your fault” He said trying to make you feel better. 

“Not my fault? Everybody just seems so off today!” you ranted. “Everybody seems to be in a good mood but as soon as they see me, they instantly either avoid me or ignore me” you continued. 

Dustin just looked at you with a look on his face, it was as if he was disappointed in you and mad. “I’m sure you did nothing wrong, m-maybe everyone just had a bad day..?” He said trying to make an excuse. But you knew something was wrong. You noticed he stuttered, and he tends to do that a lot whenever he’s lying. Dustin is a bad liar. 

You sighed, not wanting to fight him. “Look, just at least give me a hint of what I did”

“You just– you hurt one of us okay? And she’s someone very important” 

“And I’m not? How am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me?” You replied. He sighed once again. You were itching to find out what was going on. 

“Fine, just talk to Nancy or something ok?” He said as you nodded, and he closed the door clearly not wanting to speak to you anymore. 

So, you went to bed that night thinking what you did wrong. Retracing your steps from the moment you woke up even up to the day before. I don’t get it you wondered, you were all fine the day before, all of you were even laughing and planning to hang out. What had gone wrong?

–

The next morning, you woke up really early to go confront Nancy. And when you got to her house, she had a big smile plastered across her face which seemed to fade as soon as she saw you. A simple “Oh” coming out of her mouth. 

“Hi” you gave her a small smile. She greeted you “Hi” back but her eyes were glued on the floor. 

“Nancy, come on, talk to me. What did I do wrong to you?” You grabbed her shoulders forcing her to look at you. 

“It’s nothing, okay?” She tried to explain. “No it's not okay! Everyone has been very cold and distant towards me which is very rude and you gave me no explanation at all on what I did” you ranted. 

For a second, she seemed to hesitate on what to say, but soon, everything poured out of her mouth. 

“You wanna know what you did? You’re dating Steve.” She said, you were confused, you knew they dated but why was she so affected by you dating him. I mean, she was already dating Jonathan so you thought it would be okay with her. 

“What’s wrong with me dating Steve?” you asked confusedly, she took a deep breath before starting to talk again. “You’re supposed to follow the principles of best friends. He’s my ex and you know the rule about not dating your best friend’s ex” she replied. 

“But you’re with Jonathan, I thought it would be ok with you” 

“It’s not okay? Just because I’m with Jonathan doesn’t make it okay.” 

“You were barely even dating Steve, you were in love with Jonathan halfway through your relationship with him” you said. You finally put the pieces together. Her staring at Steve at the lake, her flirting with him whenever he got the chance, her being rude to Robin when they first met because she thought Robin and Steve were dating. It finally made sense, Nancy still likes Steve. 

“You still like him don’t you?” you said as you looked at her. Her eyes went directly to the floor as you said that. And when she turned to look at you, it was a look that a child would give you if they were guilty about something. She still liked him. 

Walking away from her house, you continued walking and was lost in your thoughts. Why were they mad? You can’t control who you love. You felt betrayed, as if someone had ripped your heart from inside you. You felt horrible. Now you know that if you and Nancy ever fought again, they would always choose her side. 

Your friends hated you and shunned you all day because of your relationship with Steve. The thought couldn’t help but make you scoff. It’s so stupid, all of it. 

They’re mad at you all because you liked a boy. 

[munsonkitten]

Morning comes, and Eddie finds Steve sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s pulling his underwear on, slowly sliding them up his legs like he’s trying not to jostle the mattress too much. Eddie watches him for a second while he wakes up more, eyes threatening to shut again. 

Steve turns and sees Eddie looking at him, and he looks surprised, like he’s been caught in some kind of act. 

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. 

“Morning,” Steve whispers back. He’s pulling on his socks now. 

Like he’s going to leave. 

“Where are you going?” Eddie asks. 

Steve sighs. “Dustin missed the bus. I’ll come back after I drive him, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”

Eddie nods, pulls the blanket up to his chest. “Did he call here?”

“Walkie-Talkie,” Steve answers, picking up the device from beside him on the floor. “Surprised it didn’t wake you.”

Eddie shrugs and turns over onto his side again, curling up beneath his blankets. “Tell him to start setting his alarms an hour early if he’s going to do the ten-step Steve Harrington hair routine every morning.”

“He doesn’t,” Steve protests. “He said he couldn’t find the cat and panicked. You know, the last one got eaten so he’s worried about that shit.”

“That’s what he wants you to think!” Eddie says. “I bet you twenty bucks and a gram of weed he smells like your Farrah Fawcett hairspray and has his hair piled ten feet high when he gets in your car.”

“Okay first of all, Farah Fawcett hairspray has been discontinued for, like, two years. I don’t even have any of my own stock left. Can’t find it anywhere, no way Dustin’s got any left. And second, how do you know about that?”

“Oh, Stevie, baby,” Eddie croons. “I didn’t, not until now. You just confirmed it, though.”

Steve rolls his eyes and huffs. He stands and finds his jeans from last night, and then picks up a sweatshirt off Eddie’s floor. 

“I’m borrowing this,” Steve says as he pulls it over his head. His head comes out of the hole. “But seriously, man, how’d you know about the hair spray?”

“Okay, fine,” Eddie says. “Nancy told me.”

“She was sworn to secrecy!”

Eddie laughs. “You better go drive him before he’s late for school, man. Wake me when you get back.”

He wakes up again to Steve coming in through the bedroom door. He has his wallet in his hand when Eddie opens his eyes, sees Steve opening it to pull something out, and then a twenty dollar bill is being tossed toward Eddie. 

“I don’t have a gram of weed,” Steve says, petulantly. “But, to be clear, it wasn’t the Steve Harrington hair routine.”

“No?” Eddie asks, taking the money and dropping it on the nightstand. He slides his rings on top of it to keep it weighed down. 

“No,” Steve says, kicking off his jeans. He throws himself into Eddie’s bed and burrows himself under the blankets. “He’s doing the Eddie hair routine now.”

“What, get out of the shower and rub it with a towel until it’s dry?” Eddie jokes. 

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist and drags him in. 

“Fuck you, man,” Steve huffs. “I know you take care of your hair. I love your fucking hair.”

Eddie smiles a bit sadly and buries his face in Steve’s throat. Hair has always been a thing for him. Complicated at best. He likes where he’s at now, but it’s always been complicated, trying to get where he is. 

A discussion for another time, maybe, because Steve is pressing kisses to his head and letting his hands wander a bit. 

The hands wander a bit too much for eight in the morning, but Eddie finds himself not really caring at all. Not when it feels this good. Not when Steve can make him forget all the thoughts that creep back up on him when he starts to think about those complicated things.

Read more on AO3

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader[2.6K] a bad dream, a concerned steve, mentions of cheating and self doubt-- and this is definitely not inspired by the way i woke up this morning.

Honestly, you thought you’d gotten over it. 

But upon seeing Steve walk up your driveway, you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t wait for him to get to the door, to ring the bell and ask you if you knew any pretty girls that would like to go on a date with him. It didn’t matter that that had been the routine for years now, one that normally has you rolling your eyes and batting at his chest until he caught your wrist and pressed a kiss to your palm. 

You didn’t wait for any of that. You rushed at the boy before he could make it past the hydrangeas that grew in your front yard, crashing into him in a hug he didn’t expect. Steve caught you anyway, the breath knocked out of him, his arms right around your ribs. 

“Hi,” he said through a laugh, hoisting you closer, your toes barely touching the ground. “Did you miss me or something?”

You mumbled some sort of reply into his shirt, hiding your glassy eyes and hot cheeks as much as you could. You’d seen your boyfriend the night before, it would have stupid to miss him— but after that dream, well. You felt pathetically desperate for him. 

You couldn’t even call it a dream. Not when you’d woken up tangled in your sheets with tears already burning at your eyes. It would’ve been embarrassing if the feeling hadn’t clawed at your chest for the rest of the day, images that your silly mind had conjured up, playing over and over in your head. You’d tried baking, you’d read for a little, you’d even sat down and tried to watch a movie about space and hairy aliens. 

Nothing had worked. 

And now? Now that you were in Steve’s arms, the feelings only intensified. Because this Steve was real and he’d never hurt you, you were sure of it. But still, could see his cold eyes in your dream, the humourless laughter, the pitying staters of your friends—

“Hey,” Steve’s voice broke you out of your thoughts, tearing you away from the familiar nip starting in the corners of your eyes. “You okay?”

You sucked in a deep breath and gathered yourself before you pulled back, peering up at the boy and giving him your best smile. It was more of a press of your lips, but you nodded and took his hand. “Yeah!” You said a little too brightly. “Yeah, yeah, shall we go?”

Steve looked at you suspiciously but he didn’t dig. Not yet. Instead he let you lead him back down the driveway, only taking charge when you came to his car. He opened the door to the passenger side for you, stopping you before you dropped into the seat with his hand on your chin. He grinned when you turned shy for him, his eyes fond. 

“There she is,” he murmured before he leaned over the top of the car door to meet your lips. A sweet kiss, a quick peck that you wished went on longer but you were sure your neighbours would have had something to say. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell you how pretty you look.”

You ducked your chin, wrinkling your nose. Four years on and Steve Harrington still made your tummy flip. It was a full on gymnastic routine in there when the boy looked at you with those eyes. You gazed back up at him, suddenly wishing you could skip the cinema in favour of clinging to him all night instead. 

“Yeah?” You asked. The sudden need for validation, for reassurance, was like a tidal wave. “You think?”

Steve frowned at that, confused by your question. Normally, he’d talk all sweet to you and get another kiss in return, a big smile and a happy hum, all the things he wanted to see from his girl. But right now, you looked a little forlorn. Smaller, quieter, with an uncertainty in your eyes that he didn’t understand. 

He pushed a hand to your jaw, coaxing you to meet his gaze, his thumb skimming over your bottom lips, your cheek. “What’s wrong?” 

Embarrassment burned at your chest, a white hot flush that creeped up along the back of your neck. “What? Nothing.” You were going to have to be more convincing. 

“Yeah, there is,” Steve accused. He was still eyeing you, gaze roaming over your features as if he could find the secret there. He didn’t mean to sound rude, but he knew you too well to fall for your lies. You blinked at him, a sad excuse for a smile stretching over your lips. “Baby—”

“C’mon, we’re gonna miss the movie, Steve,” you tried, smiling a little more brightly as he continued to frown. 

He didn’t say anything, just studied you a little more before he realised you weren’t going to talk yet. So he leaned in again and pouted at you, all sun kissed cheeks from yesterday's day at the pool, new freckles and too long lashes. “Gimme another kiss first,” he bargained. 

So you did, leaning up to meet him this time, pushing up on your toes as you gripped the top of his car door. Steve caught the back of your neck with his hand, holding you close so he could kiss you a little deeper, a little longer, like he could banish away your funny mood with the stroke of his tongue over the seam of your lips. 

“You sure you’re okay?” He asked once more when he let you pull away for a breath. His nose nudged your cheek, bodies kept apart by the door frame. “We can stay home, if you want.”

Steve watched as you considered and he could see you mulling over his question. But then you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and shook your head, that same far away look still in your eyes. He’d been looking forward to seeing the new Indiana Jones movie since he’d first seen the trailer but he’d wait it out, for you. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assured him, already ducking into the car. You looked up at him from the seat with big, doe eyes, buckling yourself in. “I’m fine. Let’s go, come on.”

But you weren’t fine and Steve knew that. ‘Cause you spent the drive over to the shopping mall with your gaze set on the streets that were blurring by you. But when Steve curled his hand around your bare thigh instead of the gear stick, you grasped onto his fingers and didn’t let go until he had to park. Even in the cinema, as Steve bought the tickets and the popcorn for you to share, you clung to his side, chin pushed to his bicep and hand twined with his as he passed over his card, not even looking at the cashier as he peered down at you, the same concern making his brows draw together. 

And when Indiana Jones was fighting off another enemy and chasing after his hat, Steve made sure to offer you his hand across the seats, bringing yours to his lips when you took it before dropping them back into your lap. You played with his fingers the entire movie, tracing the lines on his knuckles, laughing when everyone else did but entirely distracted the whole time. 

You didn’t talk much on the way home. The streetlights came and went as Steve drove you both back to his, the yellow-amber glow giving way to navy shadows that made your sad eyes look even sadder and Steve felt a heavy ache in his chest over it all. He started to worry, that maybe he’d upset you somehow, that maybe you didn’t want to be with him anymore. It had to be him, right? 

But you tilted your head up for a kiss when you stood by the front door, waiting for him to unlock it. And Steve obliged, happily, ducking his head down to meet your lips, trailing his affection to your cheeks, your jaw, your nose and chin as well. He kissed you until you whispered his name, thick with fondness, smiling a smile that looked a little more real than before. He gave you one more, a lingering thing that was sweeter than the butter popcorn he’d bought before he was leading you up to his room. 

It eased Steve a little as you toed off your shoes and fell onto his bed, a clumsy shuffle up to his headboard so you could curl yourself into the mountain of pillows there. The boy was quick to follow, crawling up the sheets until he was crowding over you, manhandling you in a way you didn’t object to, letting him nudge his way into your arms until he was between your thighs and resting his chin on your stomach. 

He closed his eyes when your fingers found his hair, lashes fanning over his cheeks, humming at the scratch of your nails on the nape of his neck. And then he blinked at you, his own hand squeezing at your side until you met his gaze. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s been eatin’ at you?”

Your face scrunched at the question, as if it was an awful thing to answer. But the heavy weight you’d felt at six am that morning came crawling back, forcing itself between the cracks in your ribs until you felt your eyes water. You took your hands from your boyfriend's hair and covered your face with them instead, wishing you could hide away under the duvet until you could wake up and start the day again. 

“It’s so stupid,” you told Steve mournfully, words muffled in your palms. 

“Babe,” Steve sat up and you felt the bed dip and shift as he flopped down next to you. His hands found your wrists and he tried to gently pry your hands from your face. “Baby—” 

You whined when he tugged a little harder, ignoring the way he laughed a little, but you gave in, only to bury your head in his shoulder instead. 

“Hey, come on,” Steve coaxed softly. “What’s wrong, huh? Is it— is it me? Is it something I’ve done?”

Your heart ached with the worry in his voice, an awfully sorrowful thing that made your eyes turn a little more glassy than before. You burrowed closer, needling your arms through Steve’s so you wrap yourself around him. “No— well, yeah in a way.” You heard his sharp inhale and you panicked. “No! It’s not, it’s not like that! God, Steve, it’s so lame, forget I said—”

Clearly reaching his limit, Steve nudged you away only to pull you back in, this time settling you on top of him, your legs thrown over his lap until you were coaxed into straddling him, chin to your chest as he tried to meet your gaze. His hands found the sides of your face , big enough to cover the line of your jaw too and he urged your head up until your cheeks squished between his palms. You pouted. 

“Honey,” Steve breathed out and his eyes were wide, caramel brown and panicked looking. “Please, you’re gonna make me burst a blood vessel here— it’s not lame, okay? Whatever is bothering you this much is not lame.”

You relented, leaning to the side so Steve could take the weight of your head and all the silly little worries that rattled inside of it. His thumb stroked over the apple of your cheek and he waited, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile when your idle fingers found the front of his shirt. You clung to him. 

“I had a dream, alright?” You spoke to his collar, nose pressed to the boy’s throat, all cologne and laundry detergent. “It’s so stupid. It was awful though, you cheated on me with this— this girl and I don’t even know who she was supposed to be. But she was super pretty and you were so mean about it and—” 

You cut your own rambling off with an embarrassed groan and it only turned into a distressed whine when you heard Steve laugh softly. You rolled off him, letting yourself flop to the side so you could hide your face in his pillows but the boy followed suit. Fingertips dug at your ribs until you squealed and flailed, rolling over to battle away his wandering hands. But Steve was over you, hands on either side of your face as he carefully kept his weight up, his eyes bright and searching your own. 

You squinted back at him, heat clinging to your neck and your cheeks and you didn’t want this, you didn’t want him to make fun of you. Why was he smiling?   

“You don’t know how happy I am to hear that it was dream me that was a dick and not actual me.” Steve grinned at you, even when you huffed back at him, but you didn't try to squirm away. “Babe, you shoulda told me, huh?”

“I told you,” you whispered. “It’s lame.”

The boy leaned in, nose bumping your own, foreheads touching. Your breath hitched at his closeness, the feeling of being almost kissed was one that never went away. His lips just touched yours, a barely there thing. “It’s not lame, it’s sounds pretty fucking awful, actually.”

“It was,” you agreed mournfully. “I woke up sweating.” 

Steve laughed at that, a huff of warm air over your lips and you couldn’t help but smile back, a lightness taking over that suffocating feeling that had been stuck in your chest all day. You shook your head at yourself, at your own silliness, letting your hands reach up to slide under Steve’s shirt so you could press your palms to his waist. You wanted him on you. 

“S’that why you’ve been holding onto me all night, huh? Like I’m gonna run away?”

You frowned, head rolling to the side so you could bite affectionately at his bicep. “More like make sure no one stole you,” you mumbled. 

Another laugh, still as soft, still as warm. “You know that won’t happen, right? Like, hell would freeze over before someone else caught my eye.”  

You were silent, eyes trained on Steve’s arm. 

“Babe,” Steve leaned in further, his thighs pushing yours apart so he could lie between them, one of his hands pushing back your hair, his thumb running over your brow bone. Every touch made your body hum. “Baby, you know that right?”

You conceded then, nodding as you turned your head back, lips parting as he caught them between his, a kiss that was much more heated than the others. This one had intent, a meaning behind it that he was trying to make you understand. 

“Would never do that to you,” the boy whispered, his words tumbling onto your lips. You swallowed them whole, used them to close up the yawning crevice that was intent on making your ribs crack. “Ever.”

“I know,” you whispered back and your hands were clinging higher, fingertips pushing into the lines of his back, the muscle that covered his shoulders so you could press him down closer. “I know that. That’s why I said I was being lame.”

Steve tsked at your language again, the awful way you spoke about yourself. But he let you drag him down, giving up on keeping his full weight off of you and he grinned into your hair when you wrapped yourself around him, legs circling his waist, arms around his neck. 

“Dream Steve is an asshole, huh?” He mumbled into your jaw. He pressed a kiss there, a whole line of them until he reached your ear and nuzzled his nose to the spot underneath. He snorted when you nodded your agreement. “Want me to have a word with him?”

You grinned something stupid, squealing when the boy rolled you both over, victorious underneath you when he saw your smile. A real one. You nodded, settling into Steve’s lap as he held your hands, fingers twined between your own. 

“Yes please."

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 48

part 1 | part 47 | ao3

cw: mentions of smoking/sexual activity

Chapter 11

February

For two and a half months, Steve’s life goes perfectly. He didn’t realize how far into a pit he’d fallen until Eddie showed up to help Robin and the kids lift him out, but the difference is jarring. Golden hour sunlight after catching a matinée.

Steve spends two months blinking.

He sloughs off his sadness like a snake shedding skin; spends the winter getting back to being Steve, restocks his favorite hair products and restarts his fitness routines — morning runs through the woods, afternoon pick-up games with Lucas and some of his teammates when the weather doesn’t suck. Weightlifting in the evenings because Eddie says he likes how Steve’s arms look when they get a little big, says it’s more fun to pin him down when he knows it’s just for show.

And he tries new things, too, just because Eddie likes them or because the kids think they're cool. He reads a Vonnegut novel. He eats Indian curry. He even learns a song on guitar.

...Sort of.

Eventually.

(Actually, that whole thing goes pretty horribly and takes for-fucking-ever. Eddie spends an afternoon patiently encouraging him and doing his best not to tease while Steve clumsily moves through a beginner chord progression, and then breaks down wheezing when, after the sixth attempt with no improvement, Steve puts the guitar down in a huff and threatens to demote his pinky finger from his hand if it doesn't start cooperating. Eddie laughs so hard he tips face-first into Steve's crotch, and it takes them a sticky-spitty-sweaty half hour to get back to the lesson.)

Anyway, he likes the way their lives entangle. As easy as weaving his hands through Eddie’s hair.

He gets invited to band practice; he sits in on D&D. Sometimes he watches sports with Wayne when he's got a day off, then he heads out with Eddie for long joyrides through the countryside.

Eddie blasts his metal music when they get out to the backroads, and he talks too loudly over the bass and laughs even louder and rants about nothing and smokes cigarettes while he headbangs to his favorite guitar solos — almost lights his hair on fire on more than one occasion, fucking dumbass — and he does this silly, lewd shit that makes Steve's chest just ache. Makes it clench around the word that's been burning a hole in his tongue since New Year's Eve. Eddie wags his brows and palms himself through his jeans and asks if Steve wants to take another joyride when they get home, and Steve thinks:

God, I love you.

I love you.

How could I not love you?

And really, how could he not? And how much longer can he keep not telling him so? When it feels like the word is going to burst out of his chest Alien-style any second.

When it feels like Eddie's the reason he even has a home to get to.

Slowly — so slowly, hours spent thrifting and bartering and keeping an eye out for free stuff left out on the curb, even more hours sanding and painting and caulking and sweating to death between trips to the hardware store — they redo Steve's whole trailer. Floor to ceiling, wall to wall, they exorcise the haunted tin can. They make it his; they make it theirs.

Eddie injects life into every inch of the space, fills it with weird art and funky lamps and a big, comfy leather couch that he likes to bend Steve over. Comes inside him in every room when they get done working on it as a reward; gasps in Steve's ear about how he always wants to be inside him: in his home, in his body, nestled deep inside his heart. "Keep me right here, baby," he breathes as he fucks Steve against a wall, his left hand gripping Steve's chest while he fills him from behind.

It’s perfect.

It's perfect.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts unless Steve asks.

And then, because this godforsaken town and everyone in it are fucking cursed, one day it isn’t anymore.

—

part 49

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[orbitariums]

home this christmas | carmen berzatto x black reader smut

happy christmas! wrote this in a pinch, hope u love

also, all my steve rogers fic readers— what say i finish up girls on film over winter break? just for shits and giggles. enjoy!

the drive to your family’s heirloom brownstone in brooklyn was almost impossible as you and carmy took turns navigating the snowy roads and the panic attack that was new york traffic during the holidays. it would’ve been absolute agony if you weren’t right by your lover’s side and didn’t have tons of r&b christmas classics blasting through the entire time. at the first hotel, the two of you were too exhausted to even talk to each other, but carmen’s arm still found its way around your waist like something of an unconscious mechanism. you had to smuggle yourself free in the morning. by the morning, the two of you were determined to finish up the four-hour drive and make it home for christmas. 

no time for rest though. the minute you and carmy stepped in, you were bombarded with the sound of luther vandross belting christmas classics. the smell of good cooking — candied yams, sweet potatoes, collard greens, and glazed ham- overwhelmed your senses. any tension that had built up on the road was immediately released the moment you walked in, carmy holding a huge crate of ingredients that he would use to make chicken piccata.

“cuzzo!” squealed janae, your favorite girl cousin, and a recent howard u grad, as she ran up with her arms opened wide like a snow angel etched into the snow. 

“hey boo,” you grinned, basking in the warmth of her hug. you held on for so long— halfway through today’s trip, carmy’s car heat stopped working and the both of you had to opt for multiple blankets and layering up in all the coats and scarves you could find, plus whatever slightly warming object was in the back of his trunk.

“hi baby, hi carmen. merry christmas!,” your mother, hustling over to the sink with a large pot full of hot water cooed out.

“merry christmas, ms. __. so good to see you, can i help you with that?” carmen asked, setting down his crate and heading over to your mother, getting straight to business.

“carmen, you know to call me denise,” your mother nagged, waving her hand at carmen dismissively. “what i keep telling you about that?! you’re family. now leave me alone and ‘gon get started with your little chef shit over there.”

carmen smiled, that deep dimple sinking into his cheek that made you fall in love with him all over again each time you saw it. 

“yes ma'am,” he relented.

“ooh, your man is so fine, yn,” your sister announced as she walked into the kitchen. “and a gentleman, but we been knew that. hey, carmy. it’s good to see you, boy.”

“yeah, good to see you, too. how’s uhh— how’s benny?”

your sister scoffed,

“stupid, as always. and he don’t even cook. hey, yn!”

your sister laughed and pulled you into a hug.

“home sweet home,” you grinned, jumping right into the business of the kitchen. 

the rest of the day was chaos, but the kind you could only ever love. if anything, carmy preferred this chaos to that of his family’s thanksgiving and back home. this chaos felt organized and loving, not to mention hilarious. it took so long to convince your family that carmy could really cook, but once they finally met him just a few months before and he put down a peach pie like never before, they could not shut up about how fine and talented your man was, and how he was one of the good ones.

today, the same routine. this time, watching carmen cook for your family in your family home revved up a stir deep inside of you that would linger on your mind for the entire afternoon. everywhere you turned you couldn’t help but eye him — his big arms, littered with tattoos, flexing as he stirred a pot of mashed potatoes; the way his brow dug into his forehead with concentration as he definitively scattered parsley over the chicken; his tongue darting out to lick the side of his lip when he was focusing deeply on something. 

for the first time in the past 24 hours, you were practically separated from carmy. he was focusing on his dish and tending to the demands of the practically all-female kitchen (no men were allowed, bar for carmy and your aunt’s husband), so he didn’t get to talk to you, doubly engrossed in your christmas dinner duties, much either. though the times that he could sneak away or had to pass by you, he reassured you with a light squeeze around your hips or a hand on the small of your pack as he got by you. unbeknownst to him, it was only feeding the stir that was increasing by the hour between your thighs, and polluting your mind with the most unholy thoughts. 

the air was thick with flour, smoke, and the smell of a grand dinner by the time you all were finished cooking. while you let the food cool, you opened gifts. carmy had something for everyone in the family, even your baby cousins, nieces, and nephews. by the end of the gift opening, everyone had agreed that carmy was their new favorite. 

“merry christmas, baby,” carmy muttered against your lips, pulling you in for the first kiss you had shared for a few hours now. he placed your gift in your lap. 

“merry christmas,” you smiled against his lips, which tasted like sweet wine and marshmallows, as you pulled away. 

“c’mon now, what’d he get you?” your aunt hollered from her seat, clapping her hands together joyfully. 

you grinned, sloughing away the paper, which was wrapped to perfection, just like everything carmy dared touch. you nearly squealed when you saw the box: black and white with big bold letters: chanel. 

“baby, you did not,” you whined, frowning as you looked over at carmen. again that dimple reappeared and it took you everything not to jump his bones. he stroked his hand with his chin in that pensive way of his, his smile sheepish and yet smug.

“open it.”

you opened it slowly as if you were scared. then you practically tore it out of the box when you saw just what it was — the metallic pink chanel bag you had liked just once on instagram, posting it on your story with the caption “need.” you didn’t expect anything to come of that, and yet, here carmy was, going above and beyond to keep up with your expensive and exquisite taste. you couldn’t help but screech in excitement, waving the bag in the air while you stuck your tongue out.

“y’all look what my man got me!”

“my man, my man, my man,” some of your cousins echoed, humored, in the background.

the entire living room practically erupted with noises of affirmation and disbelief from your family. 

“girl, let me hold that for you!” your cousin janae pleaded jokingly. 

you broke out into a little dance on the couch, ending it with another kiss planted on carmy’s lips, pulling away with a loud smacking noise. 

“you really didn’t have to, baby. i love you.”

“i love you. that’s why i did it,” carmy grinned, his eyes boring deep into yours, promising his love to you. 

“i just know that’s right,” your mother called out. 

dinner was active and loud, as always. carmen’s chicken piccata barely lasted, and folks were starting to compare it to your aunt’s famous fried chicken, but carmy shut that down immediately.

“nah, don’t get me in trouble,” he smirked, holding the plate you had made for him. 

there was something so indescribably sexy about watching him just standing there. that he was so easily integrated with your family, so helpful, and charming enough to please your own mother and father had you weak in the knees. not to mention the insane gift. he told you he’d been saving up for a few months ever since he saw you post that, and that only made your heart melt more.

when carmy wasn’t so in his own head, he was a man of true, deep intention. you were the one who brought him back to homeostasis, to equilibrium. his mental state seemed to clear of all the “bad shit” when he laid his head on your chest, on your lap, your hands figuring their way through the ringlets of his curly hair. 

“yeah, don’t get him in trouble,” the aunt in question echoed as she walked past.

“don’t worry aunty, i still like your fried chicken better. sorry baby,” you awarded carmy an apologetic kiss on the lips. “but i stand on my shit.”

“as you should,” carmen nodded, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “you like other things about me better though, yeah?”

that last part came as a low murmur against your ear, his lips just barely brushing against the lobe. the words, in tandem with his warm, familiar breath fanning against your neck, made you squeeze your legs together involuntarily. you could practically taste the wine on his lips and it made you dizzy. the stir that had been brewing inside of you for an entire day now was now changing pace, becoming quicker, more violent. if you didn’t fulfill your needs soon, you’d overflow. 

you smiled to save face in front of your family, squeezing carmen’s hand as if to say “later.” but god, later couldn’t come fast enough.  

the rest of the night you were glued to carmen, practically hip to hip. you sat on his lap while your family talked around the tree, and he made sure his hands caressed your thighs ever so softly, just enough to keep you reeling from his trickling touch. you wanted him to squeeze, wanted him to sink his palms into you and then some. 

it wasn’t until nearly midnight that people started to pile out, and only then did you find it appropriate to head upstairs with carmen, bidding adieu to your family. 

“aww, it was so good to see you yn, and you, carmen. what a blessing you’ve been to this family,” crooned one of your aunts as she also made her way out the door.

“blessed to be here. thank you guys for welcoming me, seriously. i couldn’t be luckier, holy shit. excuse my language,” carmen rambled,

the words spilled out with ease because of the wine and because he genuinely felt this way. his whole life, he’d been blessed with found family, reminding him that sometimes water could be just as thick as blood. and when you came with the package? he’d never let go. 

people began to peeter out late into the night, and by the time everyone was gone, only then was it appropriate for you to bring carmy upstairs to get ready for bed. 

both you and carmy spilled out a few more jokes and goodbyes before you took carmy by the hand and led him upstairs. as you were walking up there, it hit you that it was his first time being in your childhood room. you only ever stayed here when you were visiting, so it still had a very y2k theme to it that you hadn’t changed since high school. a poster of lil kim with her legs spread was plastered on your walls, along with nsync, backstreet boys, and a couple other 90s-2000s classics. you still had a half-used bottle of juicy couture viva perfume on your desk, the bow wrapped prettily around the cap. 

“oh shit, it’s been a while,” you chuckled. 

carmen was taking it all in, looking around with a thoughtful grin etched across his lips.  

“always been a fashion girl, huh?” he prodded you.

“oh forever.”

you sidled up in front of him, so close you could feel him up against you.

“you were amazing today,” you reached up to kiss him as he towered over you, in height and energy. a soft, wet kiss that left carmy wanting more. so much so that he unconsciously wrapped his hands around your waist and pulled you in even closer. 

“yeah?”

“yes. i love watching you with my family. and with the kids, you just…”

“y’know, when i was cooking i kept feeling eyes on the back of my neck. any idea who that could’ve been?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow up as he gazed down at you.

you shook your head knowingly, pulling your bottom lip in between your teeth, returning his gaze tenfold.

“no,” you replied, your voice sweet like honeydew and so, so telling. 

“fuck,” carmy’s gaze seemed to deepen as his lids sunk lower, drinking in the sight of you. “don’t look at me like that, baby.”

he started to pull you closer towards him, back and back and back until you were plopped down on his bed. his legs, wide and bulky, forced you to spread yours over his lap, welcoming his thighs into a straddle. 

“like what?” you asked, your eyes twinkling as you looked down at him and he looked up at you, his hands roaming your thighs freely, like an expanse of land that was entirely his property. 

“like that, like you’re gonna make me do something you’ll regret.”

“regret? how could i ever regret anything you do to me, baby?” you questioned with a very intentional roll of your hips against him. you felt him grow, blossoming against your own crotch, which made you moan quietly.

“if you’re loud enough—” carmy punctuated his words with a kiss against your neck as his hands went to take off your shirt. you lifted your arms up and your shirt came sliding off, your skin exposed to the cool air. “you just might regret it.”

carmy kissed the side of your neck, eliciting a quiet huff of pleasure from your lips. you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into the pleasure. his fingers danced delicately against your bare sides until finally, he rested the whole of his palms against your body, easing them up and down like he was smoothing you out. 

“mm, i’ll be quiet, daddy,” you hummed, arching your back just so, his hand connecting with the small of your back and fitting right in.

“take your pants off,” he commanded quietly, his eyes practically closed as he studied you with heavy lids. the exhaustion certainly didn’t assist the horny daze he was sinking deeper into, tired and full of lustful thoughts that seemed to weigh him down.

“only if you take your clothes off too, carmy,” you whined, but you shimmied out of your pants anyway, watching him with hungry puppy-dog eyes while he did the same, yanking off his shirt, belt, and pants and throwing them halfway across the room.

“and your bra, too,” carmy said softly, his words coming out delicate like petals falling off a flower. he was completely focused on one thing, and it was you— nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. time moved slow when he watched you like this. 

you started unhooking it, then carmy’s hands flung to your clasp to help you, removing it in record time and throwing it across the room. you opened your mouth to make a joke, but you were immediately silenced when his lips attached hungrily to your breast, closing in on the fat surrounding the small of your nipple while the other hand grasped onto the other. 

you whined quietly and started to roll your hips against carmy even more now, grinding deep against his crotch which was covered by his boxers. you could practically feel him poking inside of you, lubricating your pussy even more than it already was. 

“carmy,” you whined. “can feel you.”

“mhm?” he hummed brokenly, his breaths heavy and dysregulated. you were so warm, sharing in each other’s heat, in the still dark of your bedroom. the sheets all done up, practically untouched. he pulled away from your breast, unlatching with a soft pop of his lips. his hand replaced his mouth, feeling the warm trail that his lips left. “can feel you too, sweetheart.”

he let his hand drift down to your crotch, cupping you over your underwear, which had a big wet spot in the center. 

“yeah, that’s what i feel. you’re so fucking wet, honey,” he crooned into your ear, making sure his lips brushed against your earlobe before he traveled down to kiss on your neck some more, sending shivers down your spine that made you buck your hips involuntarily into his hand. carmy chuckled that dark, smug chuckle that made you hate him and want to ride him all the same. the kind that only came out when you were being desperate— when he had control over you and not the other way around. “what’re you doing, baby? go slow, yeah? be patient.”

he made a wreck of you, obliging you anyway by circling a finger against your clit through your panties, feeling the way your slick seemed to pool endlessly at his touch. wanting to feel it on your skin. 

“shut up, carmy, fuck!” you moaned quietly, your arms wrapped around his neck for balance. 

he played with you just a little more, wondering just how far he could take it until your quiet moans turned into pleading whimpers, until he made you start to beg just for his fingers, so that by the time he sat you down on his lap, letting you sink all the way down onto his cock, you had no more voice to beg. that was on his mind, and yet, in his tired, sex-drunk haze, he knew to give you what you wanted now, before you went and turned the whole house into a personal fuckfest. 

still, he couldn’t help but tease just once more. 

“it’s christmas, honey. what’re we doing?”

“i don’t care,” you huffed. “it’s practically tomorrow, it’s like 11:30.”

carmen nearly snorted,

“need it that bad?”

you didn’t reply, and so he asked you again, this time with a kiss of his lips against your neck, sucking and attaching firmly to the sweet, soft skin there, and with his fingers, pulling down your underwear. slick sounds filling the air as it detached from your wet core, a trail of your arousal in between the cloth and your heat. 

“hm?” carmy hummed, letting his fingers dance along your slit, ever so gently and delicately, like they were trailing up your entire being.

“god, y-yes, carmy. need it, need you. please,” you whimpered, muffled as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, lurching into him like you were surrendering, a natural lull you didn’t even realize you gave into every time without fail. full disregard, letting him take over, letting yourself let go. 

“need my fingers inside you, yeah?” carmy panted, finding it hard to control himself.

all he wanted was to be sheathed fully inside of you, whether that meant twisting you open with his fingers, lapping you up with his tongue, or fucking his cum into you as deeply (and quietly) as he could. he obliged, slipping one finger inside with such gleeful ease, feeling the digit get soaked in your arousal. 

you gasped sharply, lurching forward involuntarily. carmy brought you back down with another hand wrapped firm around your waist.

“no no no, stay right there. and answer me, what do you need?” 

“need you carmy, need your fingers, please, another,” you nearly cried out, your voice going up an octave just to beg. perhaps carmen’s favorite sound from your lips, and it didn’t even sound like yourself— it sounded like someone who was forced into impenetrable bliss and didn’t have a vessel to express it, just the voice.

“okay, okay, sweetheart,” he was sweet and giving, so generous, so dazed and yet still so in charge. dipping another finger into your slick, wet heat and burying his fingers to the hilt inside of you, causing you to squeak out. “fuck, gotta be quiet, honey.”

“yes, yes, i’m sorry,” you scrambled to apologize, which only made him want you more. hungry, he grunted, jerking his hips up to feel something, anything. your hands flew to his crotch, palming him over his boxers, but he gently pulled your hand away. 

“don’t worry about me, baby. don’t worry. gonna have you bouncing on my cock in a minute, just wait. wanna make you feel good first,” he assured you, and in your haze, you nodded agreeably, eyes screwed shut with pleasure.

he moved, slowly, so you could feel his fingers sliding against your walls. you threw your head back, a muffled noise of pleasure escaping from your throat. he kept his eyes on you, unblinking, pumping in slow and controlled one, two times, then he picked up the pace, and with it, you got wetter, slicker, soaking his fingers and his thighs. 

your breath caught in your throat, you couldn’t even make any noise. just stilted from the pleasure that you felt, feeling it burn and rev in your stomach— that slow, churning stir back again, working towards completion. all you could hear was your slick as carmy fucked his fingers in and out of you, fast and dangerously deep, hitting every single spot inside of you because his fingers were so thick. carmy’s eyes glanced down for a minute to see his fingers disappearing inside of you like they fucking belonged there, like they were supposed to be inside of you, making you so wet that it was all you could hear. he watched as your arousal painted your mound and spread across your thighs, breathing out heavily in disbelief. he started to fuck his fingers into you faster now, and you whimpered in a pitch he’d never heard from you before. with his other hand, he assisted you in bouncing your hips at the same pace as his fingers. the room was filled with the sounds of squelching as his fingers fucked in and out of you, carrying along your slick with it.

“fuck, you’re so fucking wet. your pussy’s so fucking loud, baby, you must feel so good, huh? feels so good? don’t wanna wake anybody up, do you?” he was delirious, saying whatever came to his mind, his grip on your hip tight and his fingers wrecking you at such a torturous pace. 

“mm-mm, mm-mm,” you cried, rocking your hips against his hands and damn near taking his knuckles— his interjections of “such a pretty wet pussy” and “you’re doing so good for me, you sound so fucking good, baby” brought you to your high, and you rode it out whale bouncing your hips up and down. legs shaking and thighs trembling as you tightened around his fingers, releasing all over him. your voice a muddled mess as you cried out. “fuck, carmy, i’m coming. i’m coming.”

“fuck,” carmen said through gritted teeth, his cock jumping in his boxers. “fuck, you’re so good. you’re so fucking good, yn, that’s it. that’s it sweetheart.”

you whimpered as you came, his fingers still deep inside of you and thrusting while you rode it out/

“i know, i know,” he muttered reassuringly, letting you get yours and then pulling his fingers out softly, resting his head against your rising and falling chest. 

his hands returned to a smooth, kind roam as he let you catch your breath, touching every part of you to comfort you. when you had found your basis again, you sighed lovingly and wrapped your hands around carmen’s neck, pressing your forehead against his and gazing into his eyes. 

a soft smile tugging at your lips, you whispered,

“i love you, bear. wanted to be around you all day, even after spending two days straight with you. still wanted you.”

“i always want you,” he replied without skipping a beat. he lifted his head up to kiss you. “and i love you too. if we can survive a twelve-hour road trip we can survive anything.”

“shit, if we can survive christmas with my family we can survive anything,” you giggled, kissing 

his forehead.

“yeah, i love your family though. mom’s dope. sister’s hilarious. cousins are wildly talented. it fucking runs in the family. i don’t know what runs in my family, maybe… i dunno, bad shit,” he chuckled with a huff, shaking his head. 

“hey,” you pouted. “don’t say that, bear. you’re sweet… attentive… loving… a perfectionist until it kills you, but, that’s valuable. isn’t it?”

you punctuated each word with a kiss, trailing down his neck and around his clavicles.

“fuck,” he breathed out. “don’t start something you can’t finish, now.”

“try me,” you grinned devilishly.