#the way the sky is compressed in the gif but not the buildings make it look like the sky is fake

[snowdin-stims]

🌃 | source

[longlivefanfic-net]

Eddie Munson, Boy Scout 

Summary: Conclusion to my camping with Eddie series (or standalone if u want some fluffy smut)! He carries you back to your tent because your ankle is injured and you finally get to put his camping mats to good use. Part one; two; three.

Word Count: 2.8k

Content: smut, a lil fluff at the end, begging, Eddie doms a little, hint of daddy kink, restraints, camping.

A/N: That's it sluts...a four piece fic, all in all close to 13k words. More Eddie content to come I think--but I had to get all of my camping fantasies out in one piece. Thanks for the love, and I hope y'all enjoyed this <3

The combination of your orgasm, the weed, and being carried for the last fifteen minutes has made you feel weightless. Your body is prickling, tingling as if the stars overhead are piercing through your skin with their warmth. When you get back to the campsite, Eddie sets you back on your own feet gingerly, and he’s pleased to see that your ankle can take your weight without too much evidence of pain. He still is half carrying you, forcing you to lean against him, as the two of you draw closer to the tent. The low fire you had left burning earlier, swearing you’d only be gone for a few minutes, has almost completely flickered out now, gentle embers glowing in the circle of rocks. Eddie adds a few more of the dried branches he had cut apart earlier, letting them catch naturally as he pushes them into the heart of the remaining glow. Turning back to his backpack, he pulls out a small bundle, unrolling it to reveal a variety of first-aid accessories. He brings out a roll of gauze, as well as a small bottle of pain relievers, and gently pulls your ankle into his lap. His fingers push against the skin, turning your foot this way and that as he examines your injury in the low light of the fire. “Already bruising,” he says, his mouth set in a grimace. “But not as swollen as I expected.” His fingers make quick work of the gauze, wrapping your ankle just tightly enough to sting as he creates a support out of the compression. When he’s done, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your wrapping before smiling at you. “All better?” He asks. You giggle and nod, and take the small pills he hands you. “Take these,” he says, “And call me in the morning.” “Oh, I’ll definitely be seeing you in the morning, Doctor Munson,” you laugh. He hands you a bottle, and you pull your birth control compact out of your jacket pocket. Popping the pill into your hand, you take a pull of water and swallow all of the pills at the same time. 

“Well,” Eddie says. “Now that I’ve absolutely ruined your ability to run away, it seems almost pointless to offer you the s’mores you made me bring.” “You know,” you say, thoughtfully eyeing his face. “I think I could actually skip dessert tonight.” “Really?” Eddie asks, eyebrows arcing over his face. “Already?” He’s caught on to you a bit too quickly, and you feel the blush steal over your cheeks as you nod. Eddie eyes you from across the fire, the scent of the wood smoke mixing with the light wind coming off the lake. The low light of the fire puts him in sharp contrast against the sky, illuminating his long nose, his soft lips, his broad shoulders. He almost glows in the fire light, the radiance of the crystal clear stars shining behind him making him look as if he has been plucked from between the confines of space and time and delivered to you, here, by the sheer force of your desire for him. Chewing on his bottom lip, Eddie leans over, carefully putting out the fire before it has a chance to build to it’s full height. You watch him, his long arms scraping dirt over the now-damp embers, and you think about how good his hands felt on you earlier, how incredible they felt inside of you. Your heart thuds against your chest so loud you think Eddie must have heard it when he looks up at you, a devilish smirk stealing over his features. “What?” You ask. Instead of answering, he stands up, crossing the distance between the two of you. His arms come out, one snaking under your knees and the other around your waist. He lifts you, again, putting your weight across his chest so he can reposition his hand from your waist to cup against your ass. Holding you, he looks down at your face, noticing the smile that plays over your lips as you giggle slightly at the rush of air as he stands up. Gently, he lowers his face to yours, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. He walks to the tent, crouching slightly, and murmurs, “I’ve always dreamed about carrying you over a threshold,” as he ducks into the tent.

 He tries to set you down carefully on top of the sleeping bags, but the awkwardness of the low ceiling results in him dropping you abruptly. You laugh, allowing your body to flop backwards as you land on the mat and plush bag. “Oh shit,” he says, “Are you okay?” Instead of answering, you reach your fingers up to fist around the collar of his long sleeved shirt, pulling him down to meet your mouth. He does, a grunt escaping his mouth at the suddenness of your movement. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear you can taste more to him now, the dense flavor of the joint you shared earlier mixing with the oaky smell of the campfire and, underneath it all, the soft scent of the Dial bar soap he started using after getting his first tattoo. His fingers come up to your face, trailing lightly over your cheekbones as he brushes your skin, leaving embers burning red and hot under your skin, and you smell the slight trace of his cigarettes under his nails mixed with the earthy scent of the forest. Eddie pushes back from you, and pulls his shirt off over his head. His skin is radiant in the dark, the shapes of his tattoos the only spots of darkness against his soft frame. You reach out, stroking the outline of your favorite–the one across his chest that lets you roll your fingertips directly over his heartbeat when you touch it–before your fingers climb up to the guitar pick he wears around his neck. 

Fingers tightening around the chain, you pull him back closer to you. “Tell me what to do, daddy,” you say, your eyes wide with faux innocence. He grins, biting the corner of his lower lip. “Take your clothes off for me, babygirl,” he commands. You do, throwing your jacket, shirt, and bra in the corner of the tent. His strong hands help you to shift your jeans and underwear down your hips, and you kick off your shoes. He throws your clothes to the side, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. He shifts the denim over his hips and your eyes fixate on the movement, the roll of his body as he shifts the material over his body before throwing his pants and underwear aside. “My pretty girl,” he says, eyeing your naked form appreciatively. “Lie down for me.” You do so, immediately, keeping your upper half propped up on your forearms. He positions his legs over yours, placing his knee between your thighs while the other one straddles your hip. The skin of your torso meets his, and his hand finds your breast, squeezing gently. His rings ache against your skin, warm from his own body heat, and you moan slightly as he presses his fingers into your sensitive skin. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, dipping his head to your neck. His lips trace a familiar route up and down your neck, his nose pressing against your skin to create friction. When his lips crawl up to the sensitive spot between your face and ear, he gently nips at your earlobe and you squeal, turning your head against his mouth. “You like that?” He asks and you nod. “Use your words, princess.” “Yes,” you say, breathless, “I like that a lot.” He nips at your lobe again, and a shiver runs down your spine as you sigh softly. 

While he continues to tease your neck with his mouth, his hands find yours and he brings your wrists together as he lowers you on to your back, bundling them tight within his fist. You’re barely aware as he lifts your arms over your head, pinning your wrists overhead to the ground under you. He pulls his mouth back from your neck and whispers, “How’s that feel?” “Fine,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. “Not good?” “Oh,” you laugh, “trust me, Eddie, I feel good.” He grins at this, and his mouth dips between your breasts to brush gentle kisses over the soft skin. You moan slightly, aware of how close his mouth is to the parts of him that you want him on–no, that you need him on–and you can feel his grin as he presses his mouth against your body. “I don’t think so, princess,” he says, continuing to kiss a trail down your body. “Please, daddy,” you beg, noting the whine in your voice. His voice is mock serious as he answers: “I said no. Don’t ask again.” You bite your lip, trying to keep your mind from thinking about how badly you want his mouth on your breasts as he teases you. His kisses slide down your stomach, exchanging lips for tongue, and he suddenly sits back up. He slips his free hand between your legs, stroking a single finger between your slick folds. A look of surprise crosses his face. “Still so fucking wet for me,” Eddie croons, smiling. “So wet for me, my Andromeda.” Your heart stutters in your chest as your breath hitches in your throat, and Eddie’s fingers stroke, stroke right against your entrance, refusing to give you the relief you so desperately want. You roll your hips, trying to grind down over his fingers, and he snatches his hand back from your body. “What did I say?” He asks. “Use your words.” “Please, Eddie,” you whimper. It would be embarrassing how desperate you are for him if you didn’t know exactly how much he enjoyed hearing you beg, hearing you whine for him. 

Eddie leans back down over you, the muscles along his ribs straining as he supports himself with his core, and the free hand that’s not holding your wrists down, to keep from toppling on to you. He kisses you, once, slowly, then, while your lips are still lightly resting against each other–almost like he’s forgotten to pull back–he shifts his knee against your sensitive skin. The gasp that rockets out of your throat is loud in the tent, and it’s quickly joined by Eddie’s chuckle. “That’s my girl,” he says, rubbing his knee against you again. You moan, the pressure of his skin against yours somehow only making you want him more. “Eddie,” you whimper against his mouth. He kisses you again, rubbing against you as your hips buck. “No, Eddie,” you say, and he pulls back immediately. “What is it, princess?” He asks, concern over his face. “I need you,” you say, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m serious, Eddie, I need you inside of me or I think I’m going to explode.” Your heaving breaths make it clear to Eddie that you’re completely serious–the friction and teasing have been fun for him, but he’s straining against his own need for you too. “Okay, princess,” he says, spreading your thighs apart as he positions his hips over you. “But ask nicely.” His hand tightens over your wrists at his words, and your breath hitches again. “Please, Eddie.” You say, quietly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, thrusting into you. He’s not gentle–he’s been waiting for this moment since he picked you up at your house this afternoon, and he can barely keep himself from cumming as soon as he enters you. His thrusts are hard, aggressive, and the sound of his body pushing into yours is intoxicating. You moan, loudly, and he grins at you, picking up his pace slightly. Your body is still sensitive from his gentle ministrations earlier on the rock, and you know it’s not going to take you long before you cum again. 

Eddie’s hips are jutting into yours, and he can’t take his eyes off you as you writhe on the ground under him. You look so pretty, your hands pinned over your head, your fingers clenching and unclenching against nothing as he keeps your body as still as he can. As your hands shake under his, Eddie can tell exactly how badly you want to use your hands—to grab him, scratch him, or touch yourself, he’s not sure. He can’t stop himself from pushing his face into the soft part of your upper arm, pressed up near your face, and lacing a delicate kiss on it as he presses into your wrist harder. His other hand is keeping him supported, but more and more of his weight is leaning into your body as he comes closer to his finish. His breath is coming in aggressive pants now and his own heart is hammering against his ribs, beating at his chest like it wants out of his body to be closer to your skin under him. You whimper slightly, locking eyes with Eddie, and he barely has time to think fuck before he’s cumming: he groans, his release working it’s way down his spine as he shudders with the force of his orgasm. You can feel it in your own body, the tension releasing itself inside of you in hot, thick spurts that coat your walls. The look in his eyes–you tighten around him, making his hips buck off rhythm as he continues to thrust into you, and he groans out one loud “Fuck, princess,” before the tent is filled solely with your cries and the occasional whimper from between his lips.

He does his best to keep pumping into you, pushing his own cum back out of your opening, until you finish, the aftershocks slowly leaving your body. When you’re both done, he pulls out of you and the wetness from both of you slips down your body. “Yeah,” you breathe, “I don’t think you can return these mats.” Eddie laughs, nuzzling his nose along your neck as he settles his weight across your chest. He brings your hands to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to each wrist as he releases them, and he lays his lower half next to you, resting his head over your heaving chest. Eddie looks up at you from beneath his long lashes, his warm chocolate eyes heavily lidded as he blinks slowly. “Sleepy, baby?” You ask, bringing your hand up to run through his hair. He nods, his hair tickling your skin. You shift slightly, adjusting his weight over you so you can hold him better. You kiss the tips of your fingers before pressing them to his cheek, and he smiles softly with his eyes closed. “Go to sleep, Eddie,” you sigh, feeling the exhaustion of having your body well and truly spent steal over your own muscles. His fingers clench slightly, gripping your ribs between his prints. “My Andromeda,” he murmurs again. Your fingers stroke down his hair, and it’s not long before the both of you are sleeping. 

The next morning, you wake slowly to the sound of birds. The room is still dim, only the softest glow of morning sun pushing it’s way behind your closed eyelids. You open your eyes, remembering the night before as you look around the tent. Eddie and his clothes are absent, but you can hear slight rustlings and the occasional ting of metal on metal outside the tent. You get dressed, slowly, putting on the fresh underwear you had packed before sliding on Eddie’s short sleeved t-shirt from yesterday. You can’t help but take a moment to smell the fabric, reveling in his scent. When you come out through the tent, Eddie is there beside the fire. He hears you, turning to look at you with a grin on his face. “There she is,” he says. “Just in time for breakfast.” Your stomach curls at the mention of food and you realize how hungry you are. “What did Chef Munson make today?” You ask, half a smile flitting across your mouth. “I wanted to make good on my promise,” he says, handing you two graham crackers with a melty marshmallow and chocolate between them. The grin that bursts across your face is unstoppable. He hands you a tin mug full of coffee as well, and you sit down on the ground beside him. The two of you are turned towards the lake, watching the sun ascend into the sky. You eat your breakfast–the kind of breakfast you dreamed about when you were younger, and you think about how so many of the things in your life right now are the things you dreamed about when you were younger. Some of them are even better. Eddie wraps his arm around you, nestling his head onto your shoulder as he yawns. You lean your head against his without thinking, taking a long sip of coffee. When he lifts his head off your shoulder, you turn to look at him and he leans in slowly, brushing the gentlest of kisses over your mouth.

[bakugohoex]

chapter six ➺ foul enemies

pairing: pro hero katsuki bakugo x pro hero female reader

cw: language, manga spoilers, violence and some fluff

word count: 2200+

a/n: ummm i dont even know if this series is doing good because it literally gets no votes or reblogs compared to my one shots, i might discontinue it if this get’s nothing idk, i have it all planned out and i really like how it ends so hopefully i’ll continue it

summary:  in which you and dabi get sent on your own little mission, his wariness of you leads to the threat of death and abuse of his own power, hurt and distressed of when the end point of this will be, bakugo is the last person you expected to bring comfort to you

chapter five | masterlist | chapter seven

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

The days had been rough after the burning of the town, it had been everywhere. News reports scattered across the country and worst of all, both you and Toga had been spotted by witnesses. You had stayed in your room only coming out when needed but the feeling of guilt had rested around you. Even Bakugo had been quiet with you a shock from the loud mouth you had as a partner a mere week ago, but you knew if he had seen the scene, he would refuse to even look at you.

At night he would stick to his side not even asking to talk, it was silent between the two of you and after holding hands whilst watching the burning sky. Everything was eerie and a surrounding of hatred had come from everybody, it was as if the whole front were bipolar able to easily turn from one another.

You went to the meeting that Toga had told you about in the morning, your hero costume on and your mentality deteriorating but what else could you do. Sitting beside Bakugo who made no sound to acknowledge your presence Mr Compress was the first to speak.

“How are you?” He asked softly.

He almost seemed human, almost, “I’m okay.”

You smile out before Tomura spoke a loud, “Dabi and Y/n, you both need to get these things.”

He shoves the piece of paper into Dabi’s fingers, he looked a lot like his younger brother, and you knew if Endeavor wasn’t such a piece of shit at being a father. You and Dabi could’ve been friends, hell you both might even worked together but the look of disgust he had at the sound of going with you. You knew he was a villain at heart.

“Hurry up.” Dabi mutters walking out the door. You don’t say anything instead following timidly, the silence of your footsteps as you caught up to the boy with his now white hair.

You didn’t try to make conversation, too tired and too guilty too, instead you stayed in your thoughts, mindlessly following the man. “Put this on.” He chucks a hoodie at you; you didn’t speak obliging.

Before he himself put on a jacket that had a hood to cover his face, “I could just make them think we’re not there.” You mutter.

He looks back at you, grabbing the door handle whilst eyeing you up and down. “I don’t trust you.”

The simple words had too much meaning in them, you gave a soft sign before following him into the dark night, even with it being late afternoon, the sun was setting, and a warm hue of red littered the sky. It wasn’t more suffocating, but you didn’t care as you followed the man out of the alleyway.

“You look too suspicious.” He mutters at how wide of a gap there was between the two of you. He grabs your wrist before eloping his fingers between your own. It felt gross and wrong and you hated it, you gave a soft smile at the man, you could almost feel the staples that rode across his wrist, but you chose to ignore it.

You both walked along acting happily as he pointed out stuff but didn’t speak, it was an act that you wanted over and done with. “Stay here.” He mutters pushing you onto a bench.

“Wh…” You had looked up to meet his eye but instead.

He interrupts you moving his palm to your mouth, “Y/n, stay the fuck here.”

You knew in any situation you would’ve fought back but the lack of sleep and restlessness you had made you obey him. It wasn’t like he was being a dick 24/7, it was the lack of trust you both had with one another. You saw the two police men standing and talking to one of the ladies at the bakery a couple shops over.

It looked to be flirting and you were too lazy to hear the gossip, instead tightening the thread in the hoodie to make it encase your full head. You looked naked from bottom down wearing it, your thigh high boots covering you but you knew people were staring and you hated it.

You watched as he walked towards a convenience store, before hearing the shouts come from inside. He was not seriously stealing from a shop, was the petty crime what he really wanted to do. You watched him run out with a bag full of money and on cue the police that had been just a mere shops away spotted him.

The shop keeper ran out, phone in hand shouting about the robbery. Everybody’s eyes planted on Dabi and you could almost feel his smirk. Was this a test? You watched as Dabi ran and the police followed, it was too stupid of a thing to have done. It must be something to do with you, you felt something in the hoodie pocket as you stood up about to follow.

Unwrapping the folded paper you see the two words that made everything you said true, ‘Ruin her.’

You scoffed shoving the paper before running yourself, you used your quirk to lift yourself from the ground, moving the air beneath your fingers to make you more agile, before you caught up with Dabi and the police. He had been trapped in an alley and you knew that he could’ve easily escaped, his quirk would’ve made it easier.

Landing behind the three of them, the two police turned around as Dabi smirked the blue flashing from his fingertips. One eyed you up and down and you gave a disgusted face, “Ma’am this hasn’t got anything to do with you, leave.” One of the men said about to usher you away, his hand was moving to your shoulder and you wanted to kill him for it.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You whisper bringing your fingers up and in an instant both the police flew into the buildings, “really, ruin her.”

You repeated the words, Dabi almost impressed but you knew it was fake, knew he was putting it on because he didn’t care either way. “Not my issue.”

The hold you hand on the men, almost suffocating them with how you moved the air out of their throats, “You’ll kill them y’know.” Dabi had moved behind you the money in hand, his lips brushed against your ear and the hatred you had for them all filled you up.

“Do you think I care?” You retort back, he puts his hands up.

“You better kill them quickly, I hear sirens.” He speaks walking out of the alleyway.

You couldn’t bring yourself to kill them, you couldn’t ruin another person’s life, you bashed there heads into the concrete before running out yourself. You saw Dabi walk into another alleyway and you were frustrated, you had been tormented with the murder and the front they felt nothing after each murder they committed.

You grabbed his arm making him stop, he cocked an eyebrow looking down at your much shorter frame. “What? Couldn’t kill them? Why am I not surprised, you’ll always be a little hero bitch.”

The words were filled with disgust, “I’m not.” You tried to defend yourself, tried to make it seem like you were on their side. But how could you when you felt so much emotion from the previous couple days killing.

“Are you not?” He grabs your wrist, pushing you onto the wall, his body encased your own. It felt disgusting, the way his other hands fingers rubbed against your cheek. You could almost feel the evil absorb into your face.

His hot breath fanned your face, and the proximity would be a moment for couples, but his hand gripping your wrist became tighter as he taunted you. “Y/n, you’ll never be one of us, even Bakugo has what it takes to be evil, and he’s been indoctrinated a lot more than you have.”

“I can do it.” You whisper but the feeling of soreness that erupted from your wrist made you re-think everything.

“Can you, really, I remember you from those years ago, and you were worthless back then and now you’ve somehow become even more worthless, god, how I wish I killed you back then?” He laughed it out, you wanted to use your quirk, you did but the use of your bounded hands between his hands made you stop. What good was using something when he was taunting you, he wouldn’t kill you. He wouldn’t.

“You were a little thing back then, vulnerable and innocent, I should’ve painted the forest red with you.” He seethed out before you felt his quirk on your wrist, the burning sensation making your skin become darker.

You screamed, your quirk activating as you made him stop using your mind. “You fucking bitch.” He grabs a hold of your jaw, clearly having been in his head made him even more angry, holding your jaw as tight as he could. You felt every anger and emotion he felt towards you in the mere seconds you were in his head.

“I’ll…” You couldn’t breath with how his other hand had moved to strangle you.

“It’s a waste of time.” He muttered, letting you go, the blood that had rushed to your head had made you infuriated, you had gotten over the murder and moved onto something more. Your hatred of the man, the way you wanted to carve out his name on his chest, gouge his eyes out and hear him scream filled your thoughts. You were foul enemies, and, in that moment, you realised what it meant to be evil and you were feeling it all.

You caught your breath, ignoring the man who had walked into the building where the front was. Looking down at your right-hand wrist, you saw the marks of fire around it, if he had done it for any longer, you’d have nothing, but bone left. Instead the blood gushing from it had made a layer of skin peel off, you didn’t even know how your throat and jaw looked but you didn’t care.

The thoughts of murdering them all at night filled you and you knew that if you were truly a villain at heart, you’d have done it in an instance. It took a couple minutes before you entered the building, seeing Toga playing a game and Bakugo with a drink in his hand there was no sight of Tomura who you assumed had gone on another late-night meeting.

He had gone out every night, but nobody had questioned it and whenever you went inside his head, it was nothing, he never even thought about the meeting. Not even a single name filled his head, it was an abyss of nothing. Bakugo noticed you and as you took the hoodie off with your left hand, he saw the blood and purple bruises around your throat.

“Y/n.” He whispers instantly standing up, he grabbed your arm seeing the seething blood flow out, your other arm having had the stab wound and the purple marks around your neck. He hated seeing you like this, so vulnerable but your eyes, your eyes were filled with joy. He would kill Dabi, already knowing it was him, he wanted to kill him, make him feel the pain you felt but as he looked up he saw something he didn’t expect.

You were almost smiling; he didn’t ask only taking the first aid kid and you into your shared room. He sat you down, bringing some ice to your neck. “Stop smiling, cry at least.”

“Why? I could’ve killed two more people today.” You smiled out; it was almost as if it wasn’t for sure.

“You didn’t though.” He grabs the bandages as he watched you laugh at your own thoughts.

You began to blabber on, “who knows when this will end, hell, let’s stay like this forever.”

He looked in utter horror at you, “Y/n, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Before you can speak, he continues, “don’t fucking say shit like that, be emotional, be the girl I know you as.”

The words brought comfort to you and in an instant the tears welded out your eyes, “Dabi did this.” He nods already knowing, “I hate it here.” You whisper, he brings your knuckles in his arm, your freshly wrapped wrist encased perfectly within the bandages.

He holds onto your hand, letting you speak your emotions, letting you cry and letting you weep. “I don’t want to die here.”

“I know Y/n, I wont let that happen to you, hell if you’re on the brink of death I’ll take your spot.” He speaks softly, it was a kindness unknown to you from Bakugo. But you took it all, “I should’ve talked to you after the fire, but I had to think, I saw the news the next day and the death count…”

He doesn’t continue, you bring your palm to his cheek, a tear from his own eye. You both had sworn to protect the people and here you were killing them for something that had less than a 40% chance of being successful. He nuzzled his cheek into your palm, before bringing your hand to his mouth, he left an open mouth kiss on your knuckles as you both stayed in silence. Relishing in the comfort that the two of you brought and knowing that the unlikelihood of you two getting out of this place alive. Was slim at best.

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[wrctings]

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes | Summer evening

fandom: Marvel pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes summary: Where Steve and Bucky had not yet known war, but they sure knew love (and several fights too, for Steve). word count: 0.7k 

i’ve got such strong feelings for pre-serum stevebucky

"But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time" — Taylor Swift, august

By the time Bucky Barnes found himself back in the streets of Brooklyn, getting off work as the evening swept over daytime, warm beams of sunlight had started to run along the pavement, down to his scuffed shoes. Crooking his neck, the man also noticed that touches of orange aquarelle had rearranged the clear sky up above, meaning that the sun had already started its descent toward the thin horizon line; nightfall awaited around the corner, ready to turn up lampposts with its gracious fingers. A breeze agreeably swirling through his hair, chasing away summery heat to make room for the chill crepuscule weather, Bucky headed back home.

It wasn't long before the brunette reached the building he lived in, then climbing up the stairs to the upper floor, and rummaged through his pockets to find the little key to the right appartement. Judging by the lock, which it only took a single turn to open, Bucky had a slight idea of who might have been back before him. Perhaps a certain childhood best friend, flatmate and long-time partner called Steven Rogers.

"Stevie, I'm home," he called from the hallway, taking his shoes off before washing his hands in the kitchen nearby. As cheesy as it sounded, the man had missed not seeing his boyfriend that afternoon.

However, the scenery that welcomed Bucky into the living room was nothing like what he had expected. Indeed, instead of finding Steve reading on the sofa or drawing outside on the balcony, the sight of the blonde young man buttoning his white shirt over scratches on his chest met his gaze.

"Hey, Buck."

Without further peeking, Bucky rushed up to his friend, having a clue of what had happened.

"Who the hell did you fight with this time?" he questioned, giving the younger man a reproachful look.

"Some jerk who was being hateful," Steve explained, finishing to put the piece of clothing back on. "I told him to stop several times, but apparently his only way of listening to me was getting into a fist fight. Had to knock it out of him."

"Steven, you're an idiot," Bucky stated desperately, reaching for the man's hand nevertheless. "How many times will it take for you to understand that you'll keep getting beaten up?"

"I'm not going to stop, Bucky," Steve said in a softer voice, hating to see his friend so concerned because of him. "I can't just stand back and watch those people be assholes."

"Because you don't like bullies?" The brunette man asked, knowing Steve all too well.

"Yes. Because I don't like bullies."

"You're an idiot," Bucky repeated, but this time a small smile had began to creep its way upon his lips. "Does it hurt much?"

"A little bit. But I feel better already, now that you're here," Steve said fondly. "Don't worry about me, okay Buck? I'll be okay. How was your day at work?"

"Okay, but it doesn't mean I'm giving up on trying to stop you," Bucky smiled, leaving a kiss on the blonde's hand. "I'll check on your bruises in an hour and we'll bring new compresses if they hurt too much. Did you put ice on them?"

"Yes, Buck, come on, I told you I'm okay." Steve brushed the matter off, though the way his best friend cared about him undeniably made his heart swell. "Answer my question now. How was your day?"

"My day was alright," Bucky finally replied. "But I couldn't wait to come back home."

"Well, now you're here" Steve lifted himself up, tenderly kissing the man on the lips to prove his point.

The brunette's eyelashes fluttered, closing as he leant into the kiss — to him, nothing felt more like home than Steve's sometimes grazed lips, his fingers running through the hair at the back of his head, the soft fabric of his shirts. And though he knew that he would never stop worrying over the younger man's constant fighting in dark alleyways, nothing rivalled the happiness they both felt in each other's arms, the love they found together and shared, away from anyone and anything else.

"Stevie..." Bucky mouthed against Steve's lips, their hands intertwined beside them on the sofa. "Are you sure it's doesn't hurt too m—"

"Shut up."

On that 1930's summer evening, Bucky and Steve were happy.