#Steve the tech guy

[justrambles]

(Beauty and the beast au steddie)

No.12 — Gift

"Alright, everyone— gather up! No, wait— spread out, we need the space!"

Eddie stands in the center of the living room, with a crinkled box in hand. Everyone—Nancy included— is sitting in a circle around him, nervously waiting for Eddie to open the box.

The box contains many mysteries, untold to the audience— this is Steve's Box of Photos. Eddie feels a bit excited himself, as he eyes Steve awkwardly sitting in the corner of the room.

With a final look towards the crowd gathered around him, Eddie plops down too, examining the box. It's a fairly neat one, except for the crumpled corner that makes the box look like it's been thrown to the ground.

Eddie gulps, opening the box, and stares at the contents inside. He thought it'd be just a pile of pictures. Well, if photos are not plastered to walls or put inside albums, that's how they're kept, right? But it's not. They are wrapped in colored paper, with names written on. They look like—

"Alright, seems like a distribution is in need," Eddie announces. The kids look curious, trying to look inside. Eddie grabs a package, squinting at the name.

"Okay, the first is... 'Wheelers'?"

"That's us," Nancy quickly answers. And as Eddie hands her the photos, she notices the wrapping and asks, "Actually, do you mind opening them for us? I think it might be a bit hard to..."

"Of course. Uh, do you want me to spread them out, too?"

At the Wheelers' nods Eddie quickly starts spreading out the pictures, one by one. It's fun, getting a glimpse into their old lives. All the photos are of the siblings, depicting various moments of their happiness. As he lays down the last one, he turns to the box again and picks up another package.

"The next is- may I present... 'Henderson.' I know that's you, Dustin."

***

"They seem very organized," Eddie comments.

He has now moved away from the center of the living room to the corner of it, leaving the others to reminisce. He tilts his head towards Steve, who's sitting next to him.

"Mm-hm," Steve hums an affirmation.

"Like they're supposed to be shown to others."

"They are."

Eddie gently hums in return, encouraging Steve to continue.

"They were supposed to be a gift, I guess. Before... before everything happened, I planned to give them out. Little memoirs, you know? 'Cause I was graduating and thought it'd be great for the party. But then, yeah, it happened and I never got around to it."

"Can I ask you about the damaged box?"

Steve hesitates at his question, picking at the floor a bit.

"I think I was angry," he starts. "Right after everything happened, I was angry that it had happened to me and angry that nothing was going to be the same. I stayed like that for a while, and I still had problems adjusting to this... form when I bumped into the box while trying to move. It pissed me off, I guess, being reminded of before. So I just threw it into the basement. Not the smartest choice— I didn't know the kids might have missed having pictures."

"Well, they were your gifts to give out. And sometimes a little suspension is needed for the element of surprise," Eddie mentions.

Steve just huffs, muttering, "Some suspension it was, going on for more than two decades."

Eddie shrugs, and suddenly a thought comes to him.

"Is that why you don't have a packet? 'Cause they're gifts for others?"

"What?"

"You know, your pack of photos. I didn't see one in there."

"Oh, yeah. I mean, there's no need to wrap it up if I just have them in the house, right?"

"So... do you have them? In the house?"

Eddie doesn't know why he is so curious about the photos. But the blurred figure he saw in the picture of the fair doesn't leave his thoughts— he wants to see Steve clearly.

Steve takes a moment to ponder, rubbing his neck with his claws.

"Uh... I'm not sure? I don't remember what I did with them, or where I put them. They're probably somewhere."

Eddie tries not to let his disappointment show — why is he even disappointed? — and just answers with a "Oh."

***

It's late at night, when Eddie hears a noise from the door.

"Hey, Eddie, Eddie? I'm coming in–, can I come in?"

The voice is muffled, so it takes a moment to realize that it's Robin's. And as soon as he hears her, the door opens by its own and reveals the crow sitting on the door handle, with something in her beak.

"I'm glad you invited yourself in, Rob. What's the hurry?"

Robin is not even affected by the tone of his annoyed voice—he was getting ready for sleep, you know— and just hops over to the bed. She sets the piece she had in her beak down in front of him, and Eddie sees that it's a photo, one of Robin's.

"Well, you helped us a lot today, and we all got gifts but you didn't— So it's a gift. Wait, maybe it's not a permanent gift. More like a rental gift, for only a while, because I do like that picture. But yeah, I thought you might want to see this one. I'm lending this photo to you for a few days."

"...A photo rental for a gift," Eddie questions, trying to figure out what it is that Robin's doing. Robin doesn't even catch his suspicion and just answers smugly with a "Yup."

"Tell me why I would want to see this photo?"

The photo is one of the pictures that Eddie had passed by earlier, of Robin and two other people who are probably her friends. Robin and the girl on her left are wearing some sort of band uniforms with instruments in their hands, and the boy on her right is wearing a basketball uniform. They're all grinning widely at the camera, clearly excited.

"Oh, I don't know," and Eddie can hear the sparkle in her voice as she continues, "This one was actually the first photo taken with Steve's new camera. He brought it to school because we had band practice and basketball practice nearby each other, and he wanted to show it to me first.

"He offered to take my photo first, with Vickie because— well, that's a story for another time. So, anyway, he had us in front of the camera but then Scott came and offered to take all of us so that Steve could be in the first photo, too. And this was it."

Eddie isn't sure he heard the last part of Robin's rambling. He's trying to look engaged in her story, but it feels like all his senses are directed towards the laid down photo.

The photo, which apparently has Steve in it. He curses himself for not having paid enough attention to the pictures earlier because, how did he miss it? Of course there'd be Steve in Robin's pictures. They're together almost all the time.

He's so engrossed in trying (and failing) to sneak a look at the photo without Robin noticing that he almost misses her starting to leave. She's at the door, glancing back at Eddie before muttering out something that definitely sounds like "another dingus." Eddie just mindlessly nods her a goodbye, now not even trying to hide his inattention.

As soon as Robin is out of his sight, Eddie delves into the photo.

Of Steve.

The first thing he notices is the moles scattered along his cheeks like constellations, noticeable even with the low resolution. Second is his hair, because— yeah, Eddie can definitely see Steve giving Dustin his hairspray. It's set perfectly even after having run around the court, and Eddie chuckles at that part.

Then, he is drawn into Steve's wide smile. Eddie stares for a moment, taking in the curve of his lips and all. Steve looks so carefree, with his arm slung around Robin. Carefree like any other teenager who is excited about his new camera.

And Eddie wishes he could have seen that smile for real.

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #beauty and the beast au #i feel eddie would look like a snow white here #steve's not exactly a photography guy but dustin loves new tech #so he sometimes gets new apparatuses

[amarriageoftrueminds]

god your pggy rants give me LIFE and now you've got me in a mood to rant too soo

realistically speaking though, *if* (and that's a huuuuge *if*) steve and pggy really were a couple, they wouldn't lasteven 3 months because individually they're both just so drastically different it's almost laughable.

it baffles me that they made pggy claim steve was the love of her life that she tragically lost in the season 1 finale of AC series. babes you knew him for less than 6 months and never had 1 proper conversation EVER with him. (the cab ride convo obviously doesn't count cus that was as you described prefectly— a mother accompanying a son to a doctor’s appointment) because obviously she thought she didn't have to cus she was the self appointed “right partner” for steve and god forbid steve go against that.

there’s also one scene from Agents of SHIELD in which there's a banner I think honoring Bucky and obviously all the pggy fans think of it as a hint towards bucky-pggy friendship, that she became director and decided to honour Bucky as the first of SHIELD who died saving lives or wtv and that just makes my *deeeeeep sigh* blood boil. (putting it lightly) LIKE NO NO NO she wasn't bucky's "friend" hell she wasn't even on a first name basis with the guy. and no that definitely is not honoring bucky.. what it is.. is that it's covering up the that fact that she fucking sold bucky to be used as a guinea pig for the experiments of a NAZI scientist, the right hand man of Red Skull, who she willingly hired into her organization. to this day i'm furious that we didn't get any scenes in civil war in which steve confronts her about SHIELDdra. the man said it himself ‘‘SHEILD, Hydra.. it all goes.’’ and she was the fucking director of SHIELD ffs.

honestly no matter how much carter content marvel throws at me, i will neverrrrrrr be able to like her. not even slightly. it doesn't even make me dislike HA less ngl. girl they've now killed off your character not once but TWICE now, one even brutally if i say so myself and u still would agree to make more content? how many more time should pgyy carter be killed of for HA to actually stop signing more contracts? smh

ok i think im done😭 sorry for taking up ur time

I HOPE YOURE HAVING A GOOD DAY/NIGHT ❤️

(continuation of XX)

.

LOL glad to hear it, and thank you, all this ranting is very refreshing. 😅

She really does come off as like an obsessive fangirl with a crush on a famous man (complete with shrine) who got close enough to his inner circle IRL to convince his friends that they were actually together.

(...just realised: I’m talking about the character but you could easily apply this to HA, too. 😅 She said the fans ‘deserve’ to see more of her. The ego is breath taking. The casting is perfect. The crops are rotting in the field.)  

The reason PC’s scenes come in Act 1 of CATWS (as opposed to Act 2 or 3) is specifically so that we cannot see her being forced to atone or take responsibility for her actions (her dementia is back up just in case). 

They can just yell at a black man instead.

They thought we'd just forget.

And not to set you off again, but on the subject of what an immediate failure her and Steve’s 'marriage' would be, HA said about Steve kissing Sharon:

So according to this delightful individual the yelling and abuse from CATFA would apparently carry right over into IPV / domestic abuse.

...Lol?

(I was saying on twitter that the AC Howlie scenes remind me of the BBC Sherlock fandom, where Mary Watson was disliked until she became a hallucination in John Watson's head. And someone asked, 'how is it that she's suddenly likeable now??' and the response was: '...It's because she's John.' 😬 And @cosmicmechanism pointed out that this might explain why people liked PC in AC. It's because she's not Pggy. She's Bucky. In the Howlies ep, “they treated her like she was Bucky and ... she treated them like children.")

#long post #antipeggy #antisteggy #p*ggy meta #mcu meta #ac meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #meta #mcu #bucky meta #steve meta #steve rogers #bucky barnes #the diskhorse #hmm let's see... #former howling commando crackshot boxer whose signature colours are blue and red #living in dingy digs in brooklyn friends with a disabled guy #fan of stark tech #biggest figure in captain america's life the reason he became a famous hero evoked when he crashed the valkyrie #framed as his love interest specifically because steve went and rescued them (as shown in the radio show) #so that's not her that's- *counting on fingers* #bucky bucky bucky bucky bucky bucky bucky bucky bucky and... bucky?? #dat's me #the only way she could steal any more shit is if she worked for the british museum #the AC Anon #tw peggy

[ct-hardcase]

oh my god this is not on the gifmaker of the set I just reblogged it’s on the show but Tech looks so goddamn whitewashed it’s ridiculous

#star dorks #like this is not a tem clone or even a guy who looks like the tcw clones this is steve #idk I just wish that this wasn’t such a pervasive part of it bc it impossible to ignore #sw negativity #Omega’s also whitewashed tbh but with tech in different lighting he doesn’t even look close to a clone

[missiletainnyt]

Me and my DnD and tabletop friend group have been talking and returning back to our old Villain game we ran, and now have a google doc with a file named “Hero World Lore” which is about 3 pages long already as a group world building project and it is the most thrilling thing I’ve done in my free time the last three weeks.

#It has magic #Germany is ran by a Dragon called Steve #He is democratically elected don't worry #Mutants and Masterminds #GURPS #It also has big tech #Maryland is no more #It is now Regiland #Florida is now run by a bunch of sapient crocodiles #Florida man is a Super Hero who has the Spirit of every florida man before him giving him power #Chile is longer #Austrialia lost the Emu war because the Emu's were bulletproof #King Arthur is a Welsh elected official and has the best responses and question in Prime Minsters Questions #He is very popular #There is a 'God' but they are just a confused 5th dimensional entity who didn't create anything and is just a nice guy who wants to help #but can't :( #When magic reawakened #They just suddenly started hearing prayers #couldn't do much except make peoples lives a little easier by like #slightly moving peoples furniture so they didn't stub their toe.

[munohlow]

I just wanna use my (old) wireless headphones but the Bluetooth won’t connect and I can’t even use a cable because my fuckin tHInK dIFfeREnTLy ass phone only has one hole I’m using to charge it and it only connects to cables of the same brand because CAPITALISM BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

#fuck Steve Jobs #and all the fuckin weirdos who line up at apple stores for their new shit #i hate seeing people celebrate this dude and put his name alongside historical figures #bro stole most of his ideas like most billionaire tech bros #I’m glad to see all these big companies collapsing in on themselves with their stupidest ideas that actively put of their target market #fuck musk bezos zuckerberg gates and that virgin guy #Virgin mobile idk what his name is not just a random virgin

[defensefilms]

MacBook Air Review: I Can’t Get Jiggy With This

“Apple treats it’s customers like users, and Windows treats it’s customers like they actually own the product”- Quora reviewer

Maybe I’m being impulsive, but the experience of using a Macbook has been pure garbage, and I mean steaming, hot, putrid, summertime stank garbage.

This has been a rough transition, but I think enough time and effort has been put into it that I can tell you that my experience as a Mac user, has not been better than when using Windows. 

I’m starting to believe that most consumers are really gullible. 

How in the hell do you sell a product to people, and then convince them that it’s okay that they don’t own any of the stuff on the product?

If this was 1985, and I sold you a VHS player, but then I told you that no matter what you did, you would never own the tapes that you played on the VHS, would that sound right to you?

If I sold you a walkman in 1995, and then I told you that no matter what happens, you would never own the CD’s that you placed inside the walkman, would that not be a red flag right there?

Why is Apple better than Windows?

Other than marketing, and Steve Jobs, and the I-stores looking snazzy, even though I hear their employees complaining all the time.

Why is this better than what we had before?

One of my massive hangups, is when it comes to software, and in particular when it comes to Adobe products.

I need photo and video editing software, and I want to own what I am using.

No leasing, No rental. No Subscription. No Bullshit.

What happened to the old way? I buy the thing, then I load the thing, and it’s mine. Permanently.

It’s almost as if they’ve figured out that they can play the long con with the consumer. Why hit them up for 1 lick, when you can keep coming back and make them pay up all the time?

Kind of like a guy damaging your property, and then the same guy telling you to pay him every week so he can keep your property safe for you. 

Stuff like this is why I believe the tech space needs to be regulated more effectively.

Now more than ever people need more choice when it comes to software, and companies like Apple shouldn’t be allowed to monopolize either side of the hardware or software spaces. 

Consumers need to fight back. Support the products that give us what we want and products that actually improve the quality of our lives and businesses.

What I’m bearing witness to, is all time levels of corniness on the part of Apple, and this new type of penny-pinching on the part of corporations that would still make 100 times their yearly profits, if they treated the consumers fairly.

Look, Apple can have the corporate world.

They can have the well-to-do crowd that actually thinks it means something to have a Mac or an Apple product, but I like things that work.

I like things that give me all the control, especially, because I’ve paid for them .

I like products that are designed with the understanding that I own them upon purchase. 

If I buy a refrigirator, I don’t want the machine dictating to me when I get to eat my meals, you get me??

In sticking with the general theme of consumer dissent in this blog post, I’ll play you out with Jay-Z’s 1994 recording titled “I can’t get with that”.

#tech #tech space #I'm not a tech guy #mac book air #product review #review #apple #apple products #apple reviews #steve jobs would be mad #dissent #consumer dissatisfaction #software #software engineers #jigga #early jay-z #jay-z #dame dash #i can't get with that

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

[eddywoww]

Bratty sugar baby Steve who takes one look at Eddie when they sit down for a date and just laughs. This guy? He can’t possibly be as rich as he says (Steve is a judgmental bitch) and it’s not worth Steve’s time.

Fast forward and Steve is at some boring ass tech event, on the arm of a near geriatric divorcee and he sees fucking Eddie. Eddie with someone Steve knows and hates. Which just doesn’t sit right with him.

So he makes it his job to be as annoying as possible all night, even going so far as to spill a drink on Eddie’s crisp white dress shirt (and his whole outfit is designer? What the fuck?) that results in Steve “helping him clean himself up” in the bathroom (there’s a blowjob in there, don’t worry about it)

Steve leaves the party thinking that Eddie probably definitely rightfully hates him, only to be sent flowers and a fat stack of cash to his barista job the following day

The only problem: how the fuck does Eddie know where he works?

#ignore me my brains on one today #blurbs #steddie #my writing

[happy74827]

Cool Rider

[Steve Rogers x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When another date ends in disaster, and Steve shows up in an attempt to “cheer” you up, you’re instantly against everything. But it’s Steve, and you should know by now that he never takes no for an answer.

WC: 3859

Category: Fluff

A lot of people liked my other Steve fic, so I felt inclined to make another. This time with a lot more fluff (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777).

『••✎••』

Needless to say, you were shocked when you heard the roar of a motorcycle.

You didn’t do well with dates. In your 24 years of life, you had a total of one boyfriend, and he was the absolute worst. So, in the last six months, you have been avoiding all social activities like the plague and focusing solely on yourself and your future.

That meant that you had become very comfortable being a hermit and avoiding any and all contact with other human beings. You were happy that way.

So why was a man who looked like an absolute God sitting on a motorcycle at the front door of your house?

Well, because you broke that rule a week ago.

In all fairness, the man was cute. A nerdy, awkward kind of cute. And he was a gentleman. And you were lonely.

So, when he asked you for your number, you were too lonely to turn him down. You hadn’t expected him to call, and you certainly didn’t expect him to ask you out on a date. But you also didn't think you would have the willpower to say no.

So you accepted, and it turned out to be the biggest regret of your life. The “nerd” was actually a complete dick, and after 30 minutes, you just wanted to go home. But you couldn’t because he refused to pay for the meal, so you were stuck there with him.

The worst part of the night was when he got into his car and tried to follow you home. He kept insisting that he just wanted to be a good guy and make sure that you got home safely, but you were sure that he just wanted to see where you lived and probably get in a few gropes along the way.

Luckily, you were able to lose him about three blocks from your house. It was a good thing, too, because your phone had died a couple of blocks ago, and you were afraid that if you got caught by him, you wouldn't have a way to call for help.

The next day, you made an executive decision to stay the hell away from men, with the exception of a few nice, safe friends. That was how you ended up here, seven days later, hiding in your room and ignoring your doorbell.

The bell kept ringing, and you knew that whoever was out there wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Groaning, you threw your covers off of your body and stomped towards the front door.

You threw open the door, ready to rip someone a new one, when your angry speech caught in your throat.

Steve Rogers was standing on your front porch.

He was a friend from work, to simplify a very long story. You met him two years ago when you started at SHIELD. You were a tech genius, and you worked closely with the Avengers to keep their equipment running.

Steve was always sweet and funny. You had a lot in common and were very close. After a while, you started hanging out with him and his friends, Natasha, Sam, and Bucky. It was great.

As exceptions to men go, he was definitely a big one. He was a walking god, with the physique and the looks to prove it. And here he was, on your front porch, holding keys that belonged to the motorcycle parked out front.

You looked at the motorcycle, then back to Steve, before your face went blank.

"No."

"What?"

"No."

Steve cocked an eyebrow. A smile tugged at his lips as if he were amused. "No?"

"Nope. Whatever you're trying to sell, I'm not buying."

"Why would I be trying to sell you something? I’m not even selling anything."

"It’s an expression, Steve, Jesus." You said, throwing your hands up in exasperation. Steve might’ve been your best friend, but the guy was such a 90-year-old sometimes. "If you think that I'm going to get on that thing with you, you're wrong. It's death on two wheels."

His eyes widened in surprise, a laugh bubbling in his throat. He looked over his shoulder at the bike, then back to you.

"That's... a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"I'm serious, Steve. It's not happening. I don't trust that thing, and I'm not going to die in some freak accident."

He crossed his arms over his chest, the sleeves of his leather jacket tightening over his biceps. His smile didn't fade as he spoke, which only annoyed you more.

"It's not going to kill you. I’m quite insulted that you would think that I would put you in danger."

"You're an Avenger. You put me in danger just by existing."

His lips twitched, and you had the feeling that he was holding back a comment.

"Look," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You haven't come out with us in weeks, and I'm worried. It's not healthy to lock yourself in your house all the time. With the job we have, there's never a guarantee of tomorrow, and if I were you, I'd want to spend every day living it to the fullest."

His words caught you off guard. He was right. It had been almost two months since you had gone out with the group. You just couldn't find the motivation. You were content being at home, alone. You had gotten a little lax in your friendships, only going to work and coming straight home. And now, with the… issues… with your date, you just didn't have the heart to try again.

You could feel your resolve starting to crumble, but you tried to stay strong.

"That's a low blow, Rogers." You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. "But my answer is still no."

"You think that was a low blow?” He scoffed as he pushed himself away from the door and took a step forward.

He was so much taller than you, and his presence was overwhelming. With the added tightness of his clothing and the confidence in his eyes, it tricked your eyes into seeing him as bigger than he really was. He was big, of course, but right now, it felt like he was towering over you.

Your heart began to race, a flush spreading over your cheeks.

"You clearly never played football because if you did, you'd know that this was a real low blow."

Without warning, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Hey!" You squealed, slapping your hand against his lower back. He was wearing a black shirt and jeans, and you could see the muscles ripple in his back with every step that he took. "Put me down!"

"You're going to have fun today."

"Steve! Put me down right now! I swear to God if you don't-"

"You'll what?" He laughed, the deep rumble making your stomach flutter. "Punish me?"

You huffed as you pounded on his back with your fist. You weren't mad at him, really; you just didn't know how to respond.

Steve practically dragged you outside. You were sure that you looked ridiculous, but you were thankful that you lived far enough away from your neighbors for no one to witness this. When he finally set you down next to the motorcycle, you gave him a glare.

"You're an ass, Steve Rogers."

He gave you a smirk as he swung his leg over the bike, his leather jacket tightening around his arm as his muscles flexed. Personally, you hated leather, but the way it fit him...

"Steve, I’m not wearing the right clothes."

He was quiet as his eyes swept over you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top since it was the middle of summer and you were hot, but he was looking at you like you were covered head to toe in leather.

"We can go buy something and change in the bathroom or something."

He seemed to think for a moment before he gave a single nod.

"Sure."

He started the bike and motioned for you to get on behind him. Goddamn it, Steve.

Sighing, you swung your leg over the bike and wrapped your arms around his torso. It was an incredibly intimate position, with your body pressed up against his and your faces mere inches apart. For a moment, you didn’t even realize when he swung a helmet down in front of your face.

"Put this on, Scaredy-Cat."

"Shut up, I'm not scared. Just... concerned."

He raised an eyebrow at you, his smirk still ever-present. You rolled your eyes before slipping the helmet onto your head.

The engine rumbled beneath you, and Steve revved the engine a couple of times, laughing when you squeaked in surprise and gripped him tighter. You could feel the laughter in his chest, his muscles moving under your fingers.

"Hold on tight, princess. Wouldn't want you falling off."

"You're a dick."

"Language."

"I will push you off this bike."

Steve didn't say anything; he just pulled the kickstand up and eased the bike into drive.

You squealed when the bike began to move, tightening your hold on Steve and burying your face in his back. He didn’t seem to mind; he just chuckled and sped up a bit.

You tried not to scream as he maneuvered the bike through traffic, weaving in and out of cars. It was a terrifying experience, especially since you had the distinct impression that Steve was taking advantage of the situation and driving recklessly.

You felt the wind on your legs and the constant hair strands whipping into your face, but you refused to look up. The speed, the closeness of the cars, and the fact that there was nothing keeping you on the bike except for Steve made it impossible to even think about moving.

When Steve finally stopped the bike, you had your eyes closed tight, and your body pressed completely up against him. Your arms were wrapped around him so tightly he was surprised you could breathe.

He took a moment to enjoy the feeling before gently prying your hands off of him and stepping off the bike. He turned and reached out a hand for you, waiting patiently for you to move. When you didn’t, he moved back towards the bike and took the helmet off your head.

You were breathing hard, trying desperately not to show how scared you were.

"It wasn’t that bad."

You shot him a glare, which made him grin.

"Just... shut up."

He laughed and helped you off the bike, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. He was a gentleman, of course, and you couldn’t complain about the feeling of his hard body pressed up against yours, but the sudden closeness was a bit overwhelming.

"Ugh, I think I have whiplash."

"Liar," said Steve with another laugh, be dramatic. You liked it, admit it."

"Whatever, why are you even kidnapping me, anyways?"

"I told you. It's not healthy to sit in a dark room, alone, all day, every day."

"First, rude.” You said, giving him a nudge in the side. He let out a small sound, which made your eyes widen in surprise.

"Did that hurt you, oh Captain, my Captain?"

"It didn't hurt," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And second?"

"What?"

"First, rude," he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. "Second?"

"Oh! Yeah, why are we actually doing this?"

That’s when Steve paused. Your heart instantly dropped at his hesitation. Steve only hesitated for two reasons. The first reason would be if he were completely at a loss for words, and clearly, by his recent attitude, that wasn’t the case. So that left the second reason: because he knew something that he either didn’t want to tell you or something he wasn’t supposed to know.

With recent events, it wasn’t difficult to guess what was happening.

"Natasha told you, didn't she."

You were already pulling away from him, ready to go back home and hide in your bed for the rest of eternity, when he caught your wrist.

“Hey,” His voice was softer, and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that you have a good time today, alright? So, forget about what happened, forget about what Natasha said, and just focus on having a good day. Okay?"

“I don’t want a pity date, Steve. It’s nice that you care and everything, but-”

"I'm not pity dating you." His voice was firm, and his face was hard, the complete opposite of the way it was just moments before.

"Then what do you call this? My actual date sucked, and I've been cooped up in my house, so you thought, 'Hey, why not take her out and show her a good time?'"

Steve let out a sigh and shook his head, his fingers loosening around your wrist. "No, no. That's not... I'm sorry."

The change in him was drastic. He seemed to shrink in on himself, and his head drooped like a kicked puppy.

"Steve,"

He lifted his head and looked at you, his baby-blue eyes filled with guilt.

"You have no idea how badly I want to punch that guy for treating you like that.” He spoke softly as if the words were only meant for him to hear. But, as the saying goes, the walls have ears, and the parking lot was pretty damn quiet. “But that's not what this is. You're my friend, and I hate to see you sad. I'm not here just because of a stupid date. I'm here because I care about you."

There was a pause, a heavy silence hanging between the two of you. He was looking at you expectantly, a pleading look in his eyes.

"I'm not going to make you talk about it if you don't want to."

"Okay,"

"And I'm not going to bring it up again unless you do.”

"Okay."

"And, I'm not going to ask you for anything in return, maybe a little more conversation, a smile, maybe a laugh, but other than that..."

A smile slowly crept onto your face. He had the uncanny ability to make everyone else smile, regardless of their mood, and he was the only one who could do it. It’s not that his jokes were particularly funny because they weren't, but it was the way he said them.

He was an awkward, nervous mess most of the time, but when he was confident when he was in his element, there was no stopping him.

"You sure you want to waste all your energy on me, old man?"

His lips twitched at the nickname, his eyes brightening. "For you, doll? Anything."

And there it was. That goddamn smile that made your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He was just too sweet, and it was completely unfair.

"Come on," he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and tugging you close. "Let's get you something nice."

You smiled as you walked next to him. As much as you hated the motorcycle ride, it was nice to spend some time with Steve. He parked outside a Target, and the two of you walked in, immediately making your way to the women's section.

You took charge almost immediately, going to the racks and picking out different things. Steve followed behind you, carrying your armfuls of clothes as you added more. You went through rack after rack, throwing the things that caught your eye into his arms.

After about the tenth outfit, you turned around and saw him standing there, his arms filled with clothing and a smile on his face. You ignored it or tried to, as you turned back around and went to another rack.

When you finally finished, you had an armful of outfits, and Steve was practically weighed down. He didn't seem to mind, though, and you had the feeling that he had enjoyed his role as a pack mule. When the shopping was done, you ran to the bathrooms and changed into the outfit while Steve waited outside.

A pullover hoodie and a pair of jeans, the closest thing that Target had to leather. Not exactly what you wanted, but it would work. When you stepped out of the stall, you found Steve sitting in one of the chairs, flipping through a magazine. Such a 90-year-old, again.

He looked up when he heard the door open, his eyes sweeping over your form.

"Where to now? The ditch?"

Steve rolled his eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. "You’re an avid book reader, right? What's the biggest bookstore in the area?"

"Are we going to Barnes and Noble or something?"

"If that's what's closest."

You paused, watching his expression. There was no sign of teasing, no hint that this was a joke.

"…Really? Barnes and Noble?"

"Is that an issue?"

The disbelief must have been written on your face because Steve gave a loud laugh, throwing his head back.

"Oh, come on. I can be spontaneous!"

"Sure," you mumbled, trying not to show how happy his statement had made you. He remembered a stupid fact about you that you had told him months ago. And he had stored it, not forgotten it.

You felt like you were in the twilight zone, but you weren't complaining.

Steve bought the outfit and threw the tags away, and the two of you got back on the motorcycle. It was easier, this time, with the knowledge that he had cared enough to listen to your ramblings. Maybe he cared enough to calm it.

You had your face buried in his back, not out of fear this time, but out of comfort. You couldn’t see him smile as he sped up, but you could feel it.

At Barnes and Noble, he sat and watched as you wandered the store, a smile on his face. He didn’t say anything, didn't pressure you into talking, didn’t even try to join in; he just sat and listened as you read him the summaries of the books. You didn’t even mean to; it just kind of happened.

One moment, you were looking through the books; the next, you were reading the synopsis out loud to Steve. He didn’t say anything, didn't make any indication that he was listening, but you could tell by the way his head would turn towards you when you spoke. And once again, Steve was your personal pack mule, carrying the books that you were interested in.

By the end of the night, he had an armful of books, a satisfied smile on his face, and you were laughing. You couldn’t remember the last time you had laughed this much, the last time you had felt so happy.

When you got home, the sky was dark, and the moon was high. Steve followed you inside and set the books down on the coffee table. He had refused to let you carry them, insisting that they would get ruined in your hands. You didn't bother fighting him on it and allowed him to carry them.

"Do you want a drink or anything? Something to eat?" It was obvious you were slightly nervous now, but Steve didn’t seem the notice… or even care at this point.

"No, thank you. I should probably be getting back."

"Oh." You paused, not really wanting him to leave, but you couldn’t ask him to stay. You were friends, that was it, and nothing more. "Okay, yeah."

"Well," he started, his fingers flexing by his side. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yeah," you said, giving him a smile. "See you soon, Steve."

He looked like he was going to say something else before he gave you a soft smile and walked out.

Once he was gone, you shut the door and let out a sigh. Today was perfect, and you hated yourself for it. You hated yourself for enjoying yourself, hated that you were able to push away all thoughts of him. It was like the universe was taunting you, dangling the perfect guy in front of your face, and you couldn’t have him.

"Why him, huh?"

"I can still hear you." Steve's voice echoed through the house despite his absence in it, and you internally groaned as you got up to stare out the window. Damn, his super hearing.

You pulled the blinds aside and watched as Steve got on his bike, his helmet still in his hands.

"Steve."

He paused, turning his head towards the house. He couldn’t hear what you were saying now that he was by his bike, not with the closed windows, but he could see the silhouette of your body against the curtains. You lifted it up in an instant, an invitation.

"Steve.” You repeated, and this time he heard it. Loud and clear.

"Yeah?"

"Did you really mean it? That this wasn’t a pity date?"

Steve paused for a moment, his lips slightly parted. After a moment, he rested his helmet on the handlebars and made his way back to you. He stopped inches from you, slightly bending down through the window.

A smile and a simple glimpse at your lips was his only answer. He looked back in your eyes, his expression soft, waiting. He was leaving it up to you, not wanting to push, not wanting to scare. He wanted it, but he wasn’t going to force it.

It was all the incentive that you needed.

You reached through the window and grabbed his jacket, pulling him forward and crashing your lips together. It was desperate and slightly awkward since you were halfway through the window, but neither of you seemed to care.

Steve reached forward and grabbed the side of the window, pushing it open even further and lifting you through. You let out a surprised squeak, which quickly turned into a moan as he pressed you up against the house.

His lips were warm and softer than you expected. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

After a few moments, Steve pulled away, his forehead resting on yours and a smile on his face.

"Okay, this wasn't a pity date."

Steve let out a laugh, the breath puffing against your face.

"Good. Glad we established that."

"What was this, then? I've been told that Captain America wasn’t one to put out on the first date."

"Oh, yeah. Definitely not. I'm a gentleman."

"Then what's this, Steve? What was today?"

His arm tightened around you, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Like I said, I can be spontaneous."

"Spontaneous," you mumbled, letting out a laugh.

"And," he continued, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "It seems good girls like a little bad every now and then. You especially, given your choice of dates."

"So, is that what this is? Captain America showing me a good time?"

"No. This is Steve Rogers showing his girl a good time."

"Your girl, huh?"

"Yeah," he murmured, his lips inches from yours. "My girl."

And when his lips met yours again, all you could think about was the leather jacket, the motorcycle, and the promise of more.

And a whole lot more bad.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female!reader #steve rogers/reader #mcu #mcu steve rogers #mcu fic #steve rogers fic #x reader #reader #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x female!reader #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x yn #steve rogers imagine #fluff #mega fluff #marvelfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fandom #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #thor odinson x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu fandom #natasha romanoff

[augustjustice]

When Steve’s parents finally come back to Hawkins several months after the end of the end, they cut Steve off fairly quickly. 

There have been rumors, you see, from the few of their friends still left in Hawkins. About the company Steve keeps, galivanting all over town with that Satan-worshipping murderer Munson. And when they finally arrive back at their large, cold house and Munson’s the one who answers the door, dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers and one of Steve’s old basketball t-shirts? Well, what their son has really been up to becomes all too clear to them, and, careful not to make a scene that the neighbors will hear, they find Steve and tell him that he’s out in no uncertain terms. 

Not wanting either of them to get caught in the cross-fires of his dad’s anger, Steve grabs as many of his belongings as he can and goes without much of a fight, at Eddie’s insistence following his van in the Beemer all the way back to the Munson trailer. 

Steve moves in with Eddie and Wayne. It isn’t even really a conversation; Eddie just takes it as a given fact, and Steve feels compelled to argue, but every time he starts Eddie cuts him off with a reminder that they’ve practically been living together anyway, shuffling back and forth between the trailer and Steve’s big empty house.  “What, big boy, you gonna rebuff my advances now?” Eddie asks, teasing but laying on just a subtle enough guilt trip he knows Steve won’t be able to say no. He’s a pushover that way, always caves to the people he cares about. Eddie can’t help but love that about him. 

They don’t leave Hawkins. It’s hell, sometimes, what with Eddie’s reputation, and the whisperings now that Steve no longer lives in the big Harrington house. But they saved this town from hell itself, and that makes them both develop a certain stubbornness about it. Plus, the kids are still in school, and there’s an unspoken certainty that Steve won’t leave until they do, even with the threat over and the Upside Down gone.

But the general atmosphere makes finding gainful employment hard. Eddie still has a few connections at the shop in town, Thacher Tire, with the folks who weren’t susceptible to the things other people said about Eddie to start with. They recommend him to the guys at a garage a few towns over about thirty minutes away. Not completely outside the scope of rural Indiana gossip, but distant enough most people don’t recognize Eddie right away, don’t put the pieces together between his name and the boy who was plastered all over the six o’clock news. 

Steve, without making any mention of it, had quietly applied to Indiana Tech, certain he wouldn’t get in. 

By some miracle, he’s almost certain, he does, enrolled with a declared major in elementary education. Steve hasn’t quite settled on what path he wants to take, mulling over teaching as well as guidance counseling, but it’s a start. It’s something. He transfers his home campus to the same one where Eddie’s new shop is and quits his job at Family Video, working there agonizing with Robin off at college.  

Eddie picks him up off the ground and spins him around when he tells him, despite Steve’s laughing protests.

“I knew you could do it!” Eddie crows, triumphant.

“You did not, you didn’t even know I applied,” Steve argues, still laughing. 

“Oh, didn’t I tell you, Stevie? I’m secretly a telepath,” Eddie taps the side of his head, grin wide and mischievous. “Can’t keep secrets out of this steel trap, I know everything.”

It’s Steve’s turn to tackle him in a playful hug, wrestling a minute before he pulls out his “winning move”: tugging Eddie by his belt loops into a kiss. 

“It’s not even like it’s that big a deal,” Steve says once they’ve parted, shrugging. “Since it’s only part-time for now.”  

He leaves the reasons why unsaid, but Eddie hears them loud and clear, anyway.

“Me and Wayne will chip in,” Eddie assures him. 

“You don’t--that’s not--” Steve starts to argue, cut off when Eddie presses a finger against his lips. 

“Can’t get rid of us now, Stevie boy. You’re family, now. Which means we’re in this together, right? Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Steve huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I really hate it when you use my own arguments against me, Eds.” 

Eddie grins, all-teeth. “I know.” 

Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie can sense the lingering guilt and shame in the line of his shoulders, the way he hunches in on himself as he no doubt to mounts another argument, trying to discourage Eddie further. That won’t do.

“Now you know how it felt,” Eddie cuts in gently, “when you used to offer to pay for shit all the time.”

“That was different,” Steve tries to insist. 

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him in challenge. “Different how?”

Without missing a beat, Steve replies, a bit of a grin starting to curl at the corners of his mouth, “Because, technically, I was stealing that money from my dad.” 

Eddie can’t help but let out a bark of helpless laughter, any tension breaking.

So Steve accepts the “this is what we’re here for” argument, especially once Eddie makes clear Wayne won’t have it any other way, but he can’t quite convince Steve to bump up his status to full-time, not yet. Steve won’t let the Munsons pay his full way, is insistent he nail down a job, too, so they compromise with what they’ve got. 

Steve looks for a job in downtown, not far from the school and Eddie’s work. There’s a beauty salon on one corner hiring and Steve figures what the hell? He hasn’t gone to cosmetology school, but he knows hair, and he’s gotten decent at doing Robin, Max, and El’s nails at sleepovers. Plus, he’s willing to learn, and that has to count for something. 

His niche hair care product knowledge is enough to get him the job on the spot with the promise that he can apprentice a bit, learning as he goes.

Though it’s only part-time, the job turns out to be a perfect fit. Not only has he got the skills, but he’s friendly with a good personality and doesn’t mind indulging in a little small town gossip when it isn’t about him and his boyfriend. The clients quickly grow to love him, many starting to ask for him by name.

Steve and Eddie commute together, trading off who drives and saving on the gas money. The drive isn’t so far that they can’t drop Dustin and Max off at school on their way to the garage and campus respectively. (”At least until they get their licenses,” Eddie teases. “God, don’t remind me.” The mournful way Steve buries his face in his hands makes Eddie cackle.)

Their schedules keep things pretty hectic. They grab food together at the diner on main street during Steve’s free period and Eddie’s lunch hour. On the days Steve has night classes, Eddie hangs around the college library, using his boyfriend’s student ID to check out a few thick fantasy novels to keep him busy. The ladies at the salon all know Eddie by name from the times he’s been the one driving and picked Steve up, asking after Wayne when he sticks around to chat for a few minutes while Steve finishes up. When Steve has day classes and is free by early afternoon, he does his homework on the old leather couch in the garage’s lobby while he waits for Eddie to get off work. Sometimes Eddie finds him dozing off on the sofa. Sometimes Steve finds Eddie doing the same at a library table. 

For the sake of safety, they’re discreet enough in public most people don’t catch on; Steve suppresses a snort every time one of Eddie’s work buddies has called Steve his “roommate.”

“Yeah, I’m some roommate,” Steve says drily later, when they’re alternating making out in the back of the van and splitting a joint between them.

“Best roommate I ever had, sweetheart,” Eddie leans in and catches Steve’s bottom lip between his teeth. 

A few folks have cottoned on, however. One of the other mechanics is an old friend of Wayne’s from the war and their post-war protest days, and shares Eddie’s uncle’s stoic open-mindedness, asking after Eddie’s “fella.” The owner of the salon calls Eddie Steve’s “special friend” with a twinkling sort of knowingness, but she means well enough. 

But, there’s other types of knowingness, too. Frankie, the middle-aged woman at the garage who gives the boys a nod with a twinkle in her eye on her way out when she catches Eddie practically throwing himself into Steve’s arms in the parking lot. Serenity, the punk stylist with multi-colored hair and piercings down her ear that mentions her own roommate to Steve with a Cheshire cat smile. Teddy, the shy 17 year-old taking classes while he’s still in high school with an eye on the cosmetology school who asks Steve if he can put in a good word for him at the salon. 

“Did Robin tell you about that club they’ve got up at Emerson?” Steve asks one night over their dinner of cheeseburgers and fries. “The...GLA?” 

“GSA,” Eddie corrects, “yeah, she told me. Gay-Straight Alliance, right? What about it?”

Steve hums, thoughtful. 

“Maybe I’ll try to start one, next year. At Tech.” 

There’s a delicate anxiety that ripples in the air between them, but there’s excitement, too, at the idea.

Eddie’s smile widens. 

“That’s a great idea, Stevie.”  

Friday nights are reserved for Corroded Coffin concerts, the boys rushing from work to the Hideout to make it in time for Eddie’s gig. The crowd is still modest, but growing, Eddie’s reputation, both tainted and reformed, a bolster that drew people in. “I mean, yeah, sure, but it’s the talent that got them to stay. Seriously, who could look away when Eddie’s the front man?” Steve is quick to insist whenever someone brings it up, hair teased and wearing his own band shirt proudly. By Saturday afternoon, the kids are all piled in around the coffee table for Eddie’s latest campaign, Steve setting out snacks and crowding around the table with them to watch, keeping up a commentary of snarky or confused asides just to rile Mike up. On Sundays, Steve cuts coupons at the Munson family dinner table, glasses he realized he needed a few weeks in to trying to make out the class blackboards slipping down his nose. 

In between, he studies for long hours on the couch, determined not to mess things up this time. When he gets too tired, the words starting to blur on the page and his frustration becoming visible, Eddie will take the textbook from his hand and read it out loud to him, Steve tucked up contentedly against his boyfriend’s side. 

Robin calls twice a week, spending at least an hour on the phone with Steve as she gives him the latest rundown on college life and how she and Nancy are faring. The rare times they all manage to be home at the same time, Steve and Eddie cook together, sharing a family meal with Wayne. They go to every one of Lucas’s basketball games they can manage, and Eddie has even made the special trip back to Hawkins to go alone when Steve can’t make it due to night school. His half butchered attempt to recount what happened afterwards always makes Steve giggle. 

The following Christmas, Eddie buys Steve a pastel pink polo shirt he knows cost too much. Steve decides it’s the best piece of clothing he’s ever gotten, more aware of its worth than he had been of anything else hanging in his closet before. Eddie can barely get him to wear a coat over it even though it’s snowing outside. 

They come together, like disparate pieces of a puzzle, to form this mosaic of a life they’ve built for themselves. 

Steve thinks about it, one morning, as he watches Eddie pouring coffee into Steve’s ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ mug and Eddie’s own personal favorite, the one with the rainbow on the front. About picket fences and cross-country RV road trips with a gaggle of kids in the back. 

This isn’t that, exactly. Not the life Steve had pictured for himself, clinging on desperately to a dream that comforted him when the world seemed dark. Certainly not the life his parents’ had wanted for him, if anything the exact opposite.

Maybe he’ll have the fantasy someday. Not the typical suburban nuclear family version of it, sure, but a version all his own. 

And maybe he won’t. Steve wouldn’t trade it for this, anyway, even a second of it.

Because, for once, in his life, he’s happy. Tired, sure, and always unbelievably busy, but incandescently happy.

When Eddie turns and places Steve’s coffee in front of him, black with two sugars just the way Steve likes it, he catches Steve’s gaze. His eyebrows draw together at Steve’s expression, smile confused. 

“What’re you staring at, big boy?” Eddie wipes at the corner of his mouth. “I got drool on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” Steve murmurs, still sleepy-eyed as he pulls Eddie down into a kiss, “just love you.”

“Yeah?” Eddie exhales the word against his lips, breathless like he still doesn’t quite believe it. “I love you, too, baby.” 

Maybe they’ll move out of Hawkins, some day, when the kids finally graduate and scatter, follow Dustin to University of Chicago or wherever he ends up. Maybe they’ll take up an apartment near Nancy and Robin on the East Coast, or spend a summer with Jonathan and Argyle in San Fran, having a wild, queer time. 

But, those are thoughts for the far distant future. For now, they’re happy. Safe. Satisfied. 

Home.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #my stuff #my things #my writing #something something building a life for yourself against the odds in a small town in the 80s #it sounds angsty at the start but i promise this is happy #more impossibly long not!fic from yours truly

[acowardinmordor]

Steddie Persuasion AU but make it modern and blur the edges, and eliminate homophobia. Steve turned down Eddie's proposal because his family put a ton of pressure on him to do so, even though he was mad in love and very very much wanted to marry him. He almost eloped, but his best friend Nancy convinced him that he couldn't throw his life away at nineteen for a guy with more arrests than opportunities. Eddie was heartbroken and furious, and took the risk he hadn't before. Ends up a rockstar. Not so famous everyone knows him, but if you're into music, if you watch the grammys, you know Eddie Munson.

Eight years later, Steve's dad has fucked up the finances and makes dumb investments (maybe crypto) and Steve ends up helping close out branches of the company and sell things off as they downsize, blah blah. His dad refuses to put his face on it, so he has it be Steve firing everyone and whatnot. Ends up meeting Dustin and some of the others who made bank on some tech thing who are coming in to buy off assets and take over parts of the Harrington holdings. Steve thinks the names are a coincidence until he sees Dustin smile, and realizes that oh shit, he's going to be in meetings with Eddie's friends, and oh shit, they don't know about the summer Eddie and Steve were together.

They'd just be so perfect for the dynamic. Eddie being all sideways insulting about Steve bc its been years and he's still so so mad at him about it that he refuses to look closer. Steve who puts on a show of being exactly what he's supposed to be, in this case, charming and untouchable and perfect, and no one sees through the mask. Bc his friends, other than Nancy, are all new since he and Eddie broke up. So they don't know how he used to smile. They think this is Steve perfectly happy in his life.

But obvs eventually Eddie actually looks and he can see how his Stevie is a husk of who he was, and he realizes that no, he was wrong for all those years. He thought he wanted the guy that broke his heart to be miserable. But now he's looking at the guy he still loves, and he can't stand to see that Steve IS miserable.

#persuasion AU #Steddie #again this is one I won't write #I just like teh vibes #no idea who Robin is in the original #but Chrissy is Louisa #Billy as the cousin maybe? #thats less important to me than the way these two would ache #and the way that letter would play out #with Steve racing to find Eddie #bc he has a chance to get him back #and he'd walk through fire for another chance

[italiansteebie]

The first time Steve is exposed to subculture, it changes his life. The sneer his mother gives ins't surprising, but Steve can't help but be entranced by the glinting silver on this random man's body.

They're everywhere, in his nose, lips, and when he flicks his tongue out, Steve even catches sight of the shining jewelry in his tongue. And maybe Steve was already 13, practically grown up at this point, but he sees this man and thinks, that's who he wants to be when he grows up.

Unfortunately, that is not how things go.

His mother sees him studying the style of the delinquent in front of them and smacks his lightly on the head. "You have a reputation to uphold, Steven," She mutters through gritted teeth. So Steve hangs his head, and his dreams of looking like the colored haired boy he saw in the grocery store.

So years later, he's still adorned in polo shirts and light washed jeans. He's snuck in some goofy hair, but it's no where near what he'd want it to be ideally.

And here's the thing, he knew his family's reputation was important, but now that he's been denied from every college he applied to, including tech, and he's been lowered to serving ice cream in a sailor uniform, he wonders just how important the reputation was.

--

He can't help but wonder if he's going to die like this.

Covered in vomit and blood, in a sailor outfit on a dirty bathroom floor curled up to a lesbian, who he thinks maybe his soulmate. Platonically, of course.

"I've always wanted, like- colored hair. 'Nd piercings 'nd stuff. Y'know." Steve said, letting his head fall against Robin's shoulder. "Why haven't you?" Robin asked, resting her head on his. Steve shrugged, "Reputation, I guess. I think my parents would commit homicide."

Robin snorted, "If only they could see you now," she giggles. Steve shifts to retaliate, but can only laugh along with her. Steve nods, laughing harder when an angry looking Dustin and Erica barge into the bathroom.

--

They make it out alive.

Somehow. But they do.

And that's how they ended up here.

"Rob, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Of course it is! Look, Eddie is probably the only punk adjacent guy for miles, and he probably knows about all those records you think you hide in your closet."

"You've seen those?"

Robin shrugs, "When there's a box labeled 'do not open' in King Steve's closet, you take a look. It doesn't matter! I'm sure he knows who Iron Maiden is!"

The door swings open, "Of course I do."

Eddie Munson stands in front of them in all his glory.

"Told ya." Robin says, a light sneer on her face. Steve shoves her over, before looking back at Eddie, about to speak before he cuts him off. "I know Iron Maiden, what I don't know, is why King Steve is on my front porch with Robin from band. And why he's asking about Iron Maiden of all things." Eddie looks a bit like he want's to turn them away, but he steps back and opens the door wider, motioning for them to come in.

Once they're all milling about Eddie's tiny living room, Steve starts. "I know you've got this whole," Steve gestures at Eddie, "Metal head look going on and, well. I need some advice. Guidance, if you will." Robin nods along with him. "Yeah, a lot of guidance. He want's to get his nose pierced, but he only has polos."

Steve scoffs at this. "I have band shirts, Buckley. I'm just not allowed to wear them. But no more! I'm fully embracing this side of me."

Eddie watches, slightly amused, "So what do you need my help for?" He asks, eyebrow arching. "I need you to pierce my nose. Or at least tall me where to go," Steve rambles, shifting from foot to foot.

He watches as the metal head mulls this over. Eddie sighs, and shakes his head, Steve's shoulders dropping. "C'mon, Rob. He's not gonna do it, let's just go." He says quietly. "Woah, hey! I never said I wouldn't do it. I just don't uh- Why me?"

"You're the only person I thought could be helpful." Steve admits, watching as a smirk spreads across Eddie's face. "Alright then, big boy. Step into my office."

Steve follows Eddie into the bathroom, Robin hot on his heels, watching in some combination of awe and fear as Eddie pulls out. needle from the medicine cabinet. "Oh shit," Steve breathes. Eddie raises an eyebrow, but moves on. "Stay here while I get the jewelry."

"You okay, Steve? Oh my god, you're shaking." Robin frets, "Do you wanna back out? We don't have to do this." She says, grabbing Steve's hand. Steve swallows thickly, "I- I want to. I just. The needle is really freaking me out. I keep seeing that fucking syringe." Robin nods, rubbing Steve's shoulder, laying her head on his shoulder.

Eddie comes bounding back into the bathroom, "Hey- woah. Am I interrupting? No PDA in the trailer, please." He laughs. Steve and Robin jump away from each other, "Oh ew. He is so not my type," Robin groans.

"Whatever, let's do this Stevie. We're doing your septum, right?"

Steve tilts his head, and Eddie sighs "The one right here," Eddie places his hands on his own septum. "Oh, yeah. That one." Eddie nods, getting to work.

Eddie lies the needle up with Steve's nose, "Okay, breath in," Steve follows, "And breath out," Eddie instructs, and slides the needle through. In a fluid motion, Eddie slides the jewelry in, screwing on the ball and checking his work.

"Alright, we're all done, Steve-o." Eddie says, patting his cheek, before looking up at the boy. He looked a bit pale. "Steve?" He asked, before Steve promptly passed out, flopping to the floor in a boneless heap. "Oh, shit. Steve!" Robin cries, bending down. Eddie freezes for a second, "Oh shit. Okay. He probably just fainted, it happens sometimes. Lemme get him some water." He practically leaps through the trailer to grab some water.

He's back in the bathroom right as Steve comes to, "Scoops! I work for scoops, please!" He's shouting, there's tearing streaming down his face and Robin is there next to him, holding him close. "Shh, Steve. We're in the trailer, remember? Eddie's trailer? He pierced your nose." Robin soothes.

Eddie moves in closer, "yeah, I uh. I got you some water," he says, handing him the water. Steve grabs it with a shakey hand, "Thanks, Munson." He breathes, tears slowing. "Uh. Sorry. I had a long month. Y'know," Steve shrugs, and it leaves Eddie reeling. Was he just going to pretend this didn't just happen? The guy was still sitting on his bathroom floor. "Steve, seriously? Look, just sit here, I'm gonna go call someone to pick us up." Robin sighs, before making her way out of the small space.

"Are you okay," Eddie asks, sincerely, "No." Steve answers, voice cracking as he does so. "I was in that mall fire last month, and the hospital trip involved a lot of needles. I guess I didn't realize they still kind of freak me out." Eddie nodded in understanding. "I get that. I couldn't look at a blue chevy for the longest time cause it reminded me of my dad."

Steve sighed, "Thanks for doing this, Eddie. Hey, uh. How much do I owe you?" Eddie waved his hand, "It's all good, Harrington." He dismissed. Steve shook his head, "No way man, I gotta pay you back somehow." He insisted.

Eddie mulled it over, "take me to dinner?" He asked, before realizing what the fuck he just said, "I mean- fuck. Not- I didn't" He scrambled to his feet. Steve grabbed his hand, "Eddie, wait. It's fine."

"Fine? I asked you on a date. If you hadn't just passed out in my bathroom, I'm positive you would've decked me by now!" Eddie squealed. Steve shook his head, "I- I like both, Eddie. Y'know, boys and girls. And honestly. I'd love to go on a date with you," Steve said, smiling up at him.

"Steve! Joyce's here to pick us up since you died!" Robin called from the living room. Eddie helped Steve stand, and walked him to the living room. Steve leaned a little heavier into his side, "I'll call you when I'm a little less weak in the knees, okay?" Steve said softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before following Robin outside.

"Thanks again, Eds!" Steve called once he was in the car.

Eddie couldn't wait for that phone call.

#punk steve harrington #punk steve au #steve harrington #eddie munson #pre steddie #robin buckley #best friend robin #post starcourt #starcourt aftermath #stranger things #steddie #steddie ficlet #best friend robin buckley #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #steve has bad parents

[livwritesstuff]

Steve is up past his bedtime.

(Because he's in his mid-fifties and needs one of those now).

It's 2:30 in the morning and he's awake, sitting in bed with a book and doing his best to ignore the dull ache of exhaustion because his oldest daughter, Moe, hasn't come home yet.

He keeps glancing at his phone, waiting for the screen to light up with a notification from the Ring doorbell they've had up and running for a few years.

Steve had been on the fence about getting it installed, but Eddie wanted it (and it was that or the touch screen toaster, and Steve didn't think he'd be able to take his kitchen seriously with a touch screen toaster).

The late-2000s had turned Eddie into a tech guy. Steve isn't sure if it should have come as a surprise to him or not, but it's true either way. Their kids are 1000x more proficient with it, for sure, but they also grew up with it. The last time the girls were really impressed was when their local Pizza Hut got one of those big touch screen soda machines, but Eddie is pretty much guaranteed to be into anything with a touch screen, anything he can control on his phone.

Steve, on the other hand, reached his capacity for technology with the 2nd gen iPad, which is still up and running even in the 2020s and he still uses it to play Hay Day with Hazel despite being practically the last people on Earth doing it. He’s not interested in any of the new stuff.

The one thing Steve was totally game for was getting a Ring doorbell, because with the girls old enough to come and go mostly as they please, it’s nice to have a better sense of those comings and goings.

It wasn't easy for Steve – relinquishing some control to give their daughters the independence that they'd be chasing whether they had permission or not, but the girls have called their dads to get them out of sticky situations enough times for Steve to know they're making the right decision, even if he doesn't like it.

Ridiculous as it feels, that silly smart doorbell does actually provide him with a small sense of relief.

As is proven yet again when his phone lights up with the long-awaited Ring notification.

"Jesus Christ, finally," Steve mutters, and Eddie, who'd been dozing off by his side, lifts his head.

"She's back?" he asks.

Steve nods.

The notification opens in time for them to see Moe stumbling up the porch steps. There's a boy her age – unfamiliar to Steve even up close – watching her warily from a few paces back. She's wrapped in a big sweatshirt and cradling a greasy Domino's bag like she'd used to hold her stuffed animals.

Moe grapples for the door before pausing and leaning towards the camera.

"Sorry Papa," she mumbles, shaking her wrecked bangs out of her eyes.

"Oh, look at her, hitting you with the Papa because she knows it makes you go soft," Eddie says with a smirk, "No apology for me though, that's kind of bullshit."

Steve shakes his head with a snort.

Moe finally gets the door open and makes her way inside. They hear the sound of the door closing downstairs a split second before it comes through the phone. The boy waits until she's inside before waving weakly at the camera.

"Uh...I'm Nate," Nate says, looking completely exhausted and sounding as if he regrets addressing the camera to begin with, "I'm sober. I drove her home. There’s, uh…I gotta get other people home."

Steve snorts as he watches the boy turn and walk back down the porch steps.

"Poor kid. Long night – closest Dominos is, like, thirty minutes from here."

"Jesus," Eddie shakes his head, "Think Moe would be totally mortified if we tracked him down to say thank you?"

"Yes."

"Sweet, sounds like a plan.”

#they know they can't stop their daughters from going out but they can definitely make sure they never want to again #i’ll let you guys decide how old moe is here lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding.

Warnings- None, mention of scar, angst, Steve being angry. -----------------------------------------------------

Your last mission took a toll on you. Getting stabbed nastily just below your tummy. Leading you to an urgent surgery and blood transfusion, cause of sever blood loss. Leaving you in the hospital for one month ten days.

Guess being a highly trained assassin, with good fighting skills does not guarantee 100% safe results. Only Tony, Nat and Bruce knew about your whereabouts. As for the rest? They just knew you had been seriously injured. Steve wanted to know about your whereabouts but for his own safety, no one told him anything, driving him crazy.

“So, all set to finally leave this place?” Rose one of the sweet nurse asks, her sweet nature made you, be friends with her. “Yes, finally out of your hair.” you chuckle. “I'll miss you Y/n” she hugs getting emotional and you hug her back with a smile. “I'll miss you too, now remember I'm just a phone call away.”

“I know!” she rolls her eyes playfully “So who's gonna pick you up?” “Hopefully Nat” as soon as those words left your mouth, AC/DC Highway to hell ringtone was blasting in the hallways. “On a second thought” “Tony” Rose answered and you gave her an apologetic smile.

“I heard my name” Tony's sarcastic voice roars in the room. “Tony you should keep your phone on silence” you explain to him. “Now when have I ever listened to anyone?” he smirks. “Umm Caps?” “Of course! you will take his name ‘boyfriend ass kisser’” “As if you won't ‘Pepper's loyal child’”

This is what you miss the most. Calling each other, with weird made up names. Tony smirks, hugging you in a tight brotherly embrace.

“I missed you kid, don't you dare do that again” “I missed you too Tons”.

Tony and you became best friends instantly, shortly after you both were introduced by Fury, after the battle of New York. You both have same kind of sense of humor, your being a bit sophisticated. You are one of the few females, Pepper trusts Tony with. And it was Tony, who made you join the Avengers.

As you both said bye to Rose and rest of the staff members, you were now on your way to Stark Towers in Tony's high-tech SUV.

“So, how's everyone?” “You mean all or Steve specifically?”

Hearing his name, a smile forms on your face. Steve Rogers aka Captain America your co-worker, best friend, lover, boyfriend. Unlike Tony and rest of the gang, Steve was professional in the very beginning, calling you mam.

It took you months for him to call you with your first name. Soon you became friends, bonding over music and art. Slowly Steve started to like you more than a friend, but at that time you were in a relationship with someone else.

But after the nasty breakup, Steve took proper care of you and you began to fall for him. It was only a matter of time; you both shared your feelings for each other. Making you both the prettiest couple.

“Umm all of them and yes Steve specifically...” “All are good and excited for you. Nat and Wanda have gone crazy, Steve and Metal man are out on a mission with our mutant friends, they'll be back later today.”

“You are the one in an Iron suit, yet still you call Bucky metal man?” “I can call him many names” Tony smirks. "Tony” you warn him. “Yeah yeah alright” he sighed.

“Wait you said Nat and Wanda have gone crazy?” “Yeah about that” “What did you do Tony?” “Why do you think I did something?” 

You just give him a death glare, he looks outside the window before finally caving in.

“Alright stop glaring it's scary, don't freak out I have planned a small party for you.” Tony is now smiling being hopeful, giving you the best puppy dog face. “Thank god you are cute Tons”  Tony acts shocked putting a hand on his heart “I'm hot, but I'll take cute” he winks at you, making you laugh.

As soon as you both enter the tower, inside the lounge everyone jumps to scream surprise. Hugging you gently, being extra cautious of your injury.

“Guys I missed you all too, but I'm not fragile, I can still kick asses. Nat you know me” “Guys she's right, come here sexy” Nat engulfs you in a big tight hug. It is special, you both are like sisters inseparable.

“Nat I missed you so much!!!” “How’s the wound?” “All healed left with a scar, just like you bye bye bikinis” “Oh to hell with them we'll own the bikini look with our scars”

You both laughed as Wanda, squeezed between you two, making it a cute group hug between the three.

“Y/N” Thor calls you loudly, pulling you away from everyone, hugging you in a bone breaking hold. “I love you too Thor!!” your voice was muffled being buried in his hold. As he lets go, your eyes begin to search for Steve. 

“Looking for someone?” Nat asks “I know whom she is looking for” Clint smiles. “Sir Captain Rogers and Barnes have arrived” FRIDAY'S voice was like a music to your ears. Everyone gather in front of you, to hide you from Steve. Thor was holding your hand to keep you steady. You just wanted to break loose and run into Steve's arms.

“Guys I want to see him”, “NO” all said in unison. “But why?” “Surprise” Nat said.

When Bucky and Steve entered the lounge, everyone shouted together “SURPRISE”. Steve and Bucky gave each other confuse look.

Everyone parted ways and Thor let’s goes of your hand. Steve was shocked to see you. He removed his mask still not able to believe, that you are standing in front of him. Bucky quickly hugs you, asking about your health “I'm fine Buck, we can spar together soon...”

Even though you were answering Bucky, you kept looking at Steve. Something felt odd. As you finally went to hug Steve, something felt off. Steve did hug you back, but didn't say anything. He just looked at you, touching your cheek, before leaving for your shared bedroom. Everyone tried to call him back, but you knew he won't listen to anyone.

“What's wrong with him?” Tony asked, “I'll go see him, he must be tired.” you replied.

On your way to your shared bedroom, Bucky pulled you in the corner. “Y/n, doll he’s been going crazy. No one told him about your whereabouts and he was scared about losing you...” You know Steve was scared, not knowing about you and hearing about it from Bucky pained your heart even more. You wanted to run to Steve and shower all the love you have for him. 

“I know Buck, I hate not telling him. But it was for his own safety!” “His safety?” “Yes, the hydra agents wanted to kidnap him. We got a lead, that they wanted to take him away from us and I could not risk that. We didn't know if someone was watching us.” “God he's an idiot, go get that punk and if he acts stubborn let me know I'll kick his ass” “Language!” you both laughed.

As you enter the room, you saw Steve had taken a quick shower and was shirtless just in his sweats lying on the bed.

“Steve?” “Umm” “Please talk to me” “How are you?” “I'm good...I'm...” “Ok” He cut's you mid-sentence. “Steve I know you are angry, but please let’s talk...let me...” “Talk? About what? The fact I have been kept in the dark about my girlfriend's location? Steve yells, making you flinch slightly.

 “Steve please let me explain it was for your own safety. We got...” “My safety?” He shouts, not letting you finish what you want to say.

Steve grabs your shoulders and yells, “I can take care of myself Y/n. I'm fucking Captain America! God dammit do you have any idea what I have been through?” 

Your eyes well up, as you try your best not to cry but his hold was tight. Even though you could see his pain, his anger was hurting you.

“Steve please...let me explain” “Y/n I'm tired, we'll talk later, you need to rest too!”

You just nod, not able to form any words. You decided to shower first, as you took your top off, Steve saw your scar, he kept looking at it. In his mind, he was screaming at himself for shouting at you, but little did you know that. Instead you thought he is disgusted by it. You took fresh clothes and ran inside the bathroom, turning on the hot water, crying your heart out with silent sobs.

Steve could hear you crying, because of his enhanced hearing. But his stupid anger was coming between the both of you. After an hour you came out. Steve saw you, even though he wanted to apologize, his anger made him say something else.

“I'm heading down for a bit” “Where...are you going?” “Just heading out, unlike you, I won't go anywhere without telling you!”

That jab, was like a knife going deep in your heart. You choked your tears...trying your best not to cry. Somewhere you felt you deserved that. You just nod, not looking at him.

“Ok, don't be late for the party...” “Party?” “Yes Tony…he umm has thrown a party for my return…” You didn’t look at him, eyes fixed on the floor. You knew, if you look at him, you won’t be able to control your emotions.

“Okay I'll be back soon; you should rest in the meantime.”

Steve didn’t even looked at you, leaving you alone with dreadful thoughts, as he went out to cool down his own anger.

Part 2

(I wrote this, because I was bored and this was stuck in my head. Comments and feedbacks are appreciated.)

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers