#because somewhere along the line steve fell out of infatuation and into love with the last person he ever expected....

[cuoredimuschio]

okay, but where's my steddie AU where steve wants to learn to play guitar to impress a girl he's infatuated with and he remembers that munson kid was always hanging up posters for his weird band at school, so he hikes out to eddie's usual dealing spot behind the track and asks (with far less groveling than he really should have) if eddie will teach him how to play, and obviously eddie says no because why would he want to help king steve, but of course, steve offers to pay him, $20 a week, and well, that's the kind of get-the-hell-out-of-this-shithole-town cash eddie really can't afford to refuse, so fine, he'll teach steve to play and they'll spend inordinate amounts of time together tucked away in eddie's room and they'll start to see that they have more in common than they thought and that they kind of had each other all wrong, and eddie will put his hand over steve's to help him get the placement for a tricky chord and it totally won't awaken anything in either of them?? where is it??

edit: i started writing it

#steve x eddie #steddie #stranger things #someone tell me this has already been written because i need it. please. #bonus points if steve shows up to the first practice session empty-handed #and eddie nearly calls the whole thing off when he has the Audacity to grab at eddie's sweetheart as if eddie'd ever let him play her #and he doesn't even teach steve anything that day because rule number one get your own fucking guitar and keep your mitts off mine #but by the end when eddie is deep deep deep in love and it's time to send steve off to woo this lucky girl of his #he offers to let steve take his sweetheart because she's guaranteed to make him look ten times hotter and cooler #and he'll have no trouble sweeping his girl off her feet and maybe eddie's breaking his own heart but it's fine—as long as steve's happy #except steve doesn't seem nearly as happy as eddie thought he would be #he seems sad actually and eddie kind of hates that so he starts to make some lame joke about how steve should be honored #because eddie wouldn't lend his baby out to just anyone and that gets steve to crack half a smile #but then he puts the guitar down on eddie's bed (with all due gentle reverence) walks over takes eddie's face in his hands and kisses him #kisses him like he's been dying to do it for weeks. because he has #because somewhere along the line it stopped being about wanting to impress a girl and started being about wanting to be with eddie #it started being screwing up on purpose so that eddie would grab his hands and show him how it's supposed to be done #and forgetting about lessons entirely and just sitting around and listening to eddie talk or just watching him play #because somewhere along the line steve fell out of infatuation and into love with the last person he ever expected.... #anyway idk where i'm going with this

[theunholygrails]

Infatuated

Summary: When a friend turns up after a breakup for comfort, will Steve finally take the opportunity to admit his feelings? 

Warnings: Unprotected sex. 

Masterlist

If there was one thing Steve Rogers could accomplish where women were involved, it was being chivalrous to the ever painful T; where you were involved, though, it was an entirely selfish endeavor. If he held a door, it was only to watch your ass as you walked past. If he offered to help you out of one of Tony’s particularly low sitting cars, it was purely to feel the silk of your skin and the velvet of your “thank you” wash over him for however brief the moment. And worst? When he helped you into your coat tonight. God, he took two showers and he still could not shake the scent from your hair as it brushed his nose.

Now he was sprawled out on the couch in the living room area of the Avengers compound with the TV on as a haphazard distraction. A light from Wanda’s room lit up the hallway on the second story and easy melodies from her guitar slowly, slowly unwound the tangled strings of his heart. If he listened hard enough, he was sure to pick out Sam’s snores and Tony and Rhodes bickering from the workshop below his feet.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table and he jumped at the distraction. An audible groan fled his lips when he saw your name lighting it up.

‘You up?’ It said.

He bitterly wondered how you expected him to sleep after an evening of watching you dance on your fiancé in the club. Hell, he could never close his eyes again or risk delving into the dangerous territory of imaging a woman not his own doing far more evocative things than he witnessed only hours prior.

‘Yeah.’ His fingers disobeyed the direct orders of his brain.

The triple dots showed your hesitation for a good few minutes before ‘I can’t do this,’ appeared.

His heart jolted, conjuring up a thousand scenarios in which you called off the engagement and admitted to being in love with him all along. He settled for the diplomatic response of ‘Sleep?’

The reply came almost before he hit send. ‘Let me in?’

“Shit,” he whispered, dropping his phone to the cushion and letting his head fall into his hands. He prayed that you had changed out of your short white dress so that he would not have to imagine you in a grander version accompanied by wedding bells or without it altogether.

His shirt was tugged into place, his sweatpants rearranged and his blonde hair smoothed into place before he made it to the front door to address his fears and desires all at once.

“Steve.” You beamed up at him with eyes that just danced in the moonlight, right past the guards of his heart and settled with a familiar warmth that made his mouth return the smile.

“Hey,” he breathed, not trusting himself with more.

His gaze traced the smears of your mascara under your eyes and the red lining them.

“Do you have pizza? I’m craving it and delivery was all backed up tonight and you were closer than the store.” You shimmied past him, breast rubbing his bicep in a way he was sure you hardly noticed but made him shift from foot to foot to keep his body busy.

“And you wanted to talk?” Steve asked, following you in to the unkempt kitchen. Sam methodically cleaned it but the rest of the tenants seemed intent on keeping it in a state of disarray.

You did not answer, but stuffed a slice of Tony’s leftover cold pizza into your mouth. Steve sighed and walked around the island so he could lean against the counter when addressing you. It also served as an adequate buffer between his form and yours.

Your shorts rode up while you paced and you fiddled with the ends of your sweatshirt, which he unfortunately realized you had no bra underneath. “When was the last time you had a girlfriend?” you asked suddenly.

“Since before I was frozen.”

“Alright, I’ll count it. Did you ever just ignore her? Like I know you were in the army and all that fun stuff, so you were pretty busy and Dustin is a lawyer so he’s always at work. Even tonight he was just talking about how he had better stuff to do and I just think…he should want to spend time with me right?” You whispered the last part, so small and hopeless he was damning his boundaries and striding to take your hands in his as the waterworks started up again.

“Absolutely,” he insisted.

“But he’s a decent guy. He’s stable and not a drug addict or a gambler or a psycho and I’m lucky to have him. It’s just cold feet right? I’m just second guessing everything because marriage is the rest of my life.”

Your fingers were wrapping around his, squeezing so tight his chest felt the pressure.

“I don’t have any experience on the marriage front. But I figure if you’re not absolutely sure…maybe cold feet are trying to tell you something.”

You glanced up, hair tangling in eyelashes that you blinked up at him like you were chasing away a fog. All traces of your earlier tears were gone leaving a determined hope that left him wrecked and foolishly reaching to push your hair from your face. God help him, you leaned into the simple touch, eyes still fixated on his like you were double-checking your work on a basic math problem.

“You remember that time you said the sushi we got from that gas station looked questionable?”

“You still ate it.”

“Yeah, but my metabolism is slightly advanced. You would have gotten food poisoning.” Somewhere in his speech, between his sentences, to pinpoint the moment precisely, your hand touched his jaw. “I just mean, your gut seems to be leading you right most days. Why question it now? What’s it telling you?”

You blinked, nails scratching at his skin lightly, tongue pausing between your lips before you spoke. “That I can’t do this. I can’t marry him.”

Just voicing it lifted a dead weight from your shoulders and you swayed slightly making his free hand rest on your waist. He was listing out chores for tomorrow, planning his meals, anything to not think about your proximity.

“Do you want to call him?” Steve asked, begged for you to stop touching him without intentions that mirrored his.

“Tomorrow. I don’t want to think about him tonight.”

He would not have heard the invitation if he had not been acutely tuned to the tone of your voice or listening frantically for it. The quirk up at the end left it hanging open—a question, meant for him. He moved before you could think better of it. His mouth pressed to yours, a quick kiss that would have his breath staggering for days. His heart sputtered to a stop in shock of his actions. Your hands braced on his chest, not for support, he realized when you pushed him away.

“Don’t kiss me,” you said.

His eyes fell open, heavy with rejection and unsatisfied lust. They opened just in time to see you pull your shirt off.

“What…”

“Steve please help me.” You were undoing the little drawstring in your shorts, kicking them to the ground, not giving a damn who might walk in.

His mouth was dry and fuck he hoped other places were wet on you. It was the lack of a bra that did him in, just as he had predicted. Imagining how your nipples must have brushed against the cotton material, how they might feel pert against his bare chest. And you were begging him, literally begging and stripping. If his self-control had been frayed before, he had now discovered the absolute end of its rope.

His sweatpants were no longer comfortable. When you reached for your pink panties, he snatched your wrist heaving out one last plea. “If you do this, you can’t go back,” he said.

“I don’t want to.”

You rose up to kiss his throat, lips pressing up the column until they reached his ear and caught it between your teeth.

“Oh, hell. Fuck,” he whispered, hands stationed at his sides.

“What’s your gut saying, Steve?” you whispered in his ear.

“Fuck it,” he said, scooping up your hand and leading you up the stairs to his bedroom.

His body served as a shield until you were behind closed doors, then he was defenseless to your assault on him. His shirt was a thing of the past, your lips replacing the material on his skin, velvet instead of spandex. He moaned when you latched onto his nipple and attempted to quiet himself, knowing just how damn thin the walls were.

With a giggle, you pushed him to lay on the bed with his knees still bent over the side. “You’ve got a lovely voice. Let them hear you.”

You found the waistband of his pants and the not so secret attraction they attempted to conceal. You blinked and snapped your gaze up to him, from between his thighs, on your knees. Shit, he groaned again barely hearing your words over it.

“You sure, Steve?”

“Me?” he laughed. “Take whatever you need sweetheart. I’m fine.”

You crawled back up him leaning on one elbow to watch his face while your other hand ventured to his proud hardness. The blue of his eyes was gone, covered by tightly squeezed eyelids. His lips were red and raw from where his teeth worried away at them. You jerked him off slow and deliberate studying each twitch of his body and just what caused it, the easier to make him come later.

He was a painted masterpiece beneath you, all clashes of bold colors and artfully woven lines. You leaned down to kiss the sharp one that made up his jaw and heard him hiss, bucking his hips up for more than you offered.

You pulled your hand away, grinning down at his slits of eyes and pushing down his pants entirely. There was a moment where he just stared up at you and then he hoisted you up, flipping you on your back and positioning the both of you in the center of the bed. His nose bumped yours in the jostling, breath begging you to revoke your earlier statement. His lips had not been unwelcome on yours. They were warm and open but not what you needed tonight. You needed an unforgiving pace and the aching inside of you filled by him slamming in over and over again. You did not need the soft kiss from earlier.

You shook your head, pushing his shoulders until his mouth was put to work where there was an actual job to be done. He exhaled over your breasts, marveling for just a moment before he gave in to the unrestrained pace you demanded.

His teeth lashed out first, tongue quick to follow and sooth the sting. His teeth tugged at one nipple while his hand gave the other a sharp squeeze, deepening the arch in your back so that the wetness between your legs skimmed his prodding member.

You watched him venture further south, down your stomach and to your hips where he left a mark that smarted exquisitely against your skin. His hands slipped beneath you, cupping your ass and angling your sex up towards him.

“Can I kiss here?” he asked, voice so calm while his eyes fluttered to keep himself in check. You wanted him to rasp out his words, or forget them all together. You wanted nothing but obscenities said inside these walls, and more importantly you wanted him inside of your womanly walls.

“Later,” you promised, using your foot to hook under his arm and draw him back up above you. “Right now, you’re fucking me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, grasping you ankle and pushing your leg to lay angled out beside you on his comforter.

Neither had bothered to cut the light on, leaving the moonlight straining against the yellow curtains as the only source of lighting. Steve found himself wishing for even a match to help illuminate your rapturous form. He supposed he would just have to settle for feeling all the places he could not see. His hands brushed your cheeks before pressing into the pillows.

Your arms wound around his back in preparation and your tantalizing breast were finally flush to his slick skin. He enjoyed the friction for a moment before the sweat of the deeds made flesh slide past too fleetingly.

He opened his mouth to triple check on your agreement and you offered the smallest of smiles, still so genuine that his heart gave a lurch to try to reach out and touch yours. He gave in, thrusting and filling you in the same beat and rocking to recreate the sweet noise from your lips in the next. In a distant, darker part of his mind, he was glad you requested he speed the process along because just the thought of you could get him off; faced with the real thing, he knew even the super soldier serum could only help him last for so long.

You cried out his name, mixing it with a moan when he hoisted your other leg up and around his waist, the new position allowing his thick length to rub against the spot he needed to. Your nails bit into his ass and he released a grunt that he prayed the others in the building were too preoccupied to overhear. For you however, his voice was the only thing that mattered at all. You mimicked it, brushing his blonde locks from his flushed face to study him for a brief moment, equation only half solved, but with his help you could see the solution in site.

“Fuck,” Steve whispered, the only word left in his vocabulary.

“I know. I know. It’s good, so good. Faster, please Steve, come on.”

Another grunt. That same word repeated thrice before the push and pull and the give and take all overwhelmed you. Your voice joined with Steve’s echoing groan and the other music of the compound.

There was quiet, a still small moment before you felt him shift his comfortable weight from off you, his limp length pulling free leaving you with a hallow sense of fulfillment. He crawled down your body slowly kissing hot, open mouthed kisses. “So beautiful. So, so beautiful. Can you do that for me again, sweetheart? Just one more time?” His next kiss landed squarely on your clit.

“Yes. Of course.” You rubbed his scalp, slowing the flurried motions of his mouth.

He glanced up, fingers dipping and rolling to tease your already stretched entrance. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh setting an easy pace of pressing against your stimulated core. Your arms flew over your head knotting together to just watch him fuck you in a vastly more intimate way.

A languid exhale graced your lips and you shifted yourself closer to a second release. It came like a sunrise, warm, inviting and it left your eyes blinded by light and hope.

A tear touched your cheek, the first since you decided you were leaving Dustin. But you were not sad, there was something more to look forward to now. It was hope for something better. It was the same answer to the problem you had been puzzling over. It was Steve.

He was braced over you, smiling in the moonlight. He touched the tear and you raised your hand to his cheek, leaning upwards to reignite the tender kiss from earlier. There it was—the answer.

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