#boxer!steve x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I still got a few rounds left in me

kinktober, day thirteen

a/n: ...i have such a thing for fighters, it's bad....

warnings: boxer!steve rogers x reader, smut, established relationship, domestic bliss, kissing, foreplay, bathtub sex

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

You felt like a little marshmallow floating atop a warm mug of hot chocolate as you laid there in the tub, staring out at the dark skyline. The melody of soft rain drizzling against the window lulled you even further as your hand lazily played with the bubbles foaming at the surface. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard, spinning your head around to spot your burly boyfriend gazing at your relaxed visage from the doorway, raindrop-painted gym clothes still hugging his form. 

“Steve,” you gasped, spine straightening, “you’re home! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you would be asleep already, so I tried to be quiet.”

“In a bit, I just wanted to wash the day away first, you know?” you sighed, “fall back down to earth before I try and fall asleep…” Offering you a gentle nod, he then stepped further into the bathroom, a soft smile still fast on his lips as he began to peel his clothes off. You couldn’t help but giggly ask, “what are you doing?” as the fighter slowly revealed more and more of his rippling physique, his eyes staying locked with yours the entire time. 

“Well, I was gonna take a shower,” his shorts hit the floor mere seconds before he planted his palms on either side of the tub, “but you’re making that bath look so good.” 

As he lowered himself in, your giggle morphed into a laugh as the bubbles began to make a run for it, “you’re gonna flood the entire bathroom!”

“Then it’s a good thing we have something called towels,” fully submerged, he simply leaned in to kiss you. 

Arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, the current scooped you a bit closer, your legs intuitively entangling up and over his thick thighs. As your hands drifted over his skin, your fingers paused and took time to dig into a few of the muscles on his upper back. Parting from the tender peck, you deepened your massage momentarily as you asked, “are you sore?”

With his own arms tangled around you, he murmured, “not really, I didn’t really go too hard today,” before he lifted you further up onto his lap, his broad palm firm on your back so that your chest pressed flush against his, making your soapy tits share their suds. 

It took you approximately two seconds before you noticed the raging hard-on, poking you under the water, “oh my god…” you chuckled, tilting your chin back as you gazed at his smirk, “what are you trying to do, huh, champ?”

His hands slowly raked down your back before they found the curve of your ass, squeezing it in a way that shot directly to your aching clit, “like I said, I didn’t go too hard today, so I still got a few rounds left in me…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #chris evans smut #marvel x reader smut #steve rogers x fem!reader #marvel smut #captain america smut #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x smut #boxer!steve rogers #boxer!steve rogers smut #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers fic

[rustedhearts]

santa baby (boxer!steve harrington x fem!librarian reader)

summary: a private christmas lavishly celebrated in the bedroom of hollywood’s new favorite ‘it’ couple.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1993) ✶ christmas carols ✶ main masterlist

tags: fluff; some christmas smut; steve is so rich.

lovely adorable dividers by @chechelia

"santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. been an awful good girl, santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight."

—santa baby, eartha kitt

malibu, california, december 1993

"And then Nike wants a photoshoot for their new shoe collection. They're requesting you as their face...but, I don't know, the deal is—"

"Angel, grab my lighter, please?"

You stood from your leather swivel chair, pushing it away from the conference table to head toward Steve's gym bag near the door. You pulled his lighter from the front pocket and handed it over to him, just as he slipped a Marlboro between his lips.

"Thanks, honey," he mumbled, reaching out to rub your thigh as you sat back down.

"As I was saying: Nike is offering a quarter mil for the deal, but I think we can squeeze more out of 'em. If they want to make a contract deal with you, we're gonna need more—"

"Who says I want a contract deal with Nike?" Steve interrupted gruffly.

You adjusted the necklace on your chest—a gorgeous golden locket from your first Christmas with Steve. You polished it regularly and kept it in its velvet case when not in use. But it was rare that it wasn't in use.

The meeting had been going on for two hours at this point. You were tired, bored, and already positive Christmas was going to be spent at a photoshoot for Nike in L.A. Your parents called last weekend and asked if they should set a place for you at the dinner table for Christmas—but just like Thanksgiving, you told her it was "unlikely."

And just like Thanksgiving, it broke your heart to hear her sigh.

"You'd be an idiot not to take it, Harrington, c'mon,” Mikey huffed.

Steve slid a glass ashtray closer to his side of the table and tapped his cigarette over the litter. "What d' you think, baby?"

You were still in a daze, fiddling with your necklace and checking the state of your manicured nails. Steve tapped your thigh to break you out of it.

Looking up, you glanced at Mikey quickly—noting his eye roll—before shrugging at Steve. "Oh, um...I don't know."

Huffing, Mikey held out his hand to silence you, and you tried not to burn at the dismissal. "Yeah, Steve, look—"

"You might wanna lower that hand if you wanna keep it, Mike," Steve cooly grumbled, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"Look, Steve, I think it's a good business decision. This is literally my job, man, but you gotta let me do it."

Steve hummed, inhaling through his teeth. When he exhaled, a stream of grey smoke furled from his nose.

"I'll think 'bout it."

He made quick work of stamping out his cigarette, pushing away from the table in his chair as it sizzled out. He pulled your chair out next, holding an empty palm upended for your waiting hand. You slid your fingers in the open space and flashed a small smile, grateful for his comfort in your obvious lack of it.

"Wait, guys—Steve, we're not done!" Mikey called after the pair of you as Steve made a path for the door.

Winding his arm around your shoulders, Steve pulled you in close by the crook of his elbow to plant a kiss on your head. "Ready to go home, angel?"

"Mhm."

Throwing a sly grin over his shoulder, Steve shrugged. "Looks like we’re done, Santorini."

Wrapped in a pair of pink silk pajamas, you lathered smooth vanilla cream over your feet, massaging the soreness from five-inch heels as Steve huffed and puffed over the bedroom carpet with every pushup. He counted under his breath between grunts, face screwed up with exertion. The muscles of his back flexed and tightened with every decline.

"I know—forty-five—you're—forty-six—watchin' me."

Cheeks swelling with warmth, you smiled down at your hands as you smoothed the rest of the lotion in. "Whatever."

Four pushups later, Steve hopped up from the floor and adjusted the front of his boxers, bulging with a distracting amount of fullness. The blue light of the television screen cast a sheen over the end of the bed spread, and Steve crawled over it to flop next to you. You let yourself smile again, reaching out to brush a clump of soft, shampooed hair out of his eyes.

"What's a' matter?" he mumbled into the mattress, cheek squished.

You shook your head, placing the lotion on the nightstand. "Nothing—"

"Don't lie."

A sigh shuttered through you. Fingers approached his hair again, delicately swooping and sweeping through—more a comfort for you than him, though he melted into the mattress.

“It’s silly…I just wish we could spend Christmas together.”

“We are,” Steve replied.

“You know what I mean. Without Mikey and Big, and random endorsement guys, or a million fans screaming and taking pictures. Just us. Like it used to be.” Your voice was smaller than you wanted.

You didn’t realize how sad the prospect of a Christmas spent with strangers and money-hungry people made you. You turned your eyes toward the television as a commercial for Campbell’s soup came on.

Steve stirred on the bed, bringing his cheek to rest on your bare thigh. He kissed it, greedy for the bare, clean flesh scented of bubble bath and shaving cream. His teeth scraped the tender space of your inner thigh and you squeaked.

“I know,” he muttered, pressing another gentle kiss.

A moment of silence passed between you. The television buzzed with muffled chatter and the bright, blaring colors of holiday advertisements. Steve rubbed a rough hand over your soft skin, and you leaned back into the silky pillows against the headboard as you massaged his hair.

“I know what will cheer you up.” Steve tapped your thigh twice before sliding off the bed.

Tucking your legs in, you watched him disappear through the french doors of the closet you shared. He rummaged for a few moments—the roll of drawers opening and closing—before reappearing with a gilded shopping bag stuffed with tissue paper. It was far too neat for Steve’s heavy hands, but the thought of him asking a clerk for gift wrap made you smile.

“For me?” You pressed your hand to your chest and grinned coyly.

Steve placed it on the bed before you. “Well, open it and see.”

“It’s not Christmas ye—“

Steve placed his hands on his hips and fixed you with an arched brow. You plucked the tissue paper from the bag with a giggle. The paper revealed a black shoe box in the bottom of the bag, and once retrieved and placed in your lap, you removed the lid and came to a pair of mint green Mary Jane pumps.

“Oh, Steve,” you cooed, picking one up. It was sleek and gorgeous. “They’re beautiful.”

Steve kept his bottom lip firmly between his teeth to hide his smile. But seeing the warmth that gathered on your face, the brightness in your eyes—Steve wanted nothing more than to keep you this happy for as long as he could.

“Y’ like ‘em?”

“Love them, Stevie. Thank you.” Cradling the shoe close to your chest, you looked up to smile at Steve—but caught the back of him rushing into the closet again.

“Steve? Where are you going?”

“Hang on!”

Paper rustling followed Steve’s wobble as he reappeared with an armful of bags and boxes, some wrapped with velvet bows and others bare. You pressed up to your knees and watched him place them near the small, slim Christmas tree in the corner of your bedroom by the window. He huffed once all were dropped on the floor.

You crawled the length of the bed and peeked over the edge toward the tree. “Those are…all for me?”

Steve always spoiled you, especially on holidays and anniversaries, but this was a new extreme. Maybe it was the few months spent apart earlier this year that made him want to adore you more. A newfound appreciation for you and your love, and a new desire to express it the best he knew how.

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed, pushing his hair away from his forehead. “C’mon, open ‘em.”

“But what about Christmas?”

Steve scratched at the nape of his neck, sighing. The sourness of his expression made you drop back on your heels. He stepped over your presents to come near the end of the bed, hands bracing your cheeks.

“Would you hate me if we celebrated early? Because…you’re right, baby, we won’t be able to spend it alone. Mikey wants me to do all these shoots and stupid shit, and I have trainin’ and shit—“

“Okay,” you interrupted, throwing a sweet smile up his way. “As long as I get you all to myself right now.”

Steve pulled you up, the heel of his palms tucked under your jaw. His mouth devoured yours, tongue and teeth and warm lips. "M' all yours, angel."

When your lips were buzzing and numb from his mouth, Steve hoisted you off the bed and spun you around. Giggles subsided, you took in the array of colors near the tree.

"Well, if it's Christmas then you need your presents, too," you told him, and you scampered off toward the guest room down the hall before he could object.

You returned with your own bags and boxes for Steve—and though you felt terrible that there were half as many, you knew Steve would be just as happy with a sparkly red bow on your ass as his only gift.

And in the true spirit of Christmas, you slipped to the kitchen and concocted an array of lavish snacks and treats meant for the holiday specifically. Wine, champagne, cheeses, expensive French chocolates, cured meats, and you even splurged on a little caviar. Well. Steve did.

You made your own little Christmas in the comfort of your bedroom, clad in a pair of tiny silk pajamas that Steve kept tugging at. You fed him chocolates and licked the remnants from the corner of his mouth, and he wound his fingers in the back of your hair and pulled tight when he just couldn't help it anymore.

"Mm...Steve...let go," you giggled, smushed against his mouth by his iron hold.

Steve chased after your lips with a playful nip. "Nah, I want you...right here." He peppered more firm kisses between words.

Kisses that tasted like rich dark chocolate and bright, bubbly champagne.

"But I want you...oh!...to open some presents, too."

Steve groaned from his place in your neck, nuzzling and licking. "Just a little longer."

You wound your fingers in his hair and laughed, allowing yourself to be pulled into his lap. He tugged you down against him and latched onto your throat. Groans and whines muffled the transatlantic accents of the old Hollywood movie on the tv behind you. Steve’s bulge was stiffening against the satin bow of your pajamas.

“Steve,” you whined. “C’mon, open your g-gifts.”

Steve lifted off your neck with a wet pop, leaving a ring of saliva and swollen tooth marks in his leave.

He rubbed his thumb over the sore patch of flesh and raised his head to catch your eyes. “Fine.”

He kept you planted firmly in his lap as he tore the wrappings and ribbon off various boxes and bags, kissing your cheek and neck and mouth as his own version of gratitude with every one. You wrapped the Ralph Lauren tie around his neck and let it hang loosely, spritzed the cologne on his chest and kissed the seasoned skin, and even stuck a silver bow on the top of his head.

"Thank you, angel," Steve murmured with another gentle kiss. "But you know what my favorite gift is?"

You quirked a brow and slipped your arms over his shoulders. "What's that?"

Steve took the shiny bow from his head and placed it in his palm. You watched as he brought it behind you, a grin toying on your lips while you waited for it to touch your own head. Instead, a resounding smack echoed through the room, and a sting gathered in your ass. Steve smacked the bow on with a heavy hand, and you jolted upright in his lap with a gasp. Grabbing a handful of flesh, Steve gave it a jiggle and grinned sideways.

“You.”

Surging forward, you planted a sticky kiss on his mouth. Steve, unable to contain himself, pushed to his knees and hoisted you with him. Soon, you were splayed flat on the mess of wrapping paper and ribbon, a pair of rough hands working the buttons on your silk. Your fingers dragged through his hair as he tugged your little shorts down, writhing and whimpering as his hot breath fanned new patches of skin.

He drew a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, causing your fingers to twist tightly in his hair as your core clenched. His tongue circled your navel, causing you to giggle and twist away, tickled by his hot breath and wet appendage. Steve chuckled at your reaction, wide hands bracing your waist.

He dipped down to place himself between your legs, but you tightened your hands in his hair and tugged him up. Steve furrowed his brows, crawling up toward your face.

“What’s wrong—“

“Nothing, nothing,” you panted, clawing at his firm, muscular chest. “Just want you. Want you now, please, Steve.”

Amusement lightened his features once more, brow quirking up. “Aw,” he chuckled. “You just can’t wait, huh, baby? You need me that bad?”

“Uh-huh! Please, please—“

Steve kissed your babbling mouth, pulling his boxers down. “Shh. It is Christmas, angel. It’d be naughty of me to make you wait.”

You giggled breathily as he hooked your legs over his hips. “R-right. Like that’s ever stopped y—oh!”

Steve pressed until his pelvis pressed against yours, elbows crinkling a bag beside your head as he hovered. His palm cupped over the crown of your head, leveling your gazes.

“It can stop me now, too, honey,” he muttered. “S’ you better be good, hmm?”

“‘M good,” you mumbled, head bobbing up and down. Your thighs were already quaking. “‘M always good.”

Steve gently kissed your mouth again. Another at the corner where your mouth creased, so gentle and sweet.

“Yeah you are,” he whispered.

But enough talking. Steve wanted to devour you, and he snatched at your hands to slide them over your head as his hips began to move. Fingers intertwined and clutching tight, you held on with all your might as he fed pleasure in and out. You did nothing to silence your whines and cries, and he grunted into your neck in time. He was slow and languid, deeper and deeper every time he came back.

“Kiss me, kiss me, please,” you huffed with need.

Steve slid his mouth across your cheek and latched onto your own. You sighed against his lips with relief. Moans echoed into each other’s mouths, refusing to release the other as his thrusts grew frantic.

When he spilled into you, he gasped sharply against your cheek. You shuddered and writhed as warmth flooded you, and stroked his hair lazily when he fell down.

“Christ,” he groaned, cheek squished against your chest. “Fuckin’ Christmas angel.”

You giggled breathily and kissed his temple. “I think that was all you, handsome.”

Steve snickered, nipping at your breast and causing you to squeal. “I’ll take that. C’mon, flip over. Wanna play with you a ‘lil more.”

“Steve,” you laughed, and he lifted up to frown.

“Come on, angel, it’s Christmas,” he huffed.

“Only if I get to wear some of my new stuff.”

Steve immediately sat back, wiping sweat from his head. “Fuck yeah, baby. C’mon, go, go.”

He smacked at your ass as you crawled toward your new lingerie piled near the tree, and you fell into a mess of giggles as you collected them.

You scampered into the bathroom, and Steve chuckled to himself when he heard all your giggling. He snatched the bottle of champagne from the floor and poured another glass, easing back on his elbow to watch the door for your appearance. He grabbed the Polaroid from the bench at the end of the bed and pulled it open, aiming for the door.

When you appeared, the flash shuttered through the room like a white snap. Steve tossed the Polaroid toward the mess of gifts beside him and grinned as you twirled.

“Look beautiful, baby. C’mere, lemme get a better look.”

You crawled your way over in a ruffled mint green teddy and matching panties, and Steve snapped another photo of your arched back.

An early Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #boxer!steve #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader

[fluffysucker]

Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

In no world were you meant to be together, but in every universe, you were meant for each other.

A/N: I present you grumpy sunshine wrapped in enemies(ish) to lovers with Beefy Boxer/Biker Bucky.

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

Also, I tried to be as inclusive as possible. But my delusion couldn't be controlled I'm sorry.

Ngl this is for me more than anything.

Also, I'm thinking about making this its own universe and maybe write more of it. Tell me what you think

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You hated Bucky Barnes, and he hated you.

The two of you should have never crossed paths. Your worlds should have never met. But the wall separating you could only hold for so long.

The infamous boxer was a phenomenon in his field. Unbeatable and astute, Bucky Barnes held his reputation with pride. He was stronger than all and the smartest the game had. His jab was as numbing as the winter. His techniques were as calculated as a soldier's. Bucky Barnes was as hard as nails. A legend.

To keep up with the notoriety, it was rumoured that Barnes and his team were also a biker gang. It was never confirmed, but the black leather jacket he always had on, the long hair touching his shoulder or tidied in a low bun, the motorbike barked in front of the gym, and the intimidating sense lingering around him. It was never denied, either.

In the mornings, Bucky Barnes ran a successful gym with his two bestfriends, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. Both played occasionally, but only Bucky was the professional, so they were more his trainers. They also trained other players and armatures. They tried to gain other normal customers, but it didn't always work. With a reputation like theirs, attracting customers wasn't easy.

It was usually the same for nights, unless they had matches. Most of their fights were held on Stark's property. He ran an empire, and boxing was the dominant centre, led by the biggest champion. And Stark lets Bucky have it his way, just like he likes. As long as Bucky keeps on bringing these huge numbers into their pockets, both are happy and content.

So it was out of the nature for Bucky to have zero interest in the new restaurant that opened up right next door to the gym. They had their regularly frequented places. The bar run by Romanoff and Belova, a couple of blocks away from Stark's property, was more than enough. He didn't even bother to throw a glance at it. Even after he knew that the owner had come by and given out menus and promised them discounts if they stopped by, there was still nothing.

Until one night. Bucky got carried away in training. He had an important match coming up. He knew his opponent barely stood a chance, but Bucky enjoyed the thriller of the game. The sweat and blood that go into it He didn't remember a time when he didn't want to do this. It was like it was programmed so deeply in his brain. He was made for this.

Everyone left, one by one. Until then, it was only him. After so many hours, he finally got tired. He threw his gloves aside and went to take a shower to remove the evidence of his hard work before going back home. As he was locking the gym's door, he heard his stomach growl, reminding him that he needed food. He was starving. Before deciding to wait and order food once he got home, the big sign caught his eye. They did indeed have a restaurant right next door. He admitted he was too tired to cook or wait for delivery. He needed food, then crashed into his bed. So maybe the closest restaurant would be useful.

Once he stepped in, he felt out of place immediately. His dark clothes and huge frame made him look like a stranger compared to the light-coloured painted walls. Some had flowers, and others had stars drawn on them. There were fairy lights in some corners. The aromatic scent was everywhere. Bucky almost winced at how bright and colourful everything felt. This was an alternative universe that he didn't belong in.

"Hi, how can I help you?" An even sweeter voice rang and caught Bucky's attention, breaking him from his trance of observing the place.

He turned around to find the prettiest girl he had ever seen standing behind the counter. Your beauty caught him off guard. He never believed someone could be so beautiful before. But here you were, standing. Taking his breath away.

He recovered very quickly and moved to stand in front of the counter. With the most loving smile, you handed him the menu. He took a look at the menu and wanted to laugh out loud. Dish names were just as cheerful as the atmosphere.

Out of habit, you started explaining and recommending stuff for him. He interrupted you, putting in his order. You didn't give it much thought but took his order happily.

You apologised for the lack of waiters, as it was almost closing time and it was only you. No answer. With his blank stare, you told him he could sit wherever he wanted. Only then did he notice the empty restaurant. It was just you and him. It was that late. So he took a seat at the nearest table.

Not taking much, you returned with his order. You placed it in front of him with a big smile on your face. You knew right away who that was the minute he walked in. James Barnes. The famous boxer who trains next door You have been praying after your small visit to them that they would be regular customers. The business was doing great. But the more, the merer. Always. Lots of people warned you about the men next door. But you didn't feel like they were as bad as people made them out to be. You were always so trusting, unless shown otherwise. So you were happy that, finally, one of them stopped by.

You moved away, letting him enjoy his food. Unable to fight your nature, you started talking to him as you continued cleaning the remaining parts of the place. No answer again. He didn't even bother to look at you. Okay. Maybe he had a rough day. Not all people are used to chatting.

Bucky was one of these people. His eyes widened as you started talking to him. People were never that friendly to him. People avoided him. Nobody tried to open up a conversation with him. He didn't know how to react. And he was too tired to try. So he practiced his other specialty. Silence. But even if he wouldn't admit it, Bucky found your voice calming. So he let you talk instead of just shutting you up.

You reduced your talking to a minimum. Only little remarks there and then to avoid complete silence. The second time, you heard his voice since he walked in and asked for the check. You brought the paper to the table he occupied, keeping your smile up and telling him that he got the 'neighbour discount' as you called it. You almost heard his scoff as you left him.

You had your back to the door, so you only turned around when you heard the door close. You didn't hear his footsteps, and most definitely, you didn't hear his goodbye, goodnight, or even thank you. Now that's rude.

You returned to the table to collect the check. But you found the review note you attached to every check empty. Not a single penmark. And that was more rude. You made sure that filling out the note only took seconds. You genuinely cared to hear people's opinions so you could be better and have the restaurant grow more.

So he didn't speak to you for more than two sentences. Didn't say thank you or goodbye. Didn't fill in the note. Okay, maybe you didn't want them as customers if they were all that rude.

It turns out they weren't that rude. However, Bucky was more rude than you thought.

A couple of days after Bucky's visit, you were surprised to see Bucky with another two men. You guessed they were Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson. The trio was all well-known. You doubted if Bucky was the one to recommend the restaurant. You weren't sure if he even liked the food. And you were right. He would be caught dead if he brought up the fairy world you called a restaurant. Even when it served the tastiest food he had ever had,

It was a slow day. No intense training or excessive fight preparation The three men didn't have much to do that day. So when Steve suggested trying out the restaurant, Bucky neither objected nor showed excitement.

So when they walked in, you couldn't help the feeling of surprise along with the tiny bit of happiness, hoping it would be a nicer visit this time. After preparing their orders and sending them out, you waited for a bit before you left the kitchen to greet them. Not before making sure you looked presentable.

With the small space and their loud voices, it wasn't hard to locate them. You approached them with a big smile and positive attitude.

"I wanted to make sure you were having a good time." You followed up after introducing yourself.

"The food is amazing. This burger is to die for." Steve was the first to compliment you, with Sam nodding and agreeing.

"You have one good chef." Sam added as he took another french fry into his mouth. "Send my regards to them."

"Actually, I'm also the chef." The statement caused a shocked expression to fill in their faces. They asked for details, and you briefly told them how you were the core of the small business as the owner and main chef.

The two men were polite, and they didn't seem annoyed by your chatty personality. In fact, they interacted with you and asked questions to learn more. And all they had to say were nice compliments. Except one.

"So tell me, sweetheart, what was the inspiration for the place? Was it a fairy garden or Disney's latest cartoon?" None of you were ready for the sarcastic comment Bucky threw at you.

You didn't let your smile break in the face of his sarcasm. Nor did you give much thought to the pet name. You put on a bigger smile now, looking at him.

"A bit of both." That's one thing about you: you refused to let the world change about you. You never reciprocate rudeness with rudeness.

"I can tell." Bucky was taken back by your response. He expected you to get offended, but you didn't.

"Thank you. It was my vision all along." You replied, your smile never leaving your face.

And that started your hate relationship with Bucky Barnes.

After that day, the men became regular customers. And it wasn't just the three men. Little by little, it was most of the team. First, it was just to try the good food. Then it was because they wanted to. They wouldn't admit it, but your place was like a breath of fresh air. Something so different from what they are used to. From what they are known for. From what people expected from them. And you never judged them, treated them differently, or asked about the rumours that followed them. So it was a calm change, but much needed.

But their favourite thing was yours and Bucky's constant bickering. Or more Bucky's. Nobody understood why Bucky was doing this. You never partook in his constant attempts to make fun of you. You always had a sweet response to fire back. You truly were the living embodiment of killing them with kindness.

However, he never stopped. Every time he stepped foot in the place, you claimed it was your biggest achievement. He had something rude to say. Something to annoy you with. Something to bother you. Sarcasm and jokes spilling out of him with no end whatsoever.

The number of times you wanted to punch him or snap at him right back was increasing. But you refused to give in. To let him win. He wouldn't be the one to change you. So you kept engaging with him only with gracious things to say.

Besides, you chose to think that everyone had their own battles and demons. And for sure, Bucky looked like he had lots of them. He looked rougher than most. His job made him appear invincible, but he wasn't. Nobody was. So he may drive you mad, but he deserves the gentle treatment you offered all.

Bucky had no idea why he was doing it. Why every time he saw you, he felt the urge to tease you. It wasn't like him. But he didn't fight it back.

"How are you, Tinkerbell?"

"You should buy green carpets. It will finish off the garden aesthetic."

"Here is the princess who got lost."

"The pasta was great, Barbie."

Stuff like this flew from him all the time. And not once did you get back at him. You stayed nice and polite. Your sweet self never crumbling.

There was something in you that drove him insane. Your warm eyes. Your bright smile. Your cheerful voice. Your positive mindset. Your kind heart. Your friendly nature. Your hard work. Your delicious food. Your colourful wardrobe of dresses, skirts, tops, and cardigans. He couldn't pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was all of it.

The deepest part of him knew why he was doing this. He liked you. He liked you so much. From the moment he entered your restaurant alone, the first time And the more he knew you, the more he liked you. You were special. And you were everything he wasn't. He thought if he got closer, he would be tinting you. He would bring darkness to your shine. A moral thing preventing him from speaking his truth. even thinking about it.

So he acted like a teenager. He made fun of you. In hopes of making you hate him. He convinced himself and the others that he didn't like your sunshine personality.

Until one day

It started off like any normal day. Bucky had a match coming up. So they all had something to do. The day was going fine. Up before Peter Parker, who was usually on reception duties, ran in and said there was fire in your place,

For a second, blood ran cold in Bucky's body. He heard ringing in his ears. Were you okay? He collected himself quickly, wanting to check for himself.

He threw the gloves away, almost pushing everybody out of the way to get out. And he was the first to see the chaos in the street. A firetruck was parked, and firemen were going in and out of your restaurant along with some policemen. His eyes were searching for you frantically until he spotted you.

You had some dust on your face and your white clothes. You were checking that everyone was okay and out safely. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips or your shaking body.

He couldn't help himself as he ran towards you. You turned as you felt someone approaching you. Without your control, your face softened, and tears blurred your sight once you noticed who it was.

"Bucky." You whispered as a way to ground yourself from all the mess that happened and is still happening.

Following his first instincts, Bucky pulled you into his chest, wrapping your trembling form in his arms and holding you so close to him. And the dam broke.

Sobs fled from you. Tears mixed with his sweat. Your fists gripped his white tank top. Your face hidden away in his chest.

You didn't know how it happened. You had been holding up well enough during it all. You had been managing the situation the best you could. However, when Bucky got here, your mind stopped working. Your mind gave up on you, letting your emotions hit you with full force, breaking down your bastion with no guarantee you would be caught.

But you were. You were braced by strong amrs, rubbing your back, laying small kisses on your hair, and whispering words of comfort in your ears. "I'm here. I'm right here." "You're okay. You're fine."

Your sobs ceased, but your body still shook against Bucky's. Tears remained to fall freely on your face. Bucky's hold was still firm but secure around you.

You only moved away from him when a policeman approached you, informing you that you were needed at the police station.

"I'm coming with you." Bucky's stern voice left no room for negotiation. It wasn't up to debate. He wasn't leaving you.

"I'll grab my stuff in a second." He turned to the policeman standing in front of you, making sure it was okay that he joined. And he got a nod of approval in return.

He left your side, walking towards the gym. He paid no attention to his friends standing by, who were puzzled by the encounter. And true to his words, he came back in seconds, his black leather jacket on, phone in hand, and wallet in hand.

He got to you, letting his hand wrap around your shoulder. The gesture was welcomed by you as you rested your head on his chest. Something about having Bucky spread calmness in you

At the police station, Bucky found out what really happened. It wasn't just fire. It was a robbery. A bunch of armed men attacked your restaurant, demanding money from you and all the people inside. As you are trying to handle the situation without panicking more, it was discovered that one of the customers was a cop, which sent the robbers into an unexpected turn. So they took all they could from the cash register and your own things before setting the kitchen on fire to run away without being caught.

Between talking with the insurance company, the bank, and watching security footage from your restaurants and the street, you spent the rest of the day in the station.

And Bucky didn't leave your side for a second of it.

He didn't leave you until you both got out of the cap in front of your apartment. And he didn't leave until he made sure you got inside safely.

Something about you being hurt sent Bucky into a spiral. Who was heartless enough to hurt such a sweet soul as you? To look at you and not want to give you everything? Bucky would never know. All he knew was that he never wanted to see you so afraid and shaken like today. To not see your smile lighting up your face. So he would do whatever it took to make sure you were always fine.

Which was why you found him by your building the first thing in the morning.

"You have lots of places to go today. Said I would join you."

And up until you were handed the keys to your restaurant brand new after the insurance company had finished the repairs, Bucky didn't leave you. He was always there. Helping you finish papers, going to the police station to identify the robbers, and buying new stuff for the restaurants. Everything. He was there for everything.

And you had to admit. It was lovely to have him. A helping hand you needed. Physically and emotionally. Someone to share this unfortunate journey with. And Bucky didn't bother it for a bit. And you appreciated having him.

So, it only felt right for him to be your first order after the reopening.

The truth was, you never hated Bucky, no matter how much you tried. His huge form, his steel blue eyes, his signature stare, his playful smirk. They all made you feel something. He made you feel something you couldn't quite understand. But it was a pleasant something. He annoyed you so much, but you never took it too seriously. Maybe he hated you, but you didn't.

Now, you didn't need him. You were ready to carry on with your life. He didn't know how to get back to normal. He couldn't. He couldn't pretend you didn't make his heart beat faster. You made his days better. But he was so unworthy of you. And he knew you could never look at him. Maybe you hated him, but he didn't.

He tried to get back to his life. Only training and matches. Only visiting your place with the others who quickly figured out what was happening. He needed to get you out of his mind. That lasted for two days.

When Bucky was closing the gym, he heard something coming from your restaurant. With a frown, he moved to see you still inside. He looked at his watch to check the time again. It was indeed late.

"What are you doing?" He didn't bother with greetings as he entered.

"Hi, Bucky." Your cheerful voice rang through the empty place.

"What are you doing?" He repeated his question, looking at the paper in front of you.

"I'm sending out advertisements and deal offerings to different places." You answered him with a smile.

"Sweetheart, do you know what time it's?" Bucky signed as he looked at you, looking clueless.

"C'mon, let's get you home." He moved towards you, taking the papers out of your hand and putting them down without messing them.

"But I have a lot to do." You tried to protest as he gathered your stuff and helped you out.

"It will still be here in the morning." And he was having none of it.

"I need to get the business going." You added.

"You can do that in the morning, too." Bucky led you out of the restaurant in spite of your complaining.

He took the key from your hand and handed it back to you after he closed up. You expected him to move away, but he didn't.

"How are you going to get home?" He hoped you wouldn't give him the answer he had in mind.

"It's not very far. I was going to walk." And it was it.

Do you not care about your safety, or do you think you are James Bond?

Bucky had to bite his tongue and not scold you right on the spot. He knew you were stressed about the business, so he didn't want to add more.

"Great. I was going somewhere there, too. Let me walk."

"You were?" You questioned him, not believing him, but he nodded quickly.

As a matter of fact, Bucky didn't have anywhere to go other than collapsing on his bed. But over his dead body were you going to walk back home alone in this hour

"Lead the way, princess." The return of the name, but a smile on your face. He may mean it as an insult. You didn't care. It sounded good coming from him.

And the two of you walked.

And somehow, without planning, it became a routine.

Bucky would finish at the gym and come straight to the restaurant. It didn't matter whether it was late or not. He would get in and wait till you were done with the day. Then he would walk you home. Sometimes, he would help with stuff, but most times, you would make him sit down and bring him tonnes of food you prepared just for him.

"You train so hard. Don't want to burn these muscles. Eat and rest."

You weren't stupid. You knew he had nothing to do with where you were living. Yet he still chose to go out of his way, walk you home, and wait until you got in. He was taking care of you. So you wanted to take care of him too.

It felt strange to Bucky. Nobody made sure if he was eating well enough, drinking enough water, and resting enough. Nobody ever did. Everybody treated him like he was a machine. Like he He needed nothing.

Then there you were. Feeding him with delicious food. Letting him relax. Laughing at his jokes. Your hands grazing softly. It was all foreign to him, but very welcome. And he was getting attached. He knew it. How could he not?

He had the sweetest and most loving person on the planet, showing him attention and care.

Bucky counted the minutes until he could be with you. Until he could walk you home, it would be just the two of you. You did most of the talking, telling him about your day or an interesting story you heard. He would tell you briefly about his day.

He loved listening to you. Every detail you shared with him. You were the first in his life to be carefree around him other than his family. You didn't let his stiff demeanour affect your friendly one.

The extra time he spent back to his place from yours didn't bother him in the slightest. He found it reassuring that he knew for sure you were safe at home. It was all worth it.

Every single one of Bucky's friends knew what was happening from the moment he asked to postpone a match to go somewhere with you when you're repairing the restaurant. And it became so clear when he stopped hanging out at Natasha's bar after matches, claiming he was tired. But, in truth, he only wanted to be with you. And the days he knew he couldn't turn it down, especially after a grand victory, he would be glued to his phone until you texted him that you were home. Then he may start celebrating.

Bucky almost punched Steve in the face when he brought up inviting you to one of the matches, or at least to hang out with the whole team at Natasha's bar. Bucky wanted you nowhere near this world. He couldn't imagine you watching him while he was fighting. You would never look at him again. Yes, you were kind, but in the ring, he was a beast. You didn't deserve to see how bad he could be.

That's why he never acted on his feelings for you. He knew he was falling for you. He knew from the start. But you deserved better. So much better.

Your radiant nature had no place near him.

He even tried to stop seeing you, feeling guilty for ever getting close to you. But he failed miserably. You gave him something nobody did. A light in the darkness.

So he bottled it and felt grateful that you even let him be your friend. Or whatever you were.

Before a fact came crushing. You were single.

The days following matches were usually very slow. So he left earlier than usual just to come and wait for you. As long as you wanted. He had a bandage on his forehead and a compression bandage around his hand.

Sometimes you forget what his job was. Until he shows up bruised and bandaged like this. You knew he was strong enough to handle himself. He was the best in the game. But you couldn't help the twinge of your heart at the thought of him hurt.

So you prepared extra food and drinks for him. Once it was evening, you kept your best table for him. You even brought the air freshener with the scent; he commented once that he liked it. Everything to help him relax.

You kept telling yourself you were only doing this because he liked to help everyone. But you knew it was very different. He was very different.

So when he stepped in, your big smile got bigger.

You tried to come and talk with him whenever you could, but it was a busy day. He had no problem. He enjoyed watching you work. You were so dedicated and smart. He wanted you to be the most successful chef and owner in the world.

But maybe he shouldn't have been watching. He should have paid attention to anything else. So he wouldn't have seen the man who had been flirting with you since he walked in.

It was taking everything in Bucky to not get up and throw the guy away. But he heard it. Your answer to his question "Yes, I'm single." And he was reminded of the cruelty of the world. You weren't his. He shouldn't be jealous. He shouldn't have been biting the inside of his mouth when the guy tried to touch your hand as you handed him his bill.

And he most definitely shouldn't be feeling like crying and burning down the world when the guy asked you out and left his number.

Wasn't that what he wanted? For you to have better than him. To have someone who wasn't surrounded by blood and pain. Someone who wouldn't defile your glimmer That guy looked decent enough. Maybe that was your chance to find love.

However, he wanted to tear that paper to pieces. He wanted to punch the guy for asking his girl. But you weren't his girl.

Bucky was conflicted by his emotions. He didn't know what to feel or how to think. So he did the thing he was the best at. He stayed silent.

You noticed right away the change in his mood. He wasn't the most talkative person, but this silence was different. He looked like he was somewhere else. Somewhere, that wasn't so nice.

"Are you sure that you are fine?" You asked as you came to a stop in front of your building.

You only got a nod as an answer.

"You know you can tell me anything. I'm always going to be here."

Your words finally made him look at you after you left the restaurant.

"You are?" His hesitant tone made you frown.

"Of course." You answered very quickly.

"Are you going to go out with this guy?" It was quiet; you almost missed it, but you didn't.

Bucky didn't know what happened. He promised himself he wouldn't bring it up. It had nothing to do with him. But he couldn't. It fell from him.

"Do you want me to?" Your reply was something he didn't expect at all.

You couldn't say you weren't disappointed when Bucky did nothing when the guy started flirting with you. You didn't know what you wanted him to do. But you wanted him to do something.

Instinctively, Bucky moved closer to you, standing right in front of you.

"No, I don't want to."

"Tell me why I shouldn't go out with him."

The space between the two of you was almost nonexistent. You were so close to each other. His blue eyes piercing into yours. His eyes were filled with something so warm that you couldn't quite figure it out.

Bucky didn't know how to answer your question. Why didn't he want you to go out with the guy? Well, he didn't want you to go out with any guy. So he threw caution to the wind and followed his heart.

You almost tripped, but his hands on your waist steadied you. The feeling of his lips on yours was something out of the world. His lips were a bit bruised, but they were soft. It was all so good that your mind stopped working.

Bucky was about to pull away and apologise profoundly when you didn't kiss him back. As he was about to move, your hands wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him closer to you and kissing him.

The kiss was gentle, and it was filled with emotions. Loving ones. It sent electricity through your bodies. It spread warmth all over you.

Your need for oxygen made you break the kiss, hands still around each other, eyes only looking at each other.

"I thought you hated me."

"Never did. Not for a second, princess."

Bucky's lips smashed against yours once again. And it was like every piece was falling into its place. The puzzle was completed. The rainbow after the rain

You were the shining star in Bucky's dark sky. He may not deserve you, but he was going to do everything in his power to get you to shine more.

Because you were made for each other.

#beefy bucky #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #boxer bucky #Boxer Bucky x reader #Boxer Bucky x female reader #protective!bucky #grumpy sunshine trope #grumpy vs sunshine #enemies to lovers #chef reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky au #bucky x female reader #sam wilson #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #mcu au #taylor swift songs #miss americana & the heartbreak prince

[justmeinadaze]

BBY YES. I’m a curvy girl too and MY GAWD boxer daddy dom losing a match or having a rough match and taking it out on the reader is just *chefs kiss* boxer Steve has NO issue lifting us plus size girlies and taking us against a wall 🤤 I just love your writing and I think you doing boxer Steve would be AMAZING

In Your Corner (Boxer Steve X Plus Size Reader)

A/N: Boxer Steve invaded my dreams and now consumes my waking life. Fuck I need him. Lol.

I hope I did your ask justice!

Warnings: Daddy Dom Boxer Steve and Plus Size Sub Reader and all that implies (I regret nothing!), SMUT and angst, hella dirty talk, degradation (slightly), spanking, choking, pinching, rough play for sure, there's no details of the fight but there are mentions of the aftermath, slight bullying at the beginning with Steve's friends. I think that's it.

Word Count: 4449

Steve’s eyes focused on his coach in front of him as he danced around the man preparing to swing. You absolutely loved watching him train right before a fight. He was always dedicated to the craft but he became more determined right before and the passion drove you wild. 

When you both attended high school together, he always seemed like a douchebag with his “King Steve” status. You ran in a different circle, which was mostly any circle that wasn’t the popular kids. They always found ways of making fun of you because you had a little more meat on your bones than they did. You did take note at the time that Steve never taunted you with them but he never stopped them either. 

“Fuck off, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey, would you just relax?! I just wanted to come apologize for Tommy and them. You’re not a pig and you’re definitely not ugly.”

“Wow, thanks for that. Now I can die happy. If you will excuse me, I have to go find my journal and put our initials together in hearts.”

As you turned to walk away, his hand shot out to grip your arm, tugging you back towards the concrete wall. 

“Would you wait a minute! I’m…I’m trying to tell you something here. I…I’m not like them. I want to get to know you better.”

Your sarcastic laugh lights a fire in his eyes that you would later come to fall in love with. 

“Steven, whether you like it or not, you are exactly like them. You laugh along with them and don’t stop them from being mean to people. You hang out with them and give them your time like they matter. I imagine your dad is the same with colleagues; pretending that he cares about stupid, menial bullshit just to fit in.”

His head ticked to the side at your comparison to his father as you stepped closer to his towering frame. 

“You want to get to know me better? Become a real man and stand up for yourself. BE yourself.”

After that moment, he completely changed, disconnecting from his friends, and focusing on other things. You found him in the library a few times scanning certain books or at the computer looking up videos. After graduation, he disappeared before finally resurfacing a year later at a party one of your old high school friends was hosting. 

At the time, you had a date on your arm but as soon as Steve entered the room it was like no one was there except for you and him. His smile was brighter and he had a lot more muscle than you remember him having especially in his arms. When his beautiful brown irises met yours, you knew it was all over. You’d do anything for him, all he had to do was ask. You tried playing coy, you really did; smirking salaciously in his direction or crossing and uncrossing your legs a bit wider than normal to display the red silk panties underneath. 

When all he would do in return is tilt his head and grin at you, it riled you up, huffing as you stomped away to the bathroom. Before you could do anything about it, Steve followed you in, attaching his lips to yours as he quite literally ripped your panties of your body. You marveled at his strength as he lifted you onto the bathroom counter and sunk his admittedly large cock into your cunt. 

“Oh my god, Steve. So—f-fuck—so deep.”

“Fuck, baby. Your pussy is just making a mess, you’re so wet.” He grabbed your hair and forced you look between your bodies. “Look at how you just fucking coat my dick.” Once he felt like you had gotten a good enough look, he pressed your face into his shoulder as he thrust his hips faster into yours. “That’s right, honey. Fucking—mmm—fucking hold on to Daddy while I make you cum.”

Your pussy clenched tighter around him at the name and he grunted at the feeling. 

“Yeah? You like that, pretty girl? God, you feel so fucking good. Cum on Daddy’s cock, Y/N.”

Your nails dug into the shirt on his back as the coil snapped and you whimpered into his chest. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Such a good girl coming hard like that.”, he murmured. One of his palms landed flat beside you as the other clung to your lower back as rolled his hips. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum inside you.”

Steve wasn’t asking; he was telling you what he was about to do and at that moment you really didn’t care. The hand on the counter flew up to grip your throat, pushing you back against the mirror as he roughly pumped his seed into your body.

When he released you from his hold and helped clean you up, you half expected him to leave you there alone in the bathroom, walking back out into the party as a satisfied man. Instead, he took your hand and guided you towards his BMW offering to buy you dinner. 

That night he told you where he had been and what he had been up to. Steve left Hawkins to train and study boxing. You couldn’t help but giggle, knowing this was the same kid who lost almost every fight in school. He smirked in your direction as if he could read your mind and invited you to his next fight which was just outside of town. 

Watching him up there as he fought was a unique experience to be sure. He changed before your eyes into this more confident, determined man as he focused on his opponent and swung his arms. After winning, you brought him back to your apartment where you two barely even made it in the door before you were climbing on top of him.

“Can I ask you something?”, you asked and he answered with a soft but exhausted hm. “What triggered this? What made you say, ‘I’m going to leave Hawkins and get hit in the face for a living’?”

Steve rolled onto his side to face you as he reached out to brush some stray hair out of your face. 

“Short answer…you.”

“And the long answer?”

“When you compared me to my dad and talked about me trying to impress those other assholes, it triggered something in me. I definitely don’t want to become my dad and I hated the way you looked at me when you said I was just like those other kids. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I did some research and came across boxing. Y/N, you have no idea how liberating it was for me when I threw that first punch and hit the bag in front of me.”

Your fingers tenderly caressed his face as his own hand slid down your back to bring you closer to him. 

“I always thought about you. I told myself whenever I came back here my first goal was to find you and FINALLY get to know you better.”, he chuckled.

You smiled as you blushed as his words. “What if I had been with someone!?”

“Pfft. Then I would fight him.” Steve leaned back and pretended to box the air making you laugh.

“Or what if I saw you and I was like ‘Ew. Look at the god-awful Steve Harrington! With the muscles and the pretty hair. Ugh!” His lips cut you off mid-cackled as he rolled his body on top of yours. 

“Then I’d fight for you. You’re mine, pretty girl.” The way his eyes were penetrating yours had you shiver at the intensity. His face hovered as his nose grazed the tip of your own. “Can you say it for me, honey?”, he whispered, your eyes fluttering closed as he trailed kisses down to your neck. 

“I belong to you.”, you moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Mmm…you belong to who, baby girl?”

“I belong to Daddy.”

Three years had passed since then and you couldn’t be happier or prouder of everything Steve had accomplished. Next Friday was supposed to be a big fight. If he won, it would lead to more eyes on him which in turn would lead to more revenue. 

“Hey, Y/N. How are you doing today, angel.”

“I’m good, Jimmy. How are you?”, you beam at his coach. 

“Oh, never better, baby. Never better.” As you climb up the ropes to hang over the ring, Steve hastily runs over to you as he pulls off one of his gloves and helps you into the area. “Do you want some gloves, missy? Give Steve here some real competition.”

You giggle as your boyfriend tilts your head up for a kiss. “God, no. He’d knock me out in a second.”

“What’s the matter, honey? Scared?”, Steve teases. 

You playfully glare at him as Jimmy brings you some gloves that are your size and places you across from him. You both do the gloved fist bump you’ve seen him do with opponents numerous times and take your stance. 

Steve smirks as you circle around each other and after a few moments you take your first swing that he swiftly blocks. Both your moves at each other are light and joking, not in any way meant to harm. 

“That’s good, baby girl. You have to twist your arm a bit more.” You concentrate as he shows you the move and once you follow through, he claps his gloves together making you smile with pride. “That’s my girl!”

You grin as you fall into his chest and he pretends to fall over bringing you down with him. 

“Let’s hope you do better than that on Friday, yeah?”, Jimmy asks as Steve nods. “Alright, I’m out of here. Harrington, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon for our last training session and talk strategy for the fight, alright?”

“Thanks, Jim!”

“You are…disgustingly sweaty.”

Steve turns his attention back to you as you lean forward to grab his wrists and remove his gloves. 

“Yet you’re still on top of me.”

“I’m doing it to hide the gigantic erection in your shorts right now.”, you whisper.

“Hey, it’s not my fault when you walk into the room, I get all hot and bothered.” Once his hands are free, he rests one on your thigh as the other comes up to caress your cheek. “Did you have a good day today?”

“I did. My boss was only half an idiot today.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sure.” You grin leaning down so your lips are just above his own. “I can handle one stupid, ignorant man.”

“I know you can, sweetheart. I just hate the way he talks to you. He better hope he doesn’t say any bullshit in front of me.”

“Oh, big tough Daddy. I like it.” 

Steve smiles as his hand glides to the back of your neck and roughly brings your face closer to his. “You know you love when Daddy takes care of you.”

You bite your bottom lip as he begins grinding hips up against your own. 

“Do you wanna take care of Daddy while he takes a shower? Say it.”, he commands when you nod your head.

“I want to take care of you. Please, Daddy. Let me help you relax.”

His grin grows as you both rise to your feet and he helps you down from the ring. As soon as his feet touch the floor, he lifts you into his arms, and you giggle as he carries you into the empty locker room. 

############

The night of the fight came and Steve was more than ready. You stayed by his side until exactly an hour before he was meant to exit to the ring, kissing his lips before hugging him tightly to you. 

“Good luck, baby. You got this.”

He curtly nodded as you gave him one last comforting smile. You understood he had a process and this was usually how he was before a fight. He was zoned in and prepared, ready to take on the world. 

As the ushers walked you to your seat in the front, you froze when you saw who was sitting beside you. 

“Hey, Y/N! How are you, sweetheart?”, Mrs. Harrington cooed as she got to her feet to give you a hug. 

“I’m…I’m good. What are you two doing here?”

“This is a big fight, right? I don’t know why my son didn’t invite us. ‘You can watch it on TV he says.’”, Mr. Harrington rolls his eyes.

As the announcer began to speak, you panickily looked around, trying to figure out what you should do. He never had his phone on him on nights like this and the match was about to start so you couldn’t go back to the locker room. 

Please don’t let him notice them.

Steve entered the ring with his usual bout of confidence that made you swoon. You continued to pray as you watched them introduce him and rattle off some of his stats. His eyes found yours for a moment before he looked beside you. Your heart shattered into a million pieces when you watched this version of him and the high school version have their own fight within his beautiful, brown orbs as they noticed his father. 

When his focus shifted back to you, you silently mouthed that you loved him, and again he nodded before the match finally began. 

***

Steve angrily stalked into the apartment you two shared and headed for the kitchen, grabbing a glass, and filling it with the hardest liquor there was. Your eyes carefully watched him as he moved about, finally stomping outside onto the patio, and lighting a cigarette. 

Nights after a lost match were always the worst, you never knew how he was going to behave. Sometimes he would do like he had just done and sit outside for hours smoking and drinking till he passed out on the furniture. Other times, he would take that anger out on you and you allowed it. You allowed him to be rough with you in bed till you both were fully spent. Even when he was upset, he needed to make you feel good to. 

More than anything you just hated how hard he was on himself. He always gave 110% in everything he did but it wasn’t enough for him. If he lost at something he was a failure and there was nothing you could say or do to make him feel otherwise. 

Normally, you left him to his thoughts but you couldn’t do that tonight. You knew he was in a lot of pain, not just physically but emotionally as well. Slowly, you stepped outside and tiptoed to the other chair that was next to him. 

Steve was leaning back lazily with his legs stretched all the way out as he held the cold glass to the bandage just above his eye. Occasionally, he brought the cigarette to his busted lip before dangling it back over the arm of the patio chair. 

“Baby…”

“Go away, Y/N.”

You heavily exhale as you try again. “Sweetheart, you did really well. Don’t let your dad or anyone else make you feel like you didn’t do a good job.” As you spoke, he casually got up, tossing his cigarette, and walked back inside. “There will be other fights like this one.”

“Y/N, I’m only going to say it one more time. Get…away…from…me.”

“No.” His head leaned to the side at your answer. “Baby, everything’s going to be okay.”

Steve sarcastically chuckled, taking another sip of his drink before abruptly raising his arm and violently throwing his glass against the adjacent wall. 

“You wanna play, baby girl. Let’s play. First off, fuck you. Don’t stand there and pretend like you understand anything when it comes to boxing or my job, alright? You are my girlfriend not my coach or my manager. Your job is to stand by my side and shut the fuck up while I do what I need to do.”

Oh, that’s how he wants to play tonight? He had just entered another ring and you were the challenger. He needed to spar with you and he knew you were a worthy opponent. You knew how to challenge him and you didn’t take his attitude or temper lying down. He needed you to put him in his place so he could properly put you in yours. 

“Secondly, we needed this fucking win tonight. You like this apartment, the pool, that fucking outfit you’re wearing? All of that cost money, Y/N.”

“I see…so this is all my fault? I’m the one that wants expensive things apparently? I’m not some gold-digging trophy wife, Steve. I work and I help pay for things around here. I have never once asked you to buy me anything extravagant because I don’t fucking need it. And yes, I am your girlfriend but I actually fucking listen to you when you talk. You will have more fights. If you wanted a girl who would be silent and just swipe your credit card, you should have looked somewhere else!”

He fumed as you yelled at him, his fists clenching by his side as he listened and his angry eyes never leaving yours. You pointed your finger in his face as you stepped closer to him. 

“You can blame me all you want, Steve Harrington, but you needed to win that fight for you and your fucking ego.”

“Take off your dress.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said…take off your dress. You don’t need these nice things anymore? That’s fine. I can return that and the other fancy things I bought you. Tomorrow when I wake up, I can go look for one of those studio apartments for you so you can move in there.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t need you to help me look. I can find a new Daddy on my own who won’t act like a fucking baby.”

There it is. That particular look in his eyes that tells you he’s in the right headspace. He may not look like he’s in control to any outsider looking in but you’ve been in love with his man for three years. You knew. 

You two stared at each other for a few seconds before you turned and bolted to the bedroom. You could hear him hot on your tail before he practically tackled you onto the bed. Your hands tried to push against him but he was too strong, straddling your waist as he pinned your wrists to the mattress. 

“You want to find a new Daddy? HUH?!”, he screamed in your face. “You think someone else can take care of you as well as I have?” Steve shifted your hands so he could hold them with one of his own he climbed off you and reached under your dress to bring down your panties. A couple of his fingers roughly slid into your core as he set a brutal pace. 

“Little girl always talks a big game but when we get down to it, you’re always still so fucking wet for me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as you moaned, still trying to fight against hold but not wanting him to let go. You buck your hips but it just pushes him to be rougher as he curls his fingers inside of you. “There you go, baby. That’s the spot right there, right? Daddy knows. I know every fucking inch of your body and how to please you. You think anyone else can make you cum like I do?”

His palm released your wrists and quickly slid down your throat, gripping it just so between his thick fingers as he watched your eyes roll back. Your hands feebly reach for anything they can, settling on taking hold of his knee. Steve always made sure to have some part of his body near you that way if you couldn’t speak but felt like you needed to tap out you could. 

Just like with his boxing, he had rules and regimens in bed. He always wanted you to feel safe and gave you strict guidelines for how to get his attention should you need to. Three taps meant stop but right now all you were doing was grounding yourself as you focused on your own high. 

You whimpered, digging your nails into his skin as you came. While you laid there panting, he climbed over your limp frame and yanked off your dress. With hooded eyes you watched as he removed his clothes before tugging you to the edge of the mattress like a ragdoll and flipping you onto your stomach. 

His strength always amazed (and intimated) you. Being a bigger woman, you weren’t exactly light and all the men in your past never even bothered to try lifting you into their arms. When Steve did it that first night you were together, you were awe struck. More than anything, you swooned at the fact that he didn’t even hesitate; he just did it knowing he could.

The first time you questioned him about it he looked at you like you were speaking gibberish. 

“Honey, you’re not heavy.”

“Uh oh, I think you’ve been hit one too many times. You’re going blind.”, you giggle.

Steve grinned slightly before his face got serious. “Y/N, just because past relationships couldn’t handle a beautiful woman like you doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

“I know. I just…no one’s ever even bothered to try and lift me let alone everything else we do.”

He stepped forward and lifted your chin with his fingers. “You have a real man now, baby. You and your curves don’t scare me.”

You smile, lifting up on your toes to kiss his lips. “You don’t scare me either.”

His rough, calloused hands lifted your hips and spread your ass cheeks apart before his palm came down hard as he spanked you. You moaned when you felt him spit into your cunt before aggressively breaching your entrance with his cock. 

“Daddy!”

Steve’s arm came into view beside you as you felt him hover over you and begin rolling his hips. 

“You want to act like a fucking brat, I can…I can treat you like one.”, he grunted. “No more fucking dinners, fa-fancy clothes, fucking nothing! You—f-fuck—can just be Daddy’s toy. Huh? At least until you find your new Daddy who’s not a fucking baby.”

His fingers gripped your hair as he stood up and thrust into you so hard the bed shook underneath you.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he continually hit all the right places inside of you, overwhelming your senses. Tears began streaking your face as you felt the warmth build in your tummy again. He really was the only man that knew how to satisfy you. 

He noticed your lips moving but couldn’t hear what you were saying. Steve’s palm smacked your ass as he yanked you to your knees till your back was against his now sweaty chest. 

“What’s the rule?”, he growled “If you’re talking I…I need to fucking hear you. What were you saying?” When you don’t answer, he stops pumping into you before reaching down to pinch your clit between his fingers making you whine and try to pull away from him. “Answer me, little girl.”

Your head lazily falls back on his shoulder as you continue to cry. The hand that was in your hair loops around to your chin, turning your lips to his as he softly placed a kiss on them. 

“I love…you… Just want…you.”, you panted out as best you could. 

Steve released your nub from his grasp and wrapped his arm around you stomach as he began thrusting into you again. 

“Cum, baby. Cum for Daddy.” You laid your arms over his own, clinging to him as your body spasmed and you did as he commanded. “That’s my girl. Fuck… my beautiful girl.”

As he chased his high, you continued to try and whisper things in his ear. 

“MY…Daddy. No one could…make me…feel this good. I’m…oh my god… so proud of you, baby. Please…cum, Daddy. I need…need it.”

His hips began to sputter and he grips you tightly as he roughly pumps his release inside of you. You both were still like that for a while, trying to catch your breath as he held you. 

“I’m going to pull out now, ok?”, he whispered.

“Okay, Daddy.”

You winced as he cooed softly, placing feathery light kisses on your skin as he praised you. He detached from you for moment; long enough for you to hear the shower turn on before he was back by your side and lifting you into his arms. 

Steve wasted no time taking care of you as he cleaned your body and washed your hair. 

“I DO listen to you when you talk. One of the things I love about you is how passionate you about boxing. I remember in school you always seemed like, I don’t know, you were coasting by. On our first date, you told me about the maneuvers and explained things to me.”, you smile as you continued. “Your hands were moving a mile a minute and your eyes lit up. It was amazing.”

His fingers lightly gripped your shoulders as he turned you to face him. “I may not know everything about it, Steve, but I know you. I know there will be another fight and I know you’re going to win because you are the most dedicated man I’ve ever met. You’re not going to stop until you get where you want to be.”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing your cheek to his chest as he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you and said all that stuff. I don’t really feel that way. I was just upset.”

“I know, baby.”

After turning off the water, he quickly grabs a towel, drying you both and guiding you back to bed. Steve grabs his boxers and throws one of his big, baggy shirts over your head making you laugh. 

“I love that you speak your mind and challenge me. Hell, if you hadn’t done that in school, I never would have gotten into boxing.”

“I’m so proud of you, Steve. I really am. Whether you win or lose, buy me fancy things or give me gifts from the dollar store…” Your smile grows as he laughs and kneels down in front of you, laying his head on your thighs as you gently pet his head. “I’m always going to be in your corner.”

#boxer!Steve Harrington #dom!steve harrington #daddy steve #steve x plus size reader #steve x reader #brat reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #joe keery smut #stranger things #fan fiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #daddy steve harrington #plus size reader #Steve Harrington ask

[headkiss]

hurt/comfort with protective boxer!steve …. 😋

i like the way u think anon <3 steve is the one being comforted, hope that’s okay!! | 0.7k boxer!steve fluff

Steve’s fuming when he steps out of the ring, tossing his gloves aside and tugging at his hair. He doesn’t lose.

He’s not concerned about his bloody nose or the split in his eyebrow. No, he doesn’t care about that at all, he just wants to win. Especially when you’re in the audience.

Tonight was off and he has no idea why, but it’s enough to have him rushing off to the locker room after his match without accepting a word from anyone. He’s beating himself up—more than what’s already been done—and you can see it.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say to Robin, giving her shoulder a squeeze as you go.

She can see it, too, and she knows he won’t accept any visitors other than you right now. She nods and shoots you a smile.

You’ve made your way to the locker room time and time again. Usually to congratulate Steve on his win, to accept his sweaty hug and adrenaline-filled kiss. It’s different this time, but it doesn’t make you any less eager to see him.

You knock against the door before going in, letting him know you’re there.

Steve’s sitting with his elbows on his knees, his head bent and torso shining with sweat. He doesn’t even look up when you walk in. He doesn’t have to, he knows it’s you.

“Stevie.”

He’s a tough guy, has to be for what he does, but he can’t be so strong when you’re saying his name so sweetly, when you’re stepping between his legs and guiding his head to rest against you, your hands running through the damp strands.

“Was supposed to win.”

“I know, but you did really well, okay? I don’t know much about boxing, but I know you’re good at it.”

“Mmm,” his hands hold the back of your thighs, thumbs running back and forth over the fabric of your pants. The touch is more for him than it is for you. “My good luck charm. Should’ve won it for you, baby.”

Your hands don’t stop running through his hair, and it’s a comfort he needs even though he won’t ask for it.

“I don’t care if you win or not. Just want you to do your best and be safe.”

Steve’s tougher on himself than anyone else is, and he can’t stand feeling like he isn’t good enough at something. He got enough of that from his parents, and now, he just wants to prove that he can be the best at something.

He’s told you (and only you) all of this, which is why he’s so quick to let you in, to keep you close to him.

“I’ll win the next one,” he says. It’s his way of trying to move on from the loss.

“Yes, you will.” You move your hands to grasp his face, tilting it up so he’s looking at you, “let me clean you up?”

“Thanks, baby.”

You head over to the sink, grabbing some paper towel and wetting it, and finding the bandages in the cupboard behind the mirror.

Back in your place standing in front of him, you tilt his face up with one hand and wipe away the dried blood on his face with the other. Steve’s hands find their place at the back of your thighs easily.

This is what he needs; you, your hands, your kind voice. He’ll never understand how he managed to end up with someone like you, how he didn’t drive you away. He needs you, and he loves you, and you’re the only person he wants to see when he feels the way he does now.

Well, you’re the only person he wants to see most of the time.

Once his face is mostly clean, you grab a small band aid and place it over the cut in his eyebrow, smoothing the edges to make sure it sticks. He watches your face the entire time.

“All better,” you say, leaning down to place a peck over the band aid. “You should shower, all sweaty.”

“Yeah, okay.” He leans his face against your stomach from where he sits, just for a second, and pushes his lips against it. “You’ll stay in here?”

“‘Course I will, Stevie.”

He may have lost the match today, but he feels like a pretty big winner when he kisses you softly before heading to the showers.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington request #steve harrington requests #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington story #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington hurt/comfort #boxer!steve #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington blurbs #stevie blurbs #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things steve #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #steve stranger things

[uglyfish3rman]

Boxer!steve x reader

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings: mention of blood, if I’ve missed anything let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Like per usual Steve was sitting on your kitchen counter having his busted lip, cheek, brow, and nose cleaned up. Having the same conversation about why he liked boxing each time he was bruised, yet you never fully understood why. You stood in between his legs delicately cleaning the dry blood off his face.

“how do you seriously like boxing as a job? It’s something I just don’t get.”

You murmured under your breath, pushing one of his loose strands of hair away from his face. He winced as you began dabbing the damp cloth at his busted nose.

“Well, I like money and I like the fighting.” He shrugged.

“Okay, I get the money but you like beating the shit out of people?” You asked curiously while checking to see if his nose would need stitches.

Steve laughed which mostly came out as a soft, pained sound.

“Only those dicks who deserve it. Boxing is a sport, you know? One with rules. It’s not some barbaric blood sport where we’re trying to knock each other’s heads off.”

“It sounds exactly like that.” You replied as you added the butterfly strips across the wound on his nose.

“you’re lucky you don’t need stitches, think it should heal with just these on.”

“Thanks nurse.” He replied in a teasing tone, his signature cheesy grin plastered on his face which could only make you playfully roll your eyes in response. <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#steve harrington #Boxer!steve #steve harrington x reader #moodboard #imagine #stranger things #established relationship #blurb #uglyfish3rmans blog

[fandoms-writings]

Below is a list of current wips that you can expect from me in the near future <3 I do write slow, but I'm working on these as fast as I can <3

Drabbles/One-shots:

"You're a mess"/"I'm not a mess."/"I can tell you've been crying."  &  "Let me kiss it better" - Knight! Bucky x Queen! Reader - A + F

"Choose me" - Bucky - A

"Choose me" & "let me hear you make that sound again" - Biker! Bucky - A + S

"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right." - Bucky w/ morally gray reader - A

"Keep your pretty eyes on me." and "You shouldn't be out here by yourself." -Vampire! Bucky x Human! Reader - A + S + (version 2)

"You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart." - Bucky w/ kinky virgin reader - F + S

"You know my door is always open for you, right?" and "You're already wet sweetheart" - Stephen Grant - F + S

"Don't go where I can't follow. . . I thought I lost you." - Bucky - A

"Why didn't you say how bad it was?" - Steve Rogers - A

"Come get me? I miss you" - Loki - F

"Is that my shirt?" & "Keep your pretty eyes on me." - Bucky - F + S

"Don't go where I can't follow… I thought I lost you" & "You're exhausted honey. Go back to sleep." - Nomad! Steve Rogers - A + F

"What are we doing?"/"Why are you doing this?" - Miguel O'Hara - A

"Can I hold your hand?" - Miguel O'Hara - F

"You're not as bad as everyone says you are." - Mob! Steve - F

"Will you taste this? Tell me if I'm missing anything?" - dealers choice - F

"You were supposed to be different. They were supposed to be wrong about you, but they were right. They were so fucking right."- Mob! Steve - A

DBF!Bucky x College!Reader - A

Series/AUs:

Boxer! Miguel x PR! Reader - A + F + S

This one will be more of an AU then a series I think, but I'm still working on it.

Miguel's boxing career is starting to pick up, and that means you, as his public relations specialist, are to insure that the people love him. You also make sure he doesn't take any fights he isn't ready for. However, when another boxer by the name of Kron Stone openly challenges Miguel, and Miguel accepts, you have to come to terms that what you know may ruin the trust he has in you.

Mafia-Dilf! Miguel x Dance-teacher! Reader - A + F + S

Everyone was terrified of Miguel O'Hara, the most powerful man in the city. But you knew better. To you, he was just a single dad trying to raise and protect his daughter, bringing her to your dance class every week. That is until someone looking for Miguel shows up at your studio, and Miguel takes it upon himself to protect you from outside forces, showing you just what kind of a man truly he is.

Bucky Barnes x Dream-witch! Reader - A + F + S

Looking for something to aide in his sleepless nights, Bucky searches weeks for you, the dream witch of New York. You're known for helping vets with ptsd have terrorless nights and sometimes, if they're lucky, they actually have pleasant dreams. What Bucky didn't expect, was for you to be so captivating, or for him to open up so easily around you. But to have the powers you do, you've got to be more than just a mutant, right?

Bucky Barnes x single!pregnant!reader (neighbor AU) - A + F + S

This one will be more of an AU rather than a series.

You moved into your small apartment alone and nervous, with a broken heart and a little one on the way, just wanting to be the best mom you can. Lucky for you, your neighbor is the sweetest man in the world and has offered to help you out when you need it. It doesn't hurt that he's the most attractive man you've ever met. But you don't have time for a relationship with anyone, you need to prepare for the baby.

tagging some mutuals below to spread the word <3

@sweetdreamsbuck @perdidosbucky-yyo @pocolottie @banana-cheese-cake @nexusnyx @foreverindreamlandd @writing-for-marvel @historygeekfics @jessybarnes @poetic-fiasco @redgillan @chloelucia13 @shamevillain @thornsnvultures @targaryenvampireslayer @vibraniumcollar @bucksangel @buckybleu @barnesafterglow @rookthorne @nickfowlerrr @aquariusbarnes @captainsimagines

#my wips #upcoming fics #bucky x reader #miguel x reader #steve rogers x reader #loki x reader #vampire!bucky #mafia!miguel #mob!steve #knight!bucky #boxer!miguel #biker!bucky #nomad!steve #morally grey! reader #stephen grant

[theemporium]

this has been stuck in my head for forever but boxer!steve x figureskater!reader

STOP!!!!! I AM OBSESSED!!

Reader has just moved into town and maybe they go to the same gym? Or even live in the same apartment complex? And their paths keep crossing and she realises she’s falling head over heels for the big, beefy neighbour who she barely knows anything about except sometimes he comes home a little roughed up

Then you have boxer!steve who is a little grumpy and a bit of a loner, likes to keep to himself until this angel essentially enters his life and he’s obsessed and he shouldn’t want to corrupt her because she’s this pure, innocent wee thing who’s like a damn goddess on the ice whereas he’s this big, gruff boxer and he doesn’t want to hurt her

AND I AM SHSHSBSJSBSB VERY OBSESSED WITH THIS DYNAMIC!!!!!! THE POTENTIAL!!!!!

#cece answers #boxer!steve #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader

[rogerswifesblog]

2 - broken bones and broken hearts

Previous chapter

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

A/N: Wuhu the second chapter of our story @jamneuromain !😌

Series summary; There was only one rule between best friends. Don’t have sex. But what happens when you break it anyway?

Chapter summary: The morning after. It can’t be that bad, right?

Pairing: Boxer Steve Rogers x reader

The first thing Steve noticed while waking up was the awful headache. He should’ve drink so much. Why did he even do it? Yes, he won the title but he never drank this much. Especially not tequila. It always made him do stupid things…the last time he drank tequila he-he shuddered at the memories. Or more at the stories his friends had told him.

A warm body laid close to his chest. Steve wasn’t even surprised that he had left the bar with a woman. Gently caressing her side Steve thought for a moment. The bar, the touching, the-oh god.

Oh god.

He wasn’t sleeping in just some woman’s bed.

Opening his eyes in shock he looked at the back of your head, slowly letting go of your sleeping form. He didn’t need to look under the covers to know what had happened-but he did it anyway, maybe you two hadn’t actually slept together you just…cuddled…or something. But even he doubts that. He could already feel he was naked and so were you.

As expected when Steve lifted the blanket you were both naked.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

Slowly sliding away from you he felt his breath hitch when you stirred in your sleep, mumbling something in your sleep. He’d love to just stay there. Lay next to you and wait till you’d wake up-but he wasn’t allowed to do that. He wasn’t your boyfriend. He was just…what exactly was he? A hook up? Is that all you wanted?

He felt his throat tighten. His heart probably skipped a beat. Maybe more.

Maybe it just stopped completely. It sure felt like that…or like it was breaking. Would you really throw the whole friendship away just because of needing someone to sleep with? And the kiss during the game? Did it even matter to you?

Feeling tears fill his eyes he quickly stood up, looking for his phone.

Or his clothes.

Wtf.

Where did he leave his clothes? Or his phone?

Leaving the bedroom his gaze fell to the clothes on the floor, couch and even under the console table. “Fuck”, he mumbled under his breath, finally finding his boxershorts and putting them on. He grabbed his jeans and walked to the bathroom, where he knew you wouldn’t be able to hear him-or at least not loud enough to wake you up.

He felt helpless.

And totally stupid.

“Buck, I messed up”, were his first words when he heard Bucky pick up the phone, the only person he could think could help him now. >Good morning to you, too<, grumbled the clearly just woken up man.

“It’s no time for that-Buck, please. I mean it. I messed up-like, really badly”, he whined, rubbing his hand over his face, sighing. If he had to be honest with himself he didn’t know if he should be calling Bucky. What if he was overreacting? Maybe he just should’ve waited for you to wake up first. >What did you do Steve? Is it because of yesterday? We all noticed you two were a bit more touchy than usual.< Bucky had definitely a smirk on his face.

Steve sighed. “We slept together.” That’s all he said.

There was silence for a moment, only some rustling of the blankets on the other side. He imagined Bucky sitting up, probably processing everything. >Pal, that’s great. Come on, you deserve to be together after all that pining-It should’ve happened a lifetime ago-< “-No Buck you don’t get it…” He sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, frustrated. >Do you regret it?<

“no…I mean yes-but it was a mistake. It shouldn’t have happened like that. We were drunk. It shouldn’t happen drunk…especially not our first time together”, he stood up, looking at his reflection in the mirror. Holy shit.

His face turns what he’d call an ungodly shade of red. Not only his face, the blush rose along his chest to the tip of his ears. His gaze fell to the many hickeys and scratches along his chest, stomach, shoulders-after turning around also his back. Fuck.

This looked bad. Well, not really…bad…but…

He actually liked it. Some primitive part of his brain was very pleased. You marked him as yours. You made sure everyone would know he belonged to you…only…he didn’t.

It was probably just a one time thing. It probably didn’t mean anything to you.

>Steve just…just talk to her. I’m pretty sure it’ll all work out. You two are a great match<, said the man on the other side of the line, yawning. Steve hear another voice in the background, not being able to tell who it belonged to. >stevie, go get your girl and talk to her< Steve opened his mouth to answer but Bucky beat him to it. >and don’t say anything stupid. Just be honest and don’t make it complicated. You are a people pleaser and always try to say what they want to hear-you just need to tell her the truth. That you love her<

The blond sighed. Bucky was right.

“Thanks, I’m maybe…overreacting.”

They talked for a few minutes, before Steve finally decided to leave the bathroom wanting to check if you were still sleeping. If that would be the case, maybe he could make you some breakfast? That was a good idea.

But you weren’t in your bed anymore. Instead you were picking up the rest of your and Steve’s clothes from the living room.

Steve smiled slightly nervously. “Good morning”, he said slightly breathless, especially after seeing the hickeys decorating your skin, especially your neck. Your head whipped so quickly to him, he feared you hurt yourself. “Oh-Steve, yeah Hi”, you mumbled, feeling your blood rush to your cheeks, while you tried to look away from him. He was wearing his jeans. Only his jeans.

His muscular chest was on full display, beautiful as always. The hickeys you had left behind made him look even better. You wished you could just admire your work. But you couldn't. He wasn’t yours to admire, to love…

There was silence for a moment.

“Steve-“ “I think-” You talked at the same time both looking up for a moment. “You first”, you mumbled not wanting to embarrass yourself confessing your feelings while he probably just wants to tell you it was a mistake. Because that’s what he thought. You heard it.

He bit his bottom lip. “About yesterday…I think-I mean-we were drunk”, he started, not really sure how to actually start this conversation. How could he know what to say? Was he supposed to tell you he loved you?

But this was such bad timing.

All of this happened so…unplanned.

Maybe you regretted it actually and he’d make a fool out of himself confessing his feelings.

He watched your face for a moment, trying to find anything in your expression that would give away how you felt about this whole situation. You seemed nervous. Really, really nervous. Unsure. You were unsure. God, you definitely regretted it. Of course you regretted it. He was just your best friend-you weren’t supposed to sleep together. He felt stupid. How could he even hope you’d love him?

He didn’t want to lose you as a friend. He couldn’t destroy this beautiful friendship-even though it would probably be hard for the next few days or weeks.

Steve didn’t know what to say.

So he said the worst thing possible.

"I'm sorry we slept together, but you're cool with it right? It doesn’t need to make anything weird”, he tried to say hurriedly. He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten. God, he suddenly felt so thirsty. His mouth felt dry. “I mean... it doesn't have to mean anything. If that’s what you’d prefer-“, Steve rambled.

You didn’t listen to anything else he was saying, just shaking your head lightly and putting on a fake smile. “It’s okay Steve. Let’s just-not talk about it. Like you said, it was the alcohol.”

You both knew you two hadn’t been too drunk to regret yesterday's decisions.

And you both didn’t regret it.

You just wanted to make the other happy by lying, hoping nothing would change or destroy the friendship.

Steve exhaled loudly, not even being aware he had been holding his breath. “Okay, then…-that’s great. It’s…all great. Do you think we could do i-“ before he could finish his question an urgent knock made you nearly jump out of your skin.

For a moment you were quiet, even Steve quickly shut his mouth, looking back at you with wide eyes.

Why did he seem so surprised? It’s not like it was the first time he had slept over or someone visited you while he was here-but-oh, yeah, it was because you had sex. And now Steve didn’t want to be seen here half naked.

“I know you’re home, open the door”, Natasha knocked again, stopping then and probably looking for the spare key.

You grabbed Steve’s arm, pushing him back into the bedroom. Without a word you closed the door behind him. “I’m coming Nat-just-yhm-I was taking a shower”, you lied, patting over to the door and opening it.

Meanwhile Steve just stared at the door you had closed right into his face. Just like that.

Like he was supposed to hide.

Like you wanted to hide him.

Well, fuck. He felt even worse than just a hook-up. He felt like…he couldn’t even find the words for how he felt.

He sat down on your bed. On the bed he had slept many nights, quite often with you in his arms. Just as friends. Great. And now you had fucked just as friends. Why did he let that happen? Why did you let that happen? God, why was everything so complicated?

(It wouldn’t be this complicated if people would communicate, but well…)

After letting Natasha in you both sat down on the sofa, leaning back, trying to look relaxed. Of course Natasha noticed you were nervous, especially after you started playing with your fingers. A habit you only did when something was wrong or when you were stressed out.

“Is everything okay? You look…nervous”, Natasha said smirking, letting her gaze slide over your appearance pausing at your neck for a bit longer than necessary. You couldn’t stop your hand from shooting up to your neck, trying to cover the evidence from yesterday. “I’ll make us a coffee while you try to come up with an excuse”, she whispered, a hint of smugness in her voice.

You watched as Natasha moved in your kitchen like it was her own. Gliding between your cabinets with surprisingly a lot of grace. In moments like this you could clearly see that she was a ballerina for many, many years. She was truly magnificent.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, while you looked down at the coffee Natasha gave you. Somehow a black coffee was exactly what you needed right now. You took a sip, feeling the hot liquid burn your tongue. A similar sensation in your heart since you had heard Steve’s phone call.

The bitter taste being too comforting for your liking.

Natasha suspected what was going on, why you seemed so nervous and slightly…miserable, but she decided not to bother you. Yet.

“After Steve and you left Clits shit ended an hour later and he sat with us-actually he wanted to congratulate Steve himself, but well, you two were already gone”, she started, sipping her coffee. You could even recognise a soft blush creeping over her cheeks.

Did…did Natasha have a crush? This Natasha? Natasha Romanoff?

You didn’t even notice when a big smile spread over your lips, while you started nodding in excitement. “And? What happened then?”, you asked urgently-even Steve eavesdropped at this point, captivated by Natashas words.

She chuckled into her cup, biting down on her lip. “Well…we might’ve exchanged numbers”, she said, sounding like a little girl talking about candy, cheery like you normally wouldn’t see her. It made even your heart swell for her. After her last terrible relationship you hoped she could finally meet a nice guy-and until now she hadn’t exchanged numbers with anyone after the break up, so this was a step in the right direction.

Natasha smiled, too, seeing your ridiculous grin. “He’s really sweet-and…I don’t know, really hilarious. A but childish maybe? He made me laugh so much…I haven’t laughed like that in months. My whole body arched”, she said, putting her cup aside and turning to you.

“But now tell me what happened yesterday?” “Nothing”, you answered quickly. Probably way too quickly, but you…panicked.

She raised her eyebrows, making you shake your head, not wanting to answer. It’s not like you were embarrassed or anything it’s just…why should you talk about it, if Steve didn’t care? It’s no big deal. Not to him. Why should you make a big deal out of it?

“Is Steve still here?”, Natascha asked instead. You could feel blood rush to your cheeks, making you blush a dark shade of red, but you tried to look calm. Or at least a bit less fidgety.

“Yhm…no he’s gone. Why would he still be here? It’s late-” “Its not late. He usually stays till at least lunchtime? If not longer”, interrupted the redhead, once again with a knowing smirk on her lips.

You hated how Natasha always knew everything that was going on. Even when you first started feeling something romantically for Steve Natasha knew it all before you. She was the first person to notice your glances at Steve. The soft touches and smiles.

She just knew.

“Yeah…well…not today…he’s not here. He had to go”, you mumbled, avoiding her sharp gaze. For a moment Natasha didn’t say anything, he’d gaze sliding to the side beside you.

“Why is his hoodie here?”

The blush on your face darkened.

But it wasn’t something unusual. Steve left his clothes at your place nearly every other day, so why would she ask about his hoodie? She really wanted to get you to talk.

“I have lots of his clothes. Half of my laundry is somehow Steve’s clothes-it’s like he’s living with me. Which he doesn’t. That would be totally weird, right? Yeah, definitely. I just have so much of Steve’s stuff, I don’t even know why-“

You haven’t even noticed your rambling, only when Natasha gently put her hand on your shoulder did you stop talking. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was a bit amused, but the question still seemed to be genuine.

“…yes” A sigh escaped your lips and Natasha could tell you were definitely not okay. She watched you for a moment, once again noticing the many hickeys on your neck.

“You two had sex?”, she whispered, suspecting that Steve may still be here.

While you didn’t want to answer her verbally, the look on your face was enough for Natasha to understand. She was right. Of course she was right. She always was.

But you were upset, which indicated something didn’t go as hoped.

Wanting to cheer you up she leaned a bit closer to you.

"Honey, there's nothing that sleeping with Steve can't fix. If there is, just sleep with him twice and it'll work out", her words made your lips twitch to a small smile, but you shook your head. Even though you’d love to spend another night with Steve, that’s not something he’d want. “It was just the alcohol-and let’s not talk about it anymore”, you added quietly seeing as Natasha wanted to say something. Probably about your feelings for Steve-which he really didn’t need to hear as well.

Natasha changed the subject, seeing as you really didn’t want to talk about Steve anymore. After you drank your coffee she got a phone call from Clint, who asked her if they could meet for lunch. With that she left, needing to get ready for the (hopefully) date.

After Natasha had left your place you nervously walked to the bedroom, opening the door to find Steve laying on your bed and texting on his phone. As soon as he saw you, he put his phone away quickly, smiling bashfully, his cheeks immediately heating up with a rosy blush.

“So, I guess I should go now?” He said while already standing up and coming closer to you…or rather to the door since he immediately walked out.

You couldn’t even answer before he had already put his shoes on and hugged you for a quick goodbye. For some reason it felt…awkward. Before yesterday you had hugged and touched each other in a platonic way all the time but now every touch reminded you of what happened yesterday.

Slightly smiling you watched him put his hoodie on, still blushing deeply. He fidget a bit with his hands before looking up again. “You’re still coming to the wedding with me, right?”

The reminder of the wedding Steve had invited you as his plus one too, made you swallow hard. Getting drunk and sleeping in the same bed? A few weeks ago this wouldn’t matter at all, you had done it all the time. Crush or no crush. But now? After this night? You couldn’t imagine how’d it turn out.

Before you could truly think it through you shook your head. “No, I don't think I’ll manage. I’m really busy and…I won’t make it, my grandma's sister's daughter in law is giving birth soon and we’ll visit her to celebrate the birth…”, you mumbled, clearly lying. Your whole face felt like it was burning with shame. God, what did you become?

Steve definitely noticed the lie, furrowing his brows lightly. Your behavior was…odd. Would it be all this time like this? Maybe you felt awkward because of something he said yesterday? Not that he remembered saying anything weird…or maybe he just didn’t remember it. He often talked or mumbled stuff right before falling asleep. What if he confessed his feelings? Oh god. Maybe that’s why you felt pressured.

He swallowed hard, fumbling with the sleeves of his hoodie. "Is this because we’d slept together? Because it doesn't have to make it weird between us.” He started rambling again, shrugging and trying to shake off the uneasy feeling. The feeling how his heart slowly breaking.

Slightly confused you looked up at him again, pulling your eyebrows together. How could he be so clueless? Tearing your heart apart like it was nothing. First he said it was a mistake and didn’t need to be important. And now you were the one making it weird? Even though you really tried to tell him about your feelings-which you even tried to do yesterday but he only fell asleep as if the whole night hadn’t mattered to him.

Maybe it didn’t.

"OH, I made it weird?" You snorted, shaking your head at his words. “Steve, I’m not the one that-nevermind. It doesn’t matter anyway”, you sighed. If he didn’t feel the same you shouldn’t tell him. It probably would make it even weirder. If this was even possible.

When Steve realized he wouldn’t elaborate more he looked you up and down. He loved seeing you like this, covered in hickeys and freshly out of bed after the night spent together-but the frown on your face reminded him he couldn’t have you like that. “It’s okay, I get it…we were drunk…stuff happens, let’s just…let it not affect our friendship”, he rambled, scratching his neck nervously.

His words made the pain in your heart worsen and you really didn’t want to continue this conversation. It didn’t make any sense. Not really. It only would hurt you more.

So you made up another excuse.

“I have to go, I have an appointment….dentist. Yeah. Dentist. My tooth hurts”, you nodded once to emphasize your words more.

Of course Steve could tell you weren’t telling him the truth. But he decided to play along as it seemed like you didn’t want to continue this conversation anymore.

“Okay, I get it…then…I should probably go give you time and space to get ready…” for some reason his words felt like they had a deeper meaning.

“Sure, we’ll talk later…”

Only a few more minutes later you sat on your couch, alone and in tears.

Have you just messed up your most important friendship? Have you lost your person?

Thank you for reading!

Let me know! Support your writers by reblogging and leaving feedback! Receiving feedback motivates a lot!

Questions? HC ideas? Drabble ideas? Thoots? (For this au or in general) -> flood my inbox!😋❤️

Taglist; @patzammit @justalonelyslytherin @hawkeyes-queen @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @jesterstrange @inlovewithchrisevans @slutforchrisjamalevans (I tagged a few people that had reblogged the series Masterlist but if you don’t wanna be tagged let me know!)

Wanna be tagged? Be active (reblogging and leaving feedback!) and let me know.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #boxer steve rogers x reader #boxer steve rogers #broken bones and broken hearts

[carolmunson]

old times. (stella's version - rockstar!eddie)

let's revisit our life as stella rink in the rockstar!eddie universe. another day another crossover, check out libby's version here. catch up with the rockstar!eddie au here.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, drugs and drinking mention (mild), pregnancy talk, general tension, puking/pregnancy sickness, very sweet and overbearing eddie, all around deeply fluffy.

“What heels should I wear?”

“It’s a house party with some of my old friends, Stell, why do you wanna wear heels?” Eddie asks with a laugh, coming out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his hips. He looks at you through the water droplets falling in his eyes from his curly bangs and smiles at the outfit laid out on the bed. Some little red number and nylons, four different pairs of heels laid out at the base of the hotel's California King bed.

“It’s not that kind of party, sweet thing. I told you,” he shakes his head, “just jeans and a t-shirt. There's no one to impress.”

"Are you sure?" you ask, turning to look in the mirror on the wall, tapping out a crease the concealer under your eyes.

"I'm sure," he encourages, "You want one of my shirts?"

"It's gonna be cold, right?" you wait for his confirming nod and start rifiling through the hotel dresser full of way too many clothes for a four day trip.

"I'll give you a sweatshirt, honey," he urges, tugging on a pair of old ripped jeans over a pair of boxers, "Just be comfortable, you're not supposed to be stressing out like this."

You roll your eyes playfully at him while he approaches you slowly, dimpled grin plastered on his face. A scratchy smatter of facial hair had come through over the past couple days that he hadn't bothered to shave and it tickled you while he leaned in for a kiss.

"It's bad for the baby."

Ever since you saw the little pink plus sign on the test, Eddie had taken any chance he could to say, "For the baby." He'd taken to calling you 'mama' in a Wayne like drawl ever since the blood work came in. He'd buy any onsie he saw in a store, always picking up one in a new state with some cheesy saying on it like, "My Daddy went to Texas and only got me this onesie!" He asked his manager to contact their merch developer to start making little Corroded Coffin shirts three weeks into the pregnancy. He asked the contractor on for the Hollywood house to start planning the nursery with him. There wasn't anyone more excited to be a dad than Eddie Munson.

Before you know it, you've found yourself in a pair of boot cut jeans (perfectly tailored of course) and white on white Adidas shell toes. A turtle neck and one of Eddie's Corroded Coffin sweatshirt's kept you warm on top -- not something you'd ever wear to a party in The Hills, but The Hawkins Daily probably doesn't care that you're not in Versace's SS RTW '94 collection.

You didn't look as glamourous as you would with a whole team, but at least your nails were done and your engagement ring sparkled brilliantly next to your diamond studded wedding band. Your small gold hoops hugged your earlobes -- you just needed something to add some pizzazz. You felt so tired and bloated these days, everything made you sick -- you deserved to feel pretty.

"You ready to go, lil' mama?" Eddie asks, rubbing his hand up and down your forearms to keep you warm. He looks so casually cool, you almost wanna shove him off you. Beat up old Reeboks from the 80s, ripped jeans, some stupid crudely drawn on shirt that said 'Hellfire' on it from years ago that wore tight against his adult body -- but still effortless, still sexy.

You blame it on the leather jacket and his over decorated battle vest. That had to be it.

You nod, heading down the back exits of the Indianapolis hotel to the parking garage where you loaded into Eddie's old van from high school. He preferred to drive this around when he was back home, brought on less attention than one of the Jeeps or Jaguars you both had lying around in California. While the outside still looked dingy and untouched, the inside had been redetailed and updated to keep up with the times. New carpeting, new sound system, updated leather seating, air conditioning, anything you'd want in a mid90s car -- it was in 'Charlene' -- named effectionately after one of Wayne's ex-girlfriend's who let Eddie have it when it wouldn't start anymore.

The ride felt simultaneously short and long, the rolling of your stomach in the car paired with the anxiety of being with a group of people you didn't know was inching up your throat. You looked pale in the side view mirror, pinching your cheeks hurriedly to bring some blood back to your face.

"You feel okay, honey?" Ed asks, "Want me to pull over? Did'j'you bring your water with you? I brought some if you need it."

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you assure. You're not fine, but it's better not to worry him. You weren't sick. Just nervous.

"Should I have just gone to Wayne's?" your heart sinks when you ask, "I don't want you to feel like you need to entertain me all night or anything."

"You know Dustin – you met everyone else at the wedding," Eddie says, putting a hand on your thigh, "It'll be okay. We're just gonna do a short campaign for D&D -- you can watch. You'll get to see my acting chops."

When he winks at you, you melt. It's been five years and you still feel like a teenager every time his gaze lingers on you for a little too long.

"You're gonna put me out of business," you joke back, "Hollywood's next girl next door, huh?"

"They're gonna beat down the door to book me," he replies with a faux-seriousness that makes you giggle, "Gonna outshine all you little bitches."

The rest of the ride is filled with laughs because he knows you're nervous. He knows you don't feel good. And sure, Wayne would love to have you tonight and make you dinner and talk about the baby but Eddie so rarely gets to show you the old him -- the version of him before he was famous. Before he ever did heroin -- when all he did was sell weed and comic books out of Hawkins Comics & Gaming Expo after dropping out of high school in '83 so he could get his big break.

Every trip to Indiana was a holiday or so short they'd only be there a night. You both almost exclusively saw Wayne, either staying at the trailer -- since he gifted the house Eddie got him to a new single teen mother who'd found her way to Forest Hills two months after the renovations had finished -- or in a hotel in the bigger cities. You both never had the time to show each other your old lives, even after all these years together. So when Will Byers got on the phone during one of Eddie and Dustin's weekly calls and invited him to his birthday party -- Ed cleared his schedule to make room for the occasion. He hadn't seen the guys in a while, not since the wedding in October, and before that it was during his stint in Hawkins after 'the incident' in Toronto.

When the van pulled into the driveway, already littered with cars, and your nerves pooled back in your stomach. It wasn't just not really knowing them well that was making you nervous, it was them not really knowing you. The press about the sex tape was just starting to die down -- but had they seen it? Did they know about it? Did they watch Eddie on Leno? Did they hear about the broken microphones when he got in a fight with Howard Stern? Did they know about how Eddie had to pay to get Howard's studio redone?

"He shouldn't have talked his shit, then, baby," Eddie shrugged when he got the legal papers in the mail. You'd never seen him so angry in his life than when Howard called you his 'whore wife'. The clip of Eddie saying "Excuse the fuck out of me, but what did you just say about my wife? Do you wanna lose your fuckin’ teeth man?" Replayed on a loop on all the metal radio stations before playing a Corroded Coffin song.

Were these guys going to judge her the way the press had? Should she mention the pregnancy? Did they already know? They had to have known. Eddie called Dustin minutes after you both found out.

"It's gonna be fine, Stell," Eddie knocked you out of your running thoughts with his soothing voice, opening your door on your side of the van. He offers his hand to help you out, he always does, like a prince helping you out of a carriage. You walk hand in hand to the door and you can feel the coolness of his wedding band against your skin -- it's the only gold jewelry he wears, even though you offered to get it in platinum. 'I want it to stand out, baby. Want everyone to know I'm Mr. Stella Rink.'

Eddie rings the bell, pressing a kiss to the top of your head while your other hang grips the handles of the bag of treats and expensive champagne you brought. The champagne you can't drink. The charcuterie board with cold cuts that you can't eat. Your stomach lurches again.

You're greeted by all the boys when the door opens and they all start to scream -- low and vibrating yells from men in their mid and late 20s who just wanna be boys again. Your nose is hit hard with strains of four different colognes, weed smoke, and beer and you grab Eddie's arm in a panic. Fuck.

"Oh, shit, shit shit," Eddie starts, "Sorry, sorry, can she use your bathroom. I think she's gonna puke."

"Yeah, of course, c'mon, c'mon in," Will is so immediately caring that you want to cry. His hand on your back while he and Eddie lead you to the bathroom around the hall. You drop the bag of food and liquor outside the door before you run inside to wretch, closing the door on both men behind you.

"Sorry man," you hear Eddie explain, "She's pregnant so she's just, y'know, like, puking everywhere all the time."

"It's totally okay," you hear Will assure.

"Not surprised she's pregnant," you hear another voice say with a snicker, "We all saw it on the news."

"Hey," you hear Eddie's voice get lower while another heave of bile comes out of you, "Watch your mouth, Wheeler."

There's silence and then the sound of a smack on the back, "I'm just kiddin' man. Fuckin' love you guys."

You finally think you're done, rinsing your mouth out in the sink.

"Do you guys have mouthwash?" you call out, hearing their murmur of conversation.

"Behind the mirror," Mike responds. Your sigh of relief at the Listerine is audible and the boys snicker and you laugh too. This is ridiculous. What were you so nervous about? This was going to be fine. Just fine.

Eddie's waiting for you outside of the bathroom, offering his hand again when you emerge, "You okay?"

You nod and he picks up the snacks and wine while leading you to the kitchen. He puts the champagne in the fridge, maneuvering it amongst hundreds of beer cans and a covered grocery store cake. You go to open the snacks before Dustin stops you.

"I got it, Stell," he urges, "You should sit down."

"Henderson," you say with a cocked head, "I'm pregnant, not dying. I can put out snacks."

"Look, I'm just doing what I'd do for Suze," he says, "If I'm here, you're not lifting a finger."

"And where is Suze and the baby now?" you ask with a smile.

"They are in Utah to visit her parents and her brother's and sisters," he explains matter of factly, "And...lucky for me, I couldn't take off work this week to go visit them, too."

"I'm sure your thrilled," you laugh. He puts a finger to his lips and laughs too, fatherhood suits him so well. Despite being five years younger, Eddie has gotten so much wisdom from Dustin. Asking every question that comes in his head, picking Suzie's brain about pregnancy even though you have to keep reminding him that all of this is different for every couple.

Eddie puts a plate in front of you full of snacks you can have and strokes your hair, "Do you want water? Soda?"

"Can I have a Heineken?" you ask with a hopeful smile.

"No," he singsongs, "But you can have a Coke if you want?"

You frown, "Fine, fine."

Eddie opens it for you and places it next to your plate, barely biting into a cracker before the doorbell rings again. You've started your conversation back up with Dustin and Eddie to tune out the ruckus at the door and you swear you hear it -- but you can't be sure. 

"Libby!"

Absolutely not.

There's no way.

You peer a little past the wall of the kitchen blocking off the view of the front door to see a glimpse of her hair falling over Will's shoulder and you know if she's here -- so is he. Your heart races in your chest, sweat building under your arms and in your hairline like you're going to be sick again.

You peer over a second time to see Steve on one knee taking off her shoes for her and bite back a scoff. You feel Eddie's hand on your shoulder and your attention snaps to him, "What're you lookin' at, baby?"

He follows your line of site and sees them, too. Eddie's regualr smile falls to a thin line, "What the fuck?" he mutters quietly.

"Of course he's taking her shoes off for her, can't do anything herself," you huff.

Eddie squeezes your shoulder, "Don't," he says with a shake of his head.

"Don't act up. You're just gonna make yourself upset," he warns. You both had a right to be mad, but Eddie didn't have the energy for negativity anymore. Lucky for him, you have enough energy for the both of you.

"I'm so sorry, dude. I should've told you," Dustin said. Their conversation is muffled while shock rings in your ears. You watch her give Will a gift, their jovial conversation, her dolled up outfit. Lucas and Mike giving her hugs hello. She sparkled. The life of the party. Her miserable hulking jock boyfriend hanging behind her with her purse in his hand.

You look back down at your plate of snacks -- you wanna puke again but you don't know if you need to puke again. You hear Libby and the rest of the crew maneuver into the livingroom, laughing and joking as they go. Her smile is so evident in her voice and your heart can't help but break at the sound of it -- she was your friend, too. Once.

It's not long before you hear it, the familiar stomps of a one Steve Harrington entering the kitchen with a cigarette between his lips. The interaction feels like it's happening in slow motion when he stops in front of the table.

"Shut the fuck up," you say under your breath, "You're joking."

Eddie instinctively steps in front of you, one hand sneaking behind him to stop you from talking -- ‘I got it.’

Steve stands there, dumbfounded at first, and then shakes his head.

"You gotta be fuckin' kidding me," he mumbles, looking straight at Eddie's face. It had been over a year, but rage surged through Eddie's system for a moment before he took a regulating breath.

"Uh, Eddie um, I just got my car uh, detailed -- wanna check it out? See if they did a good job?" Dustin offered, trying to break the tension.

"Yeah Henderson, that sounds like a great idea," Eddie agreed slowly, keeping his eye on Steve while the boxer turned on his heel to go back to the livingroom.

It was no longer a question of whether or not you wanted to puke.

You needed to puke.

Eddie and Dustin headed outside while you barreled back down the hallway to vom, turning the water on so no one would hear, praying that this would be the last time. After a couple of dizzying minutes, you gather yourself, rinse with Listerine, and cautiously head to the door.

You only see her feet in the corner of your eye, blocked by everyone surrounding her before you open the door. The cool March air kisses your face like a lover back from war, catching on the sweat of your clammy skin. You shut the door, making sure it's not locked, and scan the street for a sign of your husband.

"Over here," he calls from across the street. You jog over in your sneakers, Eddie looks you over, "You get sick again?"

"Yeah, but s'fine," you nod, "I'm okay."

Eddie reaches into his jacket pocket, hearing the crinkling of plastic, and his hand reappears with two gold wrapped candies.

Ginger chews. The only thing that kept your stomach settled these day. Eddie bought them in bulk the moment you found something that helped and kept at least 50 of them on him at all times, lest you felt even the slightest bit ill.

"Here, baby," he offers, holding the candies out on his outstretched palm, "You'll feel better. Think you need to eat something real, soon. You didn't eat a lot at breakfast."

"Ed, I'm fine," you assure, taking the chews and horking them down. You just don't want to feel sick anymore. He takes out his keys and hands them to you.

"I got a big bottle of Evian in there for you, go grab it," he instructs, "You're gonna just get more sick if you're dehydrated."

"Honey," you say with a warning edge, taking the keys, "I know. I can take care of myself, okay?"

He frowns, "Just tryna help."

You sigh with a smile, pecking his cheek, "I love you. I appreciate it. M'sorry." You cross the street again, catching Libby and Will in an animated conversation through the window and avert your eyes to the van. You grab the Evian and crack it open, practically chugging it behind the coverage of the passenger door -- heaving breaths out of your mouth when the bottle leaves your lips.

"Trying to pretend it's a real party, Stell?" Eddie teases, "Sucking that down like it's Moet."

You roll your eyes, "Fuck off, Munson."

"We're gonna go back inside, sweet thing," he says, tilting his head over to Dustin, "You need a minute?"

"Um, yeah, gonna let the ginger set in first and then I'll come in," you smile.

"I think they ordered pizza, that sound good? Want me to see if I can get you something else?" Eddie smiles.

"No, no, pizza's fine honey," your smile is tight while you watch them walk back in, the sound of too many voices and music peels through the open door.

You take a few deep breaths to steady your nerves, looking at yourself in the side view mirror again. You sigh, you’re sure you look fine to everyone else but you look bad to you. You step half way up and in to the van to open the center console, fishing out a spare blush and lip gloss that you kept there for emergencies. Your touch up helps make you feel a little refreshed, but still came the daunting task of going back into the house.

You crept in the door quietly, seeing Eddie and Dustin laughing with Mike and Lucas, standing like pretend grown men in a circle. You scan the base of the couch again and see Libby’s socked feet, taking a swig of your water while you position yourself next to Eddie. His arm naturally finds its way around you while he talks and you feel safe again. The vibration of his chest while he speaks, the scent of his cologne mixed with less and less cigarette smoke while he works on quitting before the baby comes. His presence lulling you back into security without as much as a word.

Lucas and Dustin walk away to help set up the table for the game, while Mike continues to talk to Eddie about guitars. Wheeler wants to get a new one but he isn’t sure he has the right adapter for his amp and your brain glazes over in boredom. If you never heard about amp adapters again it would still be too soon.

“Technology’s moving too fast, babe. The sound is getting too manufactured.” He’d complain throughout the house like a grumpy old man.

Will calls Mike over and they start talking about playing, you hear Libby’s voice in the background and your head swims. When the conversation pauses, Eddie looks down at you and smiles, “You look pretty, you put a different blush on?”

His ability to still notice the little things makes your heart leap, “The one in the car. Felt like I sweat all my makeup off after puking.”

“You look like a million bucks, mama,” he winks, pulling you in tighter and kissing your forehead, “Gonna go help set up sweet thing, why don’t you go put some food in your body with that water.”

You chug your Evian to stop from fixing your mouth to say something bitchy. It’s hard to let him take the lead, to have him suggest how to care for yourself in this state. You want to tell him to mind his business, to snap at him — but he’s doing it from a place of love and you know that. You’re not good at having someone take care of you like this. You never let him do it before.

There was someone at this party who had told you that to your face.

You get out of the way, padding into the kitchen and grabbing a handful of pretzels and tossing them on a plate, your previous snack plate thrown away. You gather some cheese curls, M&Ms, chips, anything in a bowl for eating and pile it high. Munching on it while you watch the party set the living room up for the game. Dice and maps and papers being passed out to eachother. Beers and weed being offered. 

You're only half listening while you came back over to the table where everyone was sitting in fold out chairs or the couch, only to realize there was no seat for you. Eddie turns at your movement, sitting on the end. He scans the room, there’s space next Libby on the couch but that’s not happening so he spreads his legs a little farther, patting his thigh.

“C’mon,” he says quietly, “S’fine, honey.”

You perch yourself on his lap and watch him look at your plate, he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it — plucking a chip off and popping it in his mouth, then another.

“Really looking forward to this birthday campaign, Byers," Eddie says across the table, "Never thought Wheeler could come up with something so creative."

"Rude," Mike scoffs, "But, even though I'm definitely that creative -- I didn't write it. Libby wrote it." You look down at the pretzels on your plate as if they are much more interesting than anything else.

“You wrote it?” Eddie asks gently.

“Yeah, I mean, I just threw it together,” Libby assured, “It’s nothing special.”

“No, no,” Eddie urges, “It’s good. It’s really good.”

Bile creeps up your throat.

Good enough to kiss her at the bar again? You shake it out of your mind. You’ve moved past that. He can compliment her and have it not mean anything more than that. He complimented Max's hair at your wedding, he compliments your manager Simone all the time. You bite into a pretzel — it’s incredibly dry. Eddie’s hand finds your hip and your mouth runs drier. Did he touch you after so that you wouldn’t be mad? Why are you thinking so far into it?

You reach down to get your water but he beats you to it, putting his character sheet down with his other papers to open it for you.

“I can do it, Ed,” you assure gently, “You’re busy.”

“I'm never too busy for you, Stell,” he whispers while the conversation continues around him, “I just — I’m sorry.”

You stay on his lap, snacking, feeding him snacks while he pays attention to everyone else.Minutes pass, they feel like hours while you watch everyone else laugh and joke with each other. Libby is glowing -- completely in her element, and you're here in your husband's sweatshirt feeling like hurling every five seconds and no one cares about you at all.

You need air.

You get up and fish into Eddie's pockets while he talks, grabbing a handful of ginger chews and the dregs of your Evian bottle and walk over to the kitchen to the back door. For the second time that afternoon, the cool wet air feels good on your face.

You shut the door behind you and take a deep breath, putting your head down and leaning forward with your hands on your knees at the exhale.

"You too?" you hear. It's a gruff voice. A voice you know well.

"What? Not havin' fun, Harrington?" you ask dryly, rolling up slowly, vertabrae by vertabrae.

"Could ask you the same thing," he says with a shrug. You turn to look at him, still big and hulking as ever. Sunglasses over his eyes and a cigarette between his lips. You look at eachother for a moment, you can feel his eyes through the lenses -- the honey eyes that looked like daggers the last time you saw him. The honey eyes that rounded like saucers when you told Libby to leave while she still could. Looks like she didn't heed your advice.

He takes a small step toward you, "Want a smoke?"

The box is nearly empty and you don't smoke Marlboro's anyway, "I'll pass."

He shrugs, taking one of the remaining cigarettes left and popping it between his lips.

"So, when're you due?" he asks while he brings up his lighter.

"Excuse me?" you ask, eyes narrowing. You cross your arms protectively over your chest.

"When's the baby due?" he asked again on his exhale, blowing the smoke away from you.

"Who told you?" you look at him quizically -- it's not like him and Libby would've found out any other way but this party. You weren't announcing to the press until you were at least 12 weeks.

"No one," he smirks, "Any other party I've seen you at you're normally stumblin' around with some Cliquot and chain smoking by now."

"I am not," you huff.

"And fuckin' Munson hasn't broken out any party favors yet so either you're knocked up or you finally put him on a shorter leash," his smirk widens while he takes another drag.

"Get his name out of you're fuckin' mouth, Harrington," you spit. You see his jaw clench, like he's holding back.

"See you haven't changed much," you mutter, opening your bottle of water only to see that there's nothing left. Steve drops the butt of his cigarette, stomping it out with his shoe before turning to one of the coolers outside and fishing out a Sprite.

"S'not as fancy as Evian but," he cocks his head while offering it to you, "Might settle your stomach."

You peer at it, and then at him, slowly reaching for the dripping can, "Thanks."

It comes out more apprehensive than you expect. You walk over to the picnic table that seems decades old, sitting down on the damp old wood of the bench and opening the can -- catching the bubbles as they over flow. You see Steve fish a Sprite out for himself and head over to you, lighting the last cigarette in his pack. You jaw clenches.

"Uh, congrats though," he says, flipping his glasses to rest on his head and running his hand over his face. You nod, feeling a little uncomfortable -- it wasn't pregnancy making you sick at this point. It was the threat of where this conversation could go, and you had a sharp tongue today. It was the fear of Eddie coming out here and causing a scene because -- despite it being over a year -- he wouldn't want you out here alone with King Steve.

"You know what you're having?"

"Twins."

Steve chokes on his Sprite, turning around to spit the liquid out onto the yellowed grass. He turns back around, wiping his mouth.

"Good fuckin' luck," he breaths, shaking his head. "Fuckin' twins."

"I know," you say quietly, toying with a piece of splintered wood on the side of the table, "I haven't told Eddie about it yet."

"The fuck you mean?" Steve asks, concerned, sitting down on the bench opposite you.

"I just found out before I came down here," you confessed, still toying with the splinter, "He was already in Indiana when I went to the 7 week appointment -- that's when they saw two of them in there. Fraternal. I'm due in November."

"Shit," Steve mumbles, "Uh...you okay?"

You nod, "I'm nervous he's gonna freak out. He's excited but I know he's so nervous about being a dad. He's so scared he's gonna fuck up -- I feel like this will be too much for him."

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," you say, shaking your head while the rest of you shivers, "I don't even fucking like you."

He barks out a laugh, "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, Rink."

You laugh with him and for the first time, there's a subtle softness between you that hadn't existed before.

"Um," he starts, "Not sure it's my place to say this but -- I think Munson'll be fine -- he's off the heavy shit, right?"

You nod, looking at the opening of the Sprite can, the liquid reflecting the sky above you. Your shoulders tense at him mentioning Eddie's drug use -- 'How're those veins holdin' up Munson?' Eddie hadn't touched anything beyond weed and a few bumps of coke (off your body) since '92.

"He's been off for two years," you say, ripping the splinter of wood off the table and tossing it into the grass.

"See? Already ten times better than my folks. You’ll be just fine," Steve says softly -- you'd never hear him speak like that. So inward, almost calm.

Your eyes meet, holding each others gaze with understanding before Steve slides his glasses back down.

"Drink," he demands, his chin jutting towards the can of Sprite.

"Pfft. You sound just like Ed," you groan with an eye roll.

"What, is he finally bossin' you around?" Steve lets out a chuckle while he puts his last cigarette in his mouth.

"No one bosses me around," you snip, eyes reaching the sky, "God he just doesn't stop it's so fucking --"

"Steve," you hear Libby's voice behind you, her socked feet at the door frame. She tip toes clumsily in the dry grass, light on her feet as she does and gets behind him, reaching into his pants pocket.

"Baby, what're you --"

"There it is," Libby says with a smile, his wallet in her hand. She fishes through it, grabbing a few bills. She looks over at you, but doesn't make eye contact, "Oh, hey Stella."

"Hi Lib," you say to the rotting plank of wood at the center of the picnic table. You try to stifle a laugh from how clear it is that she's really been enjoying herself.

Steve looks up at her blankly, and she grins down, "The pizza's here, Stevie. I don't want Will to have to pay for it on his birthday."

She turns to tip toe back to the door with the cash in hand and he follows, her socks dirty with wet soil and grass. You don't hear it, but you know he's scolding her for something -- his fingers gentle around her chin while he talks to her.

He comes back when she disappears into the house and sits back down -- the bench creaks.

"She's having fun," you smile, "Happy for her."

"A little too much fun," he takes a drag of his cigarette, "That Sprite isn't there for you to look at, Rink."

You roll your eyes but take a sip of it anyway, "I know you're not telling me what to do. Must be the roids talking."

He catches your mean smirk and smirks back, his eye roll rivals yours. You're almost impressed.

Steve looks at the house, seeing Libby in the window with the boxes of pizza and his brows soften behind his glasses. He takes a moment, like he's considering something.

"Look, Rink -- what I did..." he starts, lifting his glasses to rub one of his eyes, "In Toronto and Malibu..."

"Steve it's --"

"No, no, shut up -- stop," he says, resting his glasses back on his nose, "What I did, what I said -- it was shitty."

He pauses, you sit in silence for a moment.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you agree, taking another sip of Sprite -- you're annoyed that it is making you feel better.

"Everything I said was the truth, so -- I'm not apologizing to you," you say with a smile and a shrug.

"Fuckin' Rink," Steve shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, attention turning to the door again where Libby is standing.

"Come eat!" she calls. Holy God, you're fucking hungry.

"Go," Steve instructs, and you wanna snap at him too, but whatever demons are growing in your uterus are really begging for cheese and sauce. You get up, looking behind you while Steve works on finishing his cigarette and step into the house.

"Shoes off, baby," Eddie says when you see him in the kitchen, a plate of pizza in either hand. You kick your Adidas off and scurry over to the front door, leaving them with the pile of everyone else's before meeting your husband back in the kitchen.

"You want veggie or pepperoni?" he asks, holding either out in front of you.

"Veggie," you choose, taking the plate of his hand. You turn to see Libby waiting at the door for Steve, a plate of slices in her hand -- offering it to him when he comes in the door. Your heart sinks. You want to believe it's a good relationship, you really do -- but when you see her like this, this contrast of her bubbly nature with the group versus her obedient meekness when he's around -- you worry. Eddie catches you staring and looks at you through heavy lids, his lips a straight line.

"What?" you ask, "What's that face for?"

"Don't be sneakin' around on me," he warns, "I don't like that."

"Baby, it's fine," you say lightly, "I wasn't sneaking around -- you were busy! I just needed some air."

"It's not fine. I didn't want you to see him again," he says through a bite of pizza, "And definitely not by yourself."

"Oh stop," you click your tongue, "Put that fake macho attitude away."

"I'm so macho, what do you mean?" he quirks his brow while he gets in your face, dimples deepening when he smiles into a soft, pizza saucey peck on your lips. You look at him, his eyes are a little glassy and blood shot.

"Are you stoned?" you ask with a laugh.

"Eh...not a lot, enough that this tastes like the best pizza I've ever had," he laughs back at you.

"C'mon, lets sit," he urges, giving you a tiny pat on the ass to get you out of the way of all the moving parts in the kitchen. You cozy up next to him on the oversized recliner by the couch and look at the maps and dice left abandoned on the table.

"Are you winning?" you ask, taking a bite of your slice. Fuck, you might not be stoned but this is definitely the best pizza you've ever had.

"It's not that kind of game, baby," he smiles at you, eyes crinkling at the edges when he does.

"Oh, sorry," you blush, "I didn't know."

"S'okay," he says with a stretch of his arm, wrapping it at around you while he folds his now empty paper plate with his free hand.

"You having fun?" you ask, shoveling another bite of pizza into your mouth.

"Feel like I'm back at a highschool party," he blushes, "Excited to get to the making out part of the night. You know there's this girl I have a crush on? Her name's Stella. Think she'd wanna be my make out partner?"

"Oh, so wild," you play along, "I know her. Do you want me to ask her if she likes you?"

"No, no, she'd never go for a guy like me," he fake frowns, "I'm a loser in a rock band."

Almost as if on cue, a Corroded Coffin song comes on the radio and you playfully lean over him to turn up the volume on the stereo. Eddie covers his face with his hands, biceps bulging in the tight fabric of his shirt.

"Oof, so embarrassing," you tease. The party, sans Libby and Steve, clamber over to join in on the teasing, but it all turns into hype when they start screaming the lyrics at him. He peeks over his hands and then drops them, screaming the lyrics with them.

You feel the air around you get hot at the sight of him air guitaring the exact right chords, his face getting confident and concentrated like when he's really playing. He notices your stare, looking up to shoot you a wink but when you blush at him he can't help but pull you into a kiss. It's lewd and sloppy, like how you'd make out at California parties when you both had too much to drink. You know deep down he misses that version of you, but he can always find her when he kisses like this.

The hype turns into childish playful groans of disgust and teasing coos, "Ewwwww, don't be gross."

"Get a room!"

"No wonder you have a baby on the way," Mike teased. The grouped lulled in quiet, everyone blushing but not at dark as Wheeler. Your eyes flit quickly to Steve and Libby, and a strike of guilt pangs in your chest. She didn't know. How would she?

Always good at breaking tension, you make a joke at the expense of yourself, "Don't act so surprised, you all saw it on the tape."

They probably had. It was all over the news.

The room erupts in cackles and you laugh into Eddie's hand while it claps over your mouth, "Shh, shh, stop." His giggle in your ear is infectious. You reach up to touch his hand, your finger sliding over his wedding band as a reminder that he made all the changes he said he would. He put in all the work he promised. He's still going to meetings and still seeing a shrink -- he's even brought you with him a few times.

'Eddie mentioned he thinks you might have some issues with letting go of control.'

'I think you don't know what you're talking about.'

In your peripherary, you catch Steve pull away from her touch -- renderring her visibly upset. She gets up and heads to the hallway and part of you wants to get up and go after her, but your attention turns to Steve. His eyes lock with yours and he gives you a look like 'See what I'm dealing with here? What did I do?'

You look back at him flatly at first because he knows what he did. You motion your head toward the hallway at him mouthing a small 'Go!' He huffs and bobs his head with another award winning eye roll because he knows you're right.

Mrs. Fuckin' Munson.

Both of them disappear in the darkness of the hall and you watch as Max and Will's gaze follow them.

"It's okay," you assure them quietly -- it grabs their attention. Will was better, but Max always got flustered when you spoke to her or paid her any mind. You weren't a stranger to people being star struck around you -- but you wished it wouldn't happen around Ed's friends. Especially when he just wanted to be normal.

"Stell, you wanna hear a story about how Eddie struck out with a super hot babe at Hawkin's Comics back in '85?" Lucas asked.

"Yes, absolutely," you nod feverishly, "I want every painstaking detail."

"Oh god is this the story with --" Eddie starts, flush blooming on his cheeks.

"Yep, with the magic trick," Lucas interrupts with a laugh.

"Oh yes! When he punched her in the face?" Mike adds. Eddie's head falls into his hands, grin plastered on his face behind his palms. His face matches the can on Coke on the side table next to him.

"He punched a girl in the face?" you gasp but it turns into a girlish laugh -- a mean girl laugh that you thought you threw away in grade school. You run your hand over his back in soothing circles.

"Who knew he'd be Hollywood's heartbreaker a year later," you tease, "Tell me everything."

You listen to the tale intently, Eddie eventually finding comfort resting against your chest to feel the vibrations of your laugh under him. His eyes lull when your fingers graze over his scalp, running through his hair -- an absentminded soothing action you did without realizing it. He can't wait for you to be a mother -- he knows you're gonna be great at it. You've already spent so much time taking care of him, how different can some rugrat be?

When the story is over and everyone is nearly crying with laughter, your stomach lurches.

"Oh shit," you groan, wretching nothing, "Fuck, sorry, hold on."

You race to the bathroom for the third time only to be met with the closed door opening to Steve and Libby. You wretch again, looking at them while they look at you.

"Sorry, please -- just, please move -- " you plead, shoving past them and shutting the door on their backs. You heave into the toilet. Undigested chunks of pizza and veggies plopping down into the water unceremoniously -- the fizz of the Sprite crawling back up your throat burning while it mixes with your stomach acid.

"Ugh, shit," you groan as another hurl rolls through your body -- up your back to your neck and out of your mouth. Your coughs and sputters turn to more upheavels until there's nothing left to throw up. You take a few deep breaths, resting your head on the cool porcelain on the toilet seat -- not even caring at this point if its dirty.

With wobbling legs you get up and rinse your mouth for the third time that day, splashing some cold water onto your cheeks. The knock on the door makes you jump and you wait to hear Eddie's 'Baby, you okay?' come from the other side, but it doesn't.

"Hey, Stell?" it's Libby asking for you.

"I got you some water. Can I come in?" she asks. Your heart races. Steve you could handle -- but you don't know if you can handle this. You hesitate for a moment, looking at the door then back at yourself in the mirror, then back at the door again.

You reach for the handle and click it open, revealing her and her glassy stare -- cup of water in her hand, and one for her in the other.

"Uh, here."

You reach for it, your mouth and joints suddenly feelings the strain of dehydration, and gulp some of it down. Letting out a 'thanks' with a sigh.

You're silent for a second, mulling over your next move. You could just walk away and go back to your husband or you could grow the fuck up. You and Eddie have had countless talks about their hookup. He never shyed away from it, always doing his best to be as open and honest about it to quell and insecurity you might've had. It didn't kill you that he'd had a little crush on her, you had little crushes on plenty of people -- you worked along side the most beautiful and charming people in the world. At the end of the day, the ring was on your finger -- his vows were a short novel that he got bound in leather and gave to you the night before your wedding. He still knew your Big Mac order. He still knew you'd always take a sip of his regular Coke when you ordered diet.

"Do you wanna go outside with me? I just really need some air," you offer. You see her eyes widen, but she nods while you walk into the space she made for you in the hallway. You walk ahead, slipping your sneakers back on and finding Eddie back in the game with the boys. Steve sitting in darkness off to the side with his sunglasses on -- what a putz.

Eddie's character voice is low and gravely but animated -- some kind of accent lacing the words but you know it's his poor attempt at Northern Irish. He turns his head when you giggle as he finishes his sentence, sneaking behind him and reaching into his jacket pocket for some ginger chews.

"You okay?" he murmurs to you.

"Yes, honey," you whisper, grabbing the candies and sneakily slipping out his box of Camels and his lighter to slide into your jean's back pocket.

"Your character seems really cool," you smile into a kiss on the side of his head from behind, "You sound great."

"Thanks," he blushes, still whispering with you while the other members continues.

"I'm gonna step outside," you say with a rub to his back and he nods before joining a huddle with Lucas, Dustin, and Will to plan their next steps. You turn back to Libby and motion towards the back door, heading back outside towards the picnic table -- the sun begginning it's descent. You shivered a little in your sweatshirt -- you should've worn a coat or maybe another layer. You watch Libby as she comes outside, sitting across from you with her back towards the door.

"Hi," you say softly, with a smile, "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Libby nods. There's a permeating silence, neither of you knowing how to start the conversation. The last time you'd seen each other had been so cold. You had only kept up through seeing whatever brand deals she might have garnered, or running into some of Steve's fights on TV. Sometimes when your makeup artist had worked with her she'd give you her insight, but it had never been enough. Apparently Steve wasn't hovering so often.

"So how do you know these guys?" you ask, because this was the last place you ever thought you'd see Libby and Steve. She lights up at the question, easy and middle ground.

"Oh, I was really close with Will in high school. Some seniors were picking on him and I...sorta yelled at them," she explained.

She giggled at the memory, "How about you? How do you and Eddie know this bunch?"

"Eddie started living with his uncle when he was around 10 and then sarted working at Hawkin's Comics after he dropped out of high school in '83," you say it like you've heard this story a thousand times before, and you have, "The boys used to come in and buy new issues and some Dungeons and Dragons play books, eventually they started a little club and stayed friends after. I'm sure since you knew them back then you might've heard about it."

"He stayed friends with the boys for the most part, but stayed really close with Dustin -- so when he was here last year after um -- y'know -- everything. They sort of all got a chance to reconnect. And here we are."

"I bet it's weird, huh?" she asks with a shrug, " Not knowing many people, being far from home."

"And I'm sober for it," you complain with an eye roll. Your chin goes to rest on the heel of your hand, leaning on the table.

"Congratulations, by the way," Libby cracks a shy smile, "On the baby and the wedding."

"Thanks," you smile back, "I'm due in November. Y'know I thought I'd be so relieved once the wedding was over after all that planning but -- with y'know the tape and all the press -- and then getting pregnant it's been...it's just been a lot. Kinda lonely."

"I saw some pictures," she responded, "You looked really pretty."

Your heart breaks, "I wish..." you trail off for a moment, unsure if you should say what you're thinking.

"I wish you could've been there."

"Me too," she says, eyes casting down towards the table.

"It was fun, and all the boys were there -- and Max. You would've had a good time," you say, and then pause to think, "Maybe not Steve. He doesn't strike me as good at dancing."

Libby laughs, "Steve never dances."

'Not much of a dancer but good enough in bed that you stayed with him this long? What kind of rhythm is he even working with?' you think. You laugh too, but it fades out when your heart swells -- it's better to be honest.

"Not just the wedding though. When the tape came out and -- everything that went down. I wished you'd been around. It's hard y'know, when everyone is talking about how much of a slut you are for having sex with your own husband," you confess, "And then Jesus, everything with Ed and Howard -- so embarrassing."

"I only had my sisters and my mom for a while. It just would've been nice to have a friend around, too. Someone who understood," you pause for a beat, "I missed you."

You grab the box of Camels and his lighter from your back pocket to open it. It's half full, which is impressive since Eddie bought this pack last week -- really following through with cutting down. Any other time, this pack would've been gone by noon at the latest. You hold the box out in your hand across the table -- not the olive branch you thought it would be, but it'll do.

"Wanna light?" you ask, "It helps sometimes just to smell it around me. Takes the edge off."

You're surprised at how quickly she reaches for the pack, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it with one fell swoop. The kind of speed you see back stage at fashion shows or in the back alleys of the studios you shot at.

"You're telling me," she mumbles through a drag.

"Didn't realize you were one of us now. Are you that stressed out?" you asked. There was no way things were going that badly already. You watch her look over her shoulder with a nervous shiver, certainly looking out for Steve.

"It's just like you said," she says before blowing out the gray haze, the scent hits your nostrils and your heart finally stops thrumming, "to take the edge off sometimes. Steve doesn't know."

"I'd imagine not," you tease.

There's a moment of silence while Libby takes another drag. Smoking suits her, she looks more established -- more grown up. Sure of herself.

"I missed you, too," she says. You think it's the pregnancy hormones that make you want to cry. You both smile at eachother, eyes shining in the cold air. It would've been a different year entirely if you had just stayed friends.

"Is—has everything been okay? With Steve?" you asked. The answer seemed obvious since they were still together.

"Yeah, things are good. They're..." you watch her consider the answer. No longer under the watch of America or her family, but someone who'd seen some of Steve at his worst, "...they're much better. He's been going to therapy, it seems to be helping," she admitted.

You laugh at the confession. King Steve sees a shrink. Of course.

"Ah, that explains it," you grin, fiddling with Eddie's zippo on the table. She laughs with you. It's nice to laugh with someone else other than Eddie.

"I'm sure that was a terrifying moment for you," she jokes, tilting her head towards the house. It was at first, talking to Steve one on one -- but then maybe it wasn't.

"I definitely didn't wonder if you had him cloned and rewired," you tease before reaching out to her across the table, "And you? How have you been?"

"Good. We're back on the road next week, Steve has a fight in Chicago," she explains. You knew that life.

"Any more Prada shoots?" you ask. Your mind wanders for a brief moment if Steve ever ended up giving her the card you wrote her.

"Maybe. But...I don't know, ever since we came back to Hawkins, I've been...no, it's silly," she waves her hand, making a face -- but you want to know what she wants.

"No, I know it's not! Come on, tell me."

"I've been thinking about...maybe taking some classes. I wanted to go to school, before I met Steve, and I'm just...wondering if maybe I still could," she says nervously. Like a secret she'd been keeping for years.

"Libby, I definitely think you still can," you encourage, "I think that's a great idea."

"Ah, I don't know. We'll see. What about you? How far along are you?"

You pull your hand away -- you're excited but almost a little exhausted by talking about the baby -- babies, you keep having to remind yourself. But you know it'll only get worse the more you start to show.

"Not very, just due in November. I mean, I'm scared shitless, but I'm excited. Eddie's nesting more than I am and he's not the one puking every five seconds," you can't help but get exasperating at his constant flitting about -- but thinking about him with a baby makes your heart melt.

"But...he's gonna be a great dad," you confess, your cheeks heat up for a moment.

"Yeah, he is," she agrees, "And you're gonna make the best mom, Stell."

You gulp and shake your head for a second, "I dunno. You think so?"

"I know so," her smile genuine and warm and you want to reach up and give her a hug but something moves behind her that catches your eye.

You spy Steve at the door way and your eyes flick to the lit cigarette in her hand while she talks. He takes a strong step forward, eyes meeting yours -- he puts a finger to his lips with a devilish smile as to warn you not to reveal his unfortunate surprise. You want to roll your eyes while she takes her next drag, but you know it'll give it away.

He comes behind her and cups his hand under her jaw and you stifle a laugh while she sputters out the smoke into his face.

"Hey, angel. Whatcha doin'?" he asks, you can sense he's less than happy about her currently predicament. Another reminder why he probably didn't want you hanging out with Libby in the first place.

"I-I was just keeping it lit for you," she says with rounded, mischevious eyes. You giggle, which makes her giggle, while he makes a face -- and you know he doesn't appreciate it.

"You think that's funny?" he asks down at her, but you know he's asking both of you.

"No -- " she starts, her voice falling into something small and meek. A familiar head of shaggy curls appears behind Steve's hulking frame. Fuck, you forgot your husband was here.

"Stell, babe, have you seen my Camels?" he asks while he jogs out, slowing down to a confused stop when he sees all three of you outside. He stands next to you, seeing the box of cigarettes and his lighter on the table -- a lit cig in Libby's hand.

"Okay, so when did you start smoking?" Ed asks, furrowing his brow. 

"She doesn't," Steve says down at her. It's the only slight interaction they've had all night. You cringe. 

"Sure you don't want it, Stevie?" Libby asks, offering it to him. He gives her a look and shakes his head -- tossing the cigarette into the grass.

"I don't smoke that nasty shit, and neither to do you," he almost looks offended that she asked. Eddie turns his attention back towards you, shoving his hands in his coat pockets -- his exasperated breath floating out in contrast to the cold air.

"What're you doing, huh?" he asks, "It's freezing out, you have no coat on. You've barely eaten. You're a foot away from someone blowing smoke around you. C'mon Stell, it's bad for --"

"For the baby. Yeah, yeah, I know, Ed," you sass. He picks up the box and puts it in his back pocket, lighter shoved in the inside pocket of his leather jacket.

“Well, I hate the break up the Girl Scout meeting over here," Ed announces dramatically. You notice Steve's jaw tick.

"But I need to get you some dinner,” Eddie says, his hands giving your shoulders a soft squeeze, “Let’s go say goodbye inside so we can get going.”

“Ed, no, I’m finally having fun,” you complain.

“Don’t argue with me, please,” he says softly, “You got sick three times and barely finished your pizza. Let’s go get something that agrees with you. We can go to the diner.”

“No,” you half whine, grabbing Libby’s hand across the table.

“Let’s go, Stell,” he urged, annoyance and edge building on his voice — feeling Steve’s eyes on him while his wife blatantly doesn’t listen. Eddie turns and walks towards the house, expecting you to follow him but you stay on the bench and cross your legs. They tighten when Eddie turns back around half way to the house in the grass, frustration clear on his face.

“Stella Lynn,” he growls, "Get over here, now." 

You huff, and you swear you can hear Steve snicker under his breath. 'You finally lettin' him boss you around?'

"Sorry, I have to go," you frown, getting up and taking a step over to him.

"You're being a buzzkill, Ed," you say loudly enough for them to hear. He takes a few steps back to meet you, putting his arm around you while he scowls.

"What's our agreement, these days -- hm?" he asks, not even caring that the other couple is there watching you, "If I don't get to do cocaine -- you don't get to what?"

"Don't get to start shit," you reply with a frown. You know Steve is snickering and you'd give anything to be back in the ring in Toronto to give him a right hook that you actually know how to do now.

"So let's go," he repeats.

"Just give me like, one second okay?" you ask, pecking him on the cheek. You scurry back over to Libby and Steve and interrupt their conversation.

You meet Steve's eye and before he can speak you put your finger in his face but your face is playful, "Don't."

"555-4823," you say down at Libby on the bench, "That's my new number. Call me literally whenever."

You hurry back over to Eddie who pulls you back in tight at the waist, leading you back into the house. The warmth envelopes you like a hug, you hadn't even realized how cold you were until you came back inside.

"Everything good out there?" Dustin asks, his concerned stance matching Eddie's from outside.

"Everything's fine, Henderson," you singsong, "Don't let Munson get in your head."

He smiles and reaches forward to pull you into a tight hug, "I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?"

You hug him back tightly, letting go to go around with Eddie for the rest of your goodbyes -- Max nearly falling over herself when you reached forward to wrap your arms around her. Eddie smiles when he watches you interact with his friends, a little heart broken to take you away just as you started to loosen up but he planned to make more trips home now that you were about to start a family together.

You hear Steve and Libby come in while you make your exit, the door shutting behind you when you hear Will call out to her.

"You have fun?" Eddie asked, opening the van door for you. He helps you in, but you shake your hand out of his when he reaches for it. Eddie frowns but shuts the door for you before appearing on the other side.

"Yeah, it was fine," you smile, "Talked to both of them."

"How'd that go?" he asked, apprehensive. The van chugs to life when he puts the keys in the ignition, pulling out of the driveway.

"Good. I think," you nod, "I think it's good."

"I don't wanna go to the diner," you confess when he pulls onto the road.

"No? What'd you want?" he turns, and then focuses attention on your tummy, "Better question, what do you want?"

"I think McDonalds," you admit, making a face. He pulls a face that doesn't match yours, he's frustrated with you.

"I don't think that's a good choice, baby," he says softly.

"You don't really get to tell me wh--"

"It's not that I think it's a bad choice because it's unhealthy, it's a bad choice because you've barely put anything else in your body -- you need nutrients, babe. You didn't even take your vitamins today," he says, his voice raising slightly to talk over you.

"I'm not made of fucking glass, Ed," you snap, "This whole week you've been up my fucking ass, I'm so sick of it. I know how to take care of myself."

"Stell..." his voice softens, "I'm just trying to help you."

"Well, don't!" you smack the console between you -- your voice was petulant but you didn't care.

"Okay," he says, his voice calm. He doesn't want to fight with you, not after a good day. Maybe you'll be happier after you eat something. He keeps one hand on the wheel, knowing the roads well, the other slides over to you with his palm outstretched, "You wanna hold my hand?"

You look down at it and pout, sliding your fingers in to lace with his own, "Yeah." 

Eddie smiles at your admission – something about your little mood swings these days was fun for him. Much easier now to reel you back in from being scathing, all he had to do was be a little cuter than normal. (And he was already pretty cute to begin with, if he does say so himself.) Ed pulls into the drive through, your order never changing, and before you know it you're back on the road with two hot bags full of burgers and fries on your lap.

"Want me to bring you to one of my old stomping grounds?" he asked with a smile, "We can pull over and eat instead of going to Wayne's right away."

"Oh, is it where you punched that girl in the face?" you tease. He huffs, spare hand reaching up and squeezing your cheeks while he keeps his eyes on the road.

"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', Rink," he laughs, teeth gleaming behind his lips.

"Nah, it's where I used to go hook up with nerdy babes from the shop," he blushed, turning down a heavier treelined road -- the mist of the rainy day settling against the warm orange lights.

"I'm sure they were throwing themselves at you," you mocked.

He turns to look at you, mildly offended, and scoffs, "I'm sorry. Have you seen my dick? Of course they were."

You giggle with him while he turns into an empty parking lot, a lone car further to the back. Eddie looks at the car and back at you, "Think it's a couple of kids?"

"Yeah, probably," you nod. He grins.

"Wanna go ruin their night?" he laughs.

"Ed, c'mon, let them have their fun. No one was interrupting you when you were screwing around," you chide, but as you pull closer you see the bounce of the car.

And the car is familiar.

"Oh even fucking better -- it's Harrington," Eddie is giddy at the realization, leaning on the horn with an evil giggle.

"ED!" you yell, swatting at his hands, "Stop! Stop!"

Ed turns on his high beams, able to see through the slight fog of the back window.

"Is that Steve's ass?" you ask, peering forward while Eddie beeps the horn again.

"Hey, don’t look at that," Eddie snaps, covering your eyes while he pulls away -- Steve's middle finger pointed directly at him. When you squeal out of the parking lot, you roll deeper down the road and onto the backway to Wayne's -- pulling in front of his trailer without getting out.

"Wanna eat in the back?" he asks, "We could fool around after."

"Just like with your nerdy babes?" you tease, "I can't wait."

You both hop out and meneuver to the back where he slides in close to you, passing your food over. You don't wait for him to get situated, your stomach growling at the smell of salt and cheese -- your saliva might as well be whatever oil they dunk the fries in.

"Woah," he says with raised brows, "That little gremlin is really hungry, huh?"

You swallow hard, gulping down a sip of your diet Coke.

“Little gremlins,” you say to the floor of his van. 

“Hm?” he asks, “You know I can’t hear you all the way when you mumble, baby.”

The only perk of him losing some of his hearing in his right ear is that he can’t always catch on, but you knew you couldn’t keep this from him any longer. 

“Gremlins,” you repeat, “As in plural.” 

Eddie looks at you, eyes wide, like he’s trying to understand what you’re saying. 

“As in two,” you say softly, pausing for a moment while he nods with your words, “As in twins.” 

“Twins,” he repeats, his voice normal before his eyes blow. It hits him, finally, what you were saying. 

“TWINS?!” you let out a breath of relief when he smiles, “We’re having TWINS?!”

“When – what — when did you find out? Why didn’t – how were you – we’re having TWINS?!” the food is left forgotten and fries skitter across the carpet of the van. He pulls you in before you can explain and kisses you, hard and intense, lips trying to move through his smile but he can’t stop grinning into your mouth. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?” he asks, resting his foreheard against yours, “Did they tell you yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” you smile up at him, tears pricking your eyes, “I don’t know, I was scared you were gonna get stressed out or – or – be mad.”

“Be mad?” he asks, “Stell, you’re having our babies. By proxy I don’t think I’m ever allowed to be mad at you for the rest of my life. Especially not for having twins.”

He kisses your forehead while he continues, hands massaging the sides of your scalp, “Do you think maybe you’re a little stressed out and instead of owning it, you decided maybe I would be stressed out when you told me?” 

You give him a look, “What, you see a shrink for two years and suddenly you think you know everything?” 

“Oh, so I’m right,” he nods with a smile, your look doesn’t subside. 

“I get that you’re stressed, because two is a lot – and we don’t even know what it’s like to have one,” he soothes, “But you’re gonna be the best mom. I keep telling everyone about how great you’re gonna be. I know you’re scared, but I’m here with you the whole way, okay?” 

Your lower lip wobbles, and a few tears sneak their way out, “Okay.” 

You are scared – but no one would hear you say it outloud. He pulls you against his chest, instinctively stroking your hair like he always does when you start to cry. His excited breaths steady so that yours can, too.  

“Can we go tell Wayne?” he asks, “He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.” 

You nod while he lets you go to pick up the mess he made, shoving slightly at your shoulder when you lean down to help. 

“Please let me,” he mutters, “Let me do it, just go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” 

You can’t help but sigh while you open the van doors and slide out. His shoulders tense at the sound. 

“You gotta let me take care of you one of these days, Rink,” he says while you linger outside with your hand on the door. He scoops up the fries and puts them in one of the empty bags before crunching it up and hopping out of the van to meet you. 

“Deal?” he asks, offering his empty hand to you. 

“Deal,” you smile. 

“Okay but you can’t just say deal and then not actually mean it,” he rambles while you walk towards the door of the trailer. 

“Oh my God, Munson. You’re being so insufferable right now.” 

“Will you two stop yellin’ out here!” Wayne calls from the window, “They can hear you two counties over.” 

You both giggle. Still just two kids under the pregnancy. Under the sex tape. Under the wedding rings. Under the fight in Toronto. Under rehab. Under separating. Just two kids holding hands who don’t know how to be quiet when the street lights are on. 

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #stranger things au #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #boxer!steve #boxer!steve harrington

[cowboylikesteve]

here's the edit! it wouldn't let me dm a video so here it is :) it's not perfect but i had fun editing it :) love ur work so so much <3 @rollergirlworld

#boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve x reader

[rustedhearts]

always (boxer!steve x fem!librarian reader)

summary: set after the events of the incident and send her my love, you meet steve in your hometown to catch up after three months apart. has he done the work like he said he has, or is steve’s nature irreversible?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1993) ✶ the library ✶ the record store

tags: fluff, a dash of angst, a lot of comfort!, this literally has been in my drafts since the dawn of time so i’m sorry for the cheesy ending, i just wanted it out!

"what i'd give to run my fingers through your hair, to touch your lips, to hold you near—when you say your prayers, try to understand: i've made mistakes, i'm just a man."

— always, bon jovi

hawkins, indiana. march 1993.

Your luggage sat unzipped and dumped full of clothes, purses folded to fit and closet frantically thrown apart when the phone rang. Your letter wasn't even three days out, barely filling space in the mailbox of your lover before it had been torn open and consumed greedily—and while you were preparing for a trip of your own, Steve insisted he be the one to travel.

So, when you plucked the phone from the cradle on your nightstand, sinking breathlessly onto the edge of the bed for a beat, you were surprised to find his voice on the other line.

"Don't come to California," he rasped into the phone, just as out of air as you. "I'm coming to you."

Mouth parting, you felt your insides tug and lurch at the familiar sound of his syllables. "W-what? Steve?"

"I got your letter, baby. I'm coming to you, don't go anywhere." A beat followed, and while you found your breath and racked your brain for a response, Steve returned to the line. "Please."

Chest blooming with new beats, you let a smile overtake your face and reveled in the way your hands began to shake. "Okay. I'm not going anywhere."

And though he insisted on coming to you, you kept your things neatly packed in your suitcase in the closet. You never made your bed, and you had your favorite pair of slip-on shoes ready near the door. You wouldn't be traveling to Steve right now, but you knew you'd be returning home soon.

✶ ✶

The nicest restaurant Hawkins had to offer was Enzo's, a little Italian place next to a shoe store slowly going out of business. It was the only place in the entire town that required a reservation, and Steve promised to take care of all of it. You wrangled your friends and took a trip to the mall, coming away with a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and a new, sleek black dress. You hung it on the back of your closet door and waited giddily for Steve's return to town.

It felt like ages since you'd been here together, and it felt strange to remember that this was where both of you have grown up and lived your lives before all the fame. Life in Hawkins had become so separate to Steve over the past few months. You had the library, your friends, your family, and what you didn't tell Steve: an application to the University of Indianapolis for the autumn. It was crumpled and weeks old, and absent of pen markings where needed—but you had it.

But now that Steve was returning, you remembered all those cool days spent on the back of his motorcycle, ripping through town. Visiting the old gym at the edge of town that always smelled like burnt tires, sharing chocolate milkshakes on the way home at the same diner you had your first date at. Afternoons in his old, dingy, first floor apartment with the mold in the bathroom ceiling and the green carpet that reminded you of your grandparents' house. Early mornings in the full-sized bed, comparing hands sizes and finding shapes in streaks of sunlight across the foot of the bed.

Steve told you he loved you for the first time in that bed. Reclined on his side, head resting in his hand, watching you scrub at your teeth with a foamy toothbrush through the open doorway, pulling your hair back to spit it into the sink. Dressed in only his sweatshirt, feet bare and toes frozen in the winter weather and an apartment with a broken radiator. When you spun around to return to bed, he confessed. You aren't sure you ever ended up leaving bed that day.

For some reason, as you breezed into the jazz-filled restaurant in your brand new dress, all dolled up and pretty, you could only remember those beginnings. The nervous hand skitters, the back knuckle kisses, the hours spent between your thighs, the hope for the future. You suddenly realized how young you were back then. Just kids, holding out on life working out in your favor.

Steve was seated when you arrived: a round little table in the center of the restaurant. Brown slacks, crisp white shirt, no tie. A silver ring gleamed on his left forefinger, a plain but handsome signet. You bought it for him last Christmas. And as you inched closer, guided by the hostess, the wavering amber candlelight gave way to something else—something new.

A patch of dark hair shadowed over his upper lip.

It curled into the shape of his smile at the sight of you heading his way. The wooden chair beneath him groaned with the relief of weight when he leapt to his feet, hands smoothing down his folded cuffs. You came to a stop at the end of the table, and as the hostess lingered to ask for your drink orders, you found yourself lost in that handsome, hairy smile.

"Hi," he breathed.

A giggle hiccuped from your mouth. "Hi."

Steve was quick to make his rounds to your side of the table, pulling the chair back. You sank down, head tipped back to watch as he pushed you in. His grin broadened with the weight of your eyes on him, following him the whole way back to his seat. Once seated, he inhaled deeply, taking a moment to gaze at your face.

"May I get you something to drink?"

You blurted something out when the hostess's eyes slid to you. You couldn't quite remember when you thought back on it a moment later—too lost in the sight of Steve's hazel eyes grazing over you. When the hostess disappeared, you both seemed to jump.

"You look—"

"You're so—"

The pair of you stopped, words tumbling into each other. Heat flooded your face and Steve chuckled, spinning the band around his finger with his thumb on the tabletop.

"You go," you insisted.

"I was just going to say...you look so beautiful."

More heat settled in your face, though you'd heard it from him a thousand times before. You shifted in your seat, tugging at the end of your dress.

"Thank you. I was going to tell you how handsome you looked, too."

Redness swelled in Steve’s cheeks, rounded with another smile. You’d never seen him show his excitement so blatantly, and something about it now made your insides flutter. He was so happy to see you, and that made you gooey and soft.

When the drinks were set down and the entrees had been ordered, you pressed your lips into a smile and tipped your head at Steve.

“I’ve never seen you with a mustache.”

His fingers immediately swept over the hair on his lip, eyes ducking toward his Coke. “Oh, yeah. Do you-did you-is it alright?”

Eyes softening, you brushed your foot against his under the table. “More than alright. It’s very handsome, Steve.”

His gratitude waned to bashful, eyes returning to the white tablecloth. You leaned forward and took a sip of your water through the plastic straw, welcoming the cool feeling in your mouth. Heat gathered and festered in your body like the surface of the sun. The new fabric of your dress started to itch around your back. You hadn't been this nervous around Steve since your first date.

"How was the flight here?" you tried, placing your eyes on him again.

You couldn't believe how dashing he looked. The mustache somehow softened him. Or maybe it was that lopsided, sideways grin that gushed boyish charm. Either way, your heart couldn't stop hammering.

"Oh, it-it was fine. Paparazzi bullshi—I mean…paparazzi mess in the airport,” Steve stuttered, wiping a hand over his eyes when his usual profanity slipped through.

He was trying so hard to be good—to be better. You wished he would realize that cutting back on profanity wouldn’t alter what needed to be fixed. But if it helped him get there, you wouldn’t protest. You just sort of liked how those crude words rounded at the edges when they came from his mouth. Like swallowing a pill for some, but gulping water for him. Easy, digestible, almost reflex. He made the grotesque seem wonderful.

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? For you, anyhow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. We should be safe from all that here, though.”

Steve nodded, hands wringing in his lap. “Yeah…m’ not worried about it.”

A flicker of a smile flittered over your face. “Okay.”

You turned to the tablecloth then, the chair beneath you feeling weightless. Like at any moment, you could blow away in the wind. It was still hard to feel steady around Steve. He watched from across the table as you traced a run in the linen. He thought you were glowing.

“How’s Nick? And your parents, how are they?” he asked when the quiet pause surpassed comfortability.

“Nick is…at the age where all he wants to do is go off and do things. He’s getting restless, I think. And Mom is good, um, wants to redo the living room. She thinks it’s too outdated now, but…I like holding onto the 80s.”

Steve’s dark mustache curled with another smile. “Yeah, you always liked old stuff. Or ‘vintage’ as you call it.”

"The 80s are not vintage, Steve, they were only 4 years ago," you giggled.

Steve forgot just how wonderful his name sounded in the soft octave and lovely frequencies of your voice. So particular, how your tongue tapped your teeth against the 't,' and how you sort of grinned around the syllables with ease. He swallowed just at the sound of it.

"Oh, sorry, sorry." He was teasing. It'd been so long since he teased.

Another momentary quiet lulled over the table as the shared laughter fizzled out. You glanced around the restaurant a moment. Most other tables were coupled with middle-aged pairs, clinking wine glasses and holding hands against dinner plates, or gazing at their own menus and sitting as far apart as possible, ignoring the other person like a bad habit. A younger couple, late teens at best, sat at the far end near the restrooms. It must've been their first "fancy" dinner. He whispered in her ear and she looked straight at your table, hand covering her mouth.

"Have you spoken to Eddie?" A swift conversation needed to be found, though you weren't sure this was the best course to go down.

Steve, however, just shook his head down at his empty bread plate. You slipped one from the clothed basket to pluck at mindlessly to fill your fidgeting hands. They needed something to do.

"Uh...no. No, I...I haven't." He was too embarrassed to reach out knowing how he behaved. "Have you?"

You nodded. "Um, yeah, sometimes. When Stella calls, I'll say hello."

Steve's smile was small, a little wary. "I'm glad you two are becoming such good friends."

"Oh, well...she's a movie star, I'm just..." You shrugged.

The edges of Steve's mouth embedded downward, brows pinched together. "Just what?"

Heat swelled in your cheeks and under your jaw. You felt sore with visibility. "Just...I don't know—it doesn't matter. M' not much, is all. I'm certainly not a glamorous actress."

Steve leaned forward on his forearms, eyes swampy and sincere under scrunched brows. "Hey. You're everything, angel. Everything."

The sun, the moon, the stars, the cosmos and everything beyond—you were everything to him. He meant that with every fiber of his being.

And you could see that in those eyes, watching you through the glow of candlelight, waiting to recognize an understanding in your own.

You let a smile overtake your face, bashful and pretty. "Thank you, Steve."

In the next wait, you watched him reach to rub at his temples, only to yank his hands away and busy them with something else. You watched for a few painful moments before pulling your purse around the post of your chair and into your lap, snicking the zipper open to reach inside. Your pill case, a tiny metal container with a floral top, still held all the Steve-approved pain pills of the olden days. You pulled out two and set them on the table.

Steve's eyes slid to the tablets quietly. Then your hands, pushing the container rattling with medicated contents back into your purse. Even after all this time.

As his fingers came to retrieve the pills, he caught your eye. You smiled at him. Sweet and loving and kind. He smiled back, a flash of white teeth with sharp canines. It crinkled his eyes with the faintest crow's feet. You longed to reach out and touch them, feel his warm flesh beneath your fingertips.

"Thank you," he whispered into the rim of his water glass.

You pinched the straw of your Coke. "Of course."

Unable to stomach another small silence, you leaned forward with urgency before it could come, looking to Steve with pleading eyes. "Can we drop the formalities and niceties, Steve? I mean...we know each other too well for it. Let's just...pick up from where we left off."

Steve inhaled sharply, a little pained. "Not...right where we left off."

You nodded, extending your hand for him to take over the table. He did so eagerly, fingers sliding into your smaller palm until they pressed against your wrist. "Then, we'll pick up in the middle of it."

Steve rubbed his fingers over your skin, feeling the ridges and valleys of your veins and bones.

"In the middle of it," he affirmed.

His touch tickled, and another giggle burst forth when tingles sparked down your spine.

He eased forward again, mischief in his eye. "Did I tell you how good you smelled? S' my favorite, isn't it?"

You tipped your head, bashful grin coiling at the corner of your mouth. It made Steve's breath catch in his throat, the frayed edge of his nerves feel like they were on fire.

"How'd you know?"

Steve swallowed, tracing a tiny circle on the back of your hand with his index finger.

"I missed that smell," he admitted.

His written words from the past few months rang through your head. "The paper smelled like you this time. You don't know how badly I've missed that smell. I sort of feel like a hound-dog, tracing for more of it in the ink."

It was your nerves that felt afire this time. You flipped your hand to lie flat and engulfed Steve's atop the white linen cloth. The movement bumped the candle in the center of the table, and the flicker wobbled over the edge of Steve's face with a gentle, orange glow.

You wanted to feel his lips. You wanted to feel the strength of his hands on your face again. Petting you, touching you, feeling you. If there was one thing you missed, it was Steve's touch. The sheer size of his presence around you. How his warmth rang through every inch of your being and every corner of the room when you were together.

"I loved your letters," you declared, the thought of his words still poking at your thoughts.

Steve inhaled. "Really?"

"You were quite...poetic."

Steve snickered, scratching at the silver scar on his brow with his free hand.

"God," he hissed, shaking his head with a grimace. His eyes fell to the candle before slowly bouncing their way to your chin. Suddenly, he couldn't meet your eye. "But you...you really liked them?"

You placed your other hand atop the ones intertwined on the table. The look in your eye appeared sincere—genuine fondness.

"Adored."

Steve exhaled, lips parting in preparation to utter some other murmur of adoration—but then the waitress was suddenly standing at your table, holding two steaming dishes. Steve's eyes found her first, narrowing in disappointment at the interruption. He pulled back from the candlelight where he was crowding to get close to you. Your arm inched backward, heading for your lap but stopped by Steve's grip on your fingers.

You met his eye over the waitress's arm, fingers clinging to each other by the first knuckles. He didn't want to let go. So you stayed.

The fog of Steve's presence must've interrupted your train of thought, because you didn't remember ordering the meal that sat in front of you. But you picked up your fork with your free hand and sank into it anyway, buzzing with giddiness and too lovestruck to care.

It felt like everything in your body and your mind had been windswept by the current predicament. All you could think of were Steve's eyes across the table, and his fingers against your own.

You were four bites and two Coke sips in when Steve spoke again.

"Are you coming home?”

Your eyes traced the distance between the condensation dripping down your glass to the roundness of Steve’s eyes in no time. He took his lip between his teeth and gnawed it, hand off his plate to fall into his lap. You sat back, swallowing the bite of food in your mouth that suddenly grew in size. It scraped your stomach going down.

“Um…”

The table rattled with the incessant bounce of Steve’s knee beneath it.

“I want to,” you said. “I just…don’t want to go back as if nothing happened, Steve.”

He let go of his lip, ringed finger scratching at his scar again. “No, yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”

The scrape of utensils and clink of dishes filled another silence. You took another bite of your dinner. Steve gulped down half his water and tapped his finger on the table. He wished he hadn’t left his Marlboros in his jacket pocket at the coat check.

“What if…”

You looked his way again, fork prongs between your lips. He poked at his steak. The finger curled around yours felt clammy and tight.

“What if you came to New York with me? I have a fight next weekend in the Garden. You could…come for a few days…we could have a do-over.”

You swallowed. The last time you were in New York together, things hadn’t gone well. It was the first time he left a mark. The first time you broke things off and left for home.

“Um…”

Steve had never heard you say um this many times in all the years he’d known you.

“I never got to take you to Tiffany’s,” he said, clearing his throat when your eyes cut his way in surprise. His cheeks were a lovely shade of rose again. “A-and that…that cowboy guy you like—“

“Ralph Lauren.” Your lips pressed into a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, uh…we could go there. Anywhere.”

Just come with me, he wanted to say. Please.

But Steve didn’t have to say it. You could see it in his eyes, hazels all round under a set of cinched brows. Like a kitten waiting for milk. A dog sitting for a bone.

“You don’t have to buy me,” you added, just for one last second of strength.

It all went out the window the moment you laid eyes on him.

“I know. I just…wanna show you that I’m here. I’m here, and…I’ll be better.”

You sighed, hand reaching up to fondle the locket that you forgot wasn’t there. The Christmas present from Steve that you tucked away in your jewelry box months ago. The token of a love you were certain was still there.

“I’ll think about it,” you told him.

And Steve smiled, and went back to his dinner with faith. Faith that you would return to him, like they all knew you would.

Your ticket to New York City was booked the next day. Signed, sealed, and delivered with a kiss from one handsome boxer Steve.

#rolly! #boxer!steve harrington #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #joe keery #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington angst #steve harrington au #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington one shot

[fluffysucker]

There's nothing like this

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

Bucky looks at you and your relationship

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

Been sitting on this one for a while now.Anyway hope you look it.

HEAVILY based on Hozier's song 'Two sweet'. Because look at me and tell this song isn't so Bucky and his princess.

Main Masterlist

It was absurd. It was unusual. It was odd. It was unconventional. It was everything but normal.

However, it made perfect sense for both of them.

He was focused. He was determined. He was in the ring. He held his hands up near his face, calculating his next steps carefully. If he played it right, the fight was his with the least effort.

And he did. Because right now, he was the legend. The icon. The unbeatable. He was James Barnes. He was, as many like to call him, the Winter Soldier.

The opposite man never stood a chance to begin with. He knew it. Everybody knew it. It's a sad day in any player's life when they are paired with Barnes.

His legacy was unequal. His reputation preceded him. His demeanor spoke loudly. His appearance made it clear. His strong body and physique. His toned muscles. His broad shoulders. His long hair. His cold stare.

Everything about him prompted fear to the hearts of all players who sought this game as a profession.

He was untouchable. He was unconquerable. He was the Winter Soldier. He was James Barnes.

Winning this fight in record time with a final blow from his left arm, which the opponent wouldn't recover from, wasn't what was abnormal about this.

The abnormality came from the girl in the pink dress and bright makeup who sat in the first row and cheered for Barnes like her life was dependent on it.

Finally, you were able to get to this place in your relationship where Bucky was okay with you watching him fight.

You thought you had lost your hearing when Bucky told you that you could come and watch for the first time. You were playfully nagging him about it like you usually did whenever he had fights coming up. You never expected him to give in and agree this time. It took you a couple of seconds to react. Only regaining composure when he offered to take it back. Over your dead body. You had been waiting for this long enough.

Bucky couldn't understand how or why someone would get this happy and excited to watch a boxing match. Especially someone like you. Someone so sweet and adorable.

Your excited squeals and up-and-down jumping in the kitchen of his apartment once he told you left him surprised in a pleasant way.

You really did love him so much that you wanted to risk being in such a place only to support him. Not that he would let anything happen to you. Never in a million years. But a person like you could never belong to places like these. And you were smart enough to know that.

But you didn't care. You had been asking for this for a long time. You meant every word you said. You wanted to support him, be there for him, and cheer for him. You wanted it.

You wanted to be a part of every aspect of Bucky's life. Because you loved everything about him.

And letting you come and watch him felt like a great victory and a big step forward. All your patience and understanding paid off.

And you continued. Letting Bucky decide whenever you could join. Let him have one of the guys pick you up and drop you off. Let him assign another one to stay with you.

It made you laugh inside. One of them would show up at your restaurant's door at the agreed-upon time and take you to the Stark property. Then, once you reached inside, another would be waiting for you to accompany you the whole time you were here. Most of the time, it was either Steve or Sam. Given that Bucky trusted them the most and you were closest to them,.

The whole thing felt very funny to you. You felt like a child being handed around from one to the other. But you were okay with it. You knew that was the only way for Bucky to let you come here. So you didn't mind. Whatever would put his mind at ease and would allow you to support your boyfriend. You were fine with it.

Bucky always made sure he planned it right. He made sure you arrived at the right time when you were able to watch his full fight from the start, but nothing before it. You were here only for him, and it should stay like this. He didn't like the idea of you seeing other messy, brutal fights. That was also why he made sure he brought you to fights that were easy. He knew he was winning. Fights that he came out of with barely a scratch.

Of course, you noticed this pattern of choices. But you didn't bring it. And you wouldn't. At least for now.

However, the most important thing for Bucky was making sure someone stayed with you at all times until you left. If Sam or Steve were unavailable to do this job for any reason, you weren't coming. It wasn't up to debate.

He knew the people who frequented Stark Property. They would eat you alive. Your lovability and tenderness would draw them to you like a deer in a wolf den. And they wouldn't be kind. And Bucky couldn't have this. If anyone said something to you, let alone tried to lay a hand on you, Bucky would burn the whole place down. No hesitation. No thoughts. Everybody would be in great danger.

Just like he was untouchable, you were too. And even more.

Knowing so, Sam and Steve took their assignments seriously. Because while both men loved you and cared for you, they were aware of Bucky's nature. It was no joke to him. God forbid he turn around mid-fight and see you sitting alone. They wouldn't hear the end of it. There were very few things the three men considered to be a threat to their long and strong friendship; this was one of them.

So today, after the referee announced him the winner, he turned to the crowd that was applauding him. His eyes immediately caught you. Standing in between Yelena and Sam in your puff-sleeved, heart-shaped neckline, filled with rose-flower pink dress, matching your shiny pinkish makeup. Your hair braided at the top and rest falling freely on your back. The necklace with his initials resting on the pit of your neck. You were cheering for him like he won the world's most prestigious prize.

Bucky was trying to fight his smile and not break character. You looked unbelievably cute. With your happy smile, bright eyes, and nonstop clapping, it was all for him. You did it for him.

Everybody was cheering for James Barnes or the Winter Soldier, while you were cheering for Bucky.

And he was so grateful.

Bucky left the ring, only throwing a wink at you on his way inside. While Bucky didn't show much affection towards you in here, everyone connected the dots.

You were the boxer's girl. And you held that with pride

Once Bucky was inside, some of the guys came out, making you all head out to the bar to continue the night there.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Wanda when you felt the familiar, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hey, princess." Bucky whispered in your ear as he pulled you close to his chest, laying soft kisses on your exposed neck.

You smiled at Wanda, who took this as her cue to give you two spaces. Because in here with the people he mostly trusted, Bucky wasn't shy about giving you all his attention and affection. In other words, it gets sickeningly sweet and loving.

"Hey, babe." You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands tightened around your waist.

"You were so great in there." You said this as you gave his lips a little peck.

"You liked it?" Bucky asked as he kept giving you small kisses.

"Yes, I wanted to shout at everyone to look at how strong my boyfriend is." You were laughing as you tried to speak between his kisses.

"I think they already know." Bucky couldn't help himself when he buried his face in your neck, kissing it softly.

"Well, they need to hear it from me." You felt the vibration of his laugh on your neck.

You moved a bit so he could look at you. You wanted to say this to his face.

"I'm so proud of you." You were looking into his eyes as you said it.

The playful smile on Bucky's face turned into something genuine. The care and love you gave after the fights touched him immensely. Nobody ever treated him like that. So gently. It was puzzling how, after watching a fight like this, you still chose to love him so sweetly.

It was an active choice you kept making. He didn't understand why, but he would never complain.

He leaned forward to capture your lips and kiss you softly yet passionately. He wanted to stay like this forever.

As the night went on, you and Bucky separated, travelling to different circles of people. But that didn't mean Bucky didn't keep his eyes off you.

Which was what led to where he was now.

Bucky was sitting in one of the booths, observing you. The back booth gave him the opportunity to see everything.

You were standing with his friends. People who were so different from you yet here you were, getting along greatly with all of them. You were talking to all of them, laughing, and sharing jokes.

Bucky couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw you struggling to give Clint an opinion about the dish he made and presented to you.

But you being you. You managed to find something nice to say about the barely edible food, making Clint's smile bigger than the sky.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The rest of you like you're the TSA.

Bucky kept watching you. He watched as you listened carefully to Peter's stories, and how you interacted and was fully invested. He watched as Pepper stole you to ask about a cake recipe for Morgan, which you happily provided.

Then he watched as you rejoined Natasha at the bar, picking up where you left off in the conversation with her.

It wasn't just the colors you wore that made you stand out. It was everything.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off you. How you listened to everyone. How you treated everyone. How swiftly you got along with everyone. How compassionate and accepting you were. How sweet you were.

And you were all his.

Bucky kept looking at you as you were walking towards him.

"I brought you another one." You said this as you put the two cups on the table. His neat whisky and your raspberry martini.

Before you could sit down, Bucky pulled you to himself, ushering for you to sit on his lap. You gladly did.

His arms came around your waist, and yours around his shoulders. Your floral scent evaded his senses. It was the opposite of his. Strong scent like the woods and black coffee.

Your pink dress clashed with his all-black outfit. You felt too bright for the dark spot he was sitting in.

Everything about the two of you didn't make any sense. Not even in the slightest. You were the polar opposite.

You were nice. He was stiff. You were friendly. He was feared. You were understanding. He was strict. You were smiley. He was sullen. You were vulnerable. He was a closed book.

You were everything he wasn't. He was everything you weren't.

There was nothing like this.

And somehow, that made you perfect.

You brought lights he had never seen in his life before. You created happiness he never thought of. You led him to feelings he didn't know existed. You gave him love, which he always claimed he was unworthy of.

You changed his life. You turned his life upside down. In the best way possible.

Bucky wished there were enough words in the world to tell you how much he loved you. Bucky wished there were enough ways he could express his gratitude for you. Bucky wished there were enough time to show you how much he cherished you.

Bucky wished that one day you would ever comprehend how your sweetness saved him. How you were everything to him

"You're too sweet for me." Bucky spoke slowly as he kissed you.

#beefy bucky #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x female reader #james buchanan barnes #boxer bucky #Boxer Bucky x reader #Boxer Bucky x female reader #protective!bucky #grumpy sunshine trope #grumpy vs sunshine #chef reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #bucky fanfic #bucky au #bucky x female reader #sam wilson #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #mcu au #taylor swift songs #hozier too sweet #miss americana & the heartbreak prince

[justmeinadaze]

In Your Corner Part 2 (Steve X Plus Sized Reader)

A/N: Boxer Steve still resides in my brain and I wouldn't mind him taking care of me rn <3

Warnings: Boxer Daddy Dom Steve X plus sized Sub fem reader, SMUT, light choking, spanking, dirty talk, more of a softer Steve in this one, FLUFF (they love each other), ANGST, reader has a rough day and Steve is trying to make her feel better.

Word Count: 3516

Steve came in from training that afternoon to an abnormally quiet home. Usually, if you didn’t meet him at the gym after work, you would be watching tv or reading on the couch with some music on. 

“Baby?”

After doing the obligatory scan around the living room and back patio, he headed for the bedroom finding you curled up under the blankets in bed. He crawled in behind you and without hesitation you folded into him as you took hold of his hand, placing it under your cheek. You love this side of him just as much as the rough and rugged side. The soft, doting man that wanted to make sure you were happy. 

“What’s going on, baby girl?”, he whispered.

“I just had a long day. This new client we’re working with is an imbecile and then my dad was being a jerk. That mixed with other things one right after the other… I needed a moment.” You felt him nod in understanding before gently placing kisses along your shoulder making you giggle. “You are still so sweaty.”

“You like it.” Playfully, you fight against him as he tries to use your shirt like one of his gym towels as you laugh louder, rolling over to face him. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we take a shower, get dressed, and we’ll go see a movie. Get some dinner afterwards.”

After kissing his lips, you press your face into his chest, inhaling him as you hold him closer. You never knew what it was about him but when you had a bad day or just felt down, you allowed yourself to let go and enter this particular side of that little girl headspace. You had never done that with anyone else and would always insist that you could take care of yourself. Hell, you had done it most of your life. 

The first time you had an off day in the beginning of your relationship, you shut down and disappeared. A few hours later, he knocked on your door with the intention of punishing you but as soon as he saw your face his anger faded. Steve spent the rest of the evening on the floor in your living room, making you laugh and sharing a delicious, gigantic pizza with you.

“This isn’t going to ruin your training, is it?”

“What do you mean, honey?”

“I mean with the pizza and beer. Don’t boxers have to be at a certain weight?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters to me is that beautiful smile returning to your face.”

“Steve…”

“Y/N, don’t ever be afraid to tell me when something is wrong, ok? No matter what it is. I would rather take care of you or if it involves me have us talk it out than have you disappear again.”’

“I’m sorry. It’s just…how I handle my stress. I let it all build until I implode. I struggle with letting go like that. I’ve always taken care of myself, you know?”

“I know, baby, but I’m here to help.” Steve scooted closer to you, propping up on his elbow till his lips were below yours. “Let Daddy take care of you.”

From that moment on, you did and were completely surprised with how easy it was or maybe he just made it that easy. 

“You’re too sweaty.”, he mimicked in your voice making you giggle as you pushed him away and rolled out of bed. 

“Come on, Daddy. Let’s get ready.”

###########

“Oh my god, Steve Harrington. You know me too well.”, you grin as you wrap your arms around his waist. 

“I was going to ask you about it when I got home anyway so it was perfect.”

Every week the local Hawkins cinema would play a movie that wasn’t normally out in theaters and this weeks showing was “Shaun of the Dead.” You loved any kind of disaster fueled film especially if it left you laughing and Steve knew you needed that more than anything right now. 

Another thing you loved about him was how much genuine attention he paid to you and what you said. Like with his career, he spent a great deal of time studying you even now to make sure you were happy or to avoid making you sad. The first time you noticed it was when he went with you to the mall a couple of weeks after you started dating.

His gorgeous honey eyes kept track of everything your hand grazed or anything you pointed to that made you smile. When you entered a makeup section that’s when he started asking questions. 

“Wait so why this brand instead of that one? Are they different colors or?”

“Not exactly. This brand here feels better on my face whereas this one kind of feels cakey.”

“Cakey?”

You grin as you reach for his hand and grab both the sample bottles, dapping each one on his skin. His eyes meet yours as he softly smiles and you lean up on your toes to kiss his lips. 

“Ah, ok. I feel it now. Cakey.” Giggling, you wipe his hand with a wet wipe as you continue explaining different products to him. 

A week later he surprised you with a little bag of gifts including that makeup and some other things he’d thought you’d like from that store. 

What you didn’t know was Steve enjoyed listening to you explain things to him. You always got so animated if it was a subject you enjoyed and, personally, he loved that you didn’t talk down to him or make him feel stupid. Even when he was explaining something to you he felt like he wasn’t making any sense or sounding like a moron but you never reacted that way. 

The first time he really broke down boxing for you, he ended almost every sentence with “Does that make sense?” To which you would nod and ask him a follow up question. 

After purchasing some snacks, you made your way to the theater and as soon as you both took your seats, he wrapped his arm around you as you curled up closer to his side. 

“This was a good idea, baby. Thank you.”

“Of course, honey. I love you.

As the movie played he relished every giggle and laugh that left your lips. Seeing you happy was like a drug to him. The same adrenaline high he got after a fight was the same thing he felt when he was able to make you smile especially after a rough day. 

############

“I don’t feel like we’re dressed fancy enough to be here.”

“Sweetie, this is down the street from Enzos where people go in sweatpants. I think we’re ok.”, Steve chuckles. “But at least you’re wearing a dress. I’m the one in jeans.”

“Here you go, ma’am—”

“Oh, thank you but I didn’t order this.” You politely smile as the waiter placed a martini in front you. 

“Yes ma’am. Compliments of the gentleman over at the bar.” He leans in lower so only you two would hear him. “I told them you were here with a gentleman of your own but he insisted.”

“It’s ok. Thank you. Can you give this to him and tell him even if I wasn’t here with my boyfriend I would rather die than except a drink from a smarmy asshole sitting alone at the bar?”

The waiter smirks as he nods, taking the drink with him. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re fucking sexy. Always loved that attitude.”, Steve grins as he grabs your chin and pulls you in for a kiss. 

As you two continued with your dinner, you vented to him about your day and your new client at work. He growled under his breath when you mentioned your boss who did nothing to help make your job any easier. When you started talking about the conversation with your dad, however, he noticed you breeze past the topic.

“Hey, honey, wait now. What did your dad pick a fight with you about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, babe. Just the usual stuff.”, you sighed.

Steve’s eyes narrowed in on you as he held your hand in his and kissed the back of it. 

“It was about me again wasn’t it?” When you nodded your head, he knew. You could handle the chaos at your work and still be your feisty yet cheery self but when it came to your family especially your dad it always seemed to hit you hard. 

“I just don’t understand why he can’t see you the way I do. I’ve told him your nothing like your dad or even how you were when we were growing up but…”

“Is that what the fight was about?”

“Steve…”

“Hey, it’s ok, baby girl. You know you can tell me anything.”

You sighed again as your sad eyes landed on his loving ones. “He thinks you’re going to hurt me. He said that if you were really serious about being with me…”, you shook your head in embarrassment. 

“Then we’d be married by now?”

“Steve, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. I know you love me and I know when we are both ready we’ll take that step. I don’t think like he does. I—”

His tender, mint flavored lips cut you off as he interrupted your train of thought. 

“Sweetheart, I’ve wanted to marry you since freshman year. I just know you deserve the best and I’ve been waiting for the right time you know?”

“What do you mean ‘the best’?”

“Well, when it comes to a wedding I know it has to be perfect. Perfect flowy dress with the veil and pretty flowers.”, he grins as he leans back in his chair and paints a picture with his hands making you smile. “Of course, obnoxiously poofy bridesmaid’s dresses and a BEAUTIFUL venue. Then after we can honeymoon anywhere you want. I’ve been thinking Italy or maybe Hawaii. I know you love the beaches and the clear water.”

Steve looks at you then with a soft smile as he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

“After that, I want us to be able to come home to a house with enough rooms for us to start a family. Somewhere you feel safe and happy.”

“As long as I’m with you, Steve Harrington, I feel safe and happy.”

Once you finish your meal, he quickly runs to the restroom while you wait for him by the door. 

“I can take care of a beautiful woman like you if you let me.”

You roll your eyes at the asshole from the bar as he tries to get your attention. 

“I highly doubt that.”

“Let me show you, honey.” The man stands and strides towards you as you raise your hand to stop him. 

“I’m warning you now, honey. Sit back down and keep drinking before my boyfriend comes back and knocks you out. Trust me, he’s a boxer. He can and will.”

“Pfft like I’m afraid of that asshole.”

“Problem, baby?” Steve saunters out with confidence as you hand him his jacket you had been holding. 

“I don’t know. IS there a problem?”, you ask the man sarcastically. 

His eyes shift between you both before he shakes his head and turns away. “Fucking fat ass bitch.”

The man is forcefully turned around and met with a fist to his face. As he starts to tilt backwards Steve yanks him by the collar and turns him to face you. 

“Apologize to the lady. NOW!”

“Jesus Christ! I’m sorry!”

“Mhmm.” You roll your eyes at him again before beaming at the man you love.

##########

The entire ride home was a blur of desperate touches and needy hands mostly from your side. As he drove, your hands ran up his thigh and over his chest into the V neck part of his shirt so your fingers could graze the hair on his chest. Your lips trailed along jawline down his throat as he groaned and did his best to keep his eyes open to get you home safely. 

“I need you, Daddy. I can’t wait for us to get home so I can feel you inside of me and fill me up, baby. Fuck, Daddy, I’m so fucking wet. Please drive faster.”

Both of you practically fell into the apartment as you wrapped your arms around his neck and Steve walked you backwards with his lips attached to yours. Squeaking when the cold counter of the kitchen touched your back, you bit your bottom lip when he roughly turned you around and pushed your front half down on the granite. 

Lifting the bottom of your dress, you moaned as his hand ran along the meat of your ass before firmly coming down to spank you. Ripping off your panties, he smacked your behind again but before you could react you felt the wind of him hastily kneeling and gasped when his tongue breached your folds. 

“Yes, baby. O-Oh my god.” You whimpered as his palm came down once more and his head tilted so he could taste more of you. “Daddy, please. Don’t stop.”

Standing to his full height, Steve leaned his chest over you as he thrust two of his fingers into your entrance and pumped them so fast inside of you, you heard your slick obscenely squelch against his movements.

“Does that feel good, honey? You like when Daddy uses his fingers to make you cum?”

“Mmm—yes, Daddy.”

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby girl. Just making a mess all over your legs and my hand. Say it, Y/N. Say ‘I’m a dirty girl.’”

“I-I’m a dirty girl. I’m your dirty girl.”

“Yeah you are. Cum, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for Daddy.” Your vision was blinded by white as your body shuddered against the counter. “That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good girl. Ride it out. Use my fingers to make it last.”

Turning around, you cling to his neck as he smiles against your lips, throwing off his shirt as you push him towards the bedroom. 

“I like when you get needy for me.” Falling on to the mattress, you hastily remove each other’s clothes and you whimper as his palm comes down hard on your behind. “Come here and turn around, baby.”

You paused and a flash of annoyance passed through his eyes as he grabbed your throat to pull you closer to his face. 

“How many times are we going to have this conversation, little one? You are not heavy. If I couldn’t handle that sexy ass on my face I wouldn’t have asked, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

As if to prove his point, Steve leaned over to take hold of your hips and effortlessly lifted you till your knees were on either side of his head. His hands pushed against your back, urging you to lean forward so you could take his cock in your mouth. 

“That’s my good girl. Fuck me.”, he groaned as your lips delicately kissed his sensitive tip before wrapping them fully around his length. 

Steve was always a man about hands. You loved his massively large, beautiful hands and everything they could do. Whether they were nestled in a glove flying towards someone’s face, moving around wildly as he told a story, or like right now spreading your pussy open wider so he could flick his tongue in and out of your entrance…you loved them and what they could do. 

Your mouth came off him with a pop as you continued to stroke him with your palm.

“Baby…please…fuck…”

“No, no, baby girl. Keep that mouth open and on me.” Doing what he wanted, you felt his fingers tangle in your hair as his hips thrust up into you. As he held you still, Steve shoved his face further into your cunt making you whine around him. The man devoured you as he fucked your face and both sensations were driving you wild.

Both hands abruptly reached beneath you as he pulled you off his cock and lifted you till you were up right. 

"Make yourself cum, honey.”

He guided your motions until you were riding him, Steve’s fingers playing with your tits as you moan his name. He had told you before he didn’t mind when you said his name instead of his title. It told him you were lost in the feeling and he liked that when you were about to reach heaven his name was the first thing from lips.

Your body shook as you came, collapsing on his stomach as he continued to lick you clean. You fell onto the bed on your side and he eagerly flipped around so he could hold you while kissing your lips. 

“Good, baby. You did so good. You’re so gorgeous when you cum hard like that.”, he whispered between kisses. Your eyes were still closed but you turned into the sound of his soothing voice as he began to peck down your jawline to your ear. “Do you feel what you do to me, pretty girl? How hard I am just from you riding my face?”

After guiding your hand to his cock, you both mewled at how firm it had gotten as precum oozed from his tip. Steve’s jaw fell open when your thumb grazed across it and he lightly shuttered in pleasure at the feeling. 

“Are you ready for Daddy, baby?”

When you nod your head, he rolls on top of you and without hesitation you circle your legs around his waist. His fingers tenderly brush some loose hair out of your face as he places soft kisses on your lips. Warm air hits your tongue as Steve moans, sliding his length into your core.

You love the rough stuff with your boyfriend but you utterly reveled in seeing him like this to. Either way he had you whether it be fucking you or making love, it was filled with passion. His eyebrows knitted together as he pumped into you slowly at first, absorbed in the full feeling of you.

“I love you, Steve.”

The man’s eyes fluttered open as he looked down at you with a gentle smile. 

“I love you to, Y/N.” He pressed his forehead to yours as he gradually began moving his hips a bit faster. “Since the moment I saw you, honey. Fuck. You feel so good.”

Steve’s head falls into the nook between your neck and shoulder as he thrusts into you harder, your fingers clinging to his hair and shoulders as you whimper. 

“Fuck. Just like that, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Is that the spot, baby girl?”

“Cum…cum with me, baby, please.”

Pushing up onto his elbows, his eyes lock with yours as his hips practically punch into you, hitting that sensitive spot repeatedly until your back arches off the bed and your pussy squeezes his cock as you cum.

While you continue to flutter around him, his rhythm becomes sloppier till you feel him warm your sides.

After a quick shower, Steve wraps you up in one of his shirts and you cuddle against his side as he plays with your hair.

“Thank you for today. I had fun spending time with you.”

“Me to. Are you feeling less…overwhelmed?”

“I am. I always feel less stressed when we’re together.” 

“Me to.” You feel his smile as he kisses your forehead. “Y/N, if I did ask you to marry me would you say yes?”

His question throws you off guard as you sit up to fully face and he does the same. 

“What? I don’t understand—”

“Yes you do. If I ask you, Y/N Y/L/N, to marry me, Steve Harrington, would you say yes?”

“Of course, but you said you wanted to wait for the right time…”

“I did but like I said at dinner, I’ve been wanting to marry you since high school. I know weddings take some time to plan but no matter what, sweetheart, I love you. I’ll marry you today, tomorrow, or twenty years from now.” He rolls over and crouches down towards the tiny safe you know is at the bottom of his nightstand. 

You smile as his tongue pokes out while he inputs the code and grins when it beeps signaling success. Retrieving something from it, he scoots over to your side of the bed and yanks your legs making you giggle as he tugs you towards the edge. 

“I got this year ago and I’ve been saving it… I honestly think right now is the perfect time and I don’t care what I have to do or how hard I have to work I’m going to give you those things I said.” As he descended to one knee, he opened the tiny black box and you gasped when you saw the beautiful engagement ring nestled inside. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Steve Harrington! Of course!”

He breathes a sigh of relief, unaware he had been holding his breath, and promptly tackles you in his arms as he slides the ring on your finger.

#boxer!Steve Harrington #dom!steve harrington #daddy steve #steve x plus size reader #steve x reader #brat reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #joe keery #joe keery smut #stranger things #fan fiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #daddy steve harrington #plus size reader #Steve Harrington ask

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Know Thy Enemy Part Two

Summary: There’s always two sides to every coin

Warnings: mentions of a boxing match, swearing

A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts quite literally for two whole years from my previous blog. Tags are open if y’all are interested. Please reblog if y’all like this.

Pairing: eventual mobster!boxer king Steve rogers x “college student reporter” reader.

Series Masterlist

She nearly dropped her clipboard as she noticed the boxing champion strutting over to her. She slapped her friend’s arm in an attempt to look casual. Rolling his eyes, Scott straightened in his chair and nodded to Steve as he stood in front of the pair.

“I’m going to assume no introduction is needed on my end?” He introduced, a curl pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What paper are the pair of you writing for? I’d like to know for my own privacy."

“The Daily Tribune.” The pair said in unison causing Steve to chuckle.

“I can give you one hour of my time today. I’m a busy man.” Steve bargained, holding up a single finger to emphasize his point. “I cant promise you’ll get many answers from me, however."

“Can we go somewhere a little more...private?” Scott asked, tapping his pen on the bartop, nervously glancing around the setting around them.

Steve glanced up at Gamora before returning his gaze at the pair. “There’s an office upstairs we can use; I’d just need to grab the key from the bartender.”

Scott and y/n nodded in an exhilarated rush. Neither of them could believe their luck at how easily Steve was willing to talk to them.

Steve walked off, practically hearing the squealing in their motions as they silently cheered in excitement. “Let me get your office key?” He requested from Gamora once he stood in front of her as she polished off a glass, looking bored as ever.

Curiously, She looked over his shoulder before rolling her eyes and unclipping her keychain from her belt loop and handing it over. “Don’t lose it."

“Me? Lose? Oh, ‘Mora. You have no faith in me.” He winked and blew her a kiss before walking away, and motioning for the pair of reporters to follow him.

In a scurry, the pair grabbed their items and followed the man through a set of doors behind the counter and up the tight stairwell before walking down a short corridor and into a large office down the far end of the walkway.

The excitement radiating from the college kids nearly caused Him to chuckle as they entered the small office. “Please, take a seat.” Steve offered as he closed the door for privacy. The pair hurried to take a seat in front of the desk and readied their pen and clipboard. Steve leaned against the desk and smiled sweetly at them. “Okay, start.” He pointed at Y/N.

“Um,” she blinked at the sudden attention he’d given her. “How does it feel to win almost every match you fight in?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he let out a soft chuckle. “Like I damned well deserve it."

“Because you do.” Scott spoke up, looking like a deer caught in headlights once Steve turned his ficus onto him.

“Damn right I do.”

“Were your parents fighters as well?” She asked. “Or did you just pick it up as a hobby to pass time? What made you want to be a boxer? How did you start out in the ring? There’s very little information on your early career on the internet."

Shrugging, he thought about his answer; he knew better than to speak on his business too much. “A friend from childhood pursued me into it. After a year or so, I fell in love with the thrill, the bloodshed and the feeling of hearing bones cracking underneath my fists."

“Do you ever think of retiring or giving up the belt?” Scott asked, looking down once Steve turned his gaze to him.

“No.” He answered. “That word isn’t in my vocabulary- at least not at the moment."

“Who would you consider your toughest opponent?” She asked.

He thought for a long moment before deciding, “he called himself the God of Thunder; met him in the ring once, early on in my career."

“Wasn’t that Odinson?” Scott asked, scrunching his face in thought. “That man who retired because he became blind in one eye a few years ago?”

Steve nodded. “I almost lost the belt that year because of him."

Scott whistled in wonder while she couldn’t stop watching his movements. He was swift and agile- even the way he breathed seemed different than other people she interviewed. He seemed cocky, yet polite in all the right ways. He held himself to an important degree. Someone was off about him. She knew it.

“There’s whispers on the street that you know the mysterious man who runs this city.” She worded carefully, posing her pen above the paper. “The man nobody has seen or heard from in years."

“Nobody knows the man who runs the city, kid.” He scoffed. “He has it set like that for a reason. It would have been all over the news if his identity was discovered. He’s a clever man, if I say so myself."

She pouted as Scott wrote rapidly on his board.

“The hour is up, kids.” Steve smiled as he glanced at his watch on his left wrist for emphasis.

She pouted once more but nodded in understanding, only partially satisfied with the questions. Steve smiled at the pair as he escorted them out of the room and back to the bar, handing over the keys to Gamora with a swift kiss to her cheek. “You’re a doll.” He mumbled to her with a wink before he met with Bucky’s exasperated looks.

“Should have invited them over to join us!”

Steve chuckled before throwing down a large bill on the counter and beckoning Bucky to follow him out of the place before making his way to the car once more. “It wouldn’t have been a bad idea now. Would it?” He smirked as he pulled onto the street and made his way through the streets, shushing Bucky as he dialled Bruce Banner’s number with the Bluetooth set up in the car.

“Banner.”

“Nice match earlier, Rogers.” Bruce grunted. The pair of them heard shuffling of paper. Bruce was no doubt counting out bills.

“I’m on my way over.” Steve reported. “I would have been sooner but I got caught up in some interview for some college paper.”

“College paper?” Bruce’s surprised voice rang out.

“A couple of kids, it looked like.” Bucky reiterated. “Steve’s a fool, I told him. They said something about The Daily Tribune or whatever horse shit it had been.”

“It was something fun.” Steve shrugged as he pulled up to Bruce’s mansion. “I’ll see you inside, Banner.” He hung up the phone and stood out of the car with Bucky close on his heels.

“What if this shit gets out that you’re doing petty interviews now?” Bucky scolded. “You’re insane for that. People would pay good money to have five minutes alone with you.”

Steve laughed it off, widening his arm over Bucky’s shoulder before rubbing his hand on the dark haired man’s head. “You’re thinking too much, bubba. Have some fun and loosen up. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have a few more fans around here if that interview gets published; more fans means more money for the business.”

“You’re a fool.” Bucky grimace, pulling out of Steve’s grip as they reached Bruce’s office.

“Boys!” Bruce greeted, standing up from behind his desk and walking over to them. “What brings you here?”

“The money.” Steve answered, reaching behind him and pulling out the wad of cash he had stashed tucked under his shirt before he left the arena. “I still owe you a few hundred.”

“You have one more month.” Bruce reminded him.

“I wouldn’t dream of missing our deal.”

Bucky looked at the devilish glare Bruce held firmly on his face before turning to look at Steve. He knew Steve would never have that amount of money in such a short amount of time. Hell, Wilson couldn’t even conjure up that amount in such a timeframe. He knew Bruce was plotting. But he wouldn’t dare call out the man in such a way. Bruce was demonic like that; the man held a terrible anger and begone those who stood in his path.

The only reason Steve owed the man money in the first place was due to Steve trying to keep a low profile as he started training for boxing matches. Bruce loaned him an obnoxious amount of cash so Steve could continue to entertain in the ring. Most of Steve’s winnings went directly to Bruce. Bucky didn’t approve. But he knew Steve would never listen to him. So he just sat in the background during these exchanges. He wouldn’t get involved too much in their dance routine.

“Same time next week?” Bruce prompted as Steve and Bucky begun to leave the office.

“There’s no fights next week.” Steve answered, creasing his brows in thought as he turned at the waist up look at Bruce’s smug smirk.

“What d’you say I arrange a match with Odinson one last time?” Bruce smiled wickedly. “Old times sake, you know?”

Bucky tugged on Steve’s sleeve to get him out of there before he agreed. “Sure thing.” Steve agreed, causing Bucky to groan out loud.

Bruce nodded and grabbed his cell phone before waving them out of the office.

“Are you fucking insane?” Bucky snapped as soon as the men were safely back inside the care. “Odinson almost killed you the first time you met him. What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s going to be the fight of the year.” Steve smiled. “I know there won’t be a damn soul in this city who would want to miss their chance to bet on it. I can handle him.”

“He’s going to kill you.” Bucky warned. “Banner is already plotting it. Or did you just happen to miss the sadistic look on his face?”

Steve shrugged. “Want lunch?”

PART THREE

#steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #Steve rogers x reader #boxer Steve rogers

[ddejavvu]

Hope you’re having fun on your vacation!

So, I just rewatched the first avengers movie, and Steve boxing??? I am in desperate need of some smut with that energy🥵 (actually don’t know if you write for him… do you? Idk it was worth asking😅)

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You're absolutely certain you'll have a mark from the ropes behind you digging into your back. It won't last for long, a simple indentation in your skin, but the sensation burns now, adding to the blissful flames licking up your belly as Steve pounds into you.

"Steady, doll." He warns you, helping you brace yourself against the ring, "Can't have you falling. 'S a long way down."

"Then hold me tighter," You whine, burying your face in his sweat-beaded chest, "I won't fall if you're holding me."

"C'mere." Steve grunts, hoisting you up so that his hands pressed hard into the pliant flesh of your ass, holding you up around his waist instead of letting you stand for yourself. His cock hits an impossibly deeper spot inside of you, and you swear you begin seeing stars, a desperate whine spilling from your lips as he speaks, "'Atta girl, I gotcha now."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers scenario #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers one-shot #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers headcanons #steve rogers hc #steve rogers hcs #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers dialogue #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers au #boxer!steve #boxer!steve rogers #boxer!steve x reader #boxer!steve rogers x reader #multiverse mondays #ddejavvu's multiverse mondays