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upsidedownwithsteve · 4 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before?

“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you.

You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”

There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.

“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”

“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”

The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly.

“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”

You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.

You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”

You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette.

Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown.

Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”

You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing.

“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”

“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”

“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”

Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend.

“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”

You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something.

You wondered if he’d find it.

“Not everyone?” You whispered.

“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”

Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be.

“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”

Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact.

The silence was too loud now.

“I could show you, if you wanted.”

Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes.

He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”

The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not.

“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”

You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air.

“Show me.”

You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour.

He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle.

He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls.

A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out.

You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him.

He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.

Dizzy. You felt dizzy.

“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer.

You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough.

“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?”

You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too.

“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”

“Wait.”

Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”

“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”

You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”

Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again.

I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason.

He simply pressed his lips to yours.

It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own.

He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar.

You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper.

After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”

“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”

You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—”

Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own.

He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning.

“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”

Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”

“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”

“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”

Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position.

“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”

‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”

You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”

Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin.

“Kiss me.”

So you did.

You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own.

It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise.

“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak.

“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”

He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else.

“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower.

You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you.

“Yeah?” Was all you asked.

“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”

You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours.

“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question.

Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control.

You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch.

You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder.

And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home.

You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed.

You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before.

Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans.

And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.

“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington drabble

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lovebugism · 5 months

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rockstar!eddie x shy!reader , christmas party shenanigans, shes so sweet she made cookies & sweets for everyone but she wasn’t asked to , run ins w celebs 🤭

hope u like it angel!! — a rockstar flirts with eddie munson’s girl minutes before corroded coffin plays a show (shy!reader, established relationship, fluff, 1.4k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Corroded Coffin’s got their own green room — backstage at one of the biggest music festivals of the year. There’s a team of people dressed in black waiting at their beck and call. Eddie’s pretty sure KISS is in the suite down the hall. As a boy from Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, he doesn’t feel very deserving of any of it.

He feels like he’s dreaming, really. The only thing keeping him from pinching himself is Dustin and Lucas’ roughhousing and Steve’s stupid belly laugh. Having all his childhood friends here is strangely humbling.

Eddie lazes on an expensive leather chair, totally unsure of what to do with himself when he’s not holding you. He’s trying to get comfortable in the foreign leather drab that stylists put him in when the door yawns open. It swings with such ferocity that the metal knob slams against the opposite wall with a low thud. It isn’t any surprise that the culprit is Robin Buckley.

She storms in first, followed more quietly by you some seconds later.

“Woah, woah, woah— what happened?” Eddie wonders aloud, already on edge with anxiety. Robin swooping in like a dark grey storm cloud doesn’t make it any better.

You shrug with a tin of Christmas cookies in your hand. Some are already missing because you wanted to pass them out to the workers. “It’s not like I don’t have enough to go around,” you’d said with a shy chuckle, nodding to the table lined with homemade pastries. You always bake when you’re nervous.

“We bumped into someone on the way back,” you explain in a gentle murmur, mindful of the emotional girl across the room. “I think she might’ve known him…”

“You didn’t recognize him?” Robin blurts from where she’s flopped on the leather couch. Her eyes go wide, the edges of them smudged with brown eyeliner. The look she gives you makes you cower.

“…No?”

“That was Roger Taylor,” she tells you. And then, when it still doesn’t hit you— “From Queen.”

Your doe eyes flood with a similar, more innocent look of shock. “That’s who that was?”

Robin groans and shoves her face into the fluffy throw pillow beneath her. She decides to talk to the only person in the room who could understand her and her wild emotions. Steve, sitting next to her with cookie crumbs all over his mouth, somehow manages to cipher her mumbled, emotional slurs.

“You don’t get it— it was like seeing an angel, Steve. He was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen— and I don’t even like men!”

“Yeah, so that’s definitely saying something,” the boy mumbles through a mouthful of pastry.

Eddie, still wide-eyed with amazement, turns to look up at you. You’re lingering at his side, a sweet thing dressed in pastel pink. He reaches over to smooth a hand over your pale tights. His ringed fingers are almost achingly warm when they curl around the back of your thigh. He tilts his chin to smile at you with all his teeth.

“I thought you loved Queen, babe,” he chuckles, squeezing gently at your leg.

“I do,” you insist, always shy in your way, as you shift your weight on your feet. Your sheepish gaze flits to the tray in your hand — to the hand-made snowmen, trees, and snowflakes. “I just didn’t know that’s what he looked like.”

“Was he pretty?” Eddie teases with a knowing squint in his chocolate eyes.

You shrug, burning with misplaced embarrassment. “I don’t know… I didn’t really look,” you mutter. His chest swells with something short of pride. “They just wanted to try my cookies—”

“That’s what she said,” Gareth quips. Followed by an audible slap when Jeff reaches over to smack him. “—Ow!”

“Was Freddie Mercury there?” Dustin wonders from across the room, smiling wide at the thought. His giggle is boyish and high-pitched. “That’d be insane.”

You shake your head in response. “No— but now that I think about it, that’s probably why they said they needed to take some extra for Fred. There was another guy there, though.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lilts to egg you on.

“Yeah. He kinda looked like a poodle—”

“Brian May!” the room choruses.

“Um…” you mumble under your breath. “Maybe?”

“One of the best guitarists of our time Brian May?” Robin wonders, a tad bit dramatic, and filled with life all over again. “Astrophysicist and super genius Brian May?”

Your smile is innocent and utterly sincere. “Oh, he’s an astrophysicist? That’s so cool!”

Robin groans again, and you flinch.

“…What?”

“Nothing,” Eddie answers for her, squeezing your leg to bring your attention back to him again. His rosy grin widens when your eyes meet his. “You’re just cute.”

Your face heats like it’s the first time he’s ever complimented you. Your warm cheek tilts to your shoulder as you smile quietly back at him. “Well, thank you,” you mutter shyly.

“Why can’t anything good happen to me?” Robin whines.

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh, but it tumbles out before he can stop it. “It did happen to you. You were there.”

“Well, it didn’t feel good at the time!”

The door creaks open again. Nancy and Jonathan walk in together, fashionably late. It wouldn’t be surprising if she stopped a couple of musicians for impromptu interviews and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer — bound to be on the front page of Hawkins Post come Sunday morning.

Jonathan, however, looks a little bit dazed. “Is that— Is that Queen in the hallway?” he whispers to the group of you, like he’s scared the band might hear him.

“Yep,” Robin deadpans in response, popping the p.

“Ooh. Smells like a bakery in here,” Nancy lilts with a pretty pink smile.

You get all shy because it’s entirely your fault. “Yeah. Sorry. I kinda… went overboard with the cookies.”

“Don’t be sorry. I love when you bake us stuff,” she assures you, then bites the head off of a sugary snowman. She sighs at the heavenly taste and nods with it stuck in her cheek. “Don’t ever, ever be sorry.”

You giggle all pretty in response.

Jonathan reaches into the tray and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. “Woah. What’s this?”

“Oh. Shit. Sorry. I meant to throw that away—”

Nancy rips it from his hands. She straightens it out as best she can and squints when she finds writing on the back of it. She grins like she’s found some kind of hidden treasure.

“Wait, this is someone’s phone number,” she announces to the rest of them room. She reads it out loud for all of you, each of you on the edges of your metaphorical seats. “Thanks for the cookies, but I bet you taste sweeter. I’m free after the show. Call me. Roger.”

The room goes deadly silent.

Eddie is among the gaping mouths of shock, unsure if he should be jealous or amused.

“He wanted to try your cookies, alright,” Gareth chuckles under his breath. Jeff snorts out a laugh, then reaches over to slap him again. The curly-haired boy cowers. “Oh, come on! You thought it was funny, too!”

“Let me see that,” Eddie insists, rising on his feet to take the paper from Nancy’s painted fingertips.

His brown eyes flit back and forth as he reads it for himself. Once, then twice, then a few more times after that. He’s about to play a show for thousands of people, yet this is somehow harder for him to grasp.

“Roger Taylor wants to fuck my girlfriend,” he murmurs in amazement to himself.

For some reason, feeling the need to defend yourself, you rush to get the words out. “I didn’t know that’s what that was, Eds, I swear— I figured he thought I worked here, and he was just giving me his trash to throw away.”

Eddie turns to you, still silent. His chocolate eyes are slightly glazed over as he blinks at you — the sweetest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on, so polite in her shyness and aloof with it, too.

Still in a state of subtle disbelief about all of this — the phone number, the looming performance, and the fact he ever landed you in the first place — he shakes his wild head with a dumbfounded smile.

“I love the shit outta you, you know that?” he says with a burst of low, boyish laughter. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to answer before wrapping you up in his leather-clad arms and pressing a smothering kiss to your mouth.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: blurbcember

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 5 months

Text

Kinkmas (11)- The Grinch Who Stole Her Heart

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: When a certain witch discovers your hate for Christmas, she can't help but try her best into convincing you to love the festive season.

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings/Tags: Friends to Lovers, Slow burn, Fluff, Domestic Avengers, Christmas Fluff, Flirting, Crushes, Mutual Pining, Christmas Decorating, Gingerbread houses, Ice Skating, Snowball Fights, Soft Smut, First time, Inexperienced Wanda/Experienced Reader, Fingering, Praise, Confessions, Aftercare

Kinkmas Masterlist

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Gentle chatter and a tranquil, festive atmosphere wrapped around the common room of the compound like a warm, cosy blanket, most of the team bunched up on various sofas with snacks ready in hand, waiting for Wanda to finally press the play button to start Home Alone on the big screen.

The witch, however, was not ready to start the movie, her eyes flickering over the content and excited faces of the team, searching for one individual in particular.

You.

Where were you?

"Where's Y/n?" Wanda asked, puzzled, the soft murmur in the room going quiet, curious and confused gazes meeting one another at the brunette's question, apprehensive to tell the truth.

Natasha carefully placed down the bowl of popcorn that was in her lap, inadvertently stopping Clint from stealing more of the treat which made him grumble a little, the redhead looking between the rest of the team, not wanting to dampen the young woman's mood.

It had become abundantly clear over the last few days and since the start of December that Wanda was in love with the idea of Christmas and all the festive traditions, the team having tried their best to keep you away from her, despite the witch subconsciously seeking you out, her mind unable to explain why her heart would flutter in your presence, her mood always being lifted by you.

"Y/n isn't a 'fan' of Christmas," Natasha cautiously phrases her words, not wanting to ruin the mood that was so gratefully appreciated in the room, the uplifted mood of Christmas enabling the mighty Avengers to have some time to relax and spend together as a family.

"What?" Wanda's tone signalling her confusion at how someone could possibly not like Christmas, her head tilting in her usual manner, Pietro speeding from the sofa to stand with his sister, seemingly just as baffled.

"How can she not be a fan of Christmas?" Pietro adds, just as obsessed with the festive season as his sister, his love for it being driven by the sheer amount of food and presents though.

"She just..." Natasha trails off, thinking how to explain your lack of jolliness, her eyes flickering to Clint for a little help. The archer simply shrugs, her leg kicking back at his shin for his lack of usefulness, a small yelp escaping him as he grabs the popcorn bowl, deciding that the food would be a sufficient apology from her.

"She hates it," Tony bluntly puts it, everyone's head turning from the sofas to the billionaire in the kitchen, fixing himself a ridiculously large hot chocolate in the beautifully decorated kitchen, annoyance written across Steve and Natasha's face as they wanted to keep it a peaceful evening.

"She doesn't 'hate' it," Steve tries to reason, his blue eyes flickering towards Sam and Bucky who are disinterested in what's going on, most likely bickering between themselves over who gets more room on the sofa.

"Oh come on Capsicle," Tony teases, Steve's cheeks darkening at the nickname the man uses for him, mumbling under his breath an 'oh god' at the billionaire's mischievous tone. "She hates it. End of. We've all tried to get her to like it but she just refuses to enjoy the Christmas spirit," he says whilst placing his steaming mug down, flopping onto his section of the sofa and asking Friday to lower the lights, wanting to watch the film now. "Now, are we going to watch the film or not?" He asks, clearly not bothered by your absence.

"Not all of us have tried," Wanda says after a moment, tossing the remote to Natasha, hoping she'd somehow keep the boys in check, knowing the chaos the entire team could cause without her magic there to stop objects flying across the room. "Start the film without me," Wanda calls out, walking out of the room, determined to find your room and figure out a way to persuade you into falling in love with the magical season.

Despite not figuring out a plan, the brunette knocks on your door with purpose, waiting outside for you to open up, various thoughts flooding through her mind as she impatiently plays with the rings on her fingers.

Eventually, you open your bedroom door, your brow raising at her current outfit, a smug smirk creeping onto your lips. The Christmas themed pyjamas amused you as you let your eyes wander down the various festive items decorating the fabric, the red and green chequered pants slightly too long for her as they pooled around her ankles, the fluffy socks further entertaining you as you stood in a simple, thin shirt and joggers, a stark contrast to her holiday themed get up.

"What-"

"Why do you hate Christmas?" she asks, enticing green eyes gazing into yours curiously, your eyes widening at her forward question, a soft chuckle escaping you, Wanda unable to stop the swarm of butterflies in her stomach at the sound.

"Why do you love Christmas?" You counter, leaning against the door frame as you see various emotions flicker across her face, your features softening at her adorably annoyed state.

"Why do I love Christmas?" She repeats almost shocked, still baffled at the whole ordeal, "It's just magical," her tone laced with the love she has for the time of year. "It's a time to spend with family, to give gifts, to have fun with silly traditions," she lists, watching closely to your reactions as your soft expression remains uninterested.

"Just seems like a lot of effort to me," you casually say, her brows furrowing at your words, mouth parting and closing, unsure of what to say. "Is that all you wanted to ask? I'm currently in the middle of a mission report," your tone is annoyingly soft and calm, determination brewing in Wanda to show you how amazing Christmas was but still unsure how.

"No, I..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head marginally to the side as she thinks hard about how to convince you. "Do you really hate it?" She asks, tone trying her best to hide the disappointment that filled her, your smile softening, body pushing yourself off the frame of the door to look at her properly, still amused at her clothing.

"It's just not for me, Wanda," your tone apologetic as you gathered how much she loved the season, your heart clenching a little at the despondent look that took over her face, wishing you could ensure a smile was always on her lips, only ever wanting her to be happy.

"Ok," she whispers, slowly nodding at your words and turning around to retreat to where the rest of the team was, a sudden idea entering her mind as she hears you shutting the door. "Give me one week," her tone desperate and rushed as your hand halted, opening the door with a confused look, laughing softly as she quickly walked back over to the door, fluffy socks sliding a little on the smooth floor.

"What?" your tone matches the curiosity engraved on your face, smile widening at the glint of hope in her eyes.

"Give me one week to show you how magical Christmas is," she explains further, her enchanting green eyes almost putting you under a spell, part of you contemplating giving into her despite your dislike for everything about December 25th. Your face shows your conflicted state, Wanda taking your delayed response as a win, her nose scrunching up in a way that has your heart beating wildly in your chest, an inexplicable onrush of affection flowing through you. "Please?" she adds, excitement creeping into he tone as you sigh out heavily, unable to resist the soft spot you had for her, a smile gracing your features.

"One week," you begrudgingly say, a smile still present on your face though as her lips stretch into a wide grin, joy filling her as various ideas flood through her mind, ready to warm you up to the season.

***

"I'm not so sure you're trying to convince me," you mutter, lifting the heavy box of decorations and trudging your way towards her room, "I feel like you're just using me for slave labour," you grumble, peaking over the box to watch your step, bumping into the corner of the door frame before dropping the box onto the floor, a rattle of baubles filling the room.

"If you stopped complaining and acting like the grinch this would be a whole lot easier," she teases, crouching down and opening the box, looking up at you with a small smirk that has you rolling your eyes, happiness taking over your chest as you follow her command.

"The grinch is an icon," you mumble, flickering your gaze away from the aesthetic decorations in the box and into her alluring green, finding them far more interesting than the shiny plastic objects.

"Yeah? And why is that?" Her tone is playful and cheerful, eliciting an involuntary smile from you as you struggle to maintain your composure near her, the crush you thought you had gotten over seeming to resurface, her brow raising expectantly as she waits for you to continue.

"He lives in a mountain with his dog, away from people, sounds like heaven to me," your tone slightly sarcastic, earning a soft laughter from her, her eyes sparkling with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. Her gaze drifts away from you as her own heart starts to beat wildly in her chest at being able to spend time with you, her lips pulling up into a shy smile. "And he's green," you add, a humorous grin taking over your face, cracking her composure.

A giggle leaves her lips at your tone, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she tries to stifle her laugh, her eyes meeting yours with an amused glimmer in them, your smile widening as warmth floods through you in a tender manner.

"What's so special about the colour green?" She manages to ask when she stops laughing, entertained by your words, reluctantly turning her back away from you as she moves towards the tree in her room with a bundle of lights, beckoning you over as she untangles them, wanting your help to decorate her room as she hadn't had time to do it yet.

It's the colour of your eyes is what you initially think of saying, a small blush appearing on your cheeks as you rethink an answer, grateful she wasn't looking at you as you thought it, her head soon looking back over her shoulder as you don't answer.

"I don't know," you unconvincingly respond, shoulders shrugging, "It's just a cool colour." Wanda chuckles, clearly not believing your vague answer as she looks at your form over her shoulder, playfully shaking her head before continuing to wrap the lights around the pine tree while you gradually make your way over to her, your attention flickering over to her desk.

"Oh my god," you laugh out, admiring the framed photograph of Wanda and Pietro dressed up for Halloween in Sokovia, chuckling at their ridiculous outfits. "Pietro looks like Fury with that eye patch," you snicker out, Wanda rushing over to you and sliding the photo out of your hands, embarrassed by her toothy grin in it, a smile still on her face as she hears your genuine laugh, her gaze moving to the photo of her and her brother that she always loved.

"He wanted to be his own version of a pirate," she explains with a nostalgic tone, placing down the photo while you just admire her features, getting lost in thought again, the feelings you tried to bury trying their best to take over you as you simply smile at her softly, a tender expression taking over her face at your enamoured gaze.

"I bet he was just as annoying as a child as he is now," you tease, making her laugh again, your heart melting at being able to hear the sound again, the brunette placing an ornament in your hand to stop you procrastinating, sensing your attempt at stalling her plans.

"Even more," she jokes, her fingers brushing over yours softly, the touch engraved in your memory as they pull away from you, Wanda snapping you out of your thoughts as she continues. "Now come on, we have a tree to decorate," her tone adding excitement to it as you let out a displeased grumble, still smiling at her though.

Maybe, just maybe, the next week wasn't going to be as bad as you thought.

***

"I hope you know I'm only here because you promised me food," you mumble whilst your hand supports your head as you sit at the kitchen island, eyes wandering around the various decorations littered around the room then towards the woman in front of you, observing how she rolls out the gingerbread.

A soft, genuine smile takes over her face in amusement, her gaze lifting to meet your form watching her attentively, chuckling softly as she continues to measure out the dimensions for the house she intended on making, a playful and teasing expression taking over her angelic features.

"Is that so?" she asks, slicing through the dough she's rolled to create the walls of the house, your eyes trained on the deft way her fingers move, gaze lifting to watch her concentrate, in awe of her working. You knew Wanda loved to cook and bake, but to watch her properly, almost intimately, made you truly appreciate her love for the hobby.

"Yep," you say while popping the 'p', smiling at the way she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, a streak of powdered sugar visible against her skin, your teeth biting down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing at her cute state.

"Well if someone wants to eat they have to help," her tone reprimanding you for not helping her at all so far.

"I've helped," you say, pretending to take offence as she uses her magic to softly push you off the stool at the kitchen island, a small groan leaving you as you eventually wander around the kitchen to stand next to her. "Does moral support not mean anything anymore?" you mutter as she hands you a spoon, your fake mood crumbling away at the way she peers up at you with a raised brow, the streak of sugar making you smile.

"What?" she laughs out when you end up staring at her forehead too long, a nervous expression on her face as you grab a cloth from the countertop and delicately wipe away the mess on her skin, her cheeks a similar colour to her magic as she tries to control her emotions, a shy smile taking over her features as you meet her gaze with an affectionate look.

"There's my contribution," you joke, tossing the cloth back onto the countertop as Wanda sees the small smear of powdered sugar on the fabric, the wave of embarrassment never coming as you continue to smile at her, her head shaking at your antics.

"You're not getting out of it that easy," she chuckles out, setting up the bowl for you to make the icing in, handing you everything you'd need before checking on the gingerbread that was in the oven, making sure everything was going to plan.

After you've made the icing and the dough is baked to perfection as well as having cooled down, Wanda starts to put together the house with your help, deciding to ask Friday to help encourage the festive spirit by getting them to play the witch's Christmas playlist, an amused glint present in your eyes as you picture her listening to the music on her own, most likely dancing to each tune.

Your fingers carefully hold the wall of gingerbread, Wanda delicately piping the icing along the edges to help stabilise the structure, the smell of the freshly made treat making your mouth yearn to taste the delicious flavours, the other woman humming the tune to the song that was playing as you assembled the house together. Quicker than you expected, you had the house made and just in need of decorating, your gaze now on Wanda who softly sang the lyrics to 'Last Christmas', a mischievous smile taking over your face.

As if sensing your gaze on her, she met your admiring stare, her smile stretching that little bit wider as she lifts the spoon from the icing bowl, using it as a microphone as she keeps her enchanting eyes on you.

"Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?" she sings, her voice angelic as you can't help but watch in awe as she subtly dances near you, walking behind your body and enticing you to follow her. "Well, it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me," her gentle voice sounding around the room, blessing your ears as she sings the iconic song, "'Happy Christmas', I wrapped it up and sent it, with a note saying 'I love you' I meant it, now I know what a fool I've been." Her words further lure you into being amazed by her, your body turning once again to follow her movements, her body next to yours as she places the bowls she's just collected on the countertop, her eyes lifting up to meet your enamoured gaze, "But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again." Your breath hitches at the way her eyes subconsciously drift to your lips before flickering back up, the soft, loving glint evident in her eyes as the gaze lingers, her only breaking the gaze when the desire to kiss you becomes too strong.

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart but the very next day-"

"You sold it on ebay," you interrupt, a teasing smile on your lips as you steal the piping bag from her, a laugh spilling from her lips at your immature behaviour. "This year, to save me from tears, I'll give it to Marks and Spencers," her hand lightly slaps your arm as you 'ruined' the chorus for her, her smile almost reaching her ears though at the pure joy you managed to fill her with, your arms raising in surrender as you see wisps of magic flicker at her fingers, knowing how she could torture you with ticklish sensations like she did a couple days ago when decorating the tree. "Ok, ok," you laugh out in surrender as the red tendrils brush over your skin, "Tesco extra instead of Marks and Spencers?"

She simply smacks you lightly once again on the shoulder, her hand lingering against your body before pulling back, rolling her eyes at your amused and smug smile, cheekily squeezing a little of the icing onto your finger to taste it.

"Mhmm delicious," you softly moan at the sweet treat, exaggerating your love for the simple food you made, Wanda stealing the bag back from you and pointing it at you like it was a weapon.

"Stop eating all the decorations," she mutters, using her magic to push away the bowl full of sprinkles, laughing softly at the way your hand misses and hits the table, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Fine," you grumble as she hands you the piping bag back, letting you have full reign on decorating the gingerbread house, something she'd inevitably regret.

***

A couple hours later you're sprawled out against the sofa, a bowl of the broken gingerbread house in your lap as you tilt your head to look at Wanda, once again admiring her features while she was fully immersed in whatever was playing on the tv.

Your eyes focus on each delicate feature of her face, trailing over the slight dust of pink on her cheeks, a few strands of brunette locks framing her face perfectly and the gentle slope of her nose before spending a little more time admiring her plump lips and eventually settling on her mesmerising eyes. Your heart clenched a little at her beauty, your gaze eventually being torn away from her as you knew you shouldn't think of her as more of a friend, to get lost in fantasy of what it would feel like to be with her all over again as you remember the pain of pushing it all down.

The soft giggle that left her lips immediately knocked you out of your thoughts, the smile that seemed ever present near her emerging once again as you raised your brow at her when you met her gaze, her nose scrunching in that captivating manner as red wisps form at the tips of her fingers once again.

"I thought we were going to share the gingerbread," She teases lightly, using her magic to steal a piece from you, your hand wrapping protectively around your bowl of treats.

"Woah, this is mine Maximoff," you defensively say, using her surname playfully, addicted to the taste of the icing you used to cover most of the crisp gingerbread, the aim of your decorations to give you a sugar overload. "I decorated it," you mumble, squinting your eyes at her when she floats over a larger piece from the bowl in faux annoyance, your hands placing the bowl down as there way no way you'd be able to stop her magic, your eyes watching with interest how the red tendrils delicately flow through the air.

"And I made it," she counters, biting into the corner of the roof, a pleased noise escaping her at the taste of it, the festive spirit further consuming her as the taste brings back many memories of past Christmases, a nostalgic look taking over her face momentarily.

"I thought you were trying to convince me to like Christmas," you joke as you lean back against the sofa, eyes trained on her as she raises her brow at your relaxed manner, continuing to eat her piece of gingerbread.

"I am, is it working?" She asks, smiling at you hopefully, her enthralling green solely focused on you making it hard to think straight and come up with your usual sarcastic remark. You pause for a moment, Wanda's head tilting in curiosity as you remain silent, a small blush forming on your cheeks as you gather yourself together.

"It would be if I got to eat all the gingerbread," you tease eventually, switching your gaze to something other than her alluring beauty, eyes landing on the various sweets stuck on the white icing.

"Is it actually working though?" She asks again, voice holding a more serious and intrigued tone compared to her joking tone, her green containing a hint of nerves as she really hoped it was.

Your mouth opens and closes to respond, unsure of what to say. If you were being honest, you didn't love the festive season any more, you simply enjoyed the last three days because you were with her.

"It hasn't changed my opinion on Christmas," you say softly, her face dropping a little making you continue, "But, I have had so much fun over the last few days, I... I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you fix her mood instantly, a blush taking over her face this time, her gaze flickering away from you, teeth biting down softly on her lower lip to try and contain her smile.

"Yeah?" she murmurs out a little timidly, gathering the courage to meet your softening gaze once more, the two of you smiling at each other, unaware of the swirling emotions in both of you. "Well still I've got four more days to fix that," she says, tone determined and adamant that she would persuade you, your smile growing that little bit wider at her confidence, part of you hoping she was right just to see that smile on her face.

***

"I'm not so sure about this Wanda," your voice a little shaky as your fingers grip the edge of the wall as tightly as possible, the ice skates you were wearing sliding on the ice in a manner than unnerved you, your eyes lifting to find Wanda only to see her skating off skilfully, turning back to you with a teasing look.

"Come on, I promise it's fun," she calls back, swarms of people brushing past you, further adding to your nerves as you hated how unstable you felt, her green eyes meeting yours through the crowd, sensing how uncomfortable you felt.

You watched a little embarrassed as she effortlessly skated over to you, the sound of screaming children nearby and the scratching of ice being blocked out as she comes closer to you, a different kind of anxiety flowing through you at her little smirk.

"Is the infamous Y/n, world hero and Avenger, scared of ice skating?" she teases softly, your eyes rolling at her comment. Just because you were an Avenger didn't mean you enjoyed activities like this.

"No..." you trailed off, your foot slipping slightly, Wanda watching how your body immediately tensed, knuckles bleeding white at your grip on the edge of the wall, her hand moving to your lower back to keep you stable, wanting to make sure you were alright. "Maybe just a little," you confess quietly, hoping she wouldn't find it a problem, her smile turning a little sympathetic. "It's scary ok? Steve got stuck in ice for like seventy plus years in it so it must be very dangerous," you explain, a genuine laugh slipping past her lips at your reasoning.

"It was only sixty six years," she corrects, your head shaking a little at her words, your mind processing where her hand was, a wave of butterflies taking over your body as your fingers adjust their grip on the cold edge.

"Do you trust me?" Her voice a gentle whisper, your mind focussing on her, only her as she looks at you as if you were the only thing going on in the ice rink, your head nodding as you couldn't muster any words to leave your mouth, far too nervous to not embarrass yourself any further.

Her hands gently clasp yours, her fingers intimately interlocking with yours, her soft gaze meeting your hesitant one, her feet guiding her backwards as she slides across the ice, pulling you carefully with her.

"Bend your knees a little," she instructs, trying to guide you into the best position so you wouldn't fall. You try to listen to her but the feeling of her impossibly soft hands in yours makes all common sense leave your mind, your body just about listening to her instructions. "Don't lean too far forwards if you don't want to fall," she playfully whispers, keeping you close to her as she can tell it's keeping you calm, her intoxicating perfume reaching your senses and further drowning you in the thought of her. "That's it," she praises softly, a small smile reaching your lips as you skate slightly on your own, still tightly gripping onto her, not that she minded.

The two of you did a few laps around the ring, your grip on her gradually decreasing as your confidence grew, the two of you stopping by a wall to relax for a moment, your cheeks and noses tinted pink from the cold room, smiles engraved on both of your faces.

Your smile widens when you see a child fall over, a snicker leaving your lips as you can't help it, Wanda playfully pushing you at your reaction, reprimanding your behaviour as the mother briefly looks over towards you two in annoyance, her child's face pulling into distress. Panic flashes across your face as you slip a little, your arm shooting out to wrap around hers, pulling yourself into her body, flush against her, making both of your blushes darken a little, her arm wrapping around you to keep you upright.

"Don't," you mumble when you feel her laugh against you, your body melting against hers as she keeps you stable and secure, her body also helping you keep warm.

"Don't what? Tease you?" She chuckles out, your head turning to meet her amused and mischievous gaze, breath hitching a little as you underestimated the space between you, your lips mere inches away from hers, both of your gazes drifting down to one another's mouths.

The heat that washes over you when her slightly darkened green meet yours causes you to straighten your back, pulling yourself further away from her face, your hand hesitantly reaching further down her arm to her fingers, interlocking them once again to try and keep your thoughts on anything but the longing to feel her lips on yours, a brief moment of courage washing through you when she doesn't pull back.

"I won't tease you," she whispers out once she's gotten control over her pounding heart, her cheeks still tinted pink as she smiles at your hand holding hers, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, grateful for you being braver than her and initiating something. "But that doesn't mean I won't tell Nat," a soft laugh leaves you as you meet her eyes once more, sensing the mirth in them as she imagined the various ways the Russian would torment you.

"I'm never going to hear the end of it," you mumble, her nose scrunching at your tone, the action making you think it was worth any amount of teasing comments that Natasha could throw at you, the warmth that wrapped around your heart at her expression worth anything in the world as she drags you away from the wall again, skating with you, hand in hand.

***

A relentless pounding at your door has you reluctantly rolling out of bed, in dire need of a nap after the new workout Natasha wanted to try with you, your body ready to sink into your soft mattress and relax for just a little bit.

"You better have some more gingerbread," you mutter as you hear Wanda call your name through the door, your hand turning your door handle and opening, revealing the woman who consumed all your thoughts. "What-" A thick winter coat was thrown at you, your body not expecting the item making you take a step back, your eyes widening at Wanda in confusion as you properly took a hold of the clothing item, the coat a contrast to your oversized shirt and joggers.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" she sings in a teasing voice, a groan leaving your lips at the movie reference, a tired sigh leaving your lips.

"I just wanna sleep," you whine out as she simply walks into your room as you turn away, smiling at the way you still comply to her question, searching through your wardrobe for a thick jumper and pants, not wanting to freeze in the cold as snowflakes gracefully spilled from the sky, the grass surrounding the compound drowning in the white blanket of snow.

"You can sleep later," her tone amused at the way you shake your head at her, amazed at the way she has you wrapped around her finger as you shrug on the coat she tossed you, turning your head and sending a pointed look.

"This better be worth it," you mumble, her body coming closer to yours and fixing your hood as it was sticking out weird, her cold fingers brushing the back of your neck causing you to wake up a little more.

"Spending time with me is always worth it," she whispers, recalling how you confessed to her how you enjoyed being with her, a smile creeping onto your lips as you chuckle at her words, her eyes peering up into yours as you let her fix your outfit, unable to stop the warmth bubbling inside you.

"That is true," you murmur ever so softly, her smile widening as she lets her hands drift to your shoulders to smooth the coat out, growing in confidence near you after being together for the last four days constantly. "But sleep is pretty amazing too," you mumble, earning her signature nose scrunch, your heart beating that little bit faster at the enamoured look in her eyes.

"Come on," she sighs out, walking behind you and pushing you towards the door, struggling a little as you use your strength to keep you planted.

"Save me bed! She's trying to kidnap me," you call out dramatically, chuckling as she uses her magic to push you out of the door, you calling out of your bed once more, earning another string of laughter from her as she leads you out of the compound, walking side by side with you, letting your bodies brush.

A chill takes over your body as you trudge your way through the snow that's piling up, the sound of satisfying crunches and nearby birds filling the air as you let Wanda lead you to the best place to build her desired snowman. You watch with an affectionate gaze at her thick gloves and the scarf that's wrapped so tightly around her neck, the bobble hat that she stole from you moving with each step she takes, her head looking her shoulder at you, her smile almost reaching her ears.

You follow her until she stops, deciding this was the best location to build it, her eyes looking back at the compound and ensuring you'd be able to see it from the large window in the common room, unaware of the redhead and archer sitting peacefully together, curious as to what you two were doing, a glint of realisation flickering across Natasha's face.

Unable to stop yourself, you give into the temptation of crouching down in the snow, grabbing a handful of it and moulding it into the shape of a large snowball, trying to perfect the shape to make it easier to throw.

"Hey Wanda?" You call out innocently, lining up your shot as you wait for her to turn around, her eyes glimmering with joy before widening, unable to move out of the way as the snow crashes against her body, exploding into various fragments of white dust, a gasp leaving her lips.

You can't help but laugh wholeheartedly at her reaction, an uncontrollable laughter escaping you as happiness consumes you entirely, shock present on her face to begin with before revenge takes over, taking advantage of your distracted state and grabbing a handful of snow, ready to throw it back at you.

Your laughter is interrupted when she headshots you with the snowball, disbelief evident on your face as her smile grows smug, a dangerous chuckle leaving you making her smile slowly fade, mischief evident on your face. At your expression, Wanda starts to run, laughter spilling from her lips as she gets a head start, your legs swiftly moving to catch up with her.

"Oh no you don't," you call out, your smile engraved on your face as you chase after, using your abilities to help you catch up to her. You can't stop the genuine laughter that escapes you as you dodge the snowballs her magic throws at you blindly, your body gradually catching up to her, inching closer as the two of you trample through the snow like idiots, not caring about anything else in the world but one another. Eventually, your arm wraps around her middle, pulling her closer to your body as you grab a load of snow with your other hand, intending on dropping it on her head, your plan not working as you both go tumbling in the snow, laughter still sounding around the two of you. "Gotcha," you chuckle out as you land on top of her, her hands holding onto your shoulders as your body is flush against hers, your hand cupping the back of her head protectively and the other bracing your body above hers.

Her breath gently fans across your face as you both pant a little from the sudden running, your eyes getting lost in hers as she smiles up at you angelically, your gaze eventually drifting across her features, still stunned by her beauty. Your gaze settles on her lips, watching how she subtly wets her lower lip before her teeth gently bite down on it, your eyes flickering up to her softening green, building up to ask her the question you've wanted to for ages.

"Can.... Can I kiss you?" your voice a barely audible whisper, the sound of your heart pounding against your ribcage deafening in your ears as you await a response, the butterflies in your stomach fluttering vigorously.

"Took you long enough to ask," she murmurs playfully, having heard your thoughts about her eyes all those days ago, piecing together that you may have felt the same way about her as she did towards you.

Her fingers fisted against the hem of your coat and pulled you down into her body, claiming your lips in the way you both longed for. You kissed her tenderly, her lips pressing over yours just as affectionately, the cold tip of her nose brushing against yours as you got lost in the moment together. Your eyes fluttered shut to savour the feeling of her mouth, how gentle and soft it was as you weren't guaranteed another chance, another kiss, so you forced your racing thoughts to stop for a moment as your lips moved against hers lovingly, wanting to engrave the feeling into your mind forever. The kiss was shy and timid, your lips remaining together for mere seconds, but the intimacy of it made your head spin with the thought of her. The thought of her body pressed against yours, her mouth pressed against yours, forehead leaning against yours and arms pulling you impossibly closer, it was all too much. You were utterly mesmerised by her. Everything just felt so pure, sogenuine, so... intimate that it made you sigh gently into her mouth, pulling back with nothing but love evident in your eyes as she matched your tender gaze, just as obsessed with you as you were her.

"I told you this would be worth it," she whispers against you, her lips gently brushing yours, enticing you into gently claiming hers once more, smiling into her mouth.

"It really was," you murmur lovingly against her, her head hiding against your shoulder as she can't stop the wide smile appearing on her face, her nose scrunching up once more as you melt against her body, joy coursing through you at what just happened.

She kissed you.

You actually just kissed her.

A wave of giddiness overtook you as you grinned at her when she pulled back from your body, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes as her hands left your body, your mind paying no attention to it as she looked at you in that adoring manner, consuming your thoughts.

What you didn't expect was to feel snow hitting the back of your head, an adorable laugh leaving her at her playful actions, disbelief evident on your face. The feeling of betrayal immediately left you at the heavenly noise that spills delicately from her, your head shaking to remove the snow in your hair as she cups your cheek, guiding you back down for an apologetic kiss, the two of you unable to stop smiling.

Another individual who couldn't stop smiling was Natasha who watched the scene unfold through the window with Clint, glad that you finally acted on your crush and helped her win the bet with the archer. He grumbled as he reached for his wallet, searching for the desired note as a sigh of relief left the redhead when you started to walk hand in hand through the snow, finding somewhere else to finally build the snowman.

***

Humming to yourself, you found yourself in Wanda's room again, this time sprawled out of her bed, waiting for the witch to return with the snacks for the movie night she planned for you. It was going to be a Christmas marathon, starting with Home Alone one and two, then onto the Grinch so Wanda could tease you about your 'icon' and then finally Elf as she was sure you'd be asleep by then, having discovered how much you loved to lay in bed yesterday when you fell asleep during the first attempt at the marathon, much to her amusement. This time, however, she planned to keep you awake with food and potentially a cuddle as the two of you swiftly discovered how much you both craved physical touch, even if it was something small like holding hands, a smile growing on her lips as she enters the room, remembering the various instances of you subtly reaching for her hand and interlocking your fingers.

A soft chuckle leaves her lips at the way your head raises off the bed at the sound of the door shutting, your eyes growing curious when you see the bowl in her hands, instantly perking up and eager to know what she brought. When your eyes saw the popcorn in the bowl, your smile widened, moving around on her bed so that your back was against the pillow at the headboard, arm raising to welcome her body against your side, the other woman complying to your silent request.

The feeling of her body snuggling against yours caused a grin to break out on your face, your heart unable to comprehend the sheer joy you felt over the last few days, grateful for her making such an impact on your life.

"You're incredible," you murmur softly when she places the bowl into your lap, your lips pressing to her temple, the art of being affectionate with one another natural to you both.

"Are you only saying that because I brought food?" she teases, carefully picking up a piece of the sweet and salty treat and placing it into her mouth, her head tilting to rest against your shoulder as she uses her magic to bring the remote closer to you both, her hand effortlessly grabbing it and starting the first film of the night.

"No, I'm saying that because you are the most amazing and beautiful woman I know," you whisper against her hair, earning a blush at your charming words. "Who just happens to always bring me food," you add teasingly, earning a playful pinch to your side, a small yelp leaving you.

"Shhh, just watch the film Detka," she murmurs, your smile widening at the endearment, not commenting on it as she shuffles her body closer to you, her fingers playing with whatever part of your shirt she can reach as the two of you delve into the world of Christmas cinema, content with being one another.

As the film plays on, without even realising it, your hand rests on her thigh, tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of her pyjama pants, Wanda's cheeks a similar colour to her festive clothing as her thoughts go down a sinful route. She can't help the warmth that pools between her thighs at your actions, your hand high up on her thigh as your toned body presses into her, her mind replaying the image of you working out earlier, the way your body effortlessly showed signs of strength and stamina, her eyes having a hard time from tearing away from your hands, watching as your veins showed slightly, further adding to the arousal that started to build within her as she got lost in thought.

Hesitantly, she tilted her head to rest at the crook of your neck, her lips softly pressing a kiss there as she knew you weren't paying attention to the film, your thoughts growing louder as you replay all your memories with the brunette, the overwhelming amount of happiness and love you felt allowing the witch to hear them. To try and gain your attention, she pressed another kiss to your neck, your breath hitching at the action as your hand freezes at her thigh, her lips burning against your skin as your body grows warmer at her suggestive move.

"Detka," she sighs out, her breath fanning across your skin as she pulls back from your neck, her green eyes meeting yours, desire but also nervousness shimmering them.

"Yes?" you whisper out, gaze subconsciously drifting to her lips, remembering how addictive they are, your own eyes darkening as your gaze lingers, unable to look at anything else.

"I don't think either of us are watching the film," her voice is barely audible as she murmurs the words, tilting her head slightly, the action causing her lips to inch closer to yours, the movement subtly seductive as you wait for her to make the move, sensing a bit of indecision from her.

"I don't think we are," your tone lowering a little, patiently waiting for her, not wanting her to do anything she'd regret.

"I wonder what else we could possibly do..." she trails off, smiling a little shyly, biting down on her lower lip and fuck, you don't think you've ever felt so hot before, the sight of her intoxicating, making it impossible to think straight.

"I have no idea," you whisper back with a small smirk, tilting your head down so that your lips were brushing over hers gently, not applying enough pressure to give her what she wanted, your eyes watching how hers flutter shut, awaiting your mouth. "What do you suggest?"

"I think... I think we should kiss," she rasps out, moving her body so that she was facing you properly, your brow raising a little at her words as your smile grows, fingers moving to brush back a few stray strands of her hair back, eventually letting your hand rest on her cheek, cupping her jaw and bringing her a little closer.

Your eyes flicker over all of her features, admiring them all while waiting for her to lower her face, the brunette only doing so marginally, mirroring your actions and wanting to memorise every inch of your beauty.

It feels like you're waiting an eternity until she lowers her face even more, her lips barely putting any pressure on yours as they briefly brush over them. Your eyes flutter close when you feel her hands cup your jaw, waiting for her to kiss you, to crash her lips to yours, to do anything at this point as you just wait, wait and wait.

When she feels like she's admired you enough and savoured the moment, she kisses you. She kisses you softly and tentatively to begin with as you explore each other's mouths, her actions soon growing a little more confident as the kiss grows hungrier, Wanda seemingly starved of you. It's intimate, it's desperate, it's passionate. It's everything you dreamed it to be.

You can't do anything but give into her relentless mouth, hand clutching at her sweater to ground yourself as all you can think of is her lips moving against yours, her body pressed up against yours, her soft fingers threading through your hair, just her.

A soft moan leaves her when you guide her to straddle your lap, heat immediately taking over her body, your touch burning into her skin as arousal pools between her legs at the feeling of your body pressed against hers, strong arms wrapping around her, a sensual sigh escaping you as when she pulls back from the kiss, eyes darkening with desire as you peer up into the green, a shameless smile on your lips.

"I think we should do that again," you tease, leaning in for another kiss as she smiles against you, her confidence growing with every kiss, every peck in between laboured breaths as her hands move to your shoulders momentarily, gliding them down your back in a seductive way, a groan leaving you at the way her fingers press into the toned muscle satisfyingly.

Experimentally, you slide your tongue into her mouth, a sinful moan escaping her as she welcomes your advances, your hands toying with the hem of her jumper, not sure how far she wanted to go as your mouths move lewdly together, her back arching a little to press her body further against yours.

"Am I going too fast?" Your voice a gentle whisper as you pull back from the kiss, sensing a little bit of nerves from her, eyes gauging her reaction as your fingers had slipped beneath her clothing, feeling the warmth and softness of her bare skin, her cheeks flushing a deep red as she meets your enamoured gaze, not wanting to pressure her.

"No I just-" she cuts herself off, feeling a little embarrassed as your hands slide out of her jumper, snaking around her waist and pulling her closer to rest against your body, bringing her in for a soft embrace that she appreciates. "I never done this before," she confesses, a soft smile appearing on your lips as you guide her head back so you can meet her timid green, "I want to but I just... don't know what I'm doing."

"Do you trust me?" you ask, mimicking her words from the ice skating, your fingers raising to brush back another stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear affectionately as she nods. "I'll take care of you, I promise," you whisper, kissing her lips with nothing but love, conveying how gentle you'd be with her. "We can stop at any time," you reassure her, not wanting her to think she's committed to having sex with you, "Just tell me to stop and we stop. I don't care what's happening, all I want is for you to feel safe and comfortable with me." She smiles shyly at your words, tilting her head to kiss you once again, grateful for how caring and considerate you were. "We'll go at your pace, ok?"

"Ok," she murmurs back, smiling into another tender kiss as you do as you said, letting her control the way her lips move against yours, slowly building the hunger back up.

"Tell me what you want," you sigh out against her lips, feeling her hips subtly rock against your lap without her even realising it, your teeth softly nipping at her lower lip, earning a small moan as she flutters her eyes back open, meeting your patient gaze.

"I want...I just want you," she whispers, holding the intimate gaze before leaning back in, kissing you with a new sense of urgency, a small moan leaving you at her words. Your lips pull into a small smile as she slides her tongue hesitantly into your mouth, the kiss turning messy and causing a wave of arousal to flood through, Wanda's mind spinning at the intoxicating way you make her feel.

"You have me," your tone laced with love as she rests her forehead against yours, lips lingering open against one another, simply relishing in the intimacy. "Show me what you want from me," you encourage, sliding your hands from around her lower back to hers, letting her take a hold of your hands to guide them where she wants them, your lips parting from hers to pepper kisses along her jaw softly, her head lolling to the side to welcome your addictive touch.

She simply holds your hands for a moment, deciding what she wants from you, her mind freezing momentarily at the way your teeth scrape against her sensitive skin, a pleasant shiver running down her back as she curses lowly in Sokovian, the sultry sound causing a throb between your thighs.

When she's ready, she squeezes your hands softly, guiding them down her body to the hem of her sweater, hoping you understand her silent request. Your fingers slide under tentatively, feeling the way her stomach tenses and relaxes at your touch, the skin impossibly soft and enticing, your mind reminding you to wait for her as you caress the skin you can reach.

"Please," she murmurs out, one of her hands moving to your hair, threading her fingers through your silky locks and softly pulling you away from her neck, her lips pressing to yours with a hint of desperation as she grinds her hips with a little more purpose now, a wave of pleasure coursing through her.

"Off?" you mutter against her lips questioningly, her nodding into a sensual kiss as your lips meet gently, her sighing into your mouth as your hands grip the hem of her sweater, slowly, teasingly, pulling it off her body.

Her hands move off you to help you pull the item of clothing off, your gaze remaining on her face as she turns shy again, waiting for another nod before letting your gaze drift down her body, your breath hitching at her sheer beauty.

Her body is sculpted to perfection, crafted by Aphrodite herself to create the most beautiful woman you'd ever lay your eyes on, her delicate and smooth skin enticing your eyes all over her exposed body, her curves luring your hands to caress them softly, eyes flickering back up to hers, nothing but admiration and love in them.

"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" you whisper into a passionate kiss, her nerves immediately dissipating at the sheer honesty lacing your tone, another blush creeping onto her face at how amazed you were by her. "Any idea what you do to me?" you continue, wrapping your arms around her body and pulling her closer to hers, her bra covered chest flush against your body as she moans into your mouth, her body begging for more, needing you to touch her lower.

"Please Y/n," she sighs into your mouth, your hands creeping up her body and resting just under her bra, fingers brushing over the skin, causing goosebumps to rise. "I need you," her tone conveying how desperate she was, your worshipping touch only driving her towards madness, her body viewing them as teasing.

"Where do you need me, love?" the endearment spilling from your lips naturally, a wave of arousal flowing through her at your slightly husky voice, your lips parting from hers once more to kiss down her neck, sucking partly before moving to kiss her shoulder and collarbones, waiting for an answer.

"Here," she sighs out softly, her fingers wrapping around one of your wrists and guiding it down to meet the waistband of her pyjama pants, your head instantly leaving her body to look at her properly, the green in her eyes usually filled with love completely replaced by desire and hunger.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is full of care as your hand remains where she guided you, gazing into hers as your heart beats wildly in your chest, still stunned a little by the sight of her on top of you, the heat between your thighs incessant.

"Yes," her voice a mere whisper as she kisses you softly, deciding she wouldn't want anyone else to be her first, always having loved you without even realising it.

"Remember we can stop whenever you need to," you murmur before claiming her lips with a newfound purpose, wanting to give her everything she wants, fingers carefully sliding under her waistband.

"Fuck," she whispers out, voice a little shaky as her hands move to your back once again, clutching onto your t-shirt as your fingers brush against her core through her soaked panties, a groan leaving you at how wet she was for you. She was this desperate for you.

You move the pad of your finger against the wet fabric, teasingly sliding it up and down her core, earning a small, desperate moan from her into your mouth, her teeth biting down on your lower lip impatiently as you continue to work her body up, her hips bucking against your hand at the slightest of touches.

"Can I-"

"Please," she practically whimpers out, your lips tugging up into a smirk whilst your free hand glides up and down her back soothingly, your fingers slowly sliding under the waistband of her panties, a sensual sigh escaping her when you finally make contact with her core. "Detka," she pants out against your lips as you swallow the desperate noises that leave her lips as your finger swipes through the abundance of arousal that's pooled between her thighs, coating your digit as you explore her wet sex.

Pulling back from the kiss, your eyes observe every single reaction to your touch she offered you, drinking it up like an intoxicating substance as your finger spreads her slick around her, moving to circle her clit gently to begin with, slowly building in confidence as your touch grows firmer, intending to bring her as much as possible.

"You're so pretty like this," you mumble, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, teeth scraping the soft skin again to drive her mad, your finger sliding up and down her soaking folds before settling on teasing her entrance, a whine leaving her at your enamoured tone and taunting actions.

"Detka," she sighs out, tone conveying the sheer desperation she feels for you, needing you to bring her towards her release, her body needing your touch to satisfy her.

"Shhh, I'll take care of you," you murmur, tilting your head away from her neck to let your lips brush against her compelling ones, her breath fanning across your face as her lips part, your finger slowly sliding into her, your eyes in awe of her blissed out expression. "Tell me what feels good," you encourage, slowly curling your finger inside her beautifully, a moan spilling from her lips directly into your mouth as you claim her lips softly, slowly letting your lips slot over hers, her mind hazy with all the pleasure and heat flowing through her.

"Shit, there, right there," she groans as you curl your finger against her weak spot, the palm of your hand brushing against her clit as she rocks her hips against you, fingers gripping your shirt tightly.

"Yeah?" you husk out and the slight cockiness to your tone has her mind spinning even more with arousal, delirium taking over her as she moans against you once more, your name falling from her lips like a small chant as you thrust your finger in her a little faster, pleasure bubbling through her. "What if I do this?" your voice a teasing whisper, your thumb moving to brush over her clit, a choked moan escaping her as you move it in languid circles, doubling the pleasure fogging her mind.

"Y/n," she pants against you, the corner of your lips tugging up into a smirk at her desperate tone, the way her walls clench and spasm around you, her thighs tensing around your body as her hips buck harder when you time your movements right, a sudden wave of pleasure flowing through her. "Fuck," she sighs out sensually, parting your mouths as she's struggling to reciprocate the kiss, too busy focussing on the way you effortlessly slide in another finger, stretching her out perfectly.

"You're doing so well for me," you whisper, mouth moving to the shell of her ear and tone dropping, a slight rasp added to your voice further arouse her. One of her hands shoot up into your hair, messily tangling it into your locks as moans escape her, her hips trying to move a little faster and push her towards her nearing release, fingers gripping tightly making a dull pain wash over you, the action making you groan as the idea of how lost in pleasure she must be goes straight between your thighs.

"Detka," she sighs out, desperation and a hint of embarrassment lacing her tone, too nervous to ask you for what she wants as her hips indicate how close she is, your fingers still steadily thrusting into her and thumb occasionally brushing her clit, hips bucking harder against you. You immediately understand what she's asking for as she gently tugs your head back, lips pressing against yours passionately as she holds you close, back arching further into your body as she sighs into your mouth, a small whine escaping her as she teeters on the edge of her release.

"I've got you," you murmur gently, your free hand moving up her body and to her face, cupping her cheek intimately and deepening the kiss, a moan leaving her at the sheer amount of love you pour into the embrace. "Let go for me," you mumble between kisses, her eyes squeezed shut as pleasure threatens to take over her.

"Y/n," she whispers out sinfully for a final time, body tensing against yours while your mouths refuse to part, muffling the desperate sounds leaving her lips while pleasure wracks through her body. Her legs tense around your body once more, her hands adamant on keeping you close as she keeps your head against hers, foreheads resting against one another as you slow the kisses down, pecking her lips in between laboured breaths. Your fingers slowed inside her, letting her walls clench and spasm around you as she rode out the last waves of her release, her body eventually relaxing in your lap and melting against your comforting body.

Your gentle breath caressed her lips as she eventually opened your eyes, timidly smiling at you and claiming your lips once more in an innocent manner, her adorable expression causing you to reciprocate the action as your free hand moves to glide up and down her back soothingly, fingers pulling out of her when she was ready.

"I'm so proud of you," you whisper with nothing but honesty and care in your words, her cheeks blushing at the way you tenderly gaze at her, her fingers moving to fix your ruffled hair. She smiles at you softly as she tucks a few strands behind your ear, your lips meeting her cheek lovingly as she just wants to bask in the intimate moment for a little longer, the two of you simply locked in a lovers embrace as your arm snakes around her middle.

Many soft words and gentle whispers later, you had managed to convince her into going to the bathroom to get cleaned up, not wanting her to be uncomfortable later and also wash your hands quickly, the brunette blushing at the cocky smirk on your lips as she watches you, proud of yourself for being able to make her feel good and most importantly loved and safe. You let her find herself a new pair of underwear and some new pyjama pants, opting for the pair she first came to you in before searching for a new shirt to wear.

Once she had opted for an old shirt with her favourite sitcom on it, you offered her your hoodie you took off earlier, the jumper being an oversized fit which you knew she loved, Wanda taking it with a wide smile, unable to stop the butterflies in her stomach at how caring you were. She let her nose rest against the collar of it, able to smell your perfume on it as you wrapped your arms around her waist from behind, dramatically falling onto the bed with her in your arms, eliciting an even bigger smile from her and a nose scrunch.

She turned around in your arms so she was facing you as you pulled her body impossibly closer, smiling fondly at the sight of her in your clothes, her leg sliding in between yours to find a more comfortable position to cuddle in as your fingers drew idle patterns against her back.

"Thank you for being so gentle," she whispers a little shyly, your gaze softening more somehow as she moves her fingers to play with the baby hairs at the back of your neck.

"I'll always be gentle with you," you murmur, kissing her temple and letting your lips linger for a minute, building the courage to say what you wanted to. "Thank you for the last week, I've really enjoyed spending time with you," you say, still trying to get to the three words you wanted to confess, her smile growing a little wider at your soft tone.

"Have I convinced you to love Christmas?" she asks curiously, the intimate gaze prolonged as you once again get lost in her eyes, smiling tenderly at her, thinking of how to phrase your words.

"I don't quite love Christmas yet," you whisper out, your words still giving her hope. "But, I...I know I love you," you confess, your heart beating wildly in your chest for the few seconds she doesn't reply, the way her nose scrunches once again in that adorable manner easing the worry of rejection.

"I love you too," she whispers back with fondness lacing her tone, her lips meeting yours once again for an intimate kiss as you can't help but grin into the kiss, a teasing comment finding its way to your lips.

"More than Christmas?" you whisper, earning a soft laugh from her as she moves her face to hide at the crook of your neck, your skin so warm and comfortable, lulling her into a relaxed state.

"More than Christmas," she chuckles out, wrapping her arms around your middle securely, your arms mirroring the action as your lips press a final kiss to the top of her head, the witch amazed at how you, a grinch, managed to steal her heart.

#marvel fanfiction #wanda x reader #eventual smut #wanda maximoff #wanda fanfic #mommy wanda #wanda x you #smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x female reader #12 days of kinkmas #kinkmas #fluff and humor #fluff and romance #12 days of christmas #12 days of ficmas #12 days of smutmas

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ultralightpoe · 5 months

Text

Full House - Eddie Munson

Authors Note: Wow. I think I went too far with these, lmao.

Word Count: 5,258

Warnings: Dad!Eddie. That's it.

Description: Stepdad!Eddie and his girls that gives nothing but Uncle Jesse Vibes.

Part ll HERE

(Thank you for the gif @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal )

Enjoy!

(Eddie is not the step dad, he is the dad that stepped up)

Eddie Munson was many things in life.

Triple senior, Satanic Freak, Dungeon Master, High School Graduate, Vecna survivor, Waynes son, and now Mechanic shop owner. But his favorite title came by accident, a truly brilliant accident of course.

Nancy and Steve had planned a vacation for themselves, the first vacation they had since the birth of their adorable son Edward…..okay they named their kid Vince but Eddie thought that name was ugly and had spent the past 5 years continuously mocking them over it. So, in everything Eddie, he had named him Edward Jr. this week.

Anyways, Nancy and Steve were having a very lovely trip at Niagara Falls while the rest of the group watched little man. While Eddie was at work Joyce Byers took him, and when Eddie had gigs Dustin took him and they ‘studied’ together which meant Dustin used him as an excuse to play games rather than study for his senior year.

It was all going splendidly, until Eddie got a call in the middle of his work shift telling him that he would have to go down to the school immediately since Edward Jr -Vincent, had gotten into a little bit of a fight.

So Eddie booked it, still in his greased out mechanic suit, a bandana on his head and the biggest concern that Steve’s kid would be kicked out of his school while he was away. What had he done to the kids? Had he broken their noses? Made them bleed?

Here was the problem, Eddie forgot that he was talking about Steve Harrington's kid, so when he arrived at the school to see his nephew bleeding and whimpering he realized the mistake. Vinny had gotten beat up, not the other way.

“What happened, bud? Who did this to you?” Eddie was gonna fuck a kid up, he was gonna scalp someones son. He was going to absolutely annihilate some random ass boy.

His nephew whimpers, using the back of his hand to wipe away a fresh tear as Eddie takes a gentle hand to assess the damage. “L/n….”

Eddie was gonna kill this L/n punk. “What’d he do? He been bullying you?”

“You must be Mr. Harrington.” A saccharine voice fills the air, drawing his attention up to an older woman with narrowed eyes.

“No, I’m Vinny’s uncle actually. Eddie Munson.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand which the woman glares at, and he realizes then that he was still covered in grease. So he pulls his hand back, embarrassed and nervous. “Sorry about that, rushed from work-”

“Never mind that. Let’s go.” The teacher nods her head. “You too Vincent.”

Eddie, now partially annoyed by the use of his nephews full name in such a tone, grabs his hand into his own and follows the old bat into the office where two more three more figures sit. The sight before him makes him stop, blinking slowly as a heat crosses his skin.

Was he blushing? Shit, he was.

Sat in the chair is the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with a small baby in her lap and a small girl softly crying sitting on the edge of the chair, hiding half her face in the womans shoulder.

“Have a seat Mr. Minson.” The old bat snaps, moving around the desk to sit in the cushioned chair.

“Munson.” Eddie corrects, sitting in the chair beside yours while trying to keep it cool. Vinny takes the arm of the chair, holding onto some of the fabric of Eddie’s jumpsuit tightly. The woman blatantly ignores him as she shuffles around some of the papers on her desk. So Eddie turns to you slowly, holding out his hand again. “Eddie Munson.”

“Y/n L/n.” You smile, taking his hand in your own. “I am so sorry about your son-”

“I prefer the parents not to talk until I explain.” Old bat snaps out making Eddie sit up straighter. “I brought you both in here because it seems that Motley has violently assaulted Vinn-”

“ASSAULTED?! They are 5!” You snap out as the girl, Motley, begins crying which leads the little baby in your lap to start crying as well. And right on cue Vinny himself starts crying.

“Woah woah woah.” Eddie starts, pulling his nephew closer. “Bud, why don’t you explain what happened here?”

“She hit me!”

“He pushed me!”

“And then she bit me!”

“He pulled my hair!”

“Okay, ease it up.” You sigh, rubbing Motley’s back in soothing circles. “I am so sorry about your son, and I will totally get if you’re upset but they are 5 and I don’t really know about the assault word-”

“Miss. L/n.” Old bat interrupts but Eddie shakes his head. He will just handle this just as Nancy liked to parent.

“What can make this better, huh Vinny? Like your dad always says, an apology?”

“Y-yeah….” Vinny whimpers which makes Eddie smile and imitate the whimper voice. “Yeah?”

“Do you think you can apologize, Motley?” You ask and Motley sticks out her tongue to Vinny. Eddie tries to hold in his laugh at this, the little metal head was not backing down. “Motley.”

“Fine. I’m sorry Vincent.” She snaps out. “But the next time you pull my hair-”

“I think we got it.” Eddie laughs, picking his nephew up. “Let’s go get some ice cream and forget all about it.”

He smiles at the principal before tearing out of the room, keeping Vinny held above the ground as he rushes out of the school. He is rushing too fast to hear you calling behind him, until they make it out of the school.

“Wait! Sir-” He turns, blushing wildly as he attempts a smile. You smile back, still holding the little baby in your arms and Motleys hand. “I am so sorry about all of that. Motley has been a bit…. Aggressive since her dad left. How about we all go get ice cream and it’ll be on me today?”

And then Eddie, as terrible as it is, gets excited. That meant your single, single and very pretty. So he smiles. “Sounds metal to me.”

The giggle that escaped Motley makes him happy.

Soon enough Eddie found his entire world wrapped around his three ladies. You, the little 5 year old named Motley and the little baby Ziggy. (Both named after rock music. You don’t like it then name em something else.)

His life did an entire tilt and he found himself going from the freak to being ‘Daddy Eddie’ as his girls liked to call him.

“Lemme get the straight.” Eddie starts, holding up one finger and leaning back as he takes in the scene before him, Motley covered head to toe in flour and smiling from ear to ear. “The bag of flour just happened to knock down from the shelf and fall on you?”

“Yup.” The girl nods, still smiling.

“And you don’t know how the step stool got there?”

“It was there when I walked by.” She shrugs.

“I see. And you didn’t know that we hid the cookies on that shelf?”

“You do?!” She feigns shock, bringing both hands up to slap her cheeks. “What a coincidently.”

“Yeahhhhh. What a coincidently.” He imitates, bringing his own hands up to slap his cheeks in shock, trying very hard not to laugh at this entire thing. From her covered in flour, or her grammar and especially not the innocent act. Do not laugh. Do not laugh.

“Motley! What did you do?!” You cry, coming into the kitchen in the pajama shorts Eddie loved so much, to see your daughter covered in your flour.

You had both been in bed…..snuggling….. When you heard the sound of bowls falling.

“I am innocent!” Motley cries, waving her hands like she truly could not believe you would think it was her.

“She’s innocent!” Eddie follows, doing the same as her. “Tell her you want a lawyer, Mot.”

“Motley, do not-”

“I want a lawn mower!” She snaps out before you could warn her away from it. The room falls silent for a second after her words slip out and both you and Eddie try to control yourselves, but before you know it you are cracking up.

Tears springing from your eyes as you cackle, Eddie finds himself using one arm to lean against the wall as his other arm holds his ribs, pained to be laughing so hard.

“What’s so funny?” Motley asks, a puff of flour blowing out as she giggles herself which just sends you and Eddie into yet another laughing fit. “Mama! Daddy Eddie!”

“What Mot?” You laugh, swiping the tears from your eyes.

“You’re being mean!” “Aww, we’re sorry Motty.” Eddie coos, moving closer as you do as well. Before she knows it you are both launching to hug and kiss at her, covering both of you with flour as she giggles and screams to escape.

Eddie steals her another cookie before you take her to the bathroom to shower her off, you both lay with her to read for bed before you lead him back to your room, taking a shower together before going to bed yourselves.

Eddie was completely at peace, laying on the couch after a long day at work, with Ziggy laying on his chest slobbering all over his shirt. Motley laid on his legs, her head shoved between his hip and the couch as she snored away.

They were sick, and you were in the kitchen making some chicken soup. Eddie had been in charge of getting them showered and ready for dinner, the only problem was the steam from the shower had cleared their noses which meant about 10 minutes of getting them both to blow into a tissue. And by the time that was done all their energy was gone, so he led them to the couch to lay with them and try to ease their whimpers.

They passed out soon after and he was trapped in a pile of heat from their fevers and their slobbering snores. But he was at ease right here, their warmth making him just as tired. One hand rubbing Ziggy’s back while making sure she didn’t roll off his chest while the other hand slowly rubbed Motley's scalp.

Before he knew it he slowly began falling asleep himself, and by the time he woke up he felt your fingers rubbing his forehead very very softly, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Do you want me to grab them?” You whisper, which makes him shake his head.

“Let em sleep, they don’t feel good.” He whispers back, turning bleary eyes to Ziggy who was currently crawling her way up his chest, she whimpers and whines until she is able to put her mouth around his nose. The gums touch his skin as she sucks on his nose, and he laughs slowly. “Apparently she is teething too.”

“I’ll go grab her ice pack.” You laugh, moving to the kitchen to grab it as Motley wakes up.

“Daddy…. I hurt.” She whines and he nods, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the couch to give her room to get up, she does and quickly crawls until her head is in his lap.

“You want some soup? Huh pretty girl? Maybe we can listen to Elvis before bed.” He offers, watching a small smile break out on her face that she tries to hide. Eddie teases her by leaning to see it and laughing when she covers her mouth. Then he pulls out the big guns, taking up the Elvis voice as he stares at her. “Let’s go eat some soup sweetie pie.”

“Hunka hunka burning love!” She giggles, jumping up to dash to the kitchen, when she passes you she nearly knocks you over but you manage to lean out of the way just in time.

“What’s the rush?”

“Promised her Elvis after dinner.” Elvis was the king of rock, which albeit wasn’t the rock that Eddie liked, but Motley had grown overly obsessed with him lately and he was cool with that. Anything his girl wanted.

Blurb song inspo hereeeee .

The opening of King Creole began, Motley stood on yours and Eddie's bed wearing his sunglasses and his leather jacket. She held a ukulele he had found from a garage sale, and thought it was the perfect size for her to play guitar.

Ziggy stood on the ground, using his nightstand to help herself stand as she swung her butt up and down to the music.

Eddie stood by the bed, with his guitar in both hands as Elvis Presley's song blasted through the speaker, wearing his newer leather jacket and a random pair of shades he found on the dresser that he was sure belonged to you. Motley giggles loudly as Eddie sings the lyrics, playing his guitar to it as Motley pretends to play guitar as well.

You were at the store and Eddie was supposed to be practicing for his gig coming up, and when you left he had Ziggy set up in her little play crib before Motley came in with the leather jacket on. One thing led to another and they all were playing along.

“There’s a man in New Orleans who plays rock n roll!” Eddie sings, leaning in at the same time Motley does so their noses press together and then leaning back as she does and shimmying their shoulders.

They sing and scream, dancing along as you pull back into the driveway. When you come in to get his help to carry in the groceries you are surprised by the loud music, even more surprised by the Elvis playing with the Metal twist to it.

“Eds?” You call from the door, watching both him and your daughter shimmy their butts to you as they sing before you lean and stop the music which makes them both twist quickly to find you.

“MAMA!” Motley cries, excitement crossing her face as she whips his glasses off, dropping the ukelele on the bed and launching into your arms. “Daddy Eddie was teaching me guitar!”

“I see that.” You laugh, keeping a hold of her as you lean to kiss Eddie, laughing when you see him in a pair of overly feminine glasses. “Nice look baby.”

“I thought they were very metal.” He laughs, kissing your lips softly, holding your jaw before Motley groans out a ‘ewwwww’.

“Did you like the music?” You laugh, looking down at her. “Even Daddy’s guitar.”

“He made the song better!” She laughs before you set her down.

“Go get ready. We are having Vinny and his parents over.” At your words she groans, rolling her eyes which makes Eddie laugh out and reach a ringed hand to pull one of her pigtails lightly.

“What’s with the attitude, pretty girl? Your rock n’ roll career is already getting to you?” He laughs, leaning to kiss her cheek before sliding off his jacket, moving to pick Ziggy up and make his way down the hall as his baby girl giggles happily.

“I hateeeee Vinny.” Motley groans, following behind and snatching the chain that hangs from his pants to slow him down. “Daddy Eddie, pweaseeee.”

“Ohhhh, not the puppy eyes!” He whines, looking up to the ceiling.

“No!” You call, covering her eyes. “Not this time.”

Eddie sat on the floor of the living room with his back to the couch, water dripping from his hair onto his exposed chest as Motley sat behind him taking a brush through his hair over and over. He wore a towel around his hips, keeping him covered waist down but all his tattoos exposed as rubbed lotion on them, allowing Motley to have fun playing makeover with his hair.

You sat near him, your feet in his lap as you read through a book you have promised yourself you would finish for months now.. Ziggy played with her toy blocks near as well, babbling along to the movie that played on the tv.

Nights like this were perfect, no hustle and bustle and he got to spend time with his favorite girls.

He rubbed some lotion on the bat tattoos, not really paying attention to what was happening around him only to be interrupted by a sharp gasp falling from your lips. Instantly he is sitting up grunting a bit when the brush Motley was holding puls his hair.

“What? What’s wrong?” “Ziggy is-” But he already sees her, wobbling as she tries to stand without using anything to help her, blabbering quickly. Excitement courses through him as he sits up, Motley giggling behind him.

It takes her a moment but she stands, turning to you and Eddie with a tiny smile. “Come here. Come of Stardust.”

Eddie coos gently and Ziggy wobbles, moving to take a step before landing on her butt.

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby. Try again.” You coo, reaching your arms out. Ziggy giggles and picks herself up again, and once again she tries to take a step. Then, still giggling, she walks.

Clumsy and heavy, she takes step after step until she falls into Eddie’s arms while everyone coos around her.

“Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles and Eddie’s heart stops. Oh my god.

“Did she just….” He gasps out as you tear up beside him.

“Mix your name and daddy as her first word. Indeed she did.” You laugh, moving forward to kiss his cheek as he pulls Ziggy in to kiss her face all over.

“THAT’S MY GIRL!”

Eddie was beginning to get a little pissed off, his body thrumming with it as he watches his girls very closely. He keeps a firm hold on the neck of his guitar to fight the urge to punch someone in the face.

That someone was Gareth.

His band hadn’t had much exposure to kids, he knew this. The closest any of them had been to a kid was Jeff’s sister and she was only 2 years younger than her brother. So when Eddie had introduced his girls to them they hadn’t really known what to do. But he assumed they would get used to it by now.

But his friends hadn’t. In Fact they did nothing but complain when Eddie showed up to band rehearsal with Ziggy on his arm and Motley's hand held within his own. She twisted his rings around, smiling from ear to ear when they walked up to the boys.

Motley had been worried and had taken far too long to pick an outfit since she wanted to look as cool as Daddy Eddie and his friends. She ended up choosing the Hellfire shirt Dustin had made for her 6th birthday and his older jacket, she even let him braid her hair. And when they walked up she gave them a well rehearsed devil look, even sticking her tongue out just like Eddie does whenever she is throwing a fit.

The only problem was Gareth and Paul both groaned outwardly, Jeff was the only one that seemed to try and smile, shaking his hand in an awkward wave. Eddie, now irritated and tense simply explains “Y/n had to go and help Nancy with something, I offered to take the angels.”

“Of course you did.” Paul scoffs, turning to grab a beer from the fridge with Gareth and Jeff in tow. Eddie bends down so he was level with Motley, rubbing her arm.

“Don’t take those geeks to heart, yeah? They’re just nervous. You scare them.” He smiles which makes her smile.

“It’s okay Daddy Eddie. Papa never liked when I bothered him either. We’ll stay out of the way.” She shrugs, kissing his cheek and taking her chalk set to the sidewalk before he places Ziggy on the couch.

The papa comment unnerved him and he was already defensive. He didn’t like that they were in a situation that they could remotely compare to their deadbeat dad. It made him sad.

They start practicing, but soon enough Motley is running up and dancing around in the garage as they play. “PLAY TIFFANY!”

“Whose that?” Jeff asks, covered in sweat.

“Please tell me it’s not that teenager that sings ‘I think we’re-’” Just as Gareth starts groaning, Motley begins singing and dancing to it.

‘Ithinkwe’realonenow. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around!”

“Stop stop stop!” Paul snaps. “This is band practice. You can’t just-”

“I think we should play it.” Jeff smiles. “You have the tape Eddie?”

Of course he had the tape, it was Motley's favorite song at the moment. So, with a deep sigh since he already knew he would get shit for it he pulls the tape from his pocket, holding it in the air between two fingers.

Gareth sighs, snatching it from him and taking it to the stereo system.

An hour later and many snide comments, Eddie was about to lose it. Motley had, at some point, gotten a little upset and chose to sit on the couch with Ziggy who was beginning to get whiny and sad. She hadn’t napped all day and Eddie knew it was time to call it a day before he punched one of his friends.

“I think I’m gonna get the little ones home.” He mumbles, grabbing the tape from the speaker and putting it in the case as he looks over to where his girls were. Ziggy had her pre-cry face on and Motley was half asleep in the cushions. Eddie shuddered at the thought of how many times Gareth had sex on that thing.

“Next time don’t bring the rugrats and we can practice actual music.” Gareth scoffs and that tight string in Eddie finally snapped. He pushes closer to his friend, getting in his face as one hand snatches itself in his shirt tightly and in a threatening way, his other hand holding the tape up to his friend's face.

“THIS IS MUSIC!” He screams, eyes wild before he shoves his friend back and takes a deep breath, turning to where his daughters sit. “Come on, pretty babies. Let’s go make dinner.”

He scoops Ziggy up, then Motley, casting one more glare to his friends before walking off.

“I cannot believe they would be such assholes. To MY nieces.” Steve scoffs, hands on his hips as he stands next to Eddie. Tonight was the school recital, so both of them were dressed up to attend.

Steve had dressed himself in a button up with a nice sweater, making sure to match Nancy who was carrying their 3rd kid, the blue of the dress making her light up. Meanwhile Eddie chose a button up with his leather jacket, or well Motley had demanded he wear the leather jacket because it was a part of the look.

You, as per usual, looked truly stunning. He made sure to keep a hand on your hip or the small of your back to make sure everyone knew you were with him, that’s right. Eddie the freak munson had the hottest woman around and two of the prettiest and most talented daughters in the world.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Eddie sighs. “Talking to my girls like that?”

“They are just jackasses who can’t even play guitar.” Steve scoffs once more, looking past Eddie to check the door. “Ah, there they are. DUSTIN! ERICA!”

Dustin spots them, smiling as he holds Erica’s hand and shuffles closer to them. “Is Mike coming?”

“No. He has a date to make El jealous.” Nancy laughs.

“Where is El tonight?”

“Going out with Max.” Nancy explains, and Eddie feels you tense under his hand. He casts you a quick look to make sure you’re okay, watching Ziggy lay her head on your chest as she plays with your necklace.

“You good?”

“Yup.” Your answer is clipped, and Ziggy lifts her head up to copy you with a ‘yupyup.’

“Where’s Lucas?” Steve asks Erica, leaning to kiss her forehead.

“He had an away game. Asked us to film it.”

“Then asked me to stop dating his sister.” Dustin laughs which makes Steve and Eddie break out in their own fit of laughter.

“Da-Ed-ay.” Ziggy giggles, reaching for him so he grabs her quickly, kissing her lips to make her happy.

“I’m sorry? Did she just mix daddy and Eddie?” Steve gasps and Eddie shrugs.

“I’m telling ya, my girls are geniuses.” He smiles, leading you into the auditorium so watch Motley's recital.

He sits with Ziggy on his lap, holding your hand tightly in his own as Steve pulls out a camera and squats in the aisle to film everything.

Motley and Vinny come up to do their dance, the audience laughing loudly when Motley steps on Vinnys foot after he tries to trip her. They both blush, Vinny takes a bow and Motley holds up a rock sign, which makes Eddie cheer loudly and stand up to yell for her.

Song Inspo for this blurb hereeeeee

“Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take her.” Eddie sings, holding Ziggy on his shoulders easily as he dances with you. The Hawaiian shirt you picked out for him is light on his skin as the sun beats down on you both, the sweat from the day sticking to him.

This was the fourth of July celebration, everyone in the group met at the beach to enjoy the day…… which meant Steve had shown up at 4 am to save the spot. Eddie had already applied sunscreen onto Motley and Ziggy twice, you had done it three times and you both were still scared that the girls would burn.

You had gotten Ziggy the cutest toddler beach outfit, that included a purple swimsuit; hat; and sunglasses. And his baby girl looked absolutely rocking.

Then Motley got her very own swimsuit, inspired by her favorite artist of the time Tiffany, and Eddie (who had been practicing braiding hair for weeks, your scalp was sore.) had put her hair into two pleats that she had proudly shown to her Aunt Robin who had spent the next 30 minutes complimenting her favorite niece.

“Daddy Eddie! Come swim!” She yells out, running up to him. “Puh-lease!”

Now here was the problem, Eddie hated showing his abdomen in front of his friends. It was easy for Steve, who liked to say the scarring was Tom Cruise's amount of cool. Eddie however had never shown them how disgusting his scars were.

“Daddy daddy daddy.” She calls, jumping up and down as Vinny dashes past to get to Dustin. “We’re gonna play chicken and I need my daddy.”

“Maybe Uncle Lucas can help you.” He mumbles, squatting down with Ziggy still on his shoulders, the toddler pulling at his hair sharply as she blubbers.

“I don’t want Uncle Lucas. I want my daddy! Only you can help me!” She cries, grabbing his arms. His heart melts, and he tries to smile.

“Okay pretty girl. Let me get Ziggy settled.” He sighs and she lights up, dashing to go tell Vinny as Eddie moves to hand you Ziggy.

“I’m gonna help El set out the food. Be careful.” You mumble, leaning to kiss his lips before moving to the table as Ziggy waves over your shoulder. Eddie takes his shirt off, rubbing his abdomen in worry as he makes his way to the water where Motley now stood.

“See?! My daddy has cool ass scars because he’s awesome and he’s gonna kick your slimy little ass.” Motley brags to Dustin, who stares at her with wide eyes that make Eddie laugh.

“Language, pretty girl.”

“Sorry.” She blushes, turning back to Dustin. “My daddy has sick scars and he’s gonna beat your toothless ass.”

“Woah.”

And suddenly Eddie felt a little better about his scars, smiling from ear to ear as he lifted Motley up, dashing into the water to help her win a game of chicken.

Thanksgiving was spent at yours and Eddies house, after hours in the kitchen and a quick fit from Motley you had fully prepped the table.

Now everyone sat around it, trying not to laugh as Dustin tries to convince you to eat the mac n cheese he made, practically shoving the spoon in your mouth.

“No! I eat that and I die!” You laugh, slapping the spoon away.

“Who would take care of the kids?” Jonathan gasps in fake astonishment. “Me right?”

“You’d only get the kids if Lucas died.” You shrug which makes Lucas smile in triumph.

“I knew it-”

“And you only get my girls if Erica dies.” Eddie interrupts. “And that’s if Dustin is dead.”

A laugh tears from your throat as Dustin claps, but you’re quick to stop him. “And that’s if Steve is dead.”

“And if Steve has them then Nancy is dead.” Eddie laughs.

“Who has to die for me to get them?!” Mike asks, face red and puffy. El laughs and Max rolls her eyes.

“Let me guess, if Nancy has them then I am dead?” Max scoffs, and you go a bit tense.

“Well in this entire hypothesis that means I am dead, so that’s a bit mean.” Eddie giggles. “Because if my girl is dead then they go to me.”

“No they wouldn’t.” Max laughs, which makes the table go a little quiet. “They’d go to their dad.”

“What?” Eddie asks as Motley giggles out a “PAPA!”

He turns to you, eyes wide. “That true?”

“Technically yes.” You mumble out, looking extremely guilty. “But only because-”

Eddie doesn’t want to hear anymore, he slams his silverware down and storms down the hall, slamming the door loudly.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry-” Max starts, only to have you glare at her and move to grab Ziggy.

It had been a week since Eddie talked to you, he slept on the couch and only talked to the girls. The only communication he had with you was through the girls, and that was it.

He made them pancakes, and took them to school and daycare.

Right now he sat in Ziggys nursery as he tried to get her ready for the day, her only in a diaper as he sat in front of her.

“Aw, come on. Gimme a smile, little baby.” He coos, wiggling his shoulders. “It’s such a cute dress and you know you want to wear it. Huh?”

“No, Da-Ed-ay.” She giggles. “Wuv yu.”

“Aww. I wuv yu too.” He laughs. “In fact I love you THIS MUCH!”

He opens his arms out wide which makes her giggle. “How much do you love me?”

“Dis Muck.” She giggles, opening her own arms wide.

“Our arms are open, we gotta hug.” He laughs, pulling her in quickly which makes her scream and giggle, pushing him away as he kisses her stomach over and over.

“PAPA IS HERE!” Motley screams from the living room which makes Eddie whip his head around to the door that had been closed.

What? “MOMMY! MOMMY MOMMY! IT’S PAPA!”

Eddie stands up quickly, Ziggy in his arms as he swings the door open, meeting your shocked face as you come up the stairs.

“Did she say-?” He starts.

“I’m hoping not.” But as you are saying it there is a knock on the front door. So Eddie makes his way to the living room with Ziggy in his arms as you run to catch Motley before she answers the door.

Choosing to do it yourself, Eddie watches with his heart in his stomach as the door swings open and he is met with-

No.Fucking. Way.

Part ll HERE

(Would y'all want a part 2? If you send in requests for blurbs or scenarios of Eddie and the girls I will 100% write them. Send em in.)

Taglist:: (let me know if you want to be removed)

@localemofreak @paradise-summertime @jenniquinn @eddiesxangel

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rogueddie · 10 months

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Part one

Steve has so many questions, especially once they get in Eddies van. Everything is different- from the shops to the people. Even the trees look different. He wants to know why.

"We already told you," Dustin sighs. "Time has passed, fashion has changed, whatever."

"But why?" He leans forward, jabbing his finger at one of the shops. "Why did they change the colors?"

"I don't know!"

Dustin doesn't yell, not like his father would. He doesn't do anything other than groan too, encouraging Steve to keep asking questions. He even dares to stick his tongue out when he finally starts complaining, asking Steve to shut up.

By the time they pull up outside a small, wooden cabin, Dustin looks ready to strangle him.

It's kind of funny.

"Alright," Eddie finally speaks up. "Let's go."

He quickly jumps out, jogging around to catch Steve as he steps out, throwing him over his shoulder. He laughs when Steve yells, trying to kick him.

"Don't be a brat, Harrington!" He cackles.

"This is why you aren't cool like Robin!" He yells back, twisting around so he can tug at his hair. "You're a meanie."

"Ow, dude, not the hair!"

Someone clears their throat, making Eddie stop walking. Steve tries to wriggle around, trying to see who it is, but Eddies jacket blocks his view no matter what.

Someone snaps their fingers, after a moment, and Eddie gently lowers him back onto his feet.

The man standing in front of the cabin door looks stunned, when Steve turns around. He blinks at the group for a second, before silently pointing to Steve.

"We don't know," Robin answers. "He's been like this for a while."

"Let me guess; parents aren't home. Again."

"They're busy!" Steve defends.

The man snorts, shaking his head. "That's what you always say, kid." He steps aside, nodding towards the cabin. "Come on, she knew you were coming."

Before Steve can step inside, following the group, the man stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Kid," the man clears his throat as he crouches down. His hand is gentle on his shoulder. "You doing ok?"

"I'm fine."

"Steve. This is probably very confusing and scary, I know, but you need to trust us. We want to help you."

Steve scuffs his feet on the floor, grumbling, "yeah, I know."

"So if you're not ok, you can tell us."

"Yeah, I know."

The man stares at him for a moment, before nodding. "If that changes, let us know, ok?"

"Ok."

"Good. Come on."

The inside of the cabin is cozy. Cluttered. Lived in.

"Hello Steve!" A young woman greets. Her hair is shorter than his, Steve notes. And she has a nice smile.

"Hello."

"I am Jane, but you can call me El." She offers her hand.

He shakes it automatically, a little surprised when she doesn't let go. "El?"

"That is what my friends call me." She gestures towards the two pillows set out on the floor, in front of the TV. "I am going to find out what has happened to you. It won't hurt."

"Uh, right. What- uh..." He looks to Robin, who nods encouragingly. "What do I do?"

"Sit with me."

She gently tugs him over, sitting on one of the pillows. She smiles at him when he hesitates, waiting, patient.

He keeps quiet, looking to the others when she pulls out a blindfold.

"It helps her think," the man explains.

Steve nods, even though he doesn't understand what that means.

For a moment, nothing happens. They sit there, almost silent- the static from the TV starts to grate his ears, especially with how close they're sat. But the others look tense, impatient, so Steve tries to stay where he is. He tries to behave.

Until he spots blood.

"She's bleeding!" He points out.

He goes to jump to his feet, but a hand quickly lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

It's Robin.

"It's ok, she's ok, it's just a nosebleed," she says. "It's harmless, really. She knows what she's doing."

Robin stays next to him. She even lets him hold her hand when he reaches out for her.

It's not long, after that, until El lifts the blindfold off. She looks confused.

"Well?" Dustin snaps. "What is it? Is he ok? Did someone do-"

"Hey," Eddie gently interrupts, leaning over to bump their shoulders together.

"He is ok," El says, once Dustin relaxes a little. "But I... don't know how this happened."

"How do we change him back?" Eddie asks.

"I can't, I'm sorry. But it is taking too much power to sustain itself."

"Wait, wait, wait," Robin rubs at her forehead. "So, you can't change him back but, what, eventually he will on his own?"

"Yes."

"How long will that take?" Dustin asks.

"I am not sure. Maybe a week? Two?"

"And until then he's just stuck like this?"

"I am sorry, Steve," El says, turning to him. "When it is weaker, I might be able to help?"

"That's ok," Steve quickly reassures her. "I will be ok. I know how to take care of myself."

"What?" El tilts her head, confused.

"Kid, you're staying here," the man says.

"No, Hopper," Robin cuts in, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I'm gonna take care of him. He's, like, my soulmate! And he likes me!"

"Woah, hold on," Dustin says. "That's not fair! He's my family!"

They continue to argue for an hour. It's mostly playful, but Steve kind of likes it. He's never had anyone fight over him before.

"He is staying here," Eddie finally speaks up, when it looks like the man- Hopper- is about to explode. "Neither of you two have thought of a single excuse for your parents. And you can't leave him in that big house on his own. He's safer here."

"Oh, fuck," Robin suddenly jerks upright. "What the hell do I tell Keith?"

Part Three

tag list for those who asked; @songbird-garden @str4wb3rry-guy @badcaseofcasey @lioniheart @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @newtstabber @messrs-weasley @vesme @penny00dreadful

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #ficlet #interim obligatory explanation part #I only wanted to do one more part but then I thought about different baby steve scenarios so

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vacantwatchers · 3 months

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Platonic Stobin discuss Steve's relationship with Nancy. It's kind of critical on Nancy bc I'm biased (and a hater). Read it on Ao3 here.

“Explain to me why Henderson thinks you’re into Nancy again.”

“Fuck knows, Rob. I haven’t seen her around, let alone spoken to her since all that shit at the mall.” He didn’t really like the way she’d frowned at Robin when they’d met up, definitely hadn’t liked the antagonistic tone she used when she’d asked who Robin was.

Steve felt Robin sigh before the gentle weight of her head rested atop his. “The little gremlin cornered me at lunch and demanded to know why we weren’t dating–”

“I’m out of your league,” Steve muttered to her right hand as he slowly coated her index in the dark red polish.

“Keep believing that, Popeye. He asked me if I thought you were repugnant or something and that's why I wouldn't give you the time of day.”

Steve paused to swipe away polish with his nail. “What does repugnant mean?”

Robin hummed, a little delay as she tried to find a definition for him. Steve can imagine her flicking through a little rolodex that’s full of what Robin considers Steve approved explanations.

In the space of his waiting, he’d managed to finish the first coat on her right hand and gently lifted her hand up, smiling to himself at the way Robin moved from his hand to his shoulder.

(It took three weeks of working in Family Video, working back to back shifts so dead they made the burnt shell of Starcourt look lively for Robin to come in one day with a bulging pencil case and the demand that “if you’re just going to sit there, at least paint my nails, dingus.” It took three attempts with Robin smudging her nails with her flailing before they established that when he finished a hand, he would lift it, and she would rest it on his shoulder.)

“Repugnant is like when something is really distasteful, unacceptable.”

“Tammy Thompson’s muppet singing is repugnant.”

Robin snorted into his hair. “Perfect use of repugnant, Steve. It’s also a word you can use similar to revolting, repulsive, disgusting and offensive.”

Pulling her left hand closer to his right side so he could see what he was doing, Steve hummed. “Okay. So Dustin thinks you think I’m revolting, repulsive, disgusting, and offensive?”

“Yeah, Steve, I told him I just couldn’t date such a disgusting man who spends twenty minutes on his hair after a shower and ignores me every time I tell him he needs to go to an optometrist because the way he can’t see makes me sad. No. I said that while I am happy to spend my life with you as my soulmate, we are strictly platonic.”

Sliding the brush back into the bottle, Steve gently swiped his nail down the side of Robin’s thumb. “That absolutely didn’t shut him up. Give them a minute before I do the next coat.”

Robin nodded her understanding, which made him nod. “No, me saying that didn’t stop him. Me asking if the reason he was so interested in your love life was because he was the one with the crush on you, however, did.”

“Ew, Robin, he’s like my brother.”

“That is exactly what he said, just with a lot more volume and yelling.”

Steve leaned further into the weight of Robin at his back, taking a moment to absorb the fact that she lets him take whatever touch he needs without freaking out the same way she does whenever someone else tries to touch her in the slightest. Uses the pause to organise his thoughts out of the jumbled train they come at him in. “I’m not sure when, uh. When we dated, I’m not sure it was love.”

“Okay.” Robin’s hum tingled through his diaphragm. “Talk it through, you were convinced last year you’d loved her. Don’t even try to think it out for me like you do, just say it all.”

“The ol’ Robin treatment, huh?”

“I hate that that is what you call it, but yes. Please proceed.”

“We dated, and I tried to be there for her, right? Like I had to go to these absolutely depressing dinners with Barb’s family every fucking week, because Nancy thought it was the right thing to do and I had to pretend to eat the food, and I tried to give her space when it felt like she was pulling away. I’d take her out to get her away from thinking about it all because I could see that she was struggling and thought maybe doing normal shit teenagers did would help. Would sit with her and listen when she needed me to, or just be with her when she needed silence. I’d ask about how she slept, and if she was still having nightmares, I would reach out and just try and hold her hand or hug her.

“But, I don't know. I’ve been thinking back on it, and Nancy never really did the same shit back, y’know. She would have these moods where she’d just be so angry. Angry at herself, the situation. Me. And I get it, it was fucked up and we couldn’t tell anyone without the threat of being taken away. But she’d go on and on about how we killed Barb and it was our fault and then it would turn into how it was my fault she was dead. And then so often she would say this line and at first I was like, she’s saying it in this fond way so she doesn’t mean it, but she said it so oft–”

“What would she say?”

Steve tilted his head back so he could look up at Robin. “What?”

“Nancy. What would she say?”

“Oh.” Steve looked back down, fiddling with the nail polish bottle. “She’d say ‘you’re an idiot, Steve Harrington’ and she’d make these comments, and I don’t even know if she was aware of it. Like she’d call me dumb and say don’t be stupid, or imply that I wouldn’t be able to do something or understand because I wouldn't get it.

“And when she went over my work she’d say it never made sense, and like, her tone, her tone always said it because I wasn’t smart enough. Like, she’d read over things and point and make comments, and honestly, it was more confusing than anything because the points made sense to me, but apparently not to her–”

Robin made her little grunting sound. She did it every time she needed to interject something. “Yeah but that's like, your mind's process. You do it when you talk too, that structuring thing you do where you make these links to things, and it all somehow flows. My mom said you might have something called dyslexia or dysgraphia. One of those two.”

Steve looked up at Robin, eyebrows scrunching up. “You talk to your mom about me? When did she even have time to figure that out?”

“I talk about you to her all the time because we both love you. And she noticed when you were helping me with my English homework.”

Huh. “Okay then.”

“Keep going with what you were saying, sailorman.”

Seven months, and she still hasn't given up on the nautical nicknames. Jesus.

“After early admissions for colleges had closed, Henderson actually found the essay I wrote, and he said it was good. That the parallels were there and with only a little tweaking it would have been great, and when I mentioned what Nancy said he kind of paused before reading it again and said he didn’t see what she was talking about. He even had his mom read it because for a while, she was admin for a college, and she said it would have gotten me in. After Christmas, I asked Nancy if she wanted to go with me to tour some colleges once and she looked at me when I dropped some of the names and said, ‘Do you think they’ll believe you’d fit in there?'"

“Jesus Christ,” Robin muttered.

“It just, it built up and I think at the time I was blind to it because I was trying to lose myself in the relationship, in being there for her.”

“What about you?” Robin’s hand slid down from its perch on his shoulder to his chest so she could pull him closer. “Was she there for you? Like, you told me that since ‘83 you can’t eat meat because of the smell of burning demogorgon put you off, and that having to lure the demodogs with meat was really triggering. And I know you have trouble sleeping and you have those awful nightmares that make it so that sometimes you can’t eat.

“Which, can I just say, is really concerning because you already have this habit of forgetting to eat even when you’ve brought lunch. And I know it’s probably something to do with the way you get stuck into stock or shelving, but I hate it when you get into that groove. But I’ve also figured out that you will eat anything I hand to you, as long as I’ve taken a bite first, so it’s not that bad.”

Needing to move a little, Steve tightened the nail polish and started shaking the bottle.

“Oh, uh. Those dinners with Barb’s family, it was always KFC, that’s why I never ate anything there. She’d actually get annoyed because she thought it was disrespectful? That I only ate the bread and chips? And after that first night where Barb died, Nancy never came over to my house again because she said it had too many bad memories and it made her uncomfortable to be there. So she never really saw the nightmares. When she wanted to see me, she would have me come over and she’d push me on the bed and then when she was done she’d tell me it was getting late, and kind of push me towards her window to go.”

“Steve– that doesn't sound healthy at all.”

"Yeah."

Lifting the nail polish bottle, Robin took it as the signal it was and dropped her hand in his again.

“I think, even when I was dating her, she talked more to Jonathan than me.”

“That’s fucked up, Steve.”

“I think that’s just trauma, Bobby. We weren’t good together. I don’t know. Whatever Dustin is seeing between us is completely in his head. Especially considering the money moves I'm making with Operation Metalhead.”

“You need to stop saying money moves. All you've done is wave at him and blush when he loaned you a Megadeth tape.”

Gently guiding her hand back into his best field of vision, Steve started in on the second coat. “I don't know, sounds pretty money to me.”

Steve felt Robin inhale for a deep sigh, her warmth increasing against his back for a moment before she exhaled. "I think Eddie might have actually graduated before Operation Metalhead gets anywhere close to being a success."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler critical honestly #platonic stobin #pre steddie #steddie fic

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carolmunson · 1 year

Text

okay, since some of you asked for it:

unpopular opinion but i don’t actually think eddie was a nice soft boy at all. dustin and mike are literally afraid to ask him to move hellfire. ‘he’s always revved up,’ implying that he’s always like this, always a little close to snapping. he’s not nice to them when he asks them to find a replacement. he also guilt trips them about 'taking them in like lost sheep' and shoves them off to find a replacement instead of keeping lucas included. which is why i don't understand the 'fierce protector of his friends' take because he's so quick to drop lucas just because he's 'moved to the dark side.' aka, throwing balls into laundry baskets.

which leads me to when he gets up on the table, people are not trying to fuck around with him. this is a common occurance, people are not surprised to see him up there and yelling. they aren't surprised that he's making a spectacle of himself. if eddie was soft and sweet, he would’ve gotten beat up. if eddie was soft and gentle, he'd probably be scared of jason. guys like jason in the 80s loved being macho and punching out losers — eddie just gave him the devil horns and called it a day. eddie’s absolutely gotten in fist fights before and won (his dad is a literal criminal!) otherwise someone would've thrown something or told him to shut the fuck up. people are scared of him, even his own friends! there’s more reasons than just playing DND and metal that make town certain that he’s a cult leader. you don't just assume someone is a murderer if they haven't shown any interest in violence before, especially considering his dad was likely a shitty dude. he even bullies erica when she first shows up to hellfire and only respects her when she bullies him back and bests him. he is someone you have to EARN respect from. he will never respect anyone outright or be understanding outright. he doesn't fully respect dustin or mike to start either, he views them as underlings.

even chrissy assumes he's going to be mean and scary, there's gotta be reason behind that. he's not nice or kind in school, which is likely a defense mechanism. he’s sweet with chrissy because he likes her, he has a crush on her. it’s very clear that he has since he was a kid, otherwise why would he bring up them hanging out in middle school? why would he even remember that if he hasn’t been pining for her this whole time? he admits too, albiet flirtily, that he thought SHE'D be mean and scary too, because he doesn't like people 'like that', people he assumes are 'on the dark side'. i’m sure he hoped they’d kiss a little when she went to his trailer. he's even a little sarcastic when she's there, again, defensive. 'the maid took the week off'. but ultimately, he's nice to her because he wants to kiss her and has a crush on her. i don't think it's because he's fully 'showing her who he really is'.

also he's a literal drug dealer????? like?????

he only becomes more gentle and open with dustin and co. when he gets pulled into the upside down/vecna stuff because he needs support. they grow a bond over shared trauma. and i do believe eddie had a big brother type relationship with dustin, but just like steve he loves him begrudgingly 'i love you, you little shit bag' kind of shit. i do believe he liked and cared for his friends but i also think he always had a big layer of mean kid armor on because he had a hard life growing up. how i percieved the character is 'mean bully whose secretly nice but is mean and boisterous and loud as a cover' trope. when he explains that his father taught him to hotwire, he seems bitter about it. of course he is, all the other kids were learning to play ball. but he obviously still retains this information and a whole bunch of other crime tricks from his dad. he's BEEN partaking in this shit. he KNOWS he's a shitty guy. you don't just get taught how to hotwire once and then suddenly know how to do it years later. he's done it before! multiple times! he has practice! he likely knows about warzone cause his daddy absoLUTELY had a gun or two. his dad probably took him there once. he was pulled left and right into bad shit growing up and that will HARDEN YOU. wayne says that murder 'ain't in his nature' and i'm sure it's not. i'm sure he's different with wayne, but idk, to me, it doesn't erase the fact that outwardly, i don't think eddie was nearly as sweet and gentle as people think he is canonically. i think he's a very hardened and tortured person and that even becomes clear with his reaction to chrissy's death and how he goes about things going forward. he was a weird kid with weird interests in a cookie cutter conservative town, had a criminal father, and an unconventional family situation in the 70s and 80s, that shit'll fuck you up and over -- look at boomers y'all! they are emotionally stunted! but, i could go on forever with this character analysis. so i'll stop here. but -- in the words of the real housewives reunion meme: that's MY OPINION!

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luveline · 10 months

Note

Eddie and Roan taking care of reader who just had their wisdom teeth removed maybe? Eddie having to explain why reader is super emotional and out of it, telling her to be super gentle and loving. Lots of fluff 🥹

I'm sorry this took me a whole month!! I hope you like it my love!! eddie and roan —dad!eddie takes care of step mom!you when you get your teeth pulled, 2k

"Be careful," Eddie murmurs, hands at your waist, leading you up the last step to the house with a little too much tenderness.

You had your wisdom teeth out and he's acting like you had a near miss with death. You're clearly enjoying how soft he's being, leaning your weight on him for closeness' sake rather than a real need for his help.

"Wayne?" Eddie calls.

"We're in the kitchen!"

The kitchen door is closed, but their voices rumble from within, muffled by wood and the sound of the sink running. Eddie nods, assured they got home in one piece, and kisses the side of your head. "You got it. Keep on walking, we'll get you on the couch."

He hadn't expected the drugs to make you like this. Steve said that when his girlfriend had her wisdom teeth out, she was a mixture of giggly and tearful. One wrong word could set her off. "And whatever you do, man, don't yell. I'm trying to stop her from poking around in there and she's crying in my passenger seat 'cos she thinks I'm mad," Steve said.

Eddie hasn't had to raise his voice; you seem completely uninterested in your mouth and all your gauze. You'd been giggly as promised when Eddie first came in to help you to the car, but strangely shy when he wrapped his arm around your waist. It's kinda nice —you've never been shy with Eddie, not so obviously. You made the first move, you asked him out, you planned the first date. He's lucky he managed to propose before you had something to say about it.

"Here, sweetheart, sit down," he says, fluffing a pillow in your designated seat. You sit, and you look at him imploringly. "What?"

"You'll sit with me?"

Your gauze muffles your words. Eddie smiles at you adoringly.

"I'm definitely going to sit with you, but I need to go wash my hands, because we need to take out your gauze, and you need an ice pack. You understand?"

"You won't sit with me?" you ask, pouting gently.

Eddie leans down to look you in the eye. He's never so aware as to how much he loves you as he is like this, hands on your forearms, thumbs rubbing sweet circles into your hot skin. "Sweetheart," he says, in the stickiest most loving tone he possesses, "I'm going to sit with you, but I have to take care of you first. And… if you're not upset, I can bring Roan in to see you."

That's who you wanted to see most. The you without drugs knew Roan wasn't coming to pick you up, but the you that was full of them seemed very concerned. "Where's Ro?" you'd mumbled woozily. "My girl… I thought she was here."

Eddie watches recognition spark in your eyes, then excitement. "Ro's here?" you ask now.

"Yes! Of course she's here, this is her home. Are you happy enough for me to go and get her?" he asks.

You nod hurriedly. Eddie doesn't feel bad for manipulating you. It's almost like guiding Roan into good decisions.

"Okay." He kisses your hand. "Be good. No touching your mouth."

"I'm always good," you say with a funny laugh, leaning back into the couch.

Eddie gives your shoulder one last pet before standing up. He rubs his forehead as he leaves the living room, kicking his shoes off under the stairs and making his way to the kitchen door. He pushes it open cautiously in case someone is behind it, but Roan's on the counter with a dish rag in her hands and Wayne's putting plates away.

"Hey, little miss," Eddie says, darting forward to give her a kiss.

"Hello," she says, head dipping under his kiss.

"How's Y/N?" Wayne asks, closing the cabinet.

"She's fine, she isn't half as woozy as they thought she'd be. And no pain yet. I gotta wash my hands to take her gauze out." Eddie turns on the faucet. Roan grabs the soap squeezee and squirts a big dollop of raspberry hand soap into his palm. "Thanks, babe."

"Wayne," she says, holding up her arms.

Wayne grabs her and puts her down on the floor, but he says, "Wait, kid."

"I want to see her," she whines.

"Will you grab an ice pack from the fridge?" Eddie asks.

He was asking Wayne, but Roan rushes to the freezer drawers and yanks them open. Eddie did his research thoroughly before your surgery, he knows exactly what you need to make everything as painless as possible. Ice packs, medicine, dry socket prevention. In an event of too much caution, he got six ice packs. That way, if they melt too much, he can swap it for a new one. Six whole times.

Eddie isn't a worrier, but he worries about this. You hurting, and him not being able to do a thing about it.

Wayne passes Roan a newer looking hand towel and she wraps it up. Before he can stop her, she's running off to the living room. Eddie's barely catching up when he hears you.

"Roan!" you yell, the loudest you've been since you came out of the Dentist's office. "Where have you been?" You're ecstatic. "Quick, come here."

"You sound funny," Roan says.

She seems worried. Eddie turns the corner, finds her paused in front of your waiting arms.

"I know," you say regretfully, "but Eddie says I can't take out the gauze and I'm trying to be good." You laugh. "I sound like I have a gumball in my mouth."

"A big gumball."

You drag Roan up onto your lap, pressing your face to the top of her head completely unawares of the future pain you're stoking. "I missed you. Why didn't you come and see me at the dentist?" you ask, whining.

Roan looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?" she demands. "Dad said I couldn't go, and you said I should listen to dad."

"You shouldn't," you say, hugging her like a teddy rather than a real living child.

Roan doesn't complain. "I know."

Eddie does. "Yes, you should. You should absolutely listen to me, because I'm always right. Like, ninety percent of the time. And Wayne agrees. Right, Wayne?"

"I'm always right!" Wayne calls. "And your dad listens to me, so really, he is always right too."

"That's not true," you sing under your breath, your nose rubbing against Roan's forehead. She giggles happily.

"Roan, babe, give her a kiss and then sit down, okay? I need to help her feel better."

Roan gives you a very soft kiss on the top of your cheek. You make a pleased huffing sound. "I love being your mom," you say.

Roan's dazzled. With a big smile, she falls down into the cushions to your left. Eddie refrains from squeezing her knee now his hands are clean, gesturing for you to lift your chin.

"Will it hurt?" you ask.

"Not even a bit. Promise."

He takes your gauze out without much fuss and strokes your cheek as a sticker for a job well done. It's a bloody mess and Roan makes a disgusted sound, rushing forward to offer you the ice pack. Eddie discards the mess, wipes your face clean with a cotton pad, and offers you a bottle of water.

Half of it tips down your shirt.

Wayne laughs in the doorway. "I can see you have things handled."

Eddie gives him a hug, lavishing in the proud pat on his back, and Roan climbs on the back of the couch to get a kiss. Wayne gives your shoulder a fond squeeze while he's there. "Feel better, Y/N. I'll be back tomorrow for hotdogs."

You cheer happily, "Yes, Mr. Munson! Please, I love them so much, I want the special mustard this time."

"You got it. Bye, kids."

"Love you!" Eddie calls to Wayne's retreating back.

"I love you Uncle Wayne!" Roan shouts louder.

"Love you guys," Wayne says, closing the door behind him.

"He could've stayed," you say.

"He's late for pool," Eddie says.

"We have a pool."

"For eight ball pool, with his friends," Eddie says, laughing.

You look at him for a long time. Eddie squints at you, until you announce, "I'm really tired."

Eddie helps you upstairs to your room, to Roan's chagrin. He sets you up in bed with everything you might need, a blanket over your legs, the window open to share the breeze, painkillers in arm's reach. Things are quieter when you're settled, the first hint that you're in pain a strange motion you're making with your hand, fingers jutting on your chest toward your chin.

Roan sits at your feet. "Is she hurting?"

"A little bit," Eddie guesses. "How do you feel, sweetheart? Can I help you take some more painkillers?"

You frown at him. "My mouth is hurting?"

"You had your teeth pulled out."

"She doesn't remember?" Roan asks.

"The medicine the dentists gave her can make her forget things, but it won't last much longer," Eddie tells her. "We'll get our Y/N back in a couple of hours."

"I'm right here," you say, eyes tearing up. "What are you talking about, Eddie?"

"Dad!"

"It's okay," Eddie says, shuffling closer to you to stroke your face. The ice pack has left your skin painfully cold, even in twenty minute bursts. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't mean it as a bad thing, I'm sorry. Don't cry, okay?" He kisses your temple.

You sniffle.

"She's so sad," Roan says, walking on knees to your hip.

"We need to be really nice," Eddie whispers, wincing at his misstep. "I need to be nicer."

"You're nice all the time, dad."

"Can you cheer her up for me?" he asks.

Roan saves it before his small mistake can butterfly into anything worse, stretching her arms across your stomach, looking at you with wide, loving eyes. "It's okay, mom."

Your eyes mist up worse. You raise your hand to her cheek. Eddie can tell you're trying not to cry, but you breathe out and sob at the same time. "You're so pretty. I love you."

"I love you too!"

"I love you so much.” You turn to see Eddie, prompting another wave of tears. "What the fuck, you're really pretty." Eddie laughs as you slap a hand over your mouth. "Don't say that," you say into your hand.

"You're pretty too, in case you haven't noticed," Eddie says.

"You make me feel really beautiful," you say agreeably. It's perturbing to have you say something nice while tears bump down your cheeks. Eddie wipes them away carefully.

"You are really beautiful," he says.

"Can you make me stop crying?" you ask.

Eddie tamps down a laugh and rolls his shoulders. "Obviously I can. Close your eyes?"

You close them. Eddie whispers something to Roan, and they, as gently as they're able to, press twin kisses to the corners of your eyes.

Eddie pulls away. "That work?"

Your lashes flutter, heavy with tears. "No. Do it again. Like, ten times I think."

"You sure?" Eddie asks indulgently.

"Yessss…" You deliberate. "I think you'll have to help me have some tramadol."

"Tylenol, sweetheart."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Definitely. Tylenol will be enough, I promise."

You sniff. "Okay."

Eddie has a long couple of hours ahead of him.

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after-the-end-times · 10 months

Text

omg I love this by @steddieas-shegoes, but for some reason that scene from Ted Lasso immediately popped into my head when I was reading it? Thus, this:

It's not long after Steve and Eddie finally slept together for the first time that Eddie walks into the house to Steve holding a baby, a baby with curls and big amber eyes.

And he doesn't want to assume, but it is dressed in a pink onesie, so he's gonna go ahead and say she's a girl baby. And Eddie definitely knows there's normal things to ask about a surprise baby, like what's her name or who's is she or, even, where'd she come from, but nope.

"Is- Is she mine?" he says, eyes widening and a hand drifting up to his chest.

Steve just looks at him, a bemused smile spreading across his face,

"Eddie, we had sex, like, a week ago."

"Riiiight right right, sorry, yeah bad math" Eddie says, huffing out a laugh. 'Cause yeah, it's the math that's the issue.

Steve turns to head back into the kitchen, blithely adding as he goes,

"And if memory serves, you finished on my-"

"Woooah nonono!. Steve! You can't- That's not-" Eddie says rushing after him, stopping in front of Steve and the baby.

The baby who looks up at him with giant eyes and fingers in her mouth and looks so much like SteveandEddie that Eddie's brain is still trying to work out some sort of science or magic that would explain this situation because he suddenly wants it to be-

And Steve's just looking at him with the most gentle half smile and crinkly eyes, but Eddie just shakes his head to clear his thoughts, gently covers the baby's ears, and says in the most scandalized tone he didn't even know he had in him,

"There's no reason to get into the science of it all in front of the baby, Steve!"

Steve smiles wide at that and he heads to the sink, patting Eddie on the shoulder as he goes,

"Well, why don't we get her a bottle and then we can discuss the science of it all while she naps, hm?"

#steddie #ok I'm not sure what happened here as I've never written steddie fanfiction before #but I guess that's exactly what I said about ted x trent just a couple months ago so idk lol #(neverminding the whole 'never wrote fanfic before in all my 20 years in fandom until ted lasso' thing)#but the scene popped into my head and I had to get it out #ficlet #stranger things #my writing #I guess I have a writing tag now

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

ok so maybe Steve's at work doing his nurse thing when who shows up in the emergency room and didn't even call to tell him that she was hurt? his favorite girl, that's who.

hmm?

AN | More Nurse Steeb!🥺🥺 This can be read as a companion piece to this, but also as a stand alone!

Warnings | Mild Language

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Nurse Steve, Steve, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were dreading this moment. You really, really didn't want to be here. The temptation to just turn and run away was so high. It would have been so easy to just leave and go home…but the shooting pain in your arm told you that was an even worse idea.

The hospital was big…so maybe you wouldn't see him at all. Right? Right. Or that's what you were hoping for. The odds really were slim to none and yet… Maybe you didn't even need to go to the ER. Maybe you could just call and schedule a regular appointment with your doctor…

"Fuck," you sighed heavily as you looked between the entrance and your car. You had to do it. There was no way you could get out of this one.

Trying to collect your remaining dignity, you walked into the hospital and up to the counter. The woman behind the screen looked at you for a moment, recognizing you but not quite placing it.

"I-I think I did something to my elbow," you explained, tears already welling up and threatening to run down your cheeks, "I fell and it's stuck at this weird angle and I couldn't move it. Every time I try it hurts so bad."

She peeks over the counter before noticing the odd placement of your left elbow, "oh dear. Well, we'll get you right in with the doctor. First, let me get your name please."

You nodded and told her your first name and hesitated for a moment. She waited for you to go on and you sighed before giving her your last name, "Harrington."

And…realization hit her. She knew exactly who you were. You, him, and the disgustingly cute story of how you'd met in that very ER were well known around the hospital. You gave her a sheepish smile as she scribbled a few things down, "go ahead and take a seat. I've got everything here, honey."

"Thank you," the older woman's gentleness already made you feel better, despite your current predicament, "and umm…could we not tell him yet? Or at least don't put me in his wing?"

"I'll do my best," she promised with a knowing wink. You nodded softly before padding over to one of the stiff plastic chairs, careful not to irritate your arm further.

A heavy, tired sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes for a few moments of solace from the piercing fluorescence of the hospital lights. A dumb little part of your brain even dreamed that maybe you'd get home without him knowing anything.

Doubtful.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Well," the doctor, an older man with a calm aura - which did nothing to help your nerves - was almost silent as looked over your x-rays and studied the findings, "you've got yourself a dislocated elbow."

"No," you groaned as you looked at the ceiling. How could you be this clumsy and unlucky?

"Yes," he pointed at your arm, still stuck at an awkward angle as if to prove his point, "and that is nothing to scoff at."

"Umm, how do I fix it?" you asked softly, trying to ignore the throbbing, "can it be fixed?"

“Oh yes,” he seemed unphased by your question, as your panic had increased, “most of the time it can be corrected without surgery-”

“Without? S-so you mean you there’s a chance I would need surgery?” your lip trembled with effort as you tried to cry, “what are the odds?”

“The first thing I’m going to do is to try and set it back into place and then we’ll immobilize the arm for now,” he looked up at you for a moment and saw the distressed look on your features, “meaning you’ll be in a sling for some time. It’s imperative that you keep as still as possible for now. In a few weeks we’ll see how it’s setting and how your range of movement is. And onto physical therapy.”

“Physical therapy?” alright. This had to be some sort of cosmic joke. The last time you were in the ER was when you’d broken your ankle a few years ago. That had almost ended up with surgery and absolutely had required physical therapy, “oh.”

“It’ll be okay, Mrs. Harrington,” he insisted, “I’ve seen these before and while inconvenient, rest assured you’ll make a full recovery.”

“I-”

“I’ll send in the nurse and have them set you up with a sling and the dos and don’ts and talk to you about painkillers,” he gave you a pat on the opposite shoulder, “I’ll see you back in about two weeks. Any questions you have the nurse will be able to answer.”

“Okay,” you nodded and slumped your shoulders as you watched him go. Steve was going to lose his mind when he saw you, “fuck me.”

After a few minutes of terse silence, a few gentle knocks came at the door. You confirmed they could come in and regretted your decision as soon as you did. It wasn’t just any nurse that happened to be assigned to you. It was your husband.

“Steve?”

“Baby?”

“I-” he’d all but dropped your charts and came over to you, his hands finding your face as he studied you. He’d read over your chart to read the doctor’s diagnosis, but had neglected to read the name. Otherwise he would have known it was you. As soon as you looked in those big, soft eyes all the unshed tears rolled down your cheeks, “I-I fell.”

“Honey,” he closed his eyes and let out a small sigh, whether of stress or relief you weren’t sure. He tenderly brushed away your tears before placing a kiss to your forehead, “it’s okay. I know it hurts, but don’t cry…please. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make it better.”

“It hurts so bad, Stevie,” you wanted nothing but for him to wrap you up in his arms, but were also terrified of hurting your arm further, “I’m so stupid, ‘m sorry.”

“You’re not stupid and there’s nothing to be sorry for,” he gently shushed by putting a finger to your lips, “I’m glad you came in, okay? I know how stubborn you can get, my clumsy girl. But I’m here to take care of you.”

“I asked them not to send you,” you sniffled, laughing ever so softly as he shook his head in amusement. He tutted, but it was nothing but warm and affectionate, “didn’t want you to worry or panic.”

“It is my job to take care of you,” he insisted softly, “both here in a professional capacity and everywhere else as your husband and best friend. Will you tell me what happened, angel? How did you hurt yourself so badly?”

“You’re gonna laugh,” a pout settled on your pretty, soft lips and he couldn’t help but press a kiss to them, “it’s silly.”

“I won’t laugh,” he promised, “scout’s honor.”

“You were never a boy scout, Steve.”

“Still counts.”

“Does not-”

“You’re stalling,” he insisted, already guessing your little ployl, “just tell me what happened, baby.”

“I was in the backyard and I went to move one of the lounge chairs off the deck and one thing led to another and I lost my footing and slipped and tried to stop my fall with my hand and then hit my elbow and the thing I knew it was lots of pain and I couldn’t move my lower arm,” you replayed the events in your head and silently cringed at yourself, “and I came here.”

You looked up and found Steve’s brows knitted together as he kept his eyes on your chart. He was silent, but then you could see the subtle shake of his shoulders. You used your good hand and slapped his arm, “Steve Harrington, you’re laughing! Don’t laugh at me, you said you wouldn’t!”

“Honey, honey, honey,” he took your hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I’m not laughing at you…I’m just amused by the situation.”

“You wouldn’t be laughing at another patient!”

“Other patients aren’t my wife,” he put a finger under your chin and turned your face up to meet his, “and I love you more than anything, so it’s affectionate teasing.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” you huffed, but there was no malice behind your voice, “now make it better…please.”

“I will,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I promise I’ll make it better, sweetheart.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Ugh,” you sighed for what felt like the millionth time as you tried to move around to get comfortable. You were exhausted - tired and worn out from your accident and the excitement of the day, but sleep had proven to be elusive. The worst part of all, there were only certain ways you could lie down to keep your arm still and without causing too much pain. None of the positions were working. Steve was lying in bed next to you, attempting to read but you were sure he wasn’t doing much reading from all your huffing and puffing. You turned your head and gave him an apologetic look, “sorry Stevie.”

“It’s okay,” he promised as he dog-eared his page and snapped his book shut, setting it on the nightstand, “I know it’s difficult to adjust to, baby. Let me try and help.”

“This sucks,” you huffed before looking over at him, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles, “I’m never doing anything else again for myself. It’s proven to be a bad idea.”

“I’d say the broken ankle worked out pretty well,” he grinned as you looked at him in confusion, “more or less. I got to meet the girl of my dreams right there in the ER.”

“And to think, if I hadn’t broken my ankle we’d have never met,” you said, touching his cheek with your good hand and giving him a soft smile, “the injury sucked, but the man I got out of it is pretty amazing.”

“Who knows,” he shrugged with a small smile, “maybe something good will come out of this too. You’ll just have to get better first. That means listening to me and taking it easy and -”

“Asking for help,” you finished softly, “I will, Steve. I will. But I have a request for when this mess is all healed…”

“Go on, I’m curious now…”

“Can we get a dog?” you asked with wide, curious eyes as his face softened. Of course you would use this for something like this. Truth was, he wanted a dog too, but it just never had been the right time, maybe now that dream would come true, “pretty please, Stevie?”

“We’ll see,” he promised and you could tell what he meant, which only caused your smile to grow, “we’re focusing on you first.”

“Fine,” you agreed happily, “but right now I just want to sleep.”

“C’mere,” he got out of bed and came over to your side, gently helping to move to the side he occupied just moments earlier. It was warm and smelled like him, which was immediately comforting. He adjusted your pillows and fluffed them, making it so you could lie on your side, but keeping your elbow propped up so you wouldn’t jostle or hurt it, “better?”

“Much,” you agreed as he slid into bed next to you, “and now I can sleep facing you. That makes me feel better.”

“Me too,” he promised softly, “plus, the view’s pretty fucking stunning.”

“Steve,” you playfully chided him, “I look and feel like a mess!”

“A beautiful, wonderful, amazing mess,” he joked, “that I love so very much. I promise it’ll be okay, angel. I’ll take care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you leaned in as much as you could and he met you halfway, kissing you softly and gently, “I love you so much, Steve Harrington. You’re my savior, I swear.”

“I love you, clumsy girl,” he whispered against your lips, “I’ll always take care of you. I swear it.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery #joe keery x reader #joe keery x you #st

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testingthewatersss · 4 months

Text

Panic Trigger warnings for PTSD and torture, wintersolider flashbacks etc.(&bad russain) Bucky Barnes x F Reader (ft. Steve Rodgers) Oneshot 3550 words Angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI The first time a Code White is called is also the last.

The siren that has been splitting the air in the tower is quieter, here. In the common room, with the thick white carpets and furniture to muffle the sound.

Steve is frantic. He’s frozen in position, breathing shallow as his brain fights to come up with any way to respond to the situation he’s facing.

He’s facing Bucky.

Bucky, who, until 2 minutes ago had been doing just fine.

But now he’s not fine, now he’s hysterical.

FRIDAY had set off the code white alarms, helpfully alerting the other residents that something wasn’t right, and all Steve had been able to do is back pace, horror in his eyes as he’d watched the infamous Winter Solider curl up into a ball on the floor.

“Lets cut that noise”

Y/N’s instruction has an instant effect. The shrill ringing is gone as quickly as it’d started.

The door locks behind her with a dull click, and now she’s pacing towards the scene.

Unlike Steve, she doesn’t look afraid at all.

If anything, she looks curious.

“Hey boys” she greets mildly, coming up on Steve’s flank, “What’s goin’ on in here?”

“We” Steve gulps, trying to gather himself, “We were just talking and then…”

“And then?”

He blinks at her prompting, mouth suddenly dry.

“He started freakin' out- speakin' Russain” he explains, looking urgently at the man on the floor, “and then- I- I don’t know what happened, he just—“

Y/N tilts her head.

“He didn’t collapse or anything” he says, “He just—“

“Sat down on the ground?”

He’s hardly sitting, but he doesn’t know think there’d be another way of explaining the situation without making him feel sick.

He nods, and so does she.

She looks understanding, now, rather than curious.

“Hey, Buck” she calls, taking a slow step towards him, “You doin' okay?”

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at her. He just stays still, burying his face in his knees, arms looped protectively across his brow.

“Y/N” Steve cautions, “I don’t know if he can hear us”

“Sure he can” she replies, almost with humour, “even if what your thinkin’ is right— which I don’t think it is, by the way — Do you think he magically goes deaf?”

He blinks at her dumbly, brain working overtime.

That does sound a little ridiculous, but he’s not an expert on the effects of brain washing, so he decides to forgive himself for that, at least.

“You said he started speaking Russian” Y/N says, “That’s why you called a code white?”

Steve nods, guilt stirring inside of his chest.

Was I wrong? he thinks, did I make this worse?

“Lets try this, then” she says, taking a smaller step closer, “Baki, chto sluchilos’?”

The russian words pour easily from her lips. Steve blinks again, thinking about how strangely soft she’s managed to make them sound. He’s always thought the language was harsh, but her voice is gentle, even now.

Bucky seems to notice her question this time. Although he doesn’t move as much as he flinches in response to her words.

“What were you talking about?” She asks suddenly, head snapping back to Steve, “Before he swapped languages.”

His brow furrows, arms over his chest as he thinks back.

“I…” he says, “I’m not sure exactly… nothing serious, I mean, just— stuff”

“Stuff?”

“Yeah” he agrees, “Childhood stuff, yeah- Yeah that was it— He asked me if I remembered something, a store where he used to work on Tuesdays— and then we were talkin’ about the guy who owned it, and about how he used to go crazy at us for trailin’ mud into the front of the shop…”

“Right” she presses, “and then?”

“And then” Steve sighs, frustrated, “Uh, I said—“

He stops. Realising exactly what he’d said.

Y/N raises her brow, urging him to continue;

“I said” he gulps, looking suddenly ashamed, “I said “I guess we were lucky that he didn’t take us outside and beat us” for half the stuff we did”

Yeah, she thinks, That’d do it.

Steve opens his mouth to apologise, but she cuts him off,

“What did he say in Russian, do you remember?”

“No” he says quickly, remorse making him dizzy, “No, I— I didn’t really get it, it was so fast, he was just, mumbling and backing away and then…”

She nods, understanding.

“Darlin', I-”

“It’s fine” she says, closing the last few steps between her and where Barnes is still hiding on the floor.

It’s not fine. Steve knows it’s not, but he doesn’t know what else to say.

“I think he said insvinte?” he offers, desperate to be helpful, to right this wrong somehow, “Or something close-”

“Izvinite” she corrects quietly, dropping to a crouch.

Her tone is soft again, and Steve can’t help but wince a heavy ball of dread hits him square in the chest.

It must mean something, then. It wasn’t just incoherent rambling,

“What does it mean?” he hears himself ask, not really wanting to know.

“Sorry” she answers, voice barely audible, “It means I’m sorry”

“Jesus christ” he mumbles, backing away towards the arm of the couch. He leans on it, not trusting his legs to hold him up as he paws at his face in despair.

Y/N reaches out carefully, letting her fingers run over the folded metal plates of Bucky’s arm, before they finally reach his hair. It’s damp by his temples. His whole body is shaking so quickly it’s almost invisible.

“Tebe ne nuzhno izvinyat'sya, dorogaya…” she whispers soothingly “…ne togda, kogda ty ne sdelal nichego plokhogo.”

You don’t have to be sorry, Sweetheart… not when you haven’t done anything wrong.

The back of his shoulders jump with a concealed sob.

He’s terrified, plain and simple and the idea of him being so scared, being so, hopelessly afraid and then being hit by a terrible, loud siren is almost too much for her to bare.

No wonder he’s trying to hide.

No wonder he’s making himself as small as possible in the furthest corner of the room.

“Hey” she soothes, hoping that he’ll respond to English now she’s touching him, “You’re okay…look at me… it’s just me, it’s okay…”

Steve watches, horror stricken as Bucky slowly edges his face up from behind the wall he’s made with his body.

His chin stays hidden behind his forearm, but his eyes are red and streaming.

Y/N shakes her head, hushing him as he starts to choke on air, suddenly feel obscenely exposed;

It’s clear from his expression that he’s too far gone. That scared doesn’t cover it anymore. She’s not fully confident that hysteria covers it, anymore.

His panicked gaze drops to the floor, and she watches as he chokes on a breath that seems to hurt him. Her head shakes, and she lets her hand fall away for a beat as she considers what might be best to say;

“Soldat” she murmurs, knowing he’ll take notice of that, “Glaza na moi”

…Solider…. eyes on me…

That does the trick.

The way his gaze snaps to hers is automatic. It’s instinctual and instant.

“Khoroshiy mal'chik” she soothes, knowing he needs her to be kind more than anything else, right now, “You’ve gotta slow your breathing down— In and out, with me now, okay?”

He blinks at the gentle Russian praise, and then he shivers.

Y/N doesn’t like using his conditioned submissive to her advantage. Not when she can help it, but he needs to stop dragging in aching bursts of air, he needs to calm down-

“In…” she instructs, “…and, out…”

He obeys instantly. Matching the rise and fall of his chest with hers even though he’s having to fight through every fibre of his body to do so.

His discomfort is obvious. She can see that he’s only following her commands because they’re commands. That it’s not a natural way for him to be breathing right now. That it’s hurting him to fight his reflexes so plainly.

“…Deep…” she whispers, trying to soften her voice again, “…Deeper, now, Soldier, and slow, you’re okay- you’re safe, right now, everything’s alright.”

Something flickers across his eyes as tears spill down his cheeks, again. Y/N tilts her head and moves her hands around to cup his jaw. He’s still half hidden, but she knows he won’t fight the contact. She smiles as she wipes her fingers across his face, and nods encouragingly as he changes his inhalation’s to match her new instructions.

Steve is watching from his perch across the room, fighting the urge to cry himself. This is torture, he thinks, though he feels guilty for the thought the second he has it. He hasn’t been tortured— He has, though and that’s why he’s curled up in a corner while Steve gets to watch. He hates the way he’s daring to feel badly. He hates this whole situation

“Can you tell me your name?”

Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his bout of self-deprecation.

He’s watching, desperately hoping for a reassuring response, for some sign that he’d been wrong after all—

“Hmmm?” she presses gently, “Teper' tvoye imya, dorogaya.”

Tell me your name now, sweetheart.

This time, her voice seems to confuse him. He draws in another wet breath before nodding a fraction.

“J-James Bu-channon B-Barnes”

She beams at him and watches his face relax a fraction when she doesn’t have an issue with his answer.

“And what’s my name?” she asks after a pause, “Teper' my govorim po-angliyski, soldat”

We’re speaking english now, Solider.

This time, he looks more nervous.

“Y/N?” he whispers uncertainly.

“Right” she agrees instantly, “Good”

That seems to settle him a fraction.

He inhales deeper, and doesn’t seem to suffer quite as much on the exhale.

“You’re safe” she promises next, swiping another set of tears away from his cheeks, “…Nothin’ bad’s coming…”

He looks at her for the first time since she’d arrived in the room, he really looks at her face, and she sees something behind his gaze give way.

“-I— I di-didn’t m-me-mean t—to d-do an-anythin— wrong” he stammers, frantically trying to tell her, “I- I’m s-sorry— I- I didn’t- I- I c-c-can't—”

“Shhhhhh” she soothes, shaking her head before leaning in to press a kiss against his brow, “We’re breathing right now” she says, smoothing his hair back, “That’s all you need to think about”

It’s a bit of a low blow, really, cutting him off like that, but she knows he’s too far gone to have a rational discussion about everything else right now. A panic attack worsened by the addition of an alarm which she’d wager had been just a touch too familiar is a whole lot of trauma to fight through at once.

He needs to focus. He needs to breathe. And she knows him well enough he won’t disobey something as close to a command as her words. Not given the circumstances.

She’s right. Just like before, his body takes over.

He reverts to mimicking her exaggerated breathing pattern and letting his eyes loose focus.

This time, she doesn’t interrupt him straight away. Not even to praise him. She just watches silently as he forces his chest to rise and fall in a mechanical rhythm that she’d curated to deliberately ease his most primal responses.

Steve paws at his eyes, pressing back his own tears now.

This is all my fault, he thinks, the reality of the situation hitting him now, There was no code white, he was just scared and I made things ten times worse—

Y/N just sits with him for a few more minutes, waiting until she notices him starting to shiver, before she reaches out to stroke his cheek again.

“Good” she whispers, affection heavy in her voice now, “That’s better, huh?”

“I-I’m t-t-trying” he stammers weakly.

“I know” she agrees, leaning in and pressing a kiss against his brow, “I know, Bucky, I know you’re doin’ good…”

He nods a fraction and that’s how she knows that he’s ready to take back control. To at least start deciding what he wants to do, again.

“Want some water?” she offers, beaming proudly when he shakes his head, “No? Okay… What do you want, huh?”

“C-can… C-can I… Can I- have… have a h-hug pl-please?”

“A hug?” she checks, “Sure… Sure you can, c’mere—”

And then, her arms are open, and Bucky feels himself moving, rocking onto his knees so that he can to cling onto her waist.

This is all he wants. He just wants to hide his face against her neck, and hold onto her and—

“Sweetheart” she murmurs, “You’re okay, it’s all okay, I promise…”

And then, he’s back to sobbing.

His adrenaline is crashing, and he feels dizzy and sick and he’s crying like a baby in her arms.

None of this feels right. He doesn’t understand how he’s ended up on the floor in the corner of the room. It’s all a blur of panic, and loud, shrill noises that always mean terrible things are coming and— and he remembers feeling useless, of not being able to be understood—

“We're sp-speaking English, now” he sniffs, “W-we’re sep-peaking, English now, I- I’m sorry I- c-couldn’t before.”

Steve’s heart breaks in his chest when he hears that. When he hears his best friend weeping and earnestly trying to convince them that he knows he’s meant to be speaking the same language as they are.

“…Shhhhh, now…” Y/N soothes, “…It’s okay… you can’t help it, it’s not your fault…”

“I- I t-tried” he bleats, upset making his Brooklyn drawl stronger somehow, “Doll, I— I tried b-but my head…”

“I know…” she promises, “…It’s alright, sweetheart— I’m sorry— I’m sorry ‘bout all that noise…”

He clings to her so tightly that her t-shirt tears under his metal thumb.

The memory of the skull splitting siren making his whole world spin for a moment;

“We won’t do that again” she promises, “I’ll get Tony to figure somethin’ out— even if there ever is a need for somethin’ like that, we can’t have it be so loud…”

“—I’ll be good-” he promises pathetically, “I- I s-swear, I— I- Please, I- I c-cant t-take that n-noise, again…”

That’s more than Steve can process. He pushes up and leaves the room in silence, hoping that the route back to his suit is deserted. He doesn’t think he can handle a run in with anyone. Not with how full his own eyes are now.

Y/N barely notices his departure. She’s too busy hushing the cowering man in her arms. Because he is cowering in her arms now. He’s shaking like a wounded stray, chest heaving with sobs.

He’s too big to hide against her, really, but some how he’s managing.

His entire face is angled downwards, obscured from view as he presses his brow into her shoulder.

All she can do is hold him. Hold him, and murmur out gentle streams of praise until he finally starts to settle down.

Until his body caves in and he drifts off into something that could almost pass for sleep.

Y/N thinks it might’ve been more convincing if his hands hadn’t stayed furled in the fabric of her top.

“C’mon, handsome” she sighs, “If you wanna’ try and get some rest we should get you a little more comfy”

She watches curiously as Bucky edges his face up, slowly revealing wide, blue eyes that look awfully sore.

His cheeks are red, and damp, and she can’t help but lean in and press a kiss against his chin starts to quiver.

“We’ll stay here” she promises him quietly, “We’ll stay right here, okay? but you can lie down—”

“W-wi-with you, right?”

Her chest aches as looks into his eyes and nods.

As she sees how terrified he still is.

“Yeah, Buck… we can lie down together, would you like that?”

He offers her a jerky little nod before sniffling sadly and averting his gaze.

She nods, too and starts to adjust her position, carefully rearranging their bodies so that she is the one curled up, with Bucky against her flank. He keeps both arms locked around her waist, and lets out a sad series of gulps as he fights the urge to tuck his legs into his chest.

It’s hard. He wants to protect himself, to bring his knees tight into his front, but he also wants to be held. To let Y/N protect him, while he really, really needs her too.

“Shhhh” she soothes, eager to ease the quiet little whimpers that are suddenly vibrating against her jaw, “Baby boy, you’re alright…”

Bucky is nuzzling into her throat, nose bumping against her temple in his not so subtle bid to earn more attention from her.

“What do you want, huh?” she asks, tone playful as she lets one hand thread through his hair, “You’re precious”

He lets his eyes close as he presses kiss against her cheek, and then another against her chin, and jaw, and the tender skin behind her ear…

“…Some fussin’?…” she guesses, stroking a line across the back of his ribs, “…We can do that… C’mere…”

She shifts again, rolling over a little more so that she can tuck him neatly between her legs. Her thighs box him in, and he folds instantly into the embrace, letting out a soft, hollow, sound of appreciation as his cheek meets her chest.

“You’re alright” she soothes, starting to stroke his back, “I know that scared you, but you’re okay… I promise”

He just clings to her tighter, screwing his eyes shut.

It did scare him. The sound, the not being able to speak English, the look on his oldest friends face—

“Hey” she inserts, feeling his back heave, “Hey, I’m here, I’m right here…”

“…He— H-e was mad…”

“He?” she asks, “You mean Steve?”

He nods, nose brushing her jaw.

“Baby, why would you think that?”

“..I…” he gulps, “..I couldn’t sp-speak english and th-then he… he started that noise..”

Her heart cracks down the middle as she puts it all together. As she pieces together the way it must’ve felt to him.

“Oh, Bucky” she whispers, “Bucky, no— It wasn’t like that”

“Will- W-will you tell him I’m sorry, d-doll?”

“No- Not when you haven’t done anythin’ to him that warrants an apology.”

He doesn’t reply to that. She assumes he stopped listening after the no.

“…Baby…” she murmurs, trying to soothe him, “…Steve isn’t angry, it wasn’t a punishment, it was the security system, that’s all…”

“It… it sounded like… it sounded like w-what t-they…”

“—I know” she cuts in, “I know it did, I’m sorry— We won’t do that again.”

This time, she doesn’t want to break the silence he settles into. It doesn’t feel as upset as the last time.

Her fingers roll across his temple, stroking his hair as he works at calming himself down. At letting his body adjust to the sudden lack of adrenaline;

and then, he’s sleeping.

His whole body is a deadweight, chest rising and falling in a natural rhythm that betrays how vulnerable he is.

Y/N feels herself relaxing too. He’s too warm and soft for her to stay tense, besides, the only thing she was trying to guard is him, and he’s not going anywhere.

That’s when she lets her mind drift back to Steve.

To her friend who’d fled the scene in horror whilst she’d been unable to comfort him.

She sighs, looking at her sleeping lover with sheer adoration. She’s glad he’s sleeping, because her own remorse is more than enough for her to deal with;

“What do we do about that, huh, Buck?”

Y/N knows he can’t answer. He does seem to smile in response to her voice though. She thinks that it’s probably a trick of the light, but, the idea of being able to make him feel better regardless of his consciousness is nice, so she doesn’t over think it.

“Baby” she whispers, “Shall I call him? Tell him to come back up, see that you’re okay?”

This time, he stirs.

He nuzzles into her, letting out a sigh.

“I’m taking that as a yes—“ she decides, knowing that she has to do something, “—Friday, get Steve up here please.”

The AI replies with a polite ‘Yes, boss’ and Y/N settles back against the wall, trying to arrange their bodies into a position that looks a little less intimate without rousing her partner.

It’s easy enough. Bucky is pliant, and all he really wants is to stay close. She realises pretty quickly that as long as he’s able to keep his arms around her, he goes along with the adjustment.

She strokes his hair to soothe him once she’s satisfied.

His face is hidden against her stomach. His legs are tucked into his own chest, again, but it seems a lot less sad now.

And then, she hears footsteps.

She looks up with a smile that almost falters when she sees the expression on Steve’s face.

He’s clearly been crying. His nose is red, cheeks blotchy, and his eyes look terribly sore.

“Come sit, you’re as bad as him” For a second it looks like he's going to fight her on it, but then, with a sigh and a bashful smile, he nods. Pacing silently towards Y/N before settling himself beside her on the ground, not bothering to speak deciding to just put his arm around her shoulders instead.

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