#there are other reasons that's a stupid thing to blame Steve for

[steddieas-shegoes]

Mama Munson made Eddie’s Halloween costumes from scratch every year. She said it was because it looked cooler, but as he got older, he realized it was because she used scraps and cheap fabrics to make them and that’s all they could afford.

But his costumes were always great. Every year was better than the last.

When he got too old for trick or treating, she used Halloween night to teach him how to sew.

“For that jacket you wanna wear so bad, baby.”

It took a lot of effort, and a little bit of help for the thicker patches, but he managed to finish it in a few weeks.

That year for Christmas, he made her and Wayne battle jackets with their favorite bands and singers.

It became the thing he gave to important people.

Shortly after Vecna, when he was stuck in bed for nearly a month healing, he had his mom run to the store in Indy and start grabbing patches. Wayne found denim jackets from the donation store, surprised anything was left at all with how much people needed right now.

Eddie made all the kids jackets, even Max, who would probably think it was stupid in the same way she thought Lucas holding her hand was stupid (not at all).

He made Robin one, with a hidden rainbow flag patch on the inside pocket.

Nancy got one, even Argyle and Jonathan got one.

Steve didn’t.

Eddie didn’t know how to make it a friendly gesture, how to not make it look like he was screaming from the rooftops that he’d fallen hard for the guy who almost single-handedly saved his life. He was certain that giving him the jacket he made would be the end of the daily visits, the joking around, the fun.

“Baby, you think he don’t know?”

Eddie’s mama was trying not to laugh when he unloaded on her while he stitched the last patch to the front.

“He visits you every day, sometimes for hours, sometimes has to be dragged out by nurses, and ya think he don’t know?”

As usual, she had a point.

So Eddie was brave, gave Steve the jacket the next day when he stopped by.

Steve was silent as he took in every patch and pin, even the section of glitter glue Erica had insisted he add. Eddie played with his bare fingers, wishing now more than ever that he had his rings back.

Finally, Steve looked up, watery smile pointed right at Eddie.

“I love it. And you.”

Mama Munson slapped the back of his head gently later while Steve slept in the chair by his bed.

“I told ya so!” Her whisper was enough to make Steve shift around, his grip on Eddie’s hand tightening momentarily. “May have lost a nipple, but got yourself a boyfriend. That’s the Munson way.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Oh, Wayne never told you about losing his nipple in ‘Nam? Flirted with the medic and blamed it on blood loss, but wouldn’t ya know? The medic was a little light in his loafers, too!”

Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Wayne didn’t lose a nipple. You’re makin’ shit up again.”

“I ain’t never lied to ya! You ask Wayne tomorrow. There’s a reason he don’t ever go shirtless at the lake.”

And sure enough, the next day, Wayne lifted his shirt and showed Eddie where he had nothing but a scar where his nipple should be.

“So what about the medic?”

“Oh! Grant.” Wayne smiled. “We still write to each other sometimes. He’s married, got a few kids.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. We wouldn’t have worked anyway. He lives in Maine. Can’t imagine dealin’ with moose.”

Mama Munson just raised her brows from her chair and smirked.

When Steve came by after his shift, he was wearing his jacket and the biggest smile Eddie’s ever seen.

“Anything new?”

“Nothin’ really. Just found out I’ve got a lot more in common with Wayne than I thought.”

#still no name for her but oh well #she can just stay mama Munson #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #mama Munson #I’m begging someone to write something with all this #I ain’t got the TIME #or the ENERGY #I have little spurts of thoughts like this and then NOTHING

[yabakuboi]

Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

#steddie #steddie fic #this was originally meant for a steddie love month prompt but i missed posting it up LOL #when will i write steddie without robin??? never #their three musketeer-ism is so important to me #they probably fight over her for best man at their wedding #and they are joint best man at her's #the robin eddie rivalry for steve's love but also they are steve protection squad and steve gossip mongers and steve hecklers #steve 'affection-starved' harrington absolutely thriving having two ppl obsessed with him rn #my fic #dribble drabble

[sundaynightlive]

Soft (Steddie + Platonic Stobin)

Hey Steve?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I say something? And can you promise not to get mad at me?”

Steve looks over at her curiously. He can hardly imagine what she could say that would really upset him, or why she’d feel the need to preface anything she had on her mind with a question like that. Usually, she’s all gung-ho about pissing him off—it’s just how they are, constantly bickering like an old married couple. Steve really doesn’t blame anyone for thinking they’re together—they sure act like it, in a roundabout sort of way.

“Sure.”

“Say you promise.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Seriously, Rob, I’m not gonna—”

“Say you promise.”

That actually slightly unnerves him. He keeps his eyebrows raised, but relents.

“Alright, I promise.” She shifts in her seat, glances up at Eddie and the kids on stage, all chattering about something he doesn’t understand—attack rolls? Natural 20s? Owlbears?

“He makes you soft,” she says. Steve follows her gaze.

Oh. She noticed.

Steve tends to be oblivious, but he had noticed this, mostly because it was so… new. Irregular. Confusing. Around Eddie he just… softens. That’s about the best way to describe it—he’s glad Robin said so, because now he can put a name to the feeling. His brain seems to stop its mile-a-minute, mamma-bear rampage and just… quiet. He can’t put a finger on why—well he can, but it’s… a lot. He’s spent many a night staring up at the ceiling, trying to discern whether he really is romantically attracted to Eddie, or if he’s projecting. Maybe he’s been alone so long he just can’t tell anymore. Maybe his and Nancy’s little dance around each other is just confusing to the point of insanity.

But Robin noticed. And they should talk.

“Can we move back a few rows?”

“Sure.”

They stand and none of the kids nor Eddie take notice. Their voices are getting progressively louder, and Ed is perched in his chair like he could spring up on to the table at any moment, hands motioning excitedly in all sorts of ways. He talks with his hands, just like Nance and Robin.

“Are you mad?”

“No,” Steve says as they take seats in the mid-section, a little farther towards the back of the auditorium. He settles in, both to the seat and his own uncomfortability, not sure how to start the things he needs to say. He has questions, answers, concerns—but where to begin?

The beginning, probably.

“Do you remember that night the three of us were hanging and then Vickie came and picked you up and I told you I left right after?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t.”

He looks over to make eye-contact with her, and finds just Rob, gazing at him. A little curiosity, a little surprise at his blatant lie—but he hadn’t known how to talk to her about it. Or how to explain himself. He had thought it easier just to hide that he and Eddie could ever get along without her, because she felt like an essential intermediary. A reason that it isn’t what it actually is.

He can’t really explain himself. He doesn’t really get why he lied, either.

“Liar,” Rob accuses, but there’s no bite.

“I stayed,” Steve confirms, breaking their shared gaze to look back out toward Ed. He’s got this feeling in his guts like he’s about to get into trouble, like he’s broken one of his mom’s nice antiques and is about to lose his swimming pool privileges—

“We talked for the entire night. Until six in the morning. And then I went home, and I wanted to call him. And I… I’ve been having these thoughts like maybe I like him? And I don’t get it because—” Robin takes his hand “—I like girls, you know? I know I do, you know I do—”

“Can I interrupt? Just a two second thought.” Steve nods, “Some people like boys and girls, it’s called being bisexual. I just want you to have that in mind for the rest of this conversation.” Steve blinks at her. Nods slowly.

Maybe he should’ve gone to her sooner.

Not maybe. Definitely.

“Okay… right. So… I’m fucking stupid,” Steve breathes. Robin shakes her head vigorously, adding a second hand to the mix.

“No no no,” she insists quickly, “But I want you to—“

“No, I like him,” Steve realizes, a million—maybe a billion—thoughts and feelings invading him all at once. Fear, uncertainty, excitement, relief, anxiety—he can’t even latch on to one of those. He doesn't know how to feel or think or anything except for this stark, pervasive understanding— “Holy shit, Robin.”

“Steve, you’re getting ahead of yourself—”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shakes his head, kind of probably in shock, “No, I… I’ve been trying to figure this out for weeks. I should’ve just… Oh my god.”

He puts his free hand over his face, absolutely mortified. Not about liking Eddie, of course, but because he had stupidly never considered that liking girls didn’t automatically make him unable to like guys.

Jesus, he's an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” Robin says, and for what, Steve has no idea. She’s just fixed his whole problem—or at least, half the problem. Now he has a crush he has to deal with, and of course Nancy, but at least— “It’s not a bad thing, though. I know it’s a lot to deal with and if you need anything I’m here. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Rob, I’m fine,” Steve assures her, “Other than having a fucking pathetic crush on Eddie.”

Silence.

“So… you’re good with liking guys?” Steve looks up at her, sighing again for what feels like the hundredth time in this conversation.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s just I totally could’ve been doing something about it if I had just asked you sooner.”

Robin stares at him.

He stares back.

What, is he supposed to have some sort of breakdown? He’s had all sorts of thoughts about Billy and Tommy and Harrison Ford—of course he likes guys. Of course that’s not a “straight person” thing, he’s not stupid. But if he’d just applied a tiny bit of critical thinking—

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Steve scoffs, “I could’ve already had, like, eight boyfriends if I had just thought about it. But I’m a fucking meathead.”

The unintentional hilarity of that statement doesn’t miss either of them, but now’s probably not the time.

She stares.

He stares back.

“You astound me, Harrington.”

“Do you think Eddie likes guys?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m—seriously, do you think he likes dudes?”

“I hate that you just said dudes.”

“Robin.”

“How many times has he suggested we watch Rocky Horror?”

“Enough for us to shorten the name.”

“There’s your answer,” she says, still sounding flabbergasted at his nonchalance, “Man, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I cried for forty-eight hours after I realized I liked girls.”

“Do you want me to cry?”

Robin grimaces, “You’re right, I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She shakes her head, clearly done with him. It’s uniquely comforting how quickly she can go from a supportive shoulder to a hateful best-friend. He admires that about her, the many facets of her personality that make her, her. He truly doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He wishes they had talked in high school, that he could’ve been someone else in those days, especially seeing where being the “coolest guy in town” has really gotten him.

Nowhere, that’s where.

“I love you,” he says. She’s still holding his hand, and she stays holding it.

“I love you, too.”

#steddie #platonic stobin #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #hellfire club #blorbos #soft #we all deserve someone who makes us soft #don’t we? #gay #lgbtq #fanfic #fanfiction #blurb

[t-lostinworlds]

Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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#cs #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #my writing

[hbyrde36]

STWG Daily Drabble 11/7/2023

Prompt: Unexpected conversation

Eddie didn’t know what to think when Max approached him out in the field just as everyone was wrapping up their preparations for going after Vecna. Dustin had just gone off to talk to Steve about something when the, frankly intimidating, redhead made a beeline for him. 

“Hey Munson, we need to talk.” She said. 

He was taken aback. Sure they were neighbor’s and all but they didn’t really know each other that well, and she was surrounded by friends here. He couldn’t imagine what she would need him for, but who was he to deny the girl who’d been cursed by Vecna himself. 

“Sure, Red. What’s, uh... what’s up?”

She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him an honest-to-god once over. Suddenly he felt like he was being picked apart by an adversary and being studied for weaknesses. Which was weird considering they were on the same side here. He was so confused. 

She cleared her throat and held piercing eye contact as she hit him with her question. “What’s going on with you and Steve? I mean, what are your intentions?”

Eddie couldn’t help but burst out laughing. There was no way she could possibly know he was gay, and obviously Steve wasn’t. So it had to be some kind of joke.

Right?

One look at Max’s face silenced him abruptly. 

For some reason, she looked pissed. “Well that’s about as clear an answer as I could have asked for. Is this a fucking joke to you?”

Eddie glanced around, hoping someone, anyone, would come and rescue him from the scary teenager, but everyone was busy with their own taks. 

“Wait, what do you mean? Are you serious?” He said finally.

“As a heart attack, dickhead. I know I don't always show it, but Steve means a lot to me, okay? I don’t want to see him get hurt again.” She looked off briefly in the direction she’d come from. Where Nancy was still working on her sawed off shotgun and making sure she had enough ammunition. 

“I don't understand.”

He really didn’t.

Eddie got the Nancy thing. He’d had a nearly front row seat to the show the night their relationship had imploded in the bathroom of Tina’s Halloween party. He'd been dealing just across the hall and couldn’t help but overhear, but he didn’t know what he had to do with any of that. 

“The boys might all be blind but I'm not,” Max began. “I was watching you guys on the boat through the binoculars.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay fine, I was watching Steve take his shirt off through the binoculars. Sue me, have you seen him? Whatever, I saw the way you were looking at him and-”

Eddie cut her off. “Max… that’s… you can’t just say that shit, alright?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to out you, Munson. Trust me, I don’t care if you’re gay. I’m not gonna, like, tell anybody.”

Good to know. 

“Okay fine, good, I guess. Thanks. But, what’s all this shit about me and Steve?”

She furrowed her brows for a moment and then something seemed to click in her head. “Oh. So you are as stupid as you look.”

“Hey!”

“Just calling ‘em how I see ‘em.” She shrugged.

“Jesus christ, all you kids and you’re fucking tones I swear to god.” He muttered.

“Look, I'm just gonna say it. Usually I wouldn't get involved, but since no one can blame the dying girl for meddling, I- ”

Eddie softened. “Max...”

He knew she didn't like sympathy, she's made that abundantly clear, but he coudn't help it. She shut it down immedietely though.

“I’m fine, just listen. Steve clearly likes you.”

“I mean, we did have a little talk in the weird freaky woods, and we definitely don’t hate each other anymore, but I…”

Max snorted. “See? Stupid.”

Eddie gaped at her. “Dude, what did I ever do to you?”

She pointedly ignored his outburst. 

“Like I said. I saw the way you looked at him on the boat and then I saw the way he looked at you when you got back. Then there was that whole thing in the RV." She shuddered. "I don’t know what happened in between, and I don't want to, I just want to make sure you know that if you hurt him we will all collectively kick your ass. You might be one of us now, but Steve's been there from the beginning. He’s saved all of our lives, more than once. He deserves to be happy.”

Eddie took a deep breath. He could appreciate what she was saying, and yeah maybe he had started to develop a small crush on the guy. Anyone would after seeing him rip that demobat apart with his bare hands… and mouth. 

Jesus Christ, Eddie stop thinking about his mouth!

“Listen, Red. I think it’s sweet, what you're trying to do here, but I cannot stress to you how unnecessary this is. Nothing is going on between Steve and I. Even if I wanted that– and I'm not saying I do!” He was quick to add. “He is literally the straightest guy I've ever seen.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He didn't have to.”

“There you go again, putting people in boxes!” Max scrunched her nose in disgust. “Isn’t that against your whole thing?” She asked, gesturing at the general, everything, about him.

“Technically, yes. But…”

“But nothing! You shouldn’t assume things about people. You should talk to him.”

“There is no way in hell I'm asking Steve Harrington if he’s gay!”

“Not that dip shit. Just, i don't know, tell him you like him!”

“Why do I have to put myself out there?!” Eddie shouted, a touch too loud. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just denied it.

Max sighed deeply. “Because Steve won’t. He’s probably scared and he’ll just keep flirting with you until you get the hint and I gotta be honest, I don't have a lot of faith in you on that front after this conversation. So I'm gonna need you to bite the bullet on this one.”

Eddie chewed his lip. He couldn't believe this girl actually had him considering this. 

Was it worth the risk if she was wrong? 

Maybe. 

What did he have to lose it anyway if it went badly?

“Okay. Fine. If we all survive this I promise I'll talk to him. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

And then Eddie wasn’t an idiot and he didn’t go after the demobats alone and he didn’t die. Steve however did wind up in the hopistal, because how could he fucking not have gotten an infection with that many open wounds running around in a fucking hell dimension. Eddie sat by his bedside and one night confessed his crush. And then they kissed and lived happily ever after. The end.

#stwgdailyprompt #steddie fanfic #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie ficlet #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie fic #fanfic #steve x eddie #steddie

[missmonsters2]

Mirror, Mirror | Two

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART ONE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda oscillates between crying and being overcome with confidence to confess. She barely has time to reflect when the devastating news arrives that you have a date, and Wanda needs to formulate a plan—quickly.

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: cue the shenanigans of date stalking and taylor swift. Put your hands together for the real MVP of this chapter: Yelena.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~4.5k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

This week's philosophical question is: Is it gay to think about your best friend?

The short answer is no. The long, complicated answer is that it might be. 

There's logic and reasoning behind this because don't most people think about their best friend? Don't most people plan to have their best friend in the future? If not, then why would they be best friends in the first place?

Sadly, there's a rude awakening in Wanda's wobbly defense. Natasha is the only person to blame for blowing down her defense made of straw when Wanda chats with her on the phone in the evening while you're out for a photoshoot. 

"How's Maria doing?" Wanda asks.

"Good," Natasha answers, and Wanda can hear the tap water running and realizes the redhead is doing the dishes. "She'll be coming to visit during Christmas."

"Oh, you must be very excited!" Wanda beams. If it were her, she'd be ecstatic to be seeing you after so long. 

"Yeah, it'll be good to see her. I think she's bringing her girlfriend, Sharon. They've been seeing each other for a few months, and she doesn't have anyone to spend Christmas with since her grand-aunt passed away.

"Oh," Wanda's voice is low, brows furrowing. "That seems very fast if she's coming to spend a holiday with Maria. How do you feel about it?"

Natasha hums. "Happy, I guess? I haven't met Sharon, but I've been hearing good things about her. She's able to keep up with Maria's busy life as she's got her own, but they make time for each other."

"But what if Sharon's wrong for Maria, or Maria ends up getting hurt."

"Then I'll break Sharon's legs, but Maria's a big girl. I'll be there for her, but she'll be okay," Natasha chuckles.

"But—"

"Wanda, what's with the questions about Maria?" Natasha cuts off. "Is it something with Bug? Are you worried about Raye? She's told me they haven't even gone on a first date yet; why are you so worried?"

"It's not about that!" Wanda said defensively. "I mean—I am worried, but I just don't want her getting hurt. She's my best friend; she deserves someone perfect. Don't you want someone perfect for Maria?"

Even as the words came out of Wanda's mouth, she grimaced because she was nowhere near perfect herself. 

"Of course I do," Natasha sighs. "But unless Maria is hurting, I'm not going to get overly involved with her love life. She'll go at her own pace and update me as she goes."

"But how will you know if Maria is going to continue living away? If she gets serious with Sharon, will Maria still plan to move back here? How will you guys plan on having a wedding at the same time and picking a house in the same neighborhood?" Wanda asks seriously. Her tone is distraught because it feels like Natasha doesn't care about her best friend at all! 

There's a moment of silence on the other line before Natasha says, "We don't plan for that. I mean, I'll be bummed for sure if Maria doesn't move back but we'll always be best friends. We'll visit each other and keep in contact as often as we need, but we don't need to physically be in the same place."

And another realization slides into place. 

"How are you guys best friends?!" Wanda yells into the phone before she hangs up without another word. 

Wanda knows that she'll have to call Natasha later and apologize and say she's on her period or something, but right now, with her eyes hot and wet, she digs her face into her pillow and cries instead.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Hey, I need to head out for another shoot today. Do you want me to pick up anything for you?"

Your voice muffles through Wanda's closed door. You've come in a few times, but Wanda had stayed in bed and pretended that she might've been under the weather. 

"No," Wanda says loud enough so you can hear it. "Have fun, though."

"I'll be home soon and make you some paprikash, but there's some chicken soup in the fridge for you if you want some while I'm gone," you reply. Wanda momentarily hears your hand land on the doorknob, but you don't turn it and come in. "Feel better, brat."

You don't wait for Wanda's response even though it is a quiet, "Thanks, stinky."

Alone in the apartment once more, Wanda sighs. She's been all over the place emotionally since she last talked to Natasha on the phone. She later sent a voice memo through text apologizing and said her period just came, which explained all the craziness. Luckily, Natasha was kind enough to leave it be, but they haven't chatted much since then—mostly on Wanda's end. 

Wanda's been caught between wanting to spend more time with you and distancing herself while sorting through her feelings. It was so easy at that moment to leave Vision and feel intense jealousy of Raye, but now in their own little bubble, everything was unraveling like a poorly wrapped present. 

The only saving grace was that you and Raye couldn't align your schedules to go on a date anytime soon. Raye was out of state currently and was supposed to be traveling for work for the next few weeks, and you were confirming projects that were supposed to be for the entire month. 

The extra time was sorely appreciated. 

In short, Wanda has cried 8 times in the last week while equally getting the inspiration almost to confess 7 times. 

There was a nagging fear, though. What if you didn't feel the same? What if Wanda was reading this one gigantic sign wrong, and you simply just liked brunettes with green eyes?

Or, what if you did feel the same and things didn't work out? What if the two of you date, and it goes wonderfully well before it ends? It doesn't matter what causes the end; just what if it did?

In either scenario, things would never be the same, and Wanda would lose her best friend of 10 years. 

Although, Wanda reasons that even if she confessed and you didn't feel the same, she wouldn't actually lose you. Sure, things would never be quite the same, but the friendship would continue. They've endured much worse, and Wanda would probably get over her feelings. 

Probably. 

Because if she didn't, well, Wanda wouldn't know what to do. She's lived too long of her life with you; she can't think of what it'd be like without you. Logically, she knew she'd survive, but there'd always be a part of her missing. 

Sometimes, Wanda thinks there was always a part of her missing until the day she met you. She can still remember 10 years ago like it was yesterday.

"Wanda, it'll be fine," Pietro's accent was thick and heavy, and Wanda refused to say anything out loud to acknowledge it. 

The girls in her class were already making fun of her accent, and her attempts to talk to them were rebuffed with looks as if they couldn't believe she dared to speak to them. 

It was too difficult, Wanda thought. It was too difficult to make friends when she transferred here mid-year, and everyone had already formed their cliques since elementary.

It was hard enough with the growing changes in her 14-year-old body, and she already felt awkward all the time—the giggling behind her back and to her face wasn't helping. 

Wanda wanted to go back home to Sokovia, except there was nothing left to return to. The war had reduced everything to shambles, and everyone else in her family was happy to have been able to seek refuge in America—Rochester, specifically. 

Wanda knew she should be grateful, especially since many of her aunts, uncles, cousins, and other extended family couldn't escape. She never really had too many friends, but the few she did went to Canada, and she knew she'd unlikely ever talk to them again. 

It was a lot of change, and Pietro was the only person who understood her at this new school, but even he couldn't do much since they shared no classes together. Plus, Pietro had still managed to make a friend, and Wanda didn't have the heart to make him sit with her at lunch every day. 

"Do you want me to eat lunch with you? I can ask Sam to sit with us," Pietro offered, but Wanda shook her head. 

"Are you sure?" Pietro asked again, preparing to sit with Wanda anyway, but Wanda shook her head.

"No, it's fine. I'm just going to eat my lunch quick and head to the library to catch up on some assignments," Wanda mumbled quietly, waiting for some girls in her class to pass by before she said it. 

"Okay," Pietro said, sighing since he was conflicted about staying with his sister or heading off to hang out with his friend. But at Wanda's insistence, he merely told her where she could find him if there was anything and took off with one last glance.

When Pietro was fully out of sight, Wanda took a seat alone at an empty table, pulling out her lunch reluctantly. She was quick to notice that the American kids typically brought a plain sandwich or bought food from the cafeteria, which usually consisted of the same foods like pizza or mac and cheese. 

While the comments about the food she brought were also embarrassing, Wanda didn't have it in her to ask her mother to make something else. Money was tight, and asking to add other things to the grocery list just so she could fit in didn't seem worth it when it wouldn't do anything about the fact no one wanted to talk to her. 

So, Wanda pulled out the finomfőzelék with her breaded chicken breast. She still didn't open it and let her containers sit on the table. 

Wanda wasn't quite sure what was causing it. Maybe it was just this specific instance of sitting alone, or maybe it was the last week and a half of enduring this, but Wanda felt her eyes burn and water. She willed it with everything she had inside to not let it fall and took a deep breath. 

"Hi."

The sudden sound made Wanda's head snap up, eyes wide with surprise. You stood there, and Wanda sort of recognized you from her classes. She thought she shared all but one with you. You've never contributed to the bullying but never stopped it or talked to her, either. 

Wanda vaguely recalled you've been sick with a cold the last few days. Her eyes shifted to look behind you, and she could see your friends looking very confused and beckoning you to come back to their lunch table.

"Hi," Wanda quietly greeted you back, wincing at how the accent could even come out with one syllable. 

You sat down suddenly, clearing your throat. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," Wanda replied warily. 

"Do you practice witchcraft?"

The question stumped Wanda.

"What?" 

"Do you practice witchcraft?" You repeated, looking serious. 

"No," Wanda frowned, so perplexed that she couldn't even be upset about her accent. "I don't. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Hela has been spreading rumors that you're a witch from Sokovia, and that's why Mr. Coulson passed away suddenly when you came."

Then, it's suddenly so clear why no one has been talking to her. 

"But if you're not a witch cursing people to death, then that's cool," you said, interrupting Wanda's thoughts. "I wanted to ask you that earlier but then I got sick for a few days. So, do you want to hang out with me?"

Wanda just stared at you, her heart racing because finally, finally, she was going to have a friend. "Yes," Wanda replied quickly, smiling. "That'd be...cool," she repeated your slang. 

"Cool," you smiled back before pointing at her food. "Noticed you bring different food every other day. Can I try some? I'll trade you some of my sandwich. Heads up, though, my mom has been experimenting with food. This week was Chinese food, so beef and broccoli might be between the bread."

Wanda smiled at the memory, the ends of it tapering off. You changed her life, and even when Hela made fun of you, you shut her up with a comment about how she stuffed her bra. It was devastating to a 14-year-old. 

After that, the two of you were inseparable. You still occasionally hung out with your group of friends, but you definitely drifted to spend time with Wanda. 

Wanda wonders if it was actually at that moment that she fell in love with you, but at 14, she didn't know how else to interpret it other than friendship. 

You and Wanda didn't meet Nat, Steve, Bucky, and all the others until high school when the other districts were poured into one school. Since then, so much has happened. 

Your parents divorced.

Wanda's mother passed away from cancer. 

You dated Sam very briefly, giving him your first kiss and then shortly breaking up with him after. 

You came out to her, scared, hesitant, and so happy when Wanda didn't care. 

Wanda started to date Vision.

Wanda wanted to go to NYU, and you happily went there with her. 

You confessed you had a crush on Natasha but didn't want to pursue it. 

Wanda's first break-up with Vision. 

You dated Jean Grey and cried when she left you for Scott. 

When you wanted to stay in New York City, Wanda decided to stay here too, rooting her career here with you. 

Wanda wonders if maybe actually she'd fallen in love with you several times over and over but didn't know how to interpret any of her strong feelings for you, categorizing them as friendship just as she did when she was 14.

"I'm home!" 

Wanda hears the apartment door close and the shuffling of you taking off your shoes. She looks at the time and realizes two hours have already passed. Deciding that she's wallowed enough, Wanda decides to get out of bed and leave her room, running her fingers through her hair to tame it.

When she enters the kitchen, Wanda finds you starting the process of making paprikash. It's something you've always done for her when she's sick, feeling down, or homesick. Yet, in this moment, something swells inside Wanda's chest, and she wants to burst out crying again.

"Oh, hey," you turn around and smile as you see her, and Wanda clears her throat and blinks the tears quickly away.

"Hey," Wanda smiles back as she makes her way towards you. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I'm feeling better."

You open your arms for her to dive into a tight hug. You smell like clean laundry and mint, and Wanda wants to bottle your smell. The tension in Wanda lately starts to drain from her body as you rub her back comfortingly. 

"Some paprikash never hurt nobody," you joke. "I'm glad you're feeling better, though, brat. Is it the break-up with Vis?"

"Huh?" Wanda's brows furrow. "No, not really. I haven't really thought about it."

"Homesickness?"

"Er," Wanda fiddles with the back of your shirt. "Kinda, I guess."

"Well, good thing Thanksgiving is in a few months. Your dad and brother are coming here this year, right?"

Wanda nods, brightening at the thought of seeing her family. "Yes, I hope papa and Tony don't get into it again this year."

"I think your dad gets a sick sense of joy of torturing the son of man responsible for all the weapons that destroyed Sokovia," you say dryly. "I think Tony's starting to catch on he's not serious, though."

Wanda chuckles, and you pat her shoulders before you pull away and take out a knife and chopping board. Watch sits on the bar stool, watching you cook, letting things fall into a comfortable silence. 

This was everything, Wanda thought.

Nothing could ruin this moment, and Wanda thought long and hard, building up the courage to say something about her feelings. She wasn't sure what to say, so she might start with something flirtatious, but Wanda would say it more sensually instead of the usual joking tone. 

"Oh!" You say without looking at Wanda, chopping the onion and garlic. "I forgot to tell you. Raye's flying back in a few days before heading out again, and we planned a date this weekend."

Everything is ruined, and Wanda can't tell if the onion or the devastating news is causing her eyes to water.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"Why did you bring me here?" Yelena hisses.

"Because I can't bring Natasha!" Wanda hisses back. "And be quiet or else they're going to hear us!"

"Why not Natasha? She's your other closest friend," Yelena says, quieter as she grumbles. "You're making me miss movie night with Kate. We're supposed to watch Insidious and you're ruining my chances of making fun of her being scared."

"Because," Wanda exasperatedly says. "I've already had a meltdown with Natasha, and she's going to make all sorts of comments if she knows I'm doing this now. I can't be here alone since this is the type of restaurant only couples go to."

"You think I won't make comments?" Yelena raises her brow at Wanda, looking frighteningly similar to Natasha at that moment. "I thought you grew out of stalking Bug's dates in university."

Wanda doesn't reply, too busy staring at your table. Raye is making some kind of flirty comment, reaching across the table and lacing your fingers through hers. You're laughing—Wanda can tell with how your shoulders shake. 

The restaurant you've chosen to take Raye to is a slightly upscale steak restaurant. You've ordered cocktails, a bottle of wine, and two appetizers to start. 

Raye's biting her bottom lip suggestively before she takes a sip of her wine, her index finger is stroking the back of your hand, and Wanda's wondering if she can bribe a waiter to spill a glass of beer on Raye accidentally. 

"Seriously, I know you're best friends, but this is out of hand. Just confess before Raye steals your girl and they get married."

Wanda whips her head back towards Yelena, eyes filled with indignation. 

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

"SHHH," Yelena hisses, and they both have to hide behind their menus when you turn around and look. "Jesus Christ, Maximoff."

"They would never get married," Wanda huffs before peeking outside her menu to see that you've returned to your conversation with Raye. But then she turns back to Yelena. "You know about my feelings? Did you always know? Did you—"

"Shut up," Yelena groans. "No, I was just fishing, and you're the sucker I caught. I mean, was there a time I thought you guys were too close? Yes, but it eventually became normal."

The two of them put their menu's down when it's safe, and Yelena seems to be carefully planning how to explain her thoughts. 

"We've all accepted that you guys are very close, but you both kept dating different people—you specifically only dating boys and then Vision. It worked out that we were all going to NYU, but did you know that Bug had an offer to study abroad and do an internship that would've accelerated her graduation and then career?" Yelena carefully looks at Wanda's face.

"What?" Wanda frowns. She vaguely remembers you mentioning the program but recalled you dismissing it. You didn't tell her you were offered a spot in the program. "No, but I mean, she was building her online platform, and it was taking off. She didn't need to do an internship."

"No," Yelena agreed with a shrug, "but it wouldn't have hurt. I suspect she couldn't stand the idea of being away from you for a year. Just like how you turned down the job offer in LA at graduation when you knew she would stay in NYC."

"That wasn't—I just—" Wanda huffs. "I like where I am now. My work is flexible." 

"Yeah, but being in public relations, you could've been making twice the amount you are now," Yelena raises her brow again. "Although, at this point, I suspect you both chose adaptable careers in case one of you wanted to move to another city."

"That's not true," Wanda protests.

"Do you even like being a PR?" Yelena asks. "At least Bug loves photography. You, on the other hand, have a talent for PR, but it'd be just as easy for you to do anything else."

"I do like it," Wanda stresses. "It's easy, and the clients I've got keep me busy enough. Just because I don't spend all my time on it or talk about it doesn't mean I don't like it."

"But—"

"Enough talking, our food is coming, and you better be ready to leave at a moment's notice," Wanda cuts Yelena off as the waiter arrives and sets their food down. 

"Worst. Date. Ever," Yelena deadpans.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

As it turns out, Raye lives relatively close to the restaurant as you walk hand-in-hand back to her place.

And not too far behind, Wanda and a reluctant Yelena trail from a distance. 

"She's not going to Raye's house, is she?" Wanda whispers with a frown.

"Why not?" Yelena grunts, adjusting her leather jacket. "She has casual flings all the time, and by the looks of their date earlier, it went very well."

"Not. Helping," Wanda glares at Yelena. They enter a street filled with apartments, and Wanda is careful about not following too close and walking under the streetlights.

"This is psychotic," Yelena groans. "Can't we go home? I feel like a literal serial killer out here."

Wanda doesn't respond, just staring ahead as they continue to walk. You're swinging your hand back and forth, interlaced with Raye's. There's giggling, and Raye keeps leaning closer to say something to you. 

There's so much sexual tension that it's palpable from here, and Wanda wishes there was a serial killer out here. 

How was Wanda going to stop this? How was Wanda going to prevent you from going home with someone else?

Wanda picks up a small rock and chucks it hard toward your general direction, hoping to spook the two of you apart. Except, her aim is so terrible that it flies completely left and hits the car beside you instead.

The car alarm goes off, setting off flashing lights and a very, very loud beeping noise.

"Wanda, what the fuck—" Yelena is cut off when Wanda suddenly shoves her down into a bush and dives next to her. "Ow, you fucking—" Wanda slaps her hand over Yelena's mouth.

You and Raye look behind, completely perplexed, when no one is there. You try to check out the vehicle, but other than a small dent, nothing is wrong with the car otherwise. Since neither you nor Raye caused it, you continued walking.

It turns out Raye lived in the building just a few steps ahead. You both stand at the door, holding hands before Raye throws her arms around your neck, smirking. 

Wanda's about to pick up another rock when Raye moves in suddenly for a hot, searing kiss.

And when Wanda watches you kiss back, her hand goes slack. Something awful builds in the pit of her stomach, and there's nothing Wanda can do when she watches you go into the apartment. 

Yelena watches Wanda's crestfallen face and sighs. "Wanda—"

"Let's just get back to the car and go home," Wanda mutters as she stands up, not bothering to brush off the dirt, leaves, or twigs from her hair. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

The car ride home is sickeningly pathetic—a new low for Wanda. 

"PLEASE DON'T BE IN LOVE WITH SOMEONE ELSE. PLEASE DON'T HAVE SOMEBODY WAITING ON YOUUUU—" Wanda hoarsely cries out, tears streaming down her face. She's off-tune, and she's screaming more than she is singing. 

"Oh, god," Yelena sighs, bringing her hand to her face in embarrassment in the passenger seat. They've stopped at a red light, and the car beside them is staring at them strangely. "This is sad for even you, Maximoff."

Wanda doesn't even acknowledge that she heard Yelena, only belting out, "I'LL SPEND FOREVER WONDERING IF YOU KNEW—"

"Just kill me, just kill me, just crash this car and kill us both," Yelena mutters to herself. 

The house is dark when Wanda returns, not that it should be any surprise. Deep down, though, Wanda hoped you'd return home and somehow beat her to it. 

Wanda's eyes feel tired and raw from crying the entire way home. Yelena gave her a reluctant hug, mustering all her kindness into rubbing Wanda's back and kissing the crown of her head when it was buried in her friend's shoulder. 

Pulling out her phone, Wanda looks at her texts. One from work, a couple of Natasha, one from Vis, and one from Pietro. She stares at your name in her messages, but nothing comes even if she wills it. 

Instead, she shoots you a quick "hey :)" and puts her phone away. You'd unlikely answer, but Wanda couldn't help herself. 

Sighing, Wanda gets ready for the night, trying to not let her mind drift on what activities you and Raye could be doing.

Please let it be scrabble, please let it be scrabble, Wanda thinks as she finishes brushing her teeth. 

As she walks towards her room, she pauses. It's unlikely you'd return until tomorrow morning, maybe even noon. Biting her lip, Wanda turns and walks into your room instead, crawling into your bed under the sheets. She pulls the blanket up to her chin, inhaling your scent slowly.

It both comforts her and makes her heart twinge. 

After an hour, sleep falls upon Wanda easily, and she's nearly in a deep sleep when the lights suddenly turn on, and a yelp is heard.

Wanda wakes up suddenly, shooting up with her heart pounding that it's a robber, but it's just you standing at the door with your hand over your heart and chest heaving. 

"Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me!" You scold Wanda. "I totally thought you were my sleep paralysis demon!"

Wanda rolls her eyes at the comment but frowns as you calm yourself and rummage through your closet for sleeping clothes. "What are you doing at home? I thought you were going to sleep over at Raye's."

"She got a call in the middle of everything. It was her sister or something having some kind of meltdown. Raye says her sister can be dramatic, and it happens once a month, but she couldn't really hang up. I got sleepy waiting, but I didn't wanna crash there to just sleep on a first date," you answer. 

"I'm sure you would've gotten some in the morning," Wanda mutters.

"I guess, but feels weird since it'd definitely be rushed," you take off your jacket and socks before heading to the bathroom. "It's fine, we'll probably reschedule for another date." 

"Perfect," Wanda sighs as she starts to get up. 

"Stay there, brat," you tell her as you stand at the door. "If you're gonna sleep in my bed, you better commit to the sleepover."

Wanda sticks her tongue out at you, which you return before you leave.

Tapping her fingers against the sheets, Wanda smiles. Maybe the night wasn't so hopeless after all. 

PART THREE

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

[blushweddinggowns]

It ended up being a good show with a great crowd. Eddie stayed behind to do the usual autographs and photos before sneaking out the backdoor, more than ready to find Steve and get to their hotel for the night. They were sticking around San Francisco for a few days until they were off to Seattle, mostly to give Jeff time to visit his parents while they were in town. 

Steve was right where he said he would be, off to the side with his arms wrapped around his middle. He looked cold, cold enough for Eddie to shrug off his own jacket, more than ready to drape it over his shoulders. But as he rounded the corner, Eddie quickly realized he wasn’t alone. Eddie raised a brow as he made his way over, more than a little annoyed that Steve was surrounded by four different women. 

Did Eddie have any reasonable explanations for the surge of jealousy that went through him? No, not at all. But that didn’t stop his eye from twitching when one of them put a hand on his arm while laughing way too hard at something he said. 

It didn’t help that his usual brand of unneeded jealousy was amplified by ten nowadays. 

Even though Eddie was aware that Steve was well and truly his again, and had been for months, he was still a bit on edge from the whole ordeal. It’s not like he thought Steve would ever cheat on him, but that nagging realization that he could leave hadn’t really left. Which was very, very stupid. He hadn’t even been gone for that long, but those miserable two weeks had still been pretty traumatizing. They had talked about it a lot since, and Steve was nothing but supportive. So supportive that there was literally nothing else he could do to reassure Eddie more. 

But that didn’t stop Eddie from marching over there, the fakest smile to ever exist plastered on his face, “How are you ladies doing tonight?”

Steve perked up at the sight of him, though Eddie noticed she was still touching him. And that just wouldn’t do. Eddie saddled up to him, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulder with a smile. While just managing to move him enough to shake her hand away. 

He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, seeing right through his motives. He always did. Eddie smiled down at her, probably with a little too much teeth, “Enjoy the show?”

They all started talking at once, shocked that Eddie was even there and more than happy to start praising the band. Not that Eddie could blame them. He’d be just as excited in their shoes back in the day. Though Eddie couldn’t help but notice that one of them still had her sights on Steve while he answered all of their excited questions. Her inching ever closer wasn’t exactly helping with his mood. 

She had great taste, he’d give her that. It didn’t help that Steve was way too polite when it came to rejecting someone. Eddie would have really prefer it if he just told them to fuck off on the first blush. That’s what he did when he got accosted by groupies, though… the whole false bad boy image helped him get away with it. His princess, on the other hand, was just too sweet for his own good and Eddie was quickly losing patience. 

“As fun as this is,” Eddie started, “I think it’s time for us to head out.”

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Eddie wasn’t really in the mood to wait. He slipped a hand into Steve’s back pocket, leaning in to smack a wet kiss to the side of his face while staring the girl dead in the eye, “You ready to go, Stevie?”

Steve, to his credit, was so used to his bullshit that he didn’t even blink, “Sure, it was nice to meet all of you.”

Then they were off, leaving a group of shocked, tipsy fans in his wake. It was probably, no, definitely a stupid thing to do. Then again, most people who even slightly knew him past a strictly professional level had figured out that no. The guy whose ass Eddie can’t stop groping was not his brother. It was one of the music industry’s worst kept secrets. But it’s not like Eddie was the only one stepping out of public expectations when it came to 90s rock stars. The world would figure it out eventually, and he and the rest of the band had been preparing for the backlash for years. But you’d be surprised how far the world would go to explain away gay behavior on rich people’s behalf. 

Steve managed a halfhearted glare up at him as they went, the hotel only a few blocks away, “Literally millions of people drool over you on a daily basis. How do you get to be the jealous one?”

Eddie shrugged, finally letting himself drape his jacket over Steve’s shoulders. It had the desired effect, any traces of annoyance were gone from Steve’s face the second it touched him. He pressed another kiss to his cheek, “I’m lucky.”

from the epilogue of this fic

#the perfect loving nightmare #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wooo this is so late #as is everything #but it's here??

[avelera]

I am never going to be over what the movies did with Steve and Tony's dynamic, because- listen, listen. The reason Civil War was (supposed to, it was kind of a hot mess) hit so hard in the comics was that these two were *best friends* and had been for decades of comic time. In the movies, they never are friends, so Civil War is just two colleagues who never really got on, and not the devastating tearing apart of a long-established friendship group.

Dude I literally burst out into like... outraged, furious laughter in the theater when Tony said, "I thought I was your friend?" because, umm, footage not fucking found?

I completely get and respect the comic readers here for whom Steve & Tony and Steve/Tony were, in fact, the best of friends! But the MCU never ever actually showed it.

To cram that line, which felt lifted from the comics, into the MCU was genuinely laughable. How could Tony possibly think he compares to what we've seen of Steve and Bucky's relationship, since childhood even if you don't ship them, as the only person Steve has left from his entire life pre-WWII? How could Tony possibly think he compares except through the lens of a galaxy sized ego and being totally self-involved to the exclusion of all else? How could any work colleague, since that's what they are at best when not outright antagonists to each other in the MCU, think they'd compare to a childhood friend in danger, that Tony is actively putting in danger? Who Tony is blaming for the death of his father despite the fact they've got piles of evidence that Bucky was a mind-controlled prisoner of war being actively tortured at the time?

It's literally staggering, it beggars belief that this line was uttered. And wildly enough, it's not even my least favorite line in Civil War. (That one goes to Vision's stupid fucking comment about how strength invites challenge, basically victim-blaming the superheroes for having villains, which only possibly makes any sense if you ignore Thor, the greater galaxy, all of the infinity stones, and basically every other part of the MCU timeline before Steve Rogers got the serum, Christ that line makes me mad.

Oh, and the line about Tony just handwaving signing the accords because their lawyers can fix it later as the most boneheaded line of insane privilege I've ever heard. Kids, never fucking sign something just because you can supposedly fix it later, christ it's the dumbest thing I've ever heard.)

ANYWAY, I have major beef with Civil War's logic. It never should have happened where it did in the MCU. Cap 3 should have been dedicated to its original plot before they found out RDJ was staying on in the MCU and they had the pieces to make Civil War (the original was the hunt for Bucky and an examination of Captain America's legacy through the lens of Bucky killing off the pretenders the US government set up to be him over the years, and I still weep that we never got it) But I do honestly, deeply, have sympathy for comic fans and why they're mad about the Steve and Tony friendship never actually appearing on screen in any meaningful way.

Civil War shouldn't have happened then. Civil War is a plot you run now, when you've got the rights to the X-Men and too many damn characters running amok. Civil War would be perfect now for pairing down some of the ballooning MCU nonsense. The cast was literally not big enough circa Cap 3 to make Civil War. And I'm eternally bitter that they pivoted away from the smaller-scale Cap-centric movie we should have had and instead made another Avengers movie in its name.

#maggie rambles #captain america #mcu meta #mcu

[aurumacadicus]

Y'all I'm sorry this post was not finished here is the end 😭

--

Tony doesn't know what to do. He'd thought his breakup letter was lost forever, not just misplaced to send later. He doesn't want to break up with Steve anymore. But apparently he doesn't have a choice in the matter anymore. Steve had finally read his first letter, his intent to break up on his first month deployed. How cowardly he'd been, saying goodbye in a letter instead of face-to-face. How bad a friend he was, when Steve knew how Tony had promised to never send one specifically because of how much Rhodey had been hurt in the past.

He shoves it into the couch cushions and stands, backing away from it as if the couch might attack him. Then he goes to grab it, to put it in the trash. Then he backs off again, too scared to see those big, blocky letters blaring at him like he's Hester Prynne or something. Maybe he can call Pepper to dispose of it. Except she's in France right now. She won't be back for a week. He rocks back on his heels, feeling jittery and sick.

It can wait for a week, he decides, backing away.

But he's too ashamed to tell Pepper about it when she comes back, and he's too ashamed to tell her that he's been dumped. She'd probably ask if it wasn't what he'd wanted all along. And maybe he did, because he was scared, because he couldn't believe that Steve was different from every other person he'd dated, but he doesn't want to be dumped now. Now that he's written and received hundreds of letters, has fallen even more in love with Steve, had hopefully given Steve some reason to love back--

He deserves this, Tony thinks, hurt fading into a hollow in his chest, until he just feels numb. What was it Steve had joked? He was his own tragedy. That had been in response to him getting an ice-cream and then immediately dripping it down his silk shirt, but apparently Steve had had him pegged from the beginning: All of his unhappiness has been because of his choices. And this was just the unhappiness from his stupid Dear John letter finally coming back to bite him in the ass. So he puts all the letters he's kept in a box, hands it to Dum-E, and tells him to incinerate them.

If Pepper notices that Tony's not picking through his mail anymore, she doesn't say anything, and Tony puts it out of his mind. This was always the conclusion with his letter, he reminds himself. Just because it took a little longer to reach this point, it was always coming.

"What's this?" Rhodey asks a month later, digging the envelope out from under the cushions after the corner pokes at his hip. Tony tries to snatch it from his hand, but Rhodey bats him away, looking it over. "Dear John," he says a moment later, raising an eyebrow. He looks up at Tony. "Did you label this yourself?"

He looks so bewildered that Tony just lets it spill out, even though he's certain that Rhodey will hate him for it. How he'd sent Steve the breakup letter, but it hadn't gotten to him, and he was too cowardly to send another, and how he'd fallen even more in love with Steve and was getting over his trust issues and was looking forward to Steve coming home so he could tell him about his stupid letter and how glad he was that it never made it to him and he was so certain Steve would laugh about it and--

"Oh boy," Rhodey sighs, pulling him down into a hug as Tony blubbers about how sorry he is that he ever found out his friend was a hypocritical coward who did the one thing he promised to never do. "Tony, that was ten fucking years ago. We were young. I don't blame her. And I don't blame you."

It takes a weight off his shoulders, even if the ache of losing Steve still sits heavy in his chest. Once Rhodey is gone, Tony hands the letter off to Dum-E, telling him to put it with the others. He's healing, he thinks, as Dum-E does a spin before zooming away with the envelope in his claw.

So of course Steve arrives on his doorstep two weeks later, crutches under each arm and a bandage over his right eye. Tony gapes up at him, stunned.

"Sweetheart," Steve breathes, hopping closer. "You stopped sending me letters."

Tony steps backward. "You," he finally manages to sputter. "You sent it back. Returned to sender. I. I didn't know you could do that."

Steve squints at him, brows furrowing together. "It's... the mail? Of course I--but I didn't? I've been in a coma. For the last three months."

Tony reaches up to cup his cheek and stops when he remembers he doesn't get to do that anymore, fingers curling back toward his palm as he draws his hand back. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Can I get you anything? I can--I can pay for a specialist if you need--"

"Tony," Steve cuts in, gently but firmly. He reaches out to grab Tony's arm, pulling it so his hand is back up, and he leans his cheek against Tony's palm. "I got your letter."

Tony stares up at him, unable to comprehend. "You... got lots of letters."

"You tried to break up with me, but Colonel Rhodes warned me that might happen, so I ignored it, and just wrote to you like I normally would. I figured, if you meant it, you'd send another, and if you didn't, you'd be too awkward to say anything," Steve says, smiling. He's missing a tooth, Tony notices vaguely. "And it worked! You kept writing me back."

"What the fuck kind of convoluted logic," Tony chokes out, but he finds he can't quite bite back a slightly bewildered smile, either.

"And then I got got," Steve sighs, his own smile fading. "Grenade. Had to put me in a coma to heal right. And one of the guys found your Dear John letter when he was grabbing something for me and decided to send your last letter back. He thought he was helping me I guess." He looks down for a second, then back up, smile back in place. "But! I'm here now. I'm on medical leave!"

Tony blinks at him slowly. "...Steve," he says after a moment. "Are you supposed to have a chaperone right now?"

Steve sways forward. "Tony, I'm going to be real honest with you," he whispers. "I am still on so many painkillers. I took Bucky out at the knees with my crutch and booked it."

"...Steve, you are in a lot of trouble," Tony tells him gently, then lifts his other hand, cradling Steve's face between them. "I am going to let Bucky yell at you. But! I will hold your hand while it happens."

"Well," Steve sighs. "As long as you hold my hand." Then he brightens again. "I had Dum-E store my letters for you. I knew you'd try to get rid of them. That deserves a kiss, right?"

"...How long did you plan this out?" Tony asks, frowning at him.

"Colonel Rhodes was very explicit about what would happen. I'm better than all your previous partners," Steve tells him proudly. "I! Am going to marry you someday. Also! Don't worry! I know I am not better than Pepper."

"What?" Tony asks, but then Steve is pressing in, peppering his face with sweet kisses. "Steve. Wait. Wait a minute. I have to--"

"We have maybe ten minutes until Bucky gets here and beats me to death please let me love on you," Steve whines, and Tony doesn't have the heart (and is still too confused) to tell him no.

#ideas #stony #welcome to the suffer club i guess #tony: i don't want rhodey to hate me #rhodey: *sigh* tony's a dumbass so i better tell steve

[lavenderstobins]

In you opinion, what would have happened if dustin and erica were captured by the russians alongside steve and robin?

To begin with, I think Steve essentially offers himself up immediately, trying to claim that the other three don’t know anything. Thing is, Dustin would also immediately start loudly protesting, so it would just be a mix of shouting until they’re separated.

They’re interrogated separately at first. Erica is a kid, so they’re not too interested in her — mainly, they’re trying to get answers by talking to her like she’s five, which… doesn’t work. Erica’s loud and cocky, talks back to them like they’re dumb, but she doesn’t really realise the extent of the situation until the screaming starts.

Dustin is in a similar boat, but old enough for them to not treat him like he’s stupid. He’s being loud and uncooperative too, and he intends to stay that way, until…

Well, until he hears what’s happening to Steve and Robin.

Because when Steve and Robin were captured, alone, they were hopeful that Dustin and Erica got out. That was enough for them. They figured they’d die down there, but at least Erica and Dustin would be safe.

In a scenario where Erica and Dustin got captured with them, though? That’s out the window. They’re not cooperative. They don’t care what happens to themselves, all they care about is ensuring Erica and Dustin’s safeties.

Steve is tortured, same as in the show, and the Russians don’t believe him when he says it was just him, that it was an accident. He hangs on as long as he can, trying to convince them that the other three were just dragged along for the ride.

Robin’s doing the exact same thing. So, there are conflicting stories already. Because Robin’s trying to bring the blame onto herself, saying she was bored at work and cracked their code, it was her, the other three are just her coworker and some kids he babysits who got stuck with her. Remember in the show how she was uncooperative with them, calling them bastards and spitting at them, up until the point where they start trying to pull Steve’s fingernails? If Dustin and Erica are involved, she’s in that mentality from the beginning.

Dustin and Erica are mainly left alone, all in all, but their captors have made it so that they’re able to hear both Steve and Robin getting tortured. That’s the catch for them. If they tell the truth, their friends don’t need to get hurt, yes?

(It’s also at this point that both Dustin and Erica realise they’re in over their heads. Neither will admit it, but they’re both terrified.)

Robin and Steve, I think, would then be interrogated together, because their stories aren’t aligning and both have taken blame, and the intent is that if they see how beaten up the other is then maybe they’ll crack. They kinda do, they kinda don’t. Steve once again tries to pull the blame to him, and I think Robin would get desperate and start shouting that it was obviously her, he’s just her stupid coworker, he wouldn’t understand a code at all, let alone crack it.

Because in both their respective minds, they’re at fault. Robin cracked the code, so she thinks she dragged them all into this. Steve let Dustin try and crack the code to begin with instead of brushing it off, so he thinks he dragged them all into this. And I think there’s this mutual understanding of let me take this, let me save you. Steve knows that Robin doesn’t know anything about the Upside Down, so she has no idea of that danger, but Robin not knowing about that is half the reason she’s so desperate to take the blame. She has no idea that there’s more to it than the cracking of the code.

Ultimately, I think they’d believe Robin. She’s a convincing liar, for one, and for two, Steve hadn’t mentioned the code once. He’d stuck to the ice cream job, where Robin had stuck to being bored and deciphering a code for fun.

So Steve gets shut up in a room with Dustin and Erica, who have had no idea what’s been happening for hours, and Dustin sees the state of his face and freaks. Steve’s frantic because he needs to get them out of there and save Robin, and he’s terrified because he knew what they did to him already, and he knew she’d already been hurt.

I think Steve, Dustin and Erica would manage to break out of their room and make a run for it, starting the subplot of Dustin and Erica’s rescue from the show. Dustin and Steve fill Erica in on things and find the cattle prod and green goo etc etc.

The three of them use it as a distraction and are able to break out Robin, same way Dustin and Erica do in the show. I think Robin would’ve been drugged, but she’d have been alone instead of drugged with Steve. Steve would’ve gotten into a fight with the doctor and Dustin would’ve still jabbed the doctor with the cattle prod (and killed him).

From there, things would mostly play out the same way except it’s only Robin that’s loopy on drugs, with Steve taking charge of the situation. I also think Steve would’ve scooped up Robin to run rather than tug her along by her wrist (since he’s obviously stronger than Dustin and Erica) which would’ve made Robin complain but she wouldn’t fight it. I do think she’d make some comment about “Tammy would be soooo mad at me… she might TALK to me…” while giggling, but the other three aren’t really paying attention to what she’s saying because she’s clearly out of it.

Steve would refute them hiding in the cinema, so I think the four of them would go with Dustin to try and get the radio to work. Robin keeps complaining that she’s thirsty so Steve takes her to get some water while Dustin and Erica try to reach the others.

The bathroom confession wouldn’t happen right then (because Steve hasn’t been drugged) so I think Robin would still dash to the bathroom to throw up and Steve would wait outside the stall (doesn’t want to leave her unattended).

Everything after that would play out the same as the show, minus Steve giving away Dustin’s name etc.

In this scenario I think Robin would come out to him after everything, either that night or sometime over the next few days, because Steve wouldn’t have confessed to being in love with her in the bathroom. Maybe they get drunk together after Starcourt, maybe they have a bathroom confession in the Harrington house. She’d come out to him before the s3 epilogue for sure though.

Sorry, this is probably a much longer answer than you were expecting, but this was fun to think about!

#robin buckley #steve harrington #dustin henderson #erica sinclair #stranger things #scoops troop #stobin #asks #answered #anonymous #fic stuff #(kinda) #my thoughts

[forever-rogue]

Heartstopper

AN | What can I say? I’m a sucker for him. So here we are…we have some best friends to lovers goodness here! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 4k

Masterlist | Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“What are we doing Friday night?”

“I have a date on Friday.”

The two of you spoke at the same time, and you stared wide eyed at him while he chuckled nervously, drumming his fingers against the countertop. You rocked back and forth on your heels before taking a step back and creating a pointed distance between each other. 

“But we…we always hang out on Friday nights,” the mixture of annoyance and sadness made you sound so whiny. Fucking pathetic. You scratched the back of your neck awkwardly as he seemed to look anywhere but your face, “I just…assumed. We’d said we’d go see that new movie.”

“Well, I mean, we - all of us were going to go,” he shrugged, his nonchalant tone making this even worse, “you’ll still have Robin, Nancy, Munson, the kids.”

“Yeah,” your breath caught in your throat as you just tried to play it off. There was no reason that he needed to know about the odd mixture of feelings settling low in your stomach, “of course.”

“You understand, right?” his eyes finally met yours, as the two of you looked at each other for a few long moments. His gaze was piercing and you felt like he could see right through you, “it’s just that Allie asked me and I figured…why not, ya know? No reason not to.”

“Allie,” you repeated the name as your stomach churned and you felt like you could throw up. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Allie; she’d always been nice, kind, funny, pretty, all of it. She was a perfect little package. That was the worst part - you couldn’t even dislike her. Or blame him for saying yes. But the feeling it brought up was…strange, “wow. Yeah, no, totally. I-I’m sure that’ll be great.”

“You don’t like her?” he raised an eyebrow as you fervently shook your head, feeling your face flush with warmth, “what’s up with you-”

“I like Allie! She’s…great,” you insisted, your voice pitching up several octaves and making you sound like you were seconds away from crying. You were, “she’s, ugh, great.”

“Are you…okay?” he asked and you just nodded, giving him a tight lipped smile that felt as fake as it probably looked. He was going to see right through you. He was going to know…fuck. You were jealous. Plain and simple. You were jealous of Allie getting to go on a date with Steve, potentially kissing him, potentially fu- no. You were definitely not going to picture that, “babe-”

“You know, I’m late,” you lied as you pointed to your watch before stumbling your way to the door, “I’ve got umm…that thing. I’ll see you around Stevie.”

You ran out the door and over to your car without casting another look back towards Family Video. You were breathless, your chest in pain from a combination of the wild beating of your heart and that stupid, dumb feeling of heartache. 

What had you expected? You’d never made a move, neither asked once asked him on a date date, never let him know you truly left. You couldn’t blame him for being in the dark about your feelings. Steve was allowed to go on dates, he was a free man. Hell, you’d already had feelings for him when he was dating Nancy and you hadn’t felt like this. Nancy was your friend, and while you had been jealous, you were happy, even if it meant your own heart breaking. If Steve was happy and Nancy was happy, that was all that mattered. But you’d been secretly overjoyed when they’d broken up. And yet still hadn’t made your move. It really shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was going on dates again. 

“Fuck,” you groaned at yourself as you hit the steering wheel. The stinging pain spread throughout your hand immediately and only made everything worse. Warm tears had pearled up and run down your cheeks before you knew it, causing you to cry loudly, “fuck, fuck, fuck!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“That was…something,” Robin stepped out of the back, a twizzler in her hanging from her mouth as she raised her eyebrows, “and by something I mean painful. That hurt me and I wasn’t even involved.”

“What are you talking about?” sure, it had been…something but Steve hadn’t quite put all the pieces together yet, “she must be feeling…off or something. She gets weird sometimes, I dunno.”

“Steve, you just broke her fucking heart,” she groaned as she shoved his shoulder, causing him to make a small sound of protest. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unable to find the right words, “did you not…get that?”

“It’s just one Friday night,” he shrugged it off and turned to organize some of the rental returns. She grabbed his arm and shook her head. She really liked Steve, but damn, he was stupid sometimes, “there’ll be plenty of others…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” She was incredulous at how he didn’t realize that you were in love with him and the fact that he didn’t understand that he was in love with you too. She muttered something under breath that sounded a lot like complete idiots before throwing the last of her twizzler away, “Steve. She was jealous. Of your date. With Allie.”

“Oh,” he said as he nodded but then what she had said hit him all at once, “oh? Why would she be jealous? She’s my best friend.”

“You really don’t get it, do you? How can you be so blind?” she was laughing, both at how annoyed she was by both of you and how utterly sorry she felt that you both were foolish, “Steve. She’s jealous because she’s your best friend. Because she doesn’t want to be just your best friend.”

“Robin, just say what you’re getting at,” he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it even further than it already had been. How was she even friends with a fool like this?

“She’s in love with you,” she reached over and patted his cheek just as the door opened again and a new customer strolled in, “you’re such an idiot sometimes, Harrington.”

Robin left his side to greet the customer as he stood there, dumbfounded at her words. No. No. She had to be wrong. There was no way that you loved him. You loving Steve Harrington? The idea was almost laughable. You were the pretty, funny, smart girl and he was…your dumb but handsome other half. Oh. Oh. His other half. He’d always considered his other, and better half. You were the first thought on his mind in the morning, often at night, and so many other times of the day. You were the first person he turned to whether it was for something good or bad. Holy shit. You’d always been. 

The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks as he paced around behind the counter. All those thoughts and feelings and everything…it had always been love. For you. Because he was in love with you. He thought back and realized he’d never once had the same intensity of feelings for Nancy. Even when he thought he was crushing on Robin, she hadn’t come close. Granted, he did love both of them, but he’d never loved someone like he loved you. Fuck. Steve Harrington was in love with you. 

And Robin had said you were in love with him.

“No way,” he smacked himself on the forehead when he’d realized just how blind he was. To his own fucking feelings. And to yours. Maybe. If Robin turned out to be right. Which she sometimes was. But you…how could you love him? You were you and he was just…Steve, “fuck me.”

“Finally put it all together?” she called from across the store as he just waved her off, “took you long enough!”

If Robin was right, then he’d was sure he’d just royally screwed things up. He had to figure out how to fix it, if he could fix it…if you even wanted him to fix it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Eds,” you grinned as soon as you saw his mop of messy curls. You were waiting outside for the boys to finish their Hellfire session, sitting on the hood of your car as they ran out in excitement. You walked over and gave him a hug which he effortlessly reciprocated. You’d always liked him, falling into an easy friendship with him over the years. He was, surprisingly, one of the most reliable and present people in your life. Just like Steve. Fuck. Steve. You’d almost forgotten about him. 

“Hey,” you liked his smile, it was all dimples and teeth and softness. It was a nice smile. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. If anything, he was much more your type than Steve was, “what’s up? You’re looking at me all funny.”

“Do you wanna go out with me?” you asked softly as his eyebrows raised up in surprise.

“We hang out all the time…”

“Like a date,” you blurted out before shrugging your shoulders and looking away in embarrassment, “like a date with me and you. A, umm…date date?”

“Oh…kay,” he was grinning now, watching you in amusement. Eddie, despite what people often seemed to think, was a smart man. Plus, he also wasn’t blind. He knew you were Steve’s in all but name and that you had him wrapped around your finger as well. He did find you attractive and everything and sure, he knew if you hadn’t been so gone for Harrington, he might have asked you out too, “why are you asking me on a date?”

“I dunno,” you flailed your hands lightly, “just a thought. God, I made this awkward didn’t I? I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Sorry, Eds.” 

“You’re fine,” he had a smug little grin on his face. He reached up and put a finger gently under your chin before turning your face up to his, “listen. I totally want to say yes, but I, being a man of superior morals, can’t say yes.”

“Eddie-”

“You’re attractive, you’re smart, you’re nice. Probably too good for any of us,” he insisted softly, “but I know you don’t like me like that.”

“You’re hot-”

“I know,” he grinned cheekily, “you’ve told me that many times after a few drinks when you weren’t trying to make out with me. But you know…there’s the whole…Harrington thing.”

“There’s no…there’s nothing with him,” you sighed as you grabbed his wrist, trying not to cry, “I’m just his friend.”

“For now.”

“For always,” you took his hand and held it tightly in yours, “he’s going out with Allie on Friday. And knowing how perfect and wonderful she is - I want to hate her but I can’t - Steve will fall for her in seconds. Or someone else. Just not…me.”

“You’re so blind,” he laughed, his shoulders shaking as he tried to calm himself down. When you looked at him in confusion, clearly not following what he was getting at, he stopped, “wait. You really don’t…you don’t know Harrington’s in love with you?”

“I - what?” you looked at him with such wide, worried eyes that he immediately grew serious, “Steve’s not in love with me, Eds. Don’t joke about it when you know how I feel about him.”

“You think - you think I’m joking,” he scrubbed a tired, ringed hand over his face as he shook his, “everyone knows, but you apparently.”

“Eddie.”

“Listen,” he held up his hands to signal his innocence, “I’m just telling the truth. I would never lie to you. I-”

“Can we hurry this up?” Dustin shouted from the car as you both flipped him the bird, “there’s pizza at home!”

“You wanna grab dinner on Friday? We can ditch the kids after the movie and then talk,” he suggested as you nodded slightly. One of the kids honked the horn as you sighed heavily, “you better go before they lose it. See you Friday.”

“See you Friday,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before turning around to the car, yelling at the trio in the backseat as you climbed into the driver’s seat. 

Eddie waited there until you drove off, waving at the younger boys. He shook his head in amusement, laughing to himself, “oblivious idiots.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Even though your hot date consisted of a bunch of young teenagers, along with a too cozy couple in Jonathan and Nancy, and the chaotic duo of Robin and Eddie, you’d decided to dress up. You’d been feeling off all week, well aware of the reason why, but couldn’t shake yourself out of it. Sure, you could theoretically just have called Steve, gone to his house, or work to talk. But you found yourself doing the exact opposite. You’d ignored his calls, and whenever he stopped by your house, you pretended you weren’t home. At one point he’d climbed up to your window and tapped on it, but it was late enough to pretend you were asleep. So you did just that, thankful that you’d had the forethought to lock it for once. 

Was it pretty and childish? Absolutely. But you weren’t ready to face him and have your heart broken. Because you were positive that as soon as you told him  ‘hey, dumbass, I’m absolutely and irrevocably in love with you,’ he would laugh in your face and think you were joking. Your heart couldn’t handle that. Instead you broke your own heart by simply ignoring him. 

So by dressing up, you figured that might lift your mood slightly. It did, and combined with spending time with your friends, you did feel a little better. Plus, the movie wasn’t as terrible as you’d thought it would be. All in all…okay. 

Once you were all out of the theater, you nudged Eddie’s arm as you said your goodbyes to the rest of the group. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders without a second thought and started leading in the direction of the diner that you both loved. It was shitty, run down, and completely sketchy, but they had the best pancakes and milkshakes in Hawkins so it was worth the risk. 

You were halfway there when you heard the shout of your name from across the street. You thought you’d imagined it until you heard Eddie’s name too. You stiffened as you both stopped and turned to look for the source of the voice. You already knew who it was long before you even saw him. 

There stood Steve Harrington, hand in hand with Allie Miller, watching you with a scowl on his face. You heard Eddie giggle likely as you pinched his side and cast a small wave at Steve to placate him. 

“Move,” you hissed at Eddie, nudging his hip with yours in a desperate attempt to get away from Steve. He took his sweet time, and of course, Steve and Allie had made it over to you within moments. Fuck. You were going to kill Munson for that later. 

“Hey,” Steve’s eyes flicked between the two of you as you politely said hi to Allie, “what’s ugh…what’s going on here? Thought it was movie night?”

“The movie finished,” you shrugged and willed the ground to open and swallow you whole. You did not want to do this right now. Or ever. But life had a strange way of forcing its will upon you, “just grabbing dinner.”

“Just…the two of you?”

“Umm…yeah?” your whole was warm and you felt bad for Steve’s poor date. She had no clue what was going on, unlike the rest of you, “is there a problem, Steve? You’re the one that didn’t come out with all of us.”

“Are you on a date? Is that what this is? The two of you are going on a date together?”

“No-”

“Yes,” you insisted over Eddie’s soft no and you heard him sigh lightly. You knew he was trying to get you to tell Steve how you really felt. But you weren’t ready. You just…couldn’t, “yeah, we’re on a date so we’re just, umm…gonna go. Enjoy your evening.”

“Wait - you can’t just…”

“Is there a problem, Harrington?” Fuck, Eddie was mentally begging for the two of you just to get it over with. You were so close but both so damn stubborn. It was a quality that he loved in both of you normally, except right now. 

“I…no,” he tried to keep his expression nonchalant, “not at all. The two of you want to date, that’s fine. Who am I to stop you?”

“Right, so we’re going now,” you tugged on Eddie’s hand and hurriedly pulled him away before anyone could say anything else. You sighed heavily as Eddie tutted at you, “don’t say a word, Munson.”

“It was the perfect opportunity,” he insisted, “he was practically staring me to death. He reeked of jealousy!” 

“No,” you felt tears of both confusion and frustration well up in your eyes, “Eddie, can you please just drop it? Let’s just get dinner and forget this ever happened.”

“Y-yeah, sure,” he swallowed thickly and he suddenly felt horrible. All he wanted was his friends to get over whatever little game they had going and to finally confess their feelings. Fuck, he wasn’t into overly sentimental stuff, but even he was rooting for it to happen, “whatever you want, princess.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Robin? Are you ready to go?” you walked into Family Video without a second thought as you’d promised to pick her up after work so the two of you could get snacks and have a movie marathon. It was a cold, rainy day and nothing sounded better than getting under a pile of blankets and eating to your heart’s delight. When you didn’t hear anything, you rapped your fingers across the counter, “Robin?”

You heard someone coming from the back but to your shock it wasn’t Robin. 

It was Steve.

You panicked immediately, your heart racing as you contemplated just running out. He wasn’t supposed to be here, Robin had said he wouldn’t be. He was supposed to have the day off. But there he was…right in front of you with an unreadable expression etched onto his handsome features.

“Hi,” he said softly as he held up his hand in a small wave. You hated this, this awkward and foreign feeling hanging between the two of you, “Robin’s not here. She was off earlier.”

What the actual fuck. No way. There was no way…she’d planned this. She’d totally schemed to get this happen. You had no doubt Eddie had been right there with her. 

“O-oh,” you looked at the floor, “she, umm, she told me she was off now. We were supposed to have a movie marathon, but ugh…I’ll go.”

“How’s Munson?” you looked up and met his eyes and found out that he’d almost closed the distance between you, leaving just enough space to be appropriate. Was he…could Eddie have been right? Was he jealous?

“Eddie’s good,” you nodded, “umm, we’re all hanging out again on Friday. Game night at Nancy and Mike’s. I dunno if you were planning on coming by or whatever now that you’ve got…what’s her name.”

“Allie,” he replied, although you were both well aware that you knew her name. 

“Right,” you cleared your throat before moving towards the door, “I, umm…see you around. Maybe.”

You were out of the door and in the middle of the rain before he could say another word. The universe was definitely conspiring against you as the downpour increased on your trek across the parking lot. You’d go home and change and then kill Robin and Eddie. You hoped the two of them had enough sense to at least pretend to be sorry for this mess.

“Wait!” you heard Steve’s voice before you turned around and found him running towards you, “it’s raining too hard! You shouldn’t be driving right now.”

“I’ll be fine!” the two of you almost had to shout at each other over the sound of the pouring rain. Both of you were already drenched at this point, “go back inside, Stevie! You’re already soaking wet.”

“I’m not going out again with Allie!” When did he get so close? He was standing in front of you, only a small gap between your bodies as you found your heart beating rapidly, “are you going out again with Munson?”

“Steve,” he reached up and brushed a few wet, stray locks of hair gently out of your face. His fingertips ghosted against your jaw, “I wasn’t on a date with Eddie. I’m not dating him. We’re just friends.”

“Then why did you say you were on a date?” his face fell slightly as you just shook your head, already feeling the tears stinging at the back of your eyes. 

“Why aren’t you seeing Allie again?”

“You know why!” a crack of thunder roared in the distance as you almost jumped into his arms, “you’ve always known why!”

“Stevie-”

“You’re the only person that’s ever been allowed to call me that,” he insisted, the corners of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly, “I hate when anyone else calls me that. I’ve always hated that nickname.”

“Why do you let me do it?”

“You know why,” he repeated as he leaned in closer and you found yourself doing the same. Even in the pouring rain you could smell his delicious cologne clinging to him, mixing in with the sweet scent of skin. It was intoxicating and all consuming, just like everything about Steve Harrington. 

“Tell me,” you insisted softly, “please, I need to hear you say it. Why aren’t you seeing her again?”

“Because she’s not you,” his hands found the sides of your face as he gently cradled it in his large, warm hands, “why aren’t you dating Munson?”

“Because he’s not you,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrists and let out a shaky breath. When you allowed yourself to meet his eyes, you found him watching you with the same soft, dopey expression he always had for you. Oh. It was because…oh. He never looked at anyone else like that because - 

“I’m in love with you,” his words rang out loud and clear against the pounding of the rain and crackles of thunder in the distance. Your mouth opened lightly in surprise and shock at actually hearing him say those words. You’d pictured this moment at least a thousand times in your head, but none of these scenarios were ever like this, “I-I feel like an idiot because I just realized that. I’ve always known, you but it never fully clicked until-”

“Robin and Eddie,” you finished for him as he nodded in agreement, “I don’t know whether I’m happy or mad at them right now!”

“Can I kiss you?” you knew the moment was coming but his softly spoken question still managed to make your heart beat wildly as you just looked at him with big doe eyes. You leaned in and closed the little bit of remaining distance, crashing your lips onto his. Steve was taken aback for just a moment, but quickly realized what was going on and kissed you back, pouring every single unspoken word into the kiss, trying to get you to understand just how he felt. 

You both pulled back when you were breathless, grinning at each other like fools. He pressed his forehead against yours as a wistful little sigh escaped from your lips. Holy shit. You’d just kissed Steve Harrington. Your best friend, your biggest supporter, your…everything. He’d kissed you back. He wanted to kiss you. He was in love with you. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to top this moment,” he laughed, that easy sound reaching your ears. It had been too long since you’d heard that sound.

“What? You mean running after me and kissing me in the rain?” you teased as he touched your face and gently brushed his thumb over your cheek, “that’s pretty romantic, Harrington. You could always try though!”

“For you?” he leaned and pecked your lips a few more times, trying to memorize the touch and taste of your lips, “I’ll always try.”

A few flashes of lightning illuminated the sky, quickly followed by rumbling thunder, causing you to cling tightly onto him.

“Let’s get inside!” he insisted as laced his fingers through yours. You marveled at how perfectly your hands fit together, “you’re gonna get wet.”

“I think it’s a little late for that Stevie,” you grinned, “hey.”

“What?”

“I love you, Steve Harrington,” his face practically lit up at your words and that alone made everything worth it, “even if you are an idiot sometimes. You’re my idiot!”

“I love you,” he promised, “you’re my girl.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #joe keery #joe keery x you #joe keery x reader #st

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 6

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | AO3

The next time that Eddie sees Steve Harrington, the entire world has gone to shit. He has a broken bottle pressed against his neck and God, he's fucking terrified, half convinced he's going crazy and half convinced that some invisible thing is going to break him into pieces if he so much as closes his eyes and half convinced that Harrington is here to beat the shit out of him for Chrissy's murder and fuck, he doesn't want to die, he just wants all this to stop -

But they believe him.

Impossibly, they believe him, and they all act like this is old hat. This group that has no reason to be friends - the D&D nerd, the skater, the band geek, the jock, Jesus, add in Eddie as the criminal and they're a knock off Breakfast Club - they look at each other with world weary eyes and resignation, and then they all gear up and say let's go.

Easy as that. Just, the world is shit, the monsters in the dark are real, and the four of them sigh and unite together without question.

And then - yeah, they're on his side, and the food situation is a lot better than it was a day ago, and he's pretty sure he's not crazy, but aside from sporadic check ins, he's still very, very alone out here in the boathouse.

He can't sleep, he can't do anything to help himself - just like he couldn't do anything to help Chrissy - he's just a fucking wreck -

And then Jason Carver and his merry gang of freak hunters find him, and he's about ninety percent sure he's going to die out here on Lover's Lake.

But he doesn't.

Patrick McKinney does, floating above Lover's Lake just like Chrissy had in his bedroom, and this time when he hears the crunch of bones snapping it seems to echo even louder, all across the lake.

He shoots terrified eyes towards Carver, and for one stupid second he - he's almost relieved. It wasn't just him this time, bearing witness to something so horrifying. Someone else was here with him, someone else saw it too, and for an even stupider second he thinks maybe Carver will get it now, maybe he'll pull a Harrington and they can unite together against the monster doing this.

But Carver turns on him, clearly needing to blame it on someone he can see, and Eddie - well. Eddie's always been good at being the freak.

Good at running, too, and that's what he does again.

He spends a truly horrific night in the woods, terrified and alone and convinced every sound is Jason Carver or that thing coming to get him, more sure than ever that this is it, this is how he dies.

But he doesn't.

He reunites with the party, and tries not to let it show how fucking relieved he is - makes his dramatic entrance, all boisterous bluster, hoping none of them can see the fear in his eyes behind his wide smile.

The trudge back through the woods is as miserable as Eddie expected, but it's still worlds better than last night. At least now he's not soaking wet and cold and losing stretches of time to sheer terror.

At least now he's not alone, and he can distract himself by people watching.

Max and Lucas are walking together, clearly having some kind of serious discussion. Not quite an argument, he'd guess, though he can't hear what they're saying - a little lovers' quarrel, maybe? Probably, he concludes, when they separate, Lucas hanging back looking dejected and Max stomping off ahead.

He sees Harrington look between them, brow crinkled just a little bit in thought.

It isn't cute, Eddie reminds himself, and turns to watch Max instead. She's staring right at Harrington with a very clear fuck off vibe, and Eddie, drama magnet that he is, has to slow back a step or two so he can see them both.

Harrington turns his entire upper body towards her, walking without looking where he's going, which feels like a fucking recipe for disaster, but it just makes Max roll her eyes at him. Her eyebrows shoot up, and she pointedly flicks her gaze back in Lucas's direction. Harrington tilts his head, the bitchy are you for real expression that Eddie's moderately familiar with slotting easily into place.

Max sighs, her expression fading into something more sincere and shoulders dropping. She shakes her head at him, and this time her gaze lands on Lucas for a long, drawn out moment.

Harrington's already moving by the time she looks back at him, falling back to go join Lucas's side where he's kicking at pinecones as he walks.

For a moment, Eddie considers picking up his pace to go join Max, but she puts her headphones back on and hunches in on herself, clearly needing a few minutes alone. Normally, Eddie wouldn't involve himself in what may or may not be some freshman lovespat, but fuck, he desperately needs a distraction, so he keeps sneaking glances over at Harrington and Lucas. Whatever discussion they're having, it's clearly intense, but it still catches him off guard when Harrington suddenly plants himself in front of Lucas and forces him to stop.

Eddie stumbles to a halt, watching as Harrington cups the back of Lucas's neck and drags him in, leaning down to press their foreheads together. Lucas's shoulders hitch, like he's barely holding himself together, and Harrington gives him a little shake, sets them swaying back and forth for a moment.

Fuck, he shouldn't be watching this. This looks like it goes way beyond whatever on again off again thing Lucas and Max have going.

Of course, the second he has that thought, either something in the wind shifts or Harrington's voice picks up, because he can hear him saying, "This is not on you, you hear me? None of this is on you. And as the king of fuck ups, I'm something of an authority on the matter."

Eddie hurriedly lurches himself forward again, feeling ashamed.

A few minutes later, he sees Lucas walk on ahead, watches him connect with Dustin and Max to form a loose little trio. He expects Harrington to go up even farther, join up with Wheeler and Buckley, but he hangs back, all but falling into step with Eddie.

Huh.

"He okay?" Eddie asks, physically unable to stay quiet anymore.

Harrington sighs next to him, but it sounds sad, not aggravated. "They're just kids," he says, softly. "I keep hoping, you know, this time it'll be done, and they can just worry about the stupid stuff I did when I was their age, but-"

He gestures in a manner that Eddie takes to mean but all of this bullshit.

"I just wish the only thing we had left to talk about was why did you break up and how to get the girl and who didn't support who at what."

Eddie doesn't know what to say to that. The implication that a bunch of nerdy freshmen come to Steve Harrington for that kind of stuff - that he wants to talk to them about that, that he's the one they rely on - it'd been hard enough to hear coming from Dustin, but seeing it in action?

He's already had enough of his world view rocked in the last few days, he really doesn't need this too.

"He knows," Eddie starts, and then stops, unsure if this is so incredibly self centered of him - then pushes forward, because he keeps hearing none of this is on you and he feels like he needs to say it anyway. "He knows I don't blame him for the hunt the freak shit, right? That none of it's his fault?"

There's a flicker of surprise in Harrington's eyes, and then he's looking at Eddie all soft and warm like he did something right, something good, and oh, fuck. It shouldn't be anything, it shouldn't mean anything, but - God, what the fuck has Eddie ever done right in his life? The last few days have been nothing but reminders that he's a screw up, that he runs when people are in danger and leaves them to die, that half the town he grew up in believes he's capable of brutal, sadistic murder.

The last few days, he's been looked at with a never ending cycle of suspicion, anger, disappointment, pity, concern - and here Steve Harrington is, looking at him like he did something worth being proud of. It makes him want to go belly up, spread out and lay in it like a cat lounging in the sun.

Shit shit shit shit.

He does not want his soulmate to be Steve Harrington, he doesn't.

"He should," Steve says. "But he could probably use hearing it from you anyway."

"Right, yeah, of course. I'm just gonna-" Eddie waves up ahead. "Go. Do that."

He launches himself in what he hopes is actually the direction where Lucas is before he can make an even bigger fool of himself - though it's kind of too late for that, considering he trips over a fallen branch and only just manages to catch himself before he ends up face first in the leaves.

Eddie lurches and flings himself around, playing it up and making it look intentional as he slings an arm around Lucas's shoulders and shoots a wild grin at the little trio of freshmen.

"You ladies mind if I borrow Sinclair here for a minute? No? Excellent."

Max rolls her eyes at him and he can hear Dustin going, "ladies?!" as he drags Lucas off, but he ignores both of them. Lucas is so tense under his arm that Eddie drops it away from him once they've gotten a few paces away from the others, and then the kid watches him, eyes sharp and wary and wide.

It's not fear - not of Eddie, at least - but it's something close enough to it that it makes his stomach turn. He hadn't planned on what he was going to say before he just threw himself over here, and for a moment he panics a little.

"What you did was pretty awesome," he finds himself saying.

Lucas looks at him like he's not sure he heard him right. "What?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, gaining momentum now that he knows how he wants to handle this. "Sticking with those guys as long as you did to get info on their plans, using your survival knowledge to lead them off in the wrong direction? Very ranger of you, Sinclair. Guess I owe you one, risking yourself like that."

It's clearly not what Lucas was expecting, and there's a moment where his expression is pretty blank - Eddie's not sure if it's because he's trying to process what Eddie said or because he isn't going to accept what Eddie's doing, offering out this olive branch.

Eddie does what he always does when he's nervous.

He plays it up, raises his voice a little as he crows about having a ranger on your side as you trek through the woods, spinning it into a tale of bravery and throwing in enough exaggeration that Lucas finally laughs, shoving Eddie away and telling him to shut up.

If this was the lunch room, or a session of Hellfire, none of the freshmen would've dared do anything like that. And Eddie'd liked that, liked being respected and revered and leaving everyone with a sense of trepidation, all falling in line at his word - until he knew them well enough to know if they could be trusted, if he could let them in to see the real him underneath all his bravado.

It's just that there's not many that he's ever known well enough for that, and maybe he hasn't let himself really think about that before, but he is now.

It's just he likes this better, he thinks, because having Dustin and Lucas push each other and push him, all three of them trying to simultaneously be quiet enough not to call attention to themselves but loud enough to be heard over the others does a whole hell of a lot more to take his mind off the way Chrissy and Patrick's bones sounded as they snapped right in front of him than just about anything else.

It's just that when he looks over to where Steve and Buckley and Max are walking together, he sees Steve watching them, a soft little smile on his face, and it doesn't fade even when their eyes catch.

He doesn't want his soulmate to be Steve Harrington, he reminds himself.

—

And then they're at the lake, and Steve Harrington is shirtless and diving into the water, and then shirtless and ripping apart a demon bat with his bare hands and teeth, and then shirtless with blood and ichor dripping out of his mouth and down into his chest hair, and then shirtless and putting himself in front of him and Buckley and Wheeler with a look in his eyes like he'd rip apart anything that even tried to come for them, and -

Fuck.

He kind of wants his soulmate to be Steve Harrington.

Taglist (please let me know if I missed you, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void

-----

Part 7

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #dustin henderson #soulmates au #steddie soulmates au

[fearlessreid]

Bad Idea, right?

a/n: yeah yeah steve won the poll, enjoy.

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: you and king steve have been broken up for 6 months, will that distaste you feel for him manifest into sexual tension when you see him at a party?

warnings: SMUT 18+. swearing. unprotected sex (pls wrap it up, especially with your ex) piv sex

2K words (not proofread)

obv based off of olivia’s song

Six months ago I broke up with ‘king steve’, he would tell you that it's because there was a ‘lack of chemistry’ which we all know is a lie, the real reason is because all he could care about was partying and his stupid, stupid hair.

Im sitting at my vanity applying lip gloss, getting ready for another one of carol perkins end of year summer kickoff parties, it's honestly just an excuse for the jocks to hook up with the band geeks and then blame it on the alcohol.

“Okay so Tommy is going to be there, despite it being carols party and they broke up right after prom” my best friend, heather rants. I nod my head and continue applying my makeup. Heather continues “But Tommy told me to keep an eye out for him so I think he wants to hook up and- you are so not listening”

I sigh “I am, I just have bigger things to worry about” I say and heather scoffs “right because worrying about being at a party with steve harrington for the first time in months is so important” she sasses and I roll my eyes.

“Oh please like I could give a shit about king steve and his hair that would explode if I held a lighter to it”. Heather laughs “you totally give a shit,” “nope now hand me the hairspray”

At the party, I stand by a staircase, nursing a cup of jungle juice in my hand, watching across the room as Heather has her tongue down tommys throat.

A hand taps my shoulder and I look at the culprit. Peter Marco, the cute boy from my algebra class, once upon a time, long before Steve harrington, I had a crush on peter, that crush being fizzled out by the charm of king steve.

He smiles, his dimple showing “hey, haven't seen you in a hot second” he says and i smile back, “yeah, I took a break from the whole party thing”. For the next half an hour, I talked with Peter, he's cute and he's funny, he's the type of guy I should want.

Our peaceful conversations get interrupted by a boy yelling “king steve is in the building” and everyone starts chanting and cheering. I roll my eyes and walk into the kitchen, I did not need this.

I down at least 3 more cups of jungle juice, the sugar is rotting my teeth and the alcohol is going right into my bloodstream, it's only 10:00 pm and I am completely wasted.

I walk to go use the bathroom. My head is spinning. I bump into someone and the next thing I can comprehend is their drink now on my dress, my light pink dress. I look up and his eyes burn into mine, the man of the hour, Steven William Harrington.

“You absolute idiot look what you did” I yell. I pushed past him and ended up in the second floor bathroom. I locked the door and took a wet towel to try to scrub the drink out of my dress.

There's a knock at the door. “Occupied” I called out and took a seat on the toilet seat. “Open up” Steve calls from the other side of the door. I roll my eyes “go away” I yell and go back to scrubbing at my dress.

“I brought a tide stick, let me in” he says, an undertone of annoyance. I hesitantly open the door and let him in. He comes in and closes the door.

I sit back down on the toilet seat and he bends down on his knees and tries to take out the stain with the tide stick. It doesn't work and I sigh frustratedly. “I'll pay for dry cleaning, don't get your panties in a twist”

His comment makes me scoff “you see? Comments like those are why I dumped your ass”. “You're wasted” he says and i laugh “so what”, he sighs “so i'm taking you home, I haven't drank anything tonight”

I shake my head “i'm not going anywhere with you, plus im here with heather”. Now it's steves turn to laugh “heather left with tommy like 15 minutes ago, let me take you home, no funny business, i promise”

I get into his car and we drive in silence and we pass my street “steve that was my street “what the fuck”, he smiles and shakes his head “youre parents would kill you if you showed up this sloshed, and i meant what i said, no funny business”

My eyes burn into him “fine”

I walk into the Harrington home and the memories start flooding in, the good and the bad. Steve guides me to his room and lays me on the bed. “You'll take the bed, I'm staying in the guest room” and explains. “Stay” I basically beg

I make room for him on the bed and he lays next to me. He's taken off his shirt and changed into his pyjama pants and I steal one of his shirts to sleep in.

All I can notice is his pants low on his hips, his toned v line. my thighs press together. The rational part of my brain is trying to talk but all im hearing is ‘blah blah blah’

I can feel Steve's eyes on me,he's right next to me, I feel the heat of his body lingering on mine, the tension is unbearable.

“Fuck it” i mutter under my breath, i straddle steves hips and his eyes widen “what are you doin-” i cut him off by placing my lips on his, he tenses but melts into the kiss, his hands finding my waist.

The kiss heats up as I grind my hips into his. Steve pulls away and I whine. “You are drunk, we can't” he says and i shake my head “i sobered the minute i walked into this house” i say and peck his lips.

Steve contemplates and is at a mental war with himself. He mutters a “fuck it” and smashes his lips back into mine and my hips immediately find his again and he lets out a groan.

“This is such a bad idea” I mutter against his lips. He flips us so he's on top and pushes my shirt up and kisses down my chest and stomach until he reaches the waistband on my underwear. “Steve please we don't have time for that just put it in me” I beg, Steve nods and takes off his sleep plants to reveal his cock.

My mouth waters at the sight “fuck ive missed your cock so much”, steve smirks and takes off my underwear to reveal my glistening cunt. He groans at the sight and lines up his cock with my folds as he rubs the tip of his cock through them.

My back arches as I moan “please steve, no teasing”. He slides it slowly into me and we both moan at the feeling. He allows me to adjust until I give him the okay. He pumps slowly and I wrap my legs around his waist bringing him closer. It shouldn't feel this intimate, I can't hear my thoughts screaming. This is a bad idea.

His thrusts get sloppy. Signalling that he's close and he sneaks his hand down to my clit and starts rubbing at the nub.

Steve cums first, his hips stuttering and he breathes heavily as he cums, I finish seconds after him, my body tensing with pleasure.

As we both come down from our highs, my thoughts run wild, what the hell just happened.

Steve pulls out of me and watches his cum drip out of me. As the post orgasm haze dissipates my eyes widen “steve we forgot to use a condom”

He freezes and panic sets into his face “oh fuck”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x y/n smut

[harringtonswriting]

would you maybe do ❝  you’re the only thing that matters anymore.  i can’t eat,  i can’t sleep—  all the goddamn cliches from every stupid movie and song.  you’re all i think about.  i’m useless except when i’m yours.  ❞ with Steve?? Seems very much like a Steve thing to say with a grand romantic gesture maybe 💕

ahhh i definitely agree, this is absolutely a steve thing to say and i hope the romantic gesture is grand enough!! 💕

...

Thunk.

You’re not quite sure what that sound is or where it’s coming from. You look up from your book, one you had been completely engrossed in for the last few hours, but when you don’t see anything moving or notice anything that’s fallen off your bed, you go back to it. You get about half a page of reading in before it comes again.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

You put your bookmark between the pages and close your book before you get up off your bed to search for the sound. It keeps coming, and you realize it’s coming from your window. With all the weird happenings in Hawkins you’re more than a bit wary, because you’ll be damned if you’re going to end up monster food for whatever weird creature of the week is showing up now, so you grab the biggest, heaviest book you own to protect yourself before walking towards your window. You’ve hit someone with it before, completely accidentally, and knew it would be an excellent way to bludgeon something that might attack you.

Except it’s not some weird monster, or a Russian soldier, or even a government goon. No, standing on your lawn at nearly ten o’clock at night, is none other than Steve Harrington. Who’s really the last person you’re expecting to see right now, and the reason you’re spending your Friday night at home with a book.

Okay, well, you can’t put all the blame on him; most of it you put on yourself and the stupid crush you’ve been harbouring on him since you’d made the stupidly wonderful decision to go to Scoops Ahoy last summer, before Starcourt Mall burned down. Unfortunately, as you’d gotten to know Steve and become friends, that stupid crush had only gotten bigger and harder to contain. And when he’d been working in the mall, scooping ice cream with Robin and taking time to chat with you when you stayed way past your break time, he hadn’t been having any luck getting dates—something you were happy about. You felt bad being happy, yes, but him striking out meant you could spend more time with him (and Robin, lovely Robin, who’d very quickly become a staple in your life along with Steve).

But since leaving Scoops Ahoy and starting work at Family Video, Steve’s game had apparently done a 180 and now? Dates all the time, with all the very pretty girls who you’d gone to school with. Never more than once with the same girl, but Steve’s got his groove back and it aches a little, seeing him so excited every time he has a date. But you’re his friend, of course you are, so you push down your own feelings to smile and laugh and encourage him, just the same as Robin and Dustin and the others do, though it’s been getting harder and harder to do lately.

So you’ve been slowly pulling away; you find yourself visiting Family Video far less frequently, usually when Steve isn’t there. You find reasons to skip on group movie nights or hang outs at the Harrington house, and start keeping more to yourself. It’s just until you get over this stupid crush, you tell yourself, and you even tell Robin one night, when you’re on the phone well past midnight and she manages to drag your reasoning for skipping on an outing to Indianapolis with her and Steve.

You’d thought Steve hadn’t noticed. But obviously he had, because here he is. So you put the big book down on your desk before you unlock your window and open it.

A rock goes whizzing by your face, barely missing your cheek, which you were not expecting. You yelp, and that catches Steve’s attention.

“Shit! Sorry! Did I get you?” he yells up at you and you lean out the window to shake your head where he can see you.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” you ask, resting your hands on the window sill so you can lean out a little farther. You can see him shuffling from foot to foot, a big silver boombox resting by his feet. One of his hands is constantly running through his hair, a nervous habit you know he has. His BMW is parked at the end of your driveway.

“I have something I gotta tell you,” he calls up, gesturing with the hand not in his hair. You feel your stomach twist in your abdomen; is he here to break off your friendship? Maybe he knows about your crush and he’s finally had enough. What other reason would he have to be here right now? He probably just finished a date with his latest girl—Heidi? Lauren? You couldn’t remember and honestly, you didn’t want to. Especially not if it was someone Steve was choosing over you. Not that you’d blame him, but still.

“Steve, really, you don’t have to say anything.” Because it’ll hurt more to hear you tell me it’s over before it even began, you want to say. But you don’t. You start to head back in through your window, but Steve shouts and stops you before you can get back in.

“Wait! I do have to say it, because I can’t stand that we haven’t been as close lately. It’s killing me and I can’t keep going like this.” You’re silent, watching him move closer to your house, grabbing the boombox to hold up to his chest. “You’re the only thing that matters anymore. I can’t eat, I can't sleep—all the goddamn cliches from every stupid movie and song. You’re all I think about. I'm useless except when I'm yours.”

Holy shit.

That is definitely not what you’re expecting him to say, and one hand comes up to cover your mouth because that was actually the sweetest thing you think you’ve ever heard him say to you.

That’s when he starts fiddling around with the buttons on the boombox until he gets it to do what he wants, and he cranks the volume dial all the way up before he holds it up over his head. It takes a second before you hear the opening bars of Careless Whisper start to play. He starts swaying back and forth, boombox held high, and god you feel yourself falling even harder because Steve is here, doing this for you, after telling you something that sounds like it would be straight out of one of the romance novels on your shelf.

You get to enjoy the sight in front of you for about a minute before you notice a light turn on and start shining from the house next door.

“Turn the goddamn music down!” You hear your neighbour, old man Mitchell, yell from the vicinity of his yard. It ruins the moment, just a bit, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up as Steve nearly drops the boombox on his feet in his rush to turn it off.

“Sorry!” Steve yells back, and you laugh louder. Steve laughs too, the sound floating up to your window, and you can’t help the smile on your face.

You wave your hand at Steve, gesturing for him to come inside, and even from your window you can see the way his entire face blossoms into a wide grin as he lowers the boombox and makes his way towards your front door.

Steve wants to be yours. And you want to be his. And when you unlock the front door and pull Steve in for a big kiss, you press play on the boombox so the two of you can dance to George Michael’s unbearably cheesy song in your living room while you tell each other how you feel.

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #ily anon #anon ask #is this absolutely cliche and cheesy and corny #yes #do i care #no #i started and restarted this like 3 times #and have 2 other versions of it in my drafts #maybe'll they'll get posted sometime #who knows

[rogerswifesblog]

Stacy’s mom

My Masterlist

A/N: inspired by the song “Stacys mom” and our conversation @jamneuromain 😋 it was very spontaneous and I wrote it in a few hours but…It was kinda fun🤣 so let me know how you liked it! I’m thinking about a pt 2! (Yes I know I have thousands series and one shots planned and am still working on the bingo drabbles but…I like writing most of my things depending on my mood😋)

Summary: Steve knew he was in trouble walking into his friends house and seeing her mom.

Pairing: highschool!Steve Rogers x Stacys Mom reader

Warnings: stacys mom reader, older reader, age gap, Steve is 17/18 but reader and him don’t interact then besides some teasing, masturbation, underage drinking

“I think we should choose the second topic. Benefits of daily exercise and how to incorporate it into your routine. Let’s be honest, I’m the real life example”, Steve laughed, sitting with Stacy in her living room on the floor, in front of the coffee table. It was the first time he was at her place, needing to finish a project that was very important for the grade.

A few months ago his asthma became much better and his many asthma attacks stopped, making it possible for him to exercise. Puberty finally hit him and he got a growth spurt, growing nearly ten inches in just a few months. He was still lanky, but happy about not being the shortest in the class anymore.

But with puberty also came acne, his forehead and cheeks were covered in small and annoying pimples. He used extra creams to get rid of them, which slowly helped.

“That’s a good idea. Maybe you could talk about your experience…how it affected your health and body”, Stacy thought about it for a second before taking some notes. “We can-“ The slamming of a door made Stacy jump slightly, so did Steve.

“Are you stupid?! I said no. It’s tomorrow and not in a week do you hear me? You’re not going on any stupid trips with your new wh- oh I will call her what I want! You dirty cheater-don’t you dare not show up tomorrow-” a woman’s voice carried through the house, the clicking of heels coming closer as you walked into the kitchen, Stacy and Steve watching you as you opened the fridge, not even noticing the two teenagers.

“For fucks sake, I have all rights being mad at you. We were together for-” They both didn’t listen much further as Stacy started talking about the project again, but Steve wasn’t listening to her either. His gaze was glued to your form, dressed in an expensive looking suit, the red-bottomed heels making your legs look incredibly hot, your butt- “Steve, are you even listening?” “Of course I do. Yes. Definitely.-“ “yeah? What was I talking about?”

“….could you…maybe repeat it?” Steve felt himself blush a dark red, his face burning with shame of being caught checking out her mom. That was definitely embarrassing.

Even though he started working on the project again, he couldn’t stop himself from peaking over at you. You were still turned with your back to Them arguing on the phone.

“She’s probably talking to dad again. They argue a lot now with the divorce…I don’t blame her. Of course I love my dad, but he did her wrong. They were married for nearly twenty years and he cheated on her-from what I’ve heard it wasn’t the first time or at least it wasn’t a one time thing”, explained Stacy, seeing as Steve was looking over to the kitchen.

He blushed again, nodding slowly. “Sorry, I just thought we’d be alone. It’s a bit distracting-“ for other reasons that Stacy might suspect. “I can tell her to go to her office or bedroom. They’ll probably argue for a long long time…”, she sighed, already standing up. Steve immediately followed her, shaking his head, “no, no. It’s fine. We can just take a break for now-maybe order something to eat? Your mom maybe wants something too…”, he felt himself blush again, as Stacy walked to the kitchen, Steve following her.

“Hi mom-could you please talk a bit quieter? I told you Steve’s coming over today. We have a project”, said Stacy walking into the open kitchen. “But we’ll take a break now-order something to eat. You want something? A pizza? Thai?”

Hearing your daughters voice you lowered your phone, turning around to look at her, your gaze falling onto the young blonde boy watching your every move. He seemed…mesmerised. He extended his hand to introduce himself properly, making you smile lightly as you ended the call without saying anything else and took his hand. “Nice to meet you, Steve. I’m sorry you had to hear this. I’m usually not such a bitch it’s just my soon ex-husband makes my blood boil” You laughed quietly.

Steve chuckled too. You could tell it was a nervous chuckle. You imagined he may have liked your daughter and was stressed of meeting you, her mother.

“Just order the usual pizza I like and take some money from my purse, I’ll go change into something more comfortable.” With that you left the room and seeing how Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of you he knew he was in trouble.

The next time he saw you was only three weeks later, once again at stacys house. After working some more on the project they both decided to sit at the pool and sunbathe a bit. When he noticed the lawnmower at the gate seemingly unused since the lawn wasn’t taken care of. “You need help with the lawn maybe? I can take care of that”, said the young boy already standing up and walking over to the lawnmower.

Stacy wanted to argue with him about not needing to do so, but he did anyway. It’d only take him a few minutes and he liked the idea of impressing Stacy’s mom, you.

When he was nearly finished you walked out of the house, a towel wrapped around your body, the strings of a black bikini wrapped around your neck. And when you dropped the towel-he could burst. Your body was incredible. You were already a bit tanned, your curves dressed only in the bikini, your thighs moving against one another, the thick flesh wiggling with every step, making him want to bite into it.

Jesus. He really shouldn’t be thinking about things like that or he’d soon have a problem that needs to be hidden.

You were incredibly beautiful, your breasts and stomach looking so soft. He could see some stretch marks, but they only made you even more attractive.

“You missed a spot over there, Stevie sweetheart”, you teased him, noticing how he stopped concentrating on his task. He felt himself blush, a small smile creeping on his lips as he nodded and kept going, this time a bit more concentrated.

You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him a bit more, since he watched you Everytime he walked by, so you took the sunscreen and started applying it on your whole body. Stacy didn’t notice any of it since she had her eyes closed. Besides you tried to make it look like you weren’t doing anything on purpose-especially not then you stood up and started applying the suncream on your legs, bending down and showing off your legs.

A grin crept on your lips when you heard the Grill being knocked over. It was your ex husbands anyway.

After finishing mowing the lawn he quickly excused himself to the bathroom, closing the door and immediately leaning against the text wall, pushing down his swim shorts. His hardness springing free. He didn’t waste any time before spitting in his palm and wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking himself hard and fast.

He tried to keep his moans quiet, but still couldn’t stop the gasps escaping his lips, especially when he started imagining it wasn’t his hand on his dick. He thought about your soft skin against his body. Your thighs wrapped around his slim waist-or even better if he’d fuck your thighs. Your meaty legs would feel amazing, squeezing his dick. Maybe you’d even let him finish like that. On your stomach and tits-or Steve you’d let him fuck your pussy without a condom, letting him feel your velvet walls. Your wet and tight curb gripping him tightly, your moans would be so soft and sweet.

Before he’d let himself come he’d make sure to get at least two orgasm out of you. Maybe one with his mouth or fingers, then on his cock…then he’d love to shoot his load in you. Filling you with his seed.

The thought was all he needed to come, shooting his load all over himself. Thank god he managed to push his shirt up just in time before making a mess.

He felt ashamed wiping off his cum from the bathroom floor before walking back to the pool, where his heart's desire sat.

It was a fantasy. He knew. He definitely had no chance, being only a teenager and especially being friends with your daughter.

But having a fantasy didn’t hurt even a bit, right?

He loved watching you whenever you moved or walked around the house. Your house quickly became a place he visited at least once a week, always working on the project. But the worst was happening-well, two things. One, the project was slowly coming to an end and you had a date.

It’s not like he had any right to be jealous, but…still. Watching you getting all dolled up for some guy made his heart tighten. You always looked beautiful but seeing you in a beautiful light blue dress, with a low cleavage, showing off your shoulders and collarbones made his throat dry. The dark, black choker you wore made you look a bit like…Cinderella.

A smile crept onto his lips as he thought about it, quickly looking down not to get caught.

He wished you looked this good for him. He wished he could take you out on a date, have your soft hands wrapped around his arm.

But he couldn’t take you out. He didn’t even have the money to do so.

Sighing he opened his textbook again, taking some last notes.

Maybe one day he could at least buy you a bouquet of the most beautiful roses…

The project was finally finished, only two weeks later Stacy and Steve had everything ready to hand in and decided to have a nice and relaxing evening together drinking some beer which…Stacy asked you to buy. Surprisingly Stacy said you had only chuckled at that question and actually bought a few.

In all These weeks Steve and Stacy got closer, but only in a platonic way. Stacy had tried to flirt with him at first, but it changed quickly. He couldn’t tell exactly when but at some point she just stopped.

And now they were just sitting in the backyard, drinking beers, both on their third ones.

“Steve…I wanted to ask you…have you a thing for my mom?”, not expecting this question Steve choked on his beer, immediately coughing and spitting his beer all over himself.

“Wh-what?”, he croaked, shaking his head quickly. “I-I'd never-no. Of course not. That’s-That'd be…that’d be weird. I’m mean-it’s your mom-“ Stacys laugh interrupted his rambling.

“I knew it. You’re not very subtle with all the question you know? Is your mom back from the business trip? Is she away for work again? Do you think she likes roses or sunflowers more? You weren’t subtle. Not at all, Steve. At first I was really weirded out, but…I guess we all have some weird crushes at some point, you know? We’ll go to college soon, anyway, so you’ll get over it”, she shrugged, making Steve blush with every next sentence.

He took another big sip from his bottle, looking to the house for a second, where he could see you walking around the kitchen, preparing dinner. “Yeah…’s just a crush”, he mumbled, not wanting to tell Stacy how much he actually liked you.

But she was right. He’d probably get over you soon. He’d meet someone at his new university…

But did he really want that??

This thought stayed in his head for the rest of the evening, his chest feeling incredibly tight knowing it may be the last time he’d see you.

Slightly drunk Stacy and Steve walked back into the house, seeing you had left the food for them on the counter. They are quietly, not wanting to disturb you and after both laid down-Stacy in her room and Steve in the living room on the pull-out sofa. Even tho he was comfortable and surrounded by your smell he didn’t feel any peace. He couldn’t fall asleep, his mind was racing.

You yourself had eaten earlier before taking a bath and walked into your bedroom to go to sleep early.

But of course you were awoken by your small bladder, needing release. Sighing you sat up, straightening your nightgown in case the kids were still outside or still awake. Then you walked out of your bedroom, wrapping a silky robe around your body.

You did your business quietly, washed your hands and looked a bit tiredly into the mirror. A sigh escaped your lips. You were getting old, weren’t you? This year you turned 36 and it showed. The wrinkles around your eyes couldn’t be hidden anymore. Your skin wasn’t as smooth as it used to be. Your body wasn’t the same anymore, you had stretch marks, it was hard to stay in shape, especially with your limited time since you were always busy with work…

You sighed again, putting your night creame once again on. It wouldn’t change anything overnight of course, but you still hoped it’d slow down the aging. It’s not like you looked bad or really old-you weren’t even that old, if you had to be honest, but….you’d love to be twenty again, for one night at least.

Leaving the bathroom you walked quietly through the room, being stopped when Steve stumbled out of the living room, looking like he was in a hurry-at First you thought he wanted to go to the bathroom but when you stepped aside to let him through, he only stepped closer to you.

Your gaze fell for a second on his bare, slim chest. He gained a bit muscles since you had last seen him at the pool a few weeks ago. He looked cute. Not that it mattered. It’s weird you were even thinking like this.

“Give me a chance”, he mumbled, making you furrow your eyebrows, a little wrinkle appearing between them. “What?” “Give me a chance…I-I’ll try to be the perfect guy for you. I could be-I just-I need to finish school-and co-“ You shook your head, now understanding. “Steve, Steve, stop-We can’t. I can’t…you’re just drunk. You gotta go back to sleep, okay?”, you smiled kindly, slowly wrapping your fingers around his wrists and pulling him with you to the living room, pushing him into a sitting position.

“I mean it-you deserve a guy like me. I’ll be perfect for you-I know I’m still young but-“ “exactly Steve. You’re young. You could be my child-your friends is my daughter, okay? I’m really flattered by your attraction but…it’s not right. I’m sorry, Steve, you need to go to sleep now. And let’s just ignore this conversation, okay”, you tried to be gentle with your words but still saw some tears well up in his eyes.

Hesitatly you stepped between his legs, wrapping your arms around him and pulling into a hug. His head immediately rested against your stomach, right below your breasts as he sniffed quietly. Not wanting to make it any harder for him…and maybe also yourself…you pulled away.

While leaving the living room your couldn’t stop yourself from looking over your shoulder at him, meeting his gaze. You immediately looked away again and walked to your room.

This time it was much harder to fall asleep.

In the morning you quietly made some scrambled eggs and beacon, trying to ignore the feeling rising up in your chest when Steve woke up from the smell and a smile appeared on his lips, you noticed it, because you were watching him from the open kitchen. You could see him perfectly. And it broke your heart.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly, feeling a bit of a headache, especially remembering the conversation with you. Oh god. Had he really did it? Said he wanted to be with you?

You noticed how Steve blushed and when he looked up at you, your eyes meeting, your own face started burning. As quick and nonchalant as possible you looked away.

Only a few minutes later Stacy came to the kitchen and you sat down together to eat breakfast. All this time you tried to ignore Steve even though you still felt his gaze on you.

After finishing the food it was time for him to leave and stacy decided to drive him, so she quickly went to her room to get ready. Meanwhile steve stayed with you in the kitchen, putting the dishes away.

“About yesterday…I’m sorry. For everything…I still stand by it, but I shouldn’t have be so pressing-“ “Steve, don’t worry. I get it…in a way, at least. You’re a very sweet boy, but I’m too old for you. It can’t happen”, You explained friendly, smiling at him before looking once again.

You felt Steve step a bit closer to you, the warmth of his body radiating. “Is…is there really no chance? Not even a small one? Please…”, he whispered, his hand gently touching your arm.

Steve noticed how you got goosebumps as soon as he touched you. A nervous chuckle escaped your lips as you patted his arm gently, yearning Stacy walking down the stairs.

“Yeah, sure Steve, come back when you’re twenty one”, you joked quietly, stepping away again just in time for Stacy to walk into the kitchen. “Okay-we can go!”

With that Steve looked at you one last time before disappearing. Not only did he leave your house that day, but also walked out of your life forever.

Or so you thought.

In the first few weeks you had thought about him more than you should. About his pretty smile and the beautiful blues. About his graduation and which college he chose. About if you’d ever see him again, which you knew you shouldn’t.

Months later you stopped thinking about him so often. There were a few evenings where you thought about him, sure, but less and less…

And then the years went by and Steve became one of Stacys old highschool friends that she hadn’t talked to in a long time.

So it surprised you to say the least when you heard the doorbell, interrupting your quiet moment of reading. You were so concerned on the book you jumped slightly, putting your book down and walking to the door. In this time the doorbell rang again. “Jesus, so inpatient…”, you mumbled to yourself, opening the door.

Your breath hitched.

Your heartbeat immediately speeding up.

In the first second you didn’t even recognise him.

He was bigger. His shoulder so broad you weren’t sure if he’d fit in the door, taller than before and…a beard. Wow.

He changed a lot.

But his beautiful eyes stayed the same. The same bright blue.

“Steve? What-“ “You said to come back when I’m twenty one…so, can I take you out on a proper date now?”, he interrupted you, holding out his ID for you to look over.

He was indeed twenty one. Today was his birthday.

Pt 2

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[anika-ann]

Seven Minutes (S.R.) - pt.2

Type: TWO-SHOT, independent, canon-ish, part 1 here

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 10 900 cause I have no chill

Summary:

You weren't obliged to go to that party, but you went anyway. You even had fun.

Until you and Steve were left to pick up the pieces after your seven minutes in a closet together, so graceful having been pushed into it by Tony's stupid idea, Loki's magic and a game of chance where there might be more losers than winners.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, NSFW, (unprotected sex, fingering, glimpses of size kink and praise kink, soft hints of D/s, mirrors, possessiveness;cumplay, overstimulation and edging if you squint really hard), alcohol, a drop of angst, language (a lot), STEVE (he is a warning in this one)

A/N: written for @jtargaryen18 and her Halloween challenge. Prompt in the final notes. I toyed with it so much that it might have been cheating 😅 dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

Part 2: Seven Minutes in Heaven

“Secrets are the prisons we make for ourselves.”

― Joe Hill, Locke & Key, Vol. 6: Alpha & Omega

The party had died down; or as Tony said, only the fittest had survived.

Sam, Bucky and Rhodey had challenged Natasha, Maria and Helen to a lazy game of beer pong. Bruce was still asleep. Thor and Vision started some sort of a special game of pool, wordlessly watched by Wanda and Steve, while Thor and Loki argued in hushed voices about what only gods knew – literally. Tony got some genius idea despite – or thanks to – the killer levels of alcohol in his blood and sneaked off into the corner of the room, working with holograms of graphs and other simulations graciously supervised by Pepper.

Needless to say, the spacious room still looked every bit a warzone in an autumn aesthetic. And yet. It still looked better than your heart; a wasteland.

You avoided Steve ever since you stumbled out of the stupid closet, from which he oh-so-kindly helped you, supporting your weight before you could faceplant on the floor – and he graced you with a sweet even if a little shaky smile as he did so. God, you hated him for it. You hated you could still feel the heat of his skin, taste his breath on yours, an echo of the reality of the closet; what more, the memory of his skin on your bare body, lips mapping every inch of you, teasing touches and thick fingers, dark gaze as he made you his in every way possible… this memory of your fantasy was somehow fading, as if it wasn’t even yours.

And it wasn’t; because Steve himself was never yours to have. Fantasies like these were futile.

The loneliness in your chest despite being surrounded by friends hit you harder than ever; and you should have known better. You could blame Loki and Tony and Steve, even yourself for your past shortcomings, but the trigger for your mood was all on you. You shouldn’t have been drinking. You knew you often toed the thin line between a cheery drunk and a miserable drunk. Tonight, it seemed you very much tripped and stepped over the line by a mile.

You nursed a bowl of candy, staring at the repetitive sequence of scary images projected on the wall. The only person you’d be willing to join was Tony; but the reasonable thing to do would be retreat to your room and sleep it off. You even felt sleepy; except your brain was wide awake at the same time. Body exhausted, brain hazy but alert, eyes burning with tears born not only from your loneliness, but also from being awake for too long. You were never going to another of Tony’s stupid parties ever again. You’d promise to never drink again, but your job sometimes required dumbing your mind in a way therapy never could.

The skeletons on the wall blended into a graveyard again; the image was almost soothing. Peaceful. A pile of bones that couldn’t hurt anymore a blessing. And you really should go to sleep, because your thoughts were getting morb-

The yelp erupting from your throat was pitiful – but thankfully drowned in the hooting from the beer pong table. You nearly jumped out of your skin as you found Loki suddenly sitting next to you on the couch, the corners of his lips now twitching in amusement.

Jesus.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” you complained, your body suddenly very awake too. Jerk. “Jesus, Loki!”

“I believe you Midgardians say that if one becomes easily startled, it is because they have impure thoughts or intentions,” he hummed, but had enough decency to control his smirk a bit. Still a jerk. “What is it, søster? You appear upset.”

Anger and humiliation flared up in your achy chest since it was him of all people pointing that out. As if it wasn’t his stupid magic that created the closet in the first place, feeding your misery further. You shot him a glare.

“And you are to blame. Piss off, Loki.”

He retreated a bit, showing off his bare hands as to tell you he meant to harm, a slight pout to his lips.

“Now now. There is no need to get hostile, is it? I simply noticed you were… rather isolated and the party did not please you anymore, nor did the company. I came here as a concerned friend.”

You sighed, eyes roaming his face; he appeared genuine. He might be a god of mischief, but he had proven a friend on numerous occasions indeed. An annoying sibling, if you willed; there was a reason why he called you a sister.

“Don’t you always…” you murmured, sighing again and working hard to try and smile. “Sorry, bror, I am not in a festive mood nor in a friendly indeed. You do not indeed deserve my hostility… much.”

His eyes flashed with understanding, a smile spreading on his lips as he tilted his head, inquisitive.

“Has something happened during the seven minutes with your precious Captain?”

To protest was an instinct at this point. “He isn’t m-“

“Yes, he is, but that is not the point,” Loki interrupted you, rolling his eyes theatrically before his gaze bored into yours, the blue of his eyes almost burning. “What did you see, søster?”

It hit you like a train – the realization that should have hit you long moments ago. God, you were an idiot. Such an idiot, trusting, naïve, too good-hearted idiot, who-

You slapped Loki’s bicep hard – or tried to, your hand passing through the illusion of his body he had created, your hand only meeting the cushions. Of fucking course; he wasn’t even here. He was a trickster, after all. Case on damn fucking point-

Your face burned almost as much as the tears of anger in your eyes – anger and embarrassment. God, he hadn’t- he couldn’t have possibly--- had he seen?

“You did do something to the closet, didn’t you? I defended you when Steve suggested it, you know! Did you make up the damn illusion I saw? You fu-“

Loki’s hand, materializing as his whole body now, caught your hand when you tried to hit him again, his long fingers gentle as they wrapped around your wrist. If you had any more energy, you’d fight his hold and send him to the floor in one of the fancy moves Natasha had taught you. But you didn’t; too weak. To stunned.

The asshole.

“I did not make up any illusion nor did I see what you saw, my little Midgardian,” Loki responded calmly, for once appearing sincere – and unless you imagined it, there was a shade of regret in his expression too.

He’d better be telling the truth about not seeing at least – but how could believe a word he said? He tricked you. Like a trickster. Gods, you needed to retake your IQ test if he had got you so easily.

“I simply offered clarity to everyone who walked into that closet… incidentally, it was only you and him,” he added.

“Clarity?” you echoed, an unamused erupting from your throat as you yanked your hand free. “I don’t think so, Loki. Whatever it is you did was a damn low blow. So do take it personal when I tell you to piss off – wherever your actual body actually is--- or one of your bodies or whatever.”

You rose to your feet, determined to leave him – and this whole cursed party – behind and sleep for a week.

He caught your hand again, stopping you; you shot him a murderous glare, gritting your teeth as you failed to keep your tears at bay, a few rolling down your cheeks – a mix of of humiliation, anger and bewilderment, because were you really crying? Christ, you were never drinking again.

Loki’s gaze softened at the pitiful sight you had to make; he gently tugged at your hand, so watching you so kindly and pleadingly that he might have as well tugged directly at your heartstrings.

Gods, why did you have such a glutton for punishment and pain? Why were you such a sucker for redemption? Why were you so weak to give people and gods the chance to apologize just so they could feel better about themselves?

You sat down with another sigh, willing to give Loki one more minute to explain himself and say sorry – but not more. You blinked in surprise when he frowned, slowly raised his free hand, his fingertips brushing the tears from your cheeks away.

“I am sorry to upset you,søster. But you should slow down in jumping to conclusions,” he said, making you already regret your decision; he wasn’t apologizing. Of course he wasn’t. Men. You wrenched your hand free again. You were out of here this very- “Ah-ah. Here it is again. I am sorry. But… what is that figurative expression you Midgardians have? Say, what do you hide in a closet, søster?”

Clothes, usually, you thought, annoyed. Clothes, unless it’s empty and you’re lucid-dreaming about enthusiastically getting railed by one of your closest friends. You had a distant feeling this was not the answer the trickster was looking for.

“Loki, I’m tired, drunk and miserable,” you said matter-of-factly. “I really don’t want to play any more of your games and I think you had done enough, so I’d appreciate if you-”

“Skeletons, søster. Secrets,” he whispered conspiratorially, a slow smirk spreading on his face. “Dark, dark secrets you do not share with anyone else, those you do not dare to share. In that closet… the darkest one concerning the person you were in there with came out.”

Your shoulders sagged, annoyance biting at your gut. Loki was saying these things as if he just revealed to you the secrets of the universe and not a well-known fact.

“Gee, thanks. I knew about that ‘secret’ already.”

Loki’s right eyebrow arched as he smiled deviously.

“Did you, now? Did you know your Captain’s best-kept secret?” he pried, eyes sparkling with the mischief worthy of the god he was, confusing you in the process.

You were too lost to his mysterious message to correct him again – that Steve was not yours. Loki knew and apparently, he knew that that was exactly part of the problem. Hell, that was the whole problem at the moment, but-

“Huh?”

Loki’s other brow arched as well at the bewildered sound you let out, his gaze measuring you from head to toe with distaste almost as if you insulted him by not praising him for his supposed brilliance.

You didn’t feel bad for it – you had no energy for that. And his ego could use a little blow.

“…you truly are exceptionally drunk if you get slow like this, my dear Lady Speedy,”he emphasized, shaking his head like a disappointed parent – or older brother. “You did not see your secret. What kind of lousy trick would that be?! You already know your secrets, they are in your head! That is why they are yours! No, no, no,” he lamented, shaking his index finger before he pointed it at you, his proud grin widening. “You, my little Midgardian søster, stepped into the Captain’s head. You saw his secret. And he saw yours. Do we understand now?”

All blood drained from your face, annoyance replaced by a mask of pure horror that seized you the moment Loki finally explained. You stared at him blankly, mind suddenly completely sober and whirling. You were fucked. You were utterly, utterly fucked, because if Steve saw your secret, he knew. He knew you wanted him; he knew how you wanted him and how much. He knew what you craved him to do to you.

“Loki, this isn’t funny,” you heard yourself say, almost soundlessly. He tilted his head, that irritating grin still present as he looked right back at you, waiting for you to process the bullshit he was trying to feed you. “This is a very, very bad joke.”

Please tell me it IS a joke, you added mentally, only to be very disappointed.

“That it would be, but it is not, for I am not joking,” he retorted, expectant.

Expectant of what? Of praise? A thank you? For putting you into this insanely vulnerable position, for basically stripping you bare and revealing—

Your mind came to a screeching halt as another realization finally slammed into you like a freight train.

“Holy shit.”

Loki straightened in his seat, his grin now almost maniacal – and so goddamn smug.

You saw Steve’s secret. You saw Steve’s fantasy. Taking you over and over in front of a mirror, all the praise, sweet nicknames and affection he showered you with in your vision – that was him. He wanted you too. These weren’t only your desires, these were his.

But that was impossible. Steve didn’t--- he wasn’t- he would have said something. He would have acted differently. You would have known. This, whatever Loki was saying, couldn’t be true, Steve would have asked you out again if he wanted to, he’d-

Except he wouldn’t. Because unlike many men, Steve understood the meaning of the word no. If you rejected his initial advance two years ago, he had no reason to try again, because he would respect your choice.

You could kiss him for that. Or smack him. It that were true.

The hope rising in your chest was a dangerous thing. Hope was the thing with feathers; it would fly you high so the fall lasted longer and the landing hurt more once it dropped you out of the sky. If you allowed yourself to hope that the absolutely wonderful gorgeous human being Steve was was still interested in you romantically…

Instinctively, you glanced the direction of the pool table, hoping to see a hint of Loki telling the truth – and worried Steve might hear your conversation due to his enhanced senses – but Steve was no longer there. Swiftly scanning the room, you found out he was no longer there at all. It seemed he was the only one having made the sane decision of going to sleep.

You gulped as your gaze focused the trickster again, still afraid to believe even for a minute this could be real.

“Loki…”

“Now. You know his and he knows yours… the question is, are you willing to act on it? Are you willing to admit what is it that you want out loud now when he already knows anyway… even if he does not, for I entrusted the power of the closet only to you so far?”

You swallowed loudly, heart hammering in your chest wild. Were you? Willing to admit it out loud? That was one insane risk to take. One you weren’t sure was worth the consequences.

“Loki, if you are lying-“

“Bleh, I am not!” the Asgardian spitted out, offended. “What could I possibly gain from that?!”

“Fun?” you suggested automatically, because that was what he was all about, wasn’t it? That was why he created the insane magical closet in the first place.

Could Steve really still like you? Like like you? Now you were back to being thirteen indeed-

“Your idea of my idea of fun is rather strange. Go talk to your Captain. Or… communicate your thoughts in whichever way you prefer.”

You felt your already hot face burn at his suggestion. As much as you’d like to do that, the thought of even confronting Steve was scary – it would be much easier to be sure you wouldn’t mess up your perfectly good friendship, a friendship you cherished. Alas, you only had Loki’s words to go on. You could imagine more reliable sources, but none of them you’d dare to approach either.

“Oh shut your face, bror. If this is another idiotic prank, if you are lying, I’m going to tell Bruce to smash you—no, I���m going smash you myself, reduce you to the size of atom. Without breaking a sweat,” you promised him as you rose to your feet and you meant it.

If you were going to find Steve now – and you were, because there was not a universe in which you would simply fall sleep after what Loki did and told you – and if you were going to mess up, if Loki was truly just toying with your heart, you’d make sure he’d suffer for it.

“So feisty,”Loki praised, eyes lit up. “The Captain will like that, I am certain.”

Oh you were sure he would; Steve liked a drive in a person. He’d like it if you were brave enough not only to find him now, but also tell him how you felt. The idea was so damn intangible even as you had thought of it thousands of times, so terrifying that you just might go to bed and stare at the ceiling for the rest of the night instead because you could not take that risk.

“Loki… this is a personal thing. And if I go and fuck up what Steve and I have-”

“You mean two years of fruitless pining-“ he interrupted you again.

“-based on your bullshit, I---”

You felt tears in your eyes again – and god, you were truly never ever drinking again, even as you felt very, very sober now – and the God’s mischievous eyes softened once more.

“I shall never repeat it again, but I grew quite fond of you, my little Midgardian. Despite what the over-righteous Captain believes, I have no intention to hurt you,” he assured you kindly.

“…I will still smite you if you’re wrong.”

His grin returned. “Looking forward to it, my Lady Speedy. And you’re welcome!”

“Don’t push it, Loki.”

As expected, your brief surge of bravery ran out by the time you stood in front of Steve’s door. Your hand shook as you raised it to knock, counting to three. Then, you simply did it – better to get it over with, right? With what you learned from Loki, awkwardness was about sneak between you and Steve anyway. At least you would know.

That wasn’t a terrifying thought as all, was it?

Steve appeared in the doorway, already in pyjama pants and a white t-shirt, looking at you as if he wasn’t sure whether he dreamed you up or not. His special nickname for you slipped from his lips, surprised and questioning.

You felt like an idiot; you probably looked like one too, your outfit in a pitiful state as well as your make-up, but here you were about to have one of the most important conversations in your life. An agent for the Avengers Initiative, supposedly one of the strongest and most capable people of the planet; yet, you felt like a teenager about to confess to your first-ever crush.

“Can I… can I come in?” you pipped up nervously, wondering whether your heart could actually jump out of your chest – and guessing that yes, it could, when Steve smiled automatically, stepping back to let you into his room.

“Are you alright?”

No, you wanted to say, your sweaty palms twitching to curl into fists briefly, because of course he would ask that. Beautiful, infinitely good man. Sweet and caring. Golden boy. Golden boy who wanted to fuck you in front of the mirror and watch.

You shook off the last thought as your stomach fluttered, coming to a stop in the middle of the room, trying to ignore the large inviting bed and spinning on your heels to face Steve instead.

“Yeah. No. I mean,” you stuttered, shaking your head. “I… Loki, he--- he said something.”

There was no mistaking the flash of cold steel in Steve’s eyes, the way his relaxed body straightened and stiffened, shoulders squaring at the mention of the God. He really didn’t like him, did he? After the emotional turmoil of tonight, you couldn’t say you blamed him.

“What did he say?”

“He said… you--- this is so stupid, I can’t even--- did you have, uhm, did you have a certain… vision? A dream maybe? When we were in that closet?”

Your face was set aflame at believing he had, that he had the kind of vision you assumed; a vision that would make most people blush. And Steve did blush a bit, discomfort clear in his face.

“I--- maybe,” he admitted reluctantly, earning a raised brow. He closed his eyes and sighed. “Yes. Did Loki…” His gaze found yours again, searching – and worried. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite decipher too, something you weren’t sure if you wanted to understand. “Did he tell you--?”

You shook your head.

“No. If you’re asking whether he told me what you dreamed about, then no.” Because he didn’t have to. I just know. If Loki wasn’t lying, that was. “But I… I had a vision as well. And Loki, he… told me what it meant. He said--- he said-“

You gulped, a dull weight in your chest as Steve observed you with silent wonder and a mixture of emotions you couldn’t hope to understand. Patience. Concern. Apprehension. Affection? Definitely confusion.

This was absurd. What were you even doing here? It was utter non-sense. Loki was just pulling your leg, that was what he did, a friend or a bror or not, he just decided to have some extra fun during Halloween and make it his personal April Fool’s Day. You were but the victim of his over-the-board prank-

You chuckled at your idiocy, shaking your head and stalking to the door.

“You know what? Forget this. This is so stupid, I can’t believe I fell for that-“

A gentle hand, the gentlest touch, stopped you in your tracks, disappearing as quick as it appeared on your wrist.

Reluctantly, you turned back to Steve again, truly loving him and hating him at the same time when his tone softened as if you hadn’t brought up Loki, his personal thorn in side, at all.

“Hey now. This, whatever it is, is clearly making you upset. Upset enough to knock on my door at three a.m.,” he noted, hand twitching towards you again – but not touching.

That was what he would have normally done – comfort you by touch. A warm hand on yours; the warmest hug. Touch was Steve’s love language for friends and no doubt lovers alike. But he didn’t. Because you had said no – you had pushed him anyway, you had pulled back in the closet. You had broken him; you had broken you two already.

Damn Loki and damn his stupid jokes and painfully unhelpful interventions. You already hurt Steve and now you were here, at three damn a.m. indeed, robbing him off his well-deserved sleep on top of everything.

God, what a farce.

“I’m sorry-“

“That’s not the point, you know the door is always open for you,” Steve interrupted you, eyes roaming your face with determination now. He was on a mission. He had noticed your body language, whatever it was trying to say. He noticed your hesitance. He read you like a book and he was going to read it through to the last chapter to get to the bottom of things. You were in trouble; there was no going back now. “What did Loki say? I saw you two earlier, he--- did he make you upset?”

Your heart seared, your lips parting on instinct.

While spoken on a normal volume, the question was a battle cry. If you said yes, Steve would release the wrath of Gods – of an angel, a guardian angel and a warrior – on Loki. It didn’t matter Loki was the god, the entity from another planet. He would tremble in front of the anger of a righteous man defending you.

“No! I mean--- no. He just…” you stumbled over your words again, shaking your head and taking a deep breath. You closed your eyes, because otherwise you’d never get it out, not with the way your throat felt so tight you could barely breathe, let alone speak the bare truth. “He said that what we saw in that closet was each other’s secret. Something we secretly want. Supposedly, I saw yours… and you… you saw mine.”

Your voice trailed off into a shy whisper, but you had no doubt Steve heard your words clear as day. The silent shock settling on the room told you as much. Hands curling into fists, nails digging into your palms, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, before you gathered enough courage to open them and look at Steve’s reaction.

But Steve wasn’t looking at you, much to your relief and frustration. He was staring over your shoulder, the smile on his lips absent, appearing just a little broken. You dug your nails further into your skin, not daring to even breathe in until Steve released a wavering breath of his own.

His voice was quiet as he spoke, so very soft and warm, a note of gentle wistfulness. “I’m not sure I can believe that, Shines.”

You nodded, licking your lips and bracing yourself. Now or never. No take-backs.

“I’m not sure either… but that depends. What do you want, Steve?”

“I…” he sighed, finally meeting your gaze, an unreadable open book. He observed you carefully for a moment as you tried to stand tall, stand your ground and pretend you didn’t feel like it was shaking under your feet. Like you wouldn’t feel like the Earth was splitting beneath you if his answer would be anything else than you were hoping for. “I want you, Shines. But I don’t see how that’s a secret.”

Fresh tears sprang from your eyes; but this time happy ones, the shock and relief and joy finding release.

You had hoped. You had prayed on your way in here. You wished upon the stars. And yet nothing prepared you for the reality of Steve saying this. You were certain your heart was about to explode any second, your pulse thundering in your head. He really said ‘you’.

A small part of you wanted to remark that if Loki was right about everything and you had indeed saw what was in Steve’s head, there were a few secretive details that Steve had failed to mention, but you kept your mouth shut, because that was not the point.

He wanted you. He truly wanted you. He still… you still had a chance. More than a chance, apparently.

“Oh,” you let out quietly and oh so wittily, probably making your IQ scores appear like a joke again, but this time, you didn’t give a damn. You smiled weakly at Steve who stared at you expectantly and resigned at once. “Good. Because I want you too.”

A single deep breath. Eyes full of wonder, soft confusion lacing his voice. Reluctant hope, as reluctant as your own had been. “But you said no.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze and smiling tightly on the floor as you wiped away the few tears.

“I--- I was still new and you were… you were this idol of all things good, intimidating and untouchable. I mean, in many ways, you still are, but I was just crushing on you so hard even if I barely just met you. The longer I knew you, the more it… changed into something much deeper than a crush, but when you asked me out back then, I just… panicked. And I wanted to take that answer back later, but I was scared it was too late. And the longer it got… the harder and more awkward it felt to ask you if you were still interested in me, if you’d want to be more than friends after all this time, especially since you dated someone else in between.”

A few beats of silence followed your confession, words hanging in the air.

“That was never a good idea,” Steve admitted lowly, causing you to look up to his now sheepish face. “I thought I was ready for someone else, but I wasn’t. My mind was still on you. And still is, which really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you or me,” he noted, lips curling up in a smile that would make your heart beat faster hadn’t it been already racing like mad. “You’re beautiful and brilliant. You could do anything you’d put your mind to and would still stay humble enough about it. You’re capable, you’re passionate, you’re kind. You make the world a better place… and you take my breath away. You always have.”

You stood frozen, momentarily stunned.

It seemed when Steve went for something, he went all the way. You knew that about him already; and still. His declaration took you by surprise. A pleasant one, much like two years ago; but this time, you knew better. You were ready. Or at least ready enough.

At three a.m. after a damn Halloween party, you were ready to accept you and him felt the same.Steve liked you. Liked you a lot more than a friend, if his words were sincere and you would never doubt they were anything less.

The world was a beautiful place and you adored Loki’s shenanigans.

“Well…” you said as you stepped closer, basking in Steve’s soft gaze set firmly on your face, hopeful and incredulous. “I think you are pretty damn brilliant, handsome and overall amazing too, so that works out well… and I guess maybe we should do something about that.”

“I guess,” he echoed, his smile slowly widening when you took another step. He reached out this time and took your hand, enveloping it in his larger one.

It was just holding hands, it should not have such an effect on you, but Christ, you could die a happy woman right there. Especially when Steve carefully lifted your joined hands, dropping a kiss to your knuckles, eyes never leaving yours. When you smiled wide at the tender gesture, Steve’s gaze lit up with a familiar and yet so different spark. “You think I’m intimidating?”

A surprised chuckle erupted from your throat, the tension you hadn’t been quite aware of melting from your shoulders. You could smack him – now he was a cheeky fella, wasn’t he?

“That’s what you took from me pouring my heart out? Really, Steve? Wow. Just wow.”

He laughed as well as he erased the last distance between you so you stood chest to chest, hand moving to cradle your face instead and angle it up, his eyes full of wonder still as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. Humour and absolute delight blended into one in his expression; you imagined yours most have looked the same.

“Well, I kinda poured mine out too to make it even. But I’m just a guy, doll. My ego needs a good rub every once in a while.”

You couldn’t help it. You snickered at his choice of words. A good rub, huh?

“Just your ego?”

Something flashed in Steve’s eyes, his smile earning a wicked edge that had your stomach flutter; or perhaps that was just his strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush to his front, your palms catching against his chest. So warm. Warm and wide and real, and it was yours to touch.

“Aren’t you a cheeky little thing…” he mused.

“You know it. What you’re gonna do about it, Captain?”

His gaze roamed your face, searching for an answer to the unspoken and yet completely clear question. He found it in the challenge written in your smartass grin, his lips soon gravitating towards yours, suddenly close enough you could feel his breath on your own. His voice dropped but to a whisper.

“Depends… what would you let me do, Shines?”

Anything. Everything. All at once. Forever.

You licked your lips, painfully aware of the firmness of Steve’s body against yours, so pliant to accommodate his strength. “I’m pretty flexible.”

The corners of his lips twitched at the double entendre.

“Is that right, sweetheart? Let’s see how you like what have in mind then…”

A lot. The answer was a lot. You loved it the very second his lips touched yours at last, causing you to shudder and melt into his embrace. The kiss was even more tender than you imagined; gentle lips moulding into yours, thumb stroking over your cheekbone softer than silk. Lingering and brushing yours even as he released you to do something as mundane as breathing.

“I like it so far,” you muttered, eyes closed to absorb all the sensations enveloping you. The warmth, the masculine scent, the faint taste of mint tooth paste and Steve, the thundering heart under your palms, the hot skin as your hand slid up Steve’s throat to his nape, the soft strands of his hair as you pulled him to another kiss. “What else do you have in mind?”

He hummed against your lips, smiling, hand angling your head to kiss you deeper, parting your lips with ease, so naturally as if it was always meant to be. And perhaps it was; kissing him was two years due. The thought of a lost time had your fingers flex against the material of his t-shirt, squeezing his nape; his chest rumbled with a silent groan, arm tightening around your waist, heat pooling at your stomach.

You knew this groan. You knew the feeling of hardness building against your belly and you knew exactly what it meant; and you wanted it. You wanted it real this time and there nothing in the world that would make you resist Steve inching you walk backwards one small step after another as his mouth dominated yours, his hand moving to your hip to steer you the direction of the bed.

Or you thought so until his arm softened the impact of your back against a wall, your eyes snapping open with a gasp. Your gaze met Steve’s just as his fingers tangled in your hair, eyes roaming your face attentively, taking in every detail of your flushed face and already swollen lips. You feasted your eyes too, hand instinctively moving from his chest to his bicep, nearly whining at feeling the power humming underneath.

He could take you. He could take you in whichever way he wanted and you’d simply have to hold on and survive it, because even with your fancy moves and normally sharp brain, you were no match for his strength. But you didn’t need to be; you didn’t want to be. You were actually perfectly fine with Steve making love to you tender or fucking you against the wall all the way across the room from the no doubt comfortable bed.

“What else is there?” you heard yourself ask breathily, rewarded with Steve’s gaze darkening, his hips pressing against yours, palm sliding from your cheek to your throat, thumb caressing the soft skin.

He was trying to kill you. He was, there was no other reason to show off those large paws of his in comparison to your body, no reason to remind you he could crush you without much effort.

He petted the sensitive skin lovingly, licking his lips as another shudder ran down your spine, his middle finger inching under the shoulder strap of your dress.

“Can I?”

You only panted as he already hooked his finger under it and sent it sliding down while still being able to touch your throat, the hoarseness of his voice awaking the heat inside you having been sleeping ever since your dream encounter in the closet.

“Y-yes,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand that that consent applied to everything. Everything he wanted he was free to do. You needed him to do it.

He must have understood. He must have, because when his lips locked with yours, the heat behind the kiss was otherworldly, his body caging yours against the wall in the most toe-curling way.

It was like a switch flipped inside him, because it finally dawned to him. He had seen you fantasy; the filth he had experienced came from you and he could take full advantage of that. That previously frightening thought that Steve knew now, knew how you wanted him and how much, was apparently exactly what he needed to see; that you wanted him. All of him. No filter.

You mewled when his fingers tugged at your hair with the slightest pressure, guiding you to expose the column of your throat for his mouth to explore and nip at, his other hand squeezing your hips and following the curve of your ass appreciatively. Your already damp panties turned completely useless by now and in the very back of your mind, you realized that with Steve’s slightly enhanced senses, he could probably smell how riled up you still were from your imaginary closet experience. You could be embarrassed about that; but when his hand brushed up the back of your bare thigh over your hip under the hem of your dress, stroking over the lace of your panties at the apex of your thighs, you decided you were beyond caring.

Especially when you could feel his muscled shift with the minuscule movement of his fingers tracing the hem of your underwear, so close to where your core screamed for his touch and attention.

“So, doll…” he whispered to your skin, groaning minutely when you grabbed at his nape and pulled his mouth to ours, feeling it was way too long since you tasted them. He didn’t seem bothered at all, his fingertips brushing oh so lightly against your heat at last, a barely-there brief touch gone too fast. “I saw your dirty secret, is that right?”

Alright, he needed to stop talking and teasing you and get to work before you could spontaneously combust. Your only satisfaction was the fact that he too was far from indifferent to what was happening, his hardness pressing against your thigh.

So why wasn’t he doing something about it?

“Doll?” he hummed against your lips, expecting you to answer, clearly.

“Y-yeah? I guess?”

“Hm…”

You cried a discontent noise when his hands untangled from your hair and disappeared form under the skirt of your dress, long fingers curling around your wrist, one and then the other, soothing your disagreement with a filthy kiss.

Next thing you knew, your hands were pinned to the wall by your head, carefully, but firmly, Steve’s body pressing against the rest of you; his lips released yours just in time for you to let out a gasp as startled as pleased.

Your heart turned into one of a hummingbird when you realized your predicament fully.

Trapped against the wall by Steve’s large body towering above you, hands locked in a grip unmoveable upon you testing it. Caged. Utterly helpless. Dominated. The surge of need into your belly was so acute your brain turned into a blank screen with static noise for a moment.

Steve was playing out your fantasy. He was replaying what he must have seen. He was giving you exactly what you wanted and you were not about to protest; less so when your heart felt like giving out when his teeth grazed your pulse point, your knees bucking a bit, a silent mewl escaping you and that loveable bastard smiled with absolute glee against your skin.

“Love the sounds you’re making, doll. Love how your body responds to me.”

“You’re playing dirty,” you whined, not quite complaining, but still causing Steve to look up. The glee you had assumed was most definitely in his smirk and hungry gaze.

You swallowed loudly, gaze trailing up his bulging bicep when his hands manipulated yours above your head, one hand easily gripping both of yours.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, long fingers running over your bare arm indulgingly slow, over the swell of your breast, over your waist, until they slipped under your skirt again, following the hem of your panties to the junction of your thighs and pushed it aside at last, feeling the pool of slick in your underwear. His voice grew huskier as he spoke again. “Fuck. Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I won’t,” he promised, latching onto your mouth as his thick finger slipped into your heat at last, causing you to moan at the blissful intrusion.

He pumped his finger a few times before he added another, the soft stretch sending hot pleasure through your veins, having you chase the feeling in the limited space he made for his hand between your bodies, trying to rock into his hand as he set a maddeningly slow pace.

“Steve, ple-ase-”

The plea melted into a gasp when he curled his fingers, finding your most sensitive spot, your hips jerking forward as the ripple of pleasure he elicited.

“There she is…” he murmured smugly, swallowing your noise of complaint when he pulled his fingers out right then, spreading your slick all over your lower lips and circled your clit only to neglect it right after.

Empty and strung tight at once, you tried to move and chase the much-needed friction, only for Steve’s hips to pin you in place again, palm spawled over your ass.

You wanted to shoot him the dirtiest look for denying you, but all you managed was a soft accusation in your hooded eyes as his still wet fingers tipped your chin up, his intent gaze dark and hungry.

“God, you’re perfect, doll,” he rasped, thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “You have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

You had no time to be embarrassed; not when the words from your dream echoed in your head – except it was not a dream. This was all Steve – his fantasy, his reality too. He liked to watch. He liked to tell you were beautiful. He clearly liked your fantasy too – to have you in his arms, at his mercy.

You wanted to pull him for another kiss, to guide his hand – his cock for god’s sake – where you needed him so much you could barely stand it at this point, but the thrill of the not being able to, not being allowed to, felt almost as good. He was breathing heavy too, yes, but otherwise, holding you down posed no challenge for him, not even with one hand, the other sprawling over your hip again. Your core clenched at the casual display strength, a tiny noise escaping you against your will.

And bless that it did. Steve’s fuck it was the most beautiful song you had ever heard, because it was the sound of breaking.

So fast he battled the speed of light, his hand was back, tearing away the soaked fabric of your panties, mouth stealing the blissful moan from your lips, body letting just an inch of space for you to arch into his touch when his fingers slid right back into your heat, pumping and assaulting your g-spot, this time with his thumb pressing against your clit. Small rhythmic circles, dextrous fingers filling you up over and over and he had you chanting his name as you clenched on his fingers hard, warm release overtaking your body, muscles spasming, your vision blurring for a moment.

And Steve didn’t stop. The back of your head hit the wall with a silent protest as his fingers continued to fill you over and over again, mouth latched onto your neck and sucking a bruise, grasp on your hands firm and you struggled against the hold no longer sure if you wanted to stop him or keep his hand exactly where it was, because despite the overwhelming sensation and overstimulation, your body screamed at you to take it and enjoy the flames licking at your insides, so painfully delicious.

You clamped on his fingers again with a wordless cry, gasping for air as your eyes snapped open, meeting Steve’s impossibly blown pupils drinking in the sight of you overtaken by utter bliss. The wet squelch filling the room was pure filth as you soaked his hand, but you had no capacity to feel ashamed, you body buzzing with adrenalin and white-hot pleasure, Steve’s gaze making you feel like the eighth wonder of the world.

The second he released your shaky hands you were on him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him in for a bruising kiss, his talented fingers slowing down to bring you down from your high. Once he let you get your fill, his kiss softened, short pecks to your lips, to your cheek, to you closed eyelids.

“You okay, Shines? Was that too much?”

You shook your head with a breathless laugh, the action of checking that you were alright familiar, matching the faint memory of seeing the images of his desires. Fuck you so good you’d forget your own name, but in a very respectful and caring way. It had Steve written all over it, alright. You should have known.

His forehead rested against your sweaty one, his nose nudging yours, his body more holding you up rather than restricting your movements now.

“I’m gonna need words, Shines.”

“Yeah,” you whispered obediently, pecking his lips for a good measure.

His hungry eyes sparkled with mischief as they met yours, beautifully red lips curling up in a smirk and causing your racing heart to stumble.

“Good… because I don’t think that’s how the fantasy ended…”

You yelped when his hands slipped under your ass without a single warming and lifted you with ease, your own hands gripping at his shoulders, legs, while rather jelly-like from your mind-blowing orgasms still, wrapping around his waist on instinct. You felt his hardness press against your core, hard planes of muscle without as much minute tremble under your weight as you stared at him, excitement stirring in your belly anew. With laughable ease, one of his arms shifted so he could use his other hand on you as he pleased.

You bit down the squeal ripping from your lips, but not quite successfully. He was carrying you. On one hand. And he didn’t even break a sweat yet.

“Better?” he asked smugly and it shouldn’t be attractive, you hated arrogance, but goddamnit cocky Steve seemed the hottest thing ever at the moment. Even when he was still fully clothed and your dress was loosely hanging over your bra, skirt ruffled up. Christ, his shoulders were so wide-

“I don’t think I can survive better…” you admitted, gulping, but letting your hands roam his exquisite body and gods you could come again just from touching all the delicious power you knew were locked in that body. “But I wanna try.”

Steve’s grin was the thing from your filthiest dreams; and his cock pressing against your core, the annoying fabric of his sweatpants in the way, was too.

“Atta girl…” he praised, hand curling around your nape to pull you in for a kiss that had barely any resemblance to the one he graced you with to bring you down, oh no. He licked into your mouth with indulgence, taking what was already his. “You’re gonna be so good for me, aren’t you? Take everything I give you?”

“Yes.”  

“Let me fill you up, again and again until I’ve had enough? Until you’re so completely mine that all you can think of is my name and the way it feels to come on my cock? You’re gonna let me do that, sweetheart?” he whispered to your ear, sin dripping from every carefully spoken syllable. He pulled at your dress, revealing your bra and groaning when he palmed your breast over the thin material, your own hands sliding down his chest and finally under his t-shirt to feel the heat of his skin.

So good. Gods, he felt so good.

“Yes. Wanna feel you. All of you.”

Steve rutted into you and you grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and tugged, wordlessly begging him to reveal your playground. He chuckled, pulling at his t-shirt himself to help you, quick to hum a promise to your lips that had your core clench around the painful emptiness.

“Oh you’ll feel me, Shines. I’ll make sure you’ll feel me for days. That what you want?”

One palm sprawled over his chest, the other laid over his abs, you weren’t sure you could answer beyond an absent nod. Steve did not find that satisfactory.

The nips of his teeth combined with the rumble in his ribcage had you release something between a mewl and a gasp, his abdomen shaking with a silent laugher.

“Oh that was a pretty noise. Can’t wait to hear more of it.”

“Steve, please, just-“

He heard out your plea at last, kissing you, free hand going to the laces of his sweats, undoing it way too slowly. Impatient, you knocked his hand away and did it yourself, feeling Steve’s lips curl in a grin against yours.

“Do you need me so much, doll? Need me to make you mine?”

You barely had time to breathe a yes and shove his pants down, hand wrapping around his thick length, drawing a breathy sound of pleasure from him and an unnecessary confession of the obvious.

“Yeah, need you too.”

He allowed you barely a few seconds of pumping his cock before he coaxed your hand away, the head of cock nudging your slit, quickly coated in your slick. His groan was delicious to hear, your hips bucking on instinct.

Yeah, need you too. You did this to him.

“Fuck, Shines, you’ll feel like Heaven.”

It was inappropriate. Completely and entirely inappropriate but you chuckled, a cheeky retort about seven minutes dying on your tongue when Steve entered you, a little too fast and straight to the hilt before he gave you time to adjust to his impressive size and grith. The stretch was a lot; a lot more than his already thick fingers, but you had never known you could be filled so well and it could feel just this good.

He was made for you, he had to be. Or maybe you were made for him.

Little droplets of sweat pearled on his forehead, gaze firm on yours, dark and amused at once as he slowly retreated and pushed inside you again, your lips dropping open because you had been wrong; he stretched you further and a shy glance down told you he still had a way to go.

“I could hear that pun before you said it, doll. You’re thinking too much,” he husked, setting a pace and pushing just a bit further and further with each thrust, hand sprawling over your lower back to angle you to his liking – for you to take him even deeper. The burn and fulness felt impossible, but Steve’s intent gaze on your face was even more so. “Let’s fix that.”

“I thought you liked me brilliant?” you hummed as if you didn’t feel your toes curl in pleasure, your hands grasping at his shoulders, at his arms, anywhere to keep him closer, closer…

Wind knocked out of you with ne sharp thrust, you finally took all of him; your lips parted with silent oh god, eyes slipping shut as the sensation of utter fullness. Distantly, you could feel his gaze on you, drinking in the sight; the artist in him admiring the visual, no matter how plain you thought you had to look.

“I do, Shines… but now I need you to think about one and one thing only.”

There was no space for words after that. Once he had you, he set a punishing pace, claiming your lips as much as your silky heat, overwhelming all of your senses all over again. The onslaught of sensation – his warmth, his strength, his musky scent, his lips, his grip on you, the fast but deep drags of his girth against your walls, stretching you to your limits – it was all too much, too much when his fingers sneaked between your bodies and ripped the dress away to give the much-needed attention to your clit.

“Steve-“

“That’s it…” he spoke against your mouth, teeth grazing your lower lip even as his pace never faltered, building you towards the skies again, “you really are perfect, Shines, gripping me so tight. So perfect and mine, aren’t you?”

“Yours… yours… yours,” you promised with every thrust until you couldn’t, your lips falling limp, your nails digging into Steve’s back when you came with another shout of his name.

And soon, he followed, whispered praises and mine over and over as he made you exactly that. Thoroughly his. Keeping you close even when he pulled out, keeping you close when his spent drippled out of you and he simply gathered in on his fingers, pushing it right back, dark gaze never leaving yours, your stomach making wild somersaults.

Mine. So completely mine. Aren’t you, Shines?

You were. Completely his, deeply sated and utterly exhausted. You were grateful he carried you to bed, because your legs were beyond functioning; as he laid you down, you couldn’t see the clock and you thanked heavens for that, because the time had had to tipped over from too late to too early. But you couldn’t care less. Not when Steve’s fingers caressed every inch of bare skin of your body they could reach, the rags of your clothes in a messy pile by the door a proud reminder of how exactly he had got it off.

And got you off.

You mentally snorted at the bad pun, another one you didn’t have a chance to share since Steve had been too determined to stop you from thinking returning to your mind.

“Steve?” you smiled lazily as he was lying next to you, propped up at his elbow, smiling down at you softly – so softly in contrast to how he had railed you into oblivion. Lovingly, of course.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I think this was what we should call Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

He groaned, falling on his back and drawing a full belly laughter from you, throwing his arm over his face as if he couldn’t bear to look at someone who made such a terrible joke. With effort, you propped on your elbow then, looking at the gorgeous length of his body for a change, cheeks hurting from grinning so wide. He was a work of art; Michelangelo’s David had nothing on him. Superb balance of size and function in every muscle, every tendon, as hard as stone when needed and carved into perfection. Alive and warm under your gaze and touch, its utter superiority proven by countless missions and work-out you had witnessed. It wasn’t just how large his body was, the contrast of the width of his shoulders to his waist, the lines of his abs with soft treasure trail; it was the knowledge of what his body could do. What that brilliant mind behind those sweet blues could come up, the kind heart humming contentedly under your palm now. You had met enough dumb jocks in your line of work, big almost as Steve, handsome too; but they could never compare.

He moved his arm when your fingers walked down his sternum, heading for the treasure trail; his cerulean eyes observed with a mixture of mischief and warmth, wide awake despite the ungodly hour. You stopped, fingers hovering just above his skin, the heat it radiated tickling your fingertips.

It didn’t escape you – it was literally hard to miss that – that Steve clearly hadn’t had enough. You didn’t ask why, whether it was the serum or something else, but you knew you didn’t want to leave him unsatisfied.

You had promised, hadn’t you, even if it was in the heat of the moment. Until he had his fill, he said? You could take it.

Leaning down to kiss him, you were welcomed by the sweet taste of his smile; your wandering hand continued your path at last, wrapping around his still very hard length. He didn’t protest, only reached out to pull you closer, practically lying on top of him.

The kiss was lazy; half-hearted desire, reluctance and indulgence at once. Steve tangled his fingers in your hair, pushing it out of the way, caressing your cheek.

“You sure you can take more, sweetheart?”

You nodded without a second thought, a wordless ‘yeah’ whispered straight into his mouth, a slight twist of your hand causing him to groan.

Steve might be caring to a fault, but he was only a man – as he had said. Who was he to refuse your offering? He sat up and pulled you to his lap with ease, your body obedient and pliant, a gasp elicited from your throat when his lips moved to suck on your nipple, your fingers gripping on his hair.

“Steve…”

“Did I mention you were perfect?” he muttered into your soft flesh, kneading your ass and your breast.

You had never felt so utterly adored; body, mind and soul. How could you be anything else than his when this was what it was like?

“Once or twice. You’re not too bad yourself, Cap-tain,” you stuttered when he pinched your other nipple for the cheekiness, a breathy giggle escaping you.

He released your nipple with a wet pop, gaze having turned hungry again.

“Good. Turn around, sweetheart.”

You looked at him slightly confused, but obeyed. You’d do anything, even kneel in front of him, the prospect of him taking you from behind like this stirring something deep inside you. You glanced over your shoulder as he positioned himself behind you, a glorious god prepared to claim the sacrifice of those who worshipped him; and god, would you do exactly that.

He grasped at your chin softly, capturing your lips with his, his hardness nudging the globes of your ass; and released your lips all too soon, fingers pushing at your jaw to look forward.

Heat flooded your body, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Kneeling on the bed, completely bare and exposed, you were facing the mirror.

His fantasy. His turn.

“That okay?” Steve asks, voice husky as his lips attached to the flesh above your collarbone, his arm sneaking around your waist and pulling you to his front. He was hidden from your sight for most part, a true shame; you were on full display.

For you. For him.

You gulped, gaze set firmly on his face in the mirror, not daring to stray it elsewhere even as you could see his eyes appreciating his view.

“I… I think so?”

His smile was warm, a little boyish and entirely devious. You sunk into it as much as you sunk into his firm body, his fingers tweaking your nipple, drawing your gaze to the movement of instinct. Heat spread in your insides at the sight of his large hand over you, barely an edge of shame nudging your consciousness. Filthy. Vain. Wrong. Thrilling.

“Good… ‘cause I think we can do better than seven minutes,” Steve hummed with a trace of humour in his voice, free hand sliding between your thighs to tease you and make sure you were ready for him still – or again. When he spread your lips for the head of his cock, you instinctively bucked into his hand, gaze flickering to the sinful image. “In fact… I wonder how long you can last until you’re begging me…”

He pushed into you in one swift movement, strong hand keeping you in place, the tendons on his forearm dancing, a breathless oh falling from your lips.

“…to stop. Look at yourself, sweetheart. Look at us.”

Almost in a haze, like a new dream on its own, you did. With the strangest and most tickling glee, your gaze trailed from where you and Steve were one between your spread thighs, over his arm draped over you, his hand spreading softly over your throat to keep you looking straight into the mirror, lips attached to your temple curled in a smile.

“Your mind is way more filthier than I thought,” you managed to say before he started thrusting into you, his smile earning a wicked edge as he nuzzled your hair.

“Shh… that’s my best-kept secret. You’re not gonna tell anyone, are you, doll?”

Powerful. Adored. Desired.

His.

The next words rolled off your tongue before you could think twice, Steve’s hypnotic gaze on your body enough of an encouragement.

“Keep my mouth busy and I won’t--- oh god.”

The fingers of his left hand circled your clit, sending an almost painful pleasure through your veins, while his right hand angled your head to capture your lips indeed.

“Now who’s filthy,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against your mouth, dark pupils blown wide as you sucked on it obediently. He pushed into you so deep at the action you thought you’d feel him in your throat and you finally understood the expression of la petit mort. The feeling of bliss washing over you was so strong it could kill you and yet you’d never felt more alive. “Fuck, Shines, you’re gonna be the death of me. But first… let me show you how beautiful you look when I make you mine.”

And he did. Oh, he did.

And he’d stand by his promise that you’d feel it for days too, you were sure of it, even if only time would tell.

The sun was already rising and peeking through the blinds when you finally laid your head on the pillow to sleep at last. Successful revels Thor would say, you thought lazily.

You walked the fine line between consciousness and dreams, cradled to Steve’s chest, closer than you ever thought you could be. Idly, you let your mind wander; despite the absolutely mind-blowing sex that only probably happened to a person once in a lifetime, you couldn’t but believe that this wasn’t a one-time thing. No, Steve didn’t do one-night stands, he even said so; his mind was on your for quite some time. This was but a start and you loved the idea of that. Not just because of the promise or experiencing this again, the pleasure still flowing through your body as an echo of what had been almost too much bliss to bear, but because of love.

You had been more than a little in love with him for almost two years – and you couldn’t wait to fall harder. Because besides being a sight to behold, Steve’s arms provided comfort, safety and sincere affection. You didn’t have to be scared of that fall, because they’d catch you. You didn’t have to fear for your heart if you gave it to him, because you knew Steve Rogers to his core; he’d cherish the gift and guard it with his life.

And he’d deserve it too, your whole heart. He deserved to be loved deeply and unconditionally; and on occasion, filthily.

With a sleepy hum, he nuzzled into your neck almost as if he could hear your thoughts and approved of them, pressing a soft kiss there. You drifted off to sleep with a little sappy but entirely adoring smile.

“You did something to the bottle, didn’t you? Some fancy physics trick?” Bucky said, more an announcement than a question, just before he decided to finally follow Steve’s and your example, ready to retreat to sleep – most of the group did anyway.

Tony was a picture of genuine innocence for once at the accusation. “Me? Please. How would I even do that?”

“I dunno. Magnets? Electric pulse? Flying invisible bot? What do I know…”

A nearby chuckle caught both Tony’s and Bucky’s attention, their suddenly knowing gazes finding Loki with his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t bother to pretend to be irritated, even as at any other time, they would have been. For once, they were just grateful; Friday had silently informed them that the agent known as Speedy had been last seen outside Steve’s suite and wasn’t seen leaving for at least an hour.

If the two clueless dumbasses figured their shit out at last, Loki’s mischievous involvement was worth it.

“Oh no, I cannot possibly take the credit for that part.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “What part can you take the credit for?”

“You could not handle the truth, Sergeant,” Loki smirked, causing Bucky to roll his eyes. “But not the bottle. I swear. I admit that I wanted to – but I did not have to.”

“So you want me to believe that after two years of Steve and Speedy needing to pull their head out of their asses and at least half of us trying to talk some sense into one or the other, a stupid game an even stupider coincidence finally did it for them. Really?”

Tony nodded, watching Loki with searching gaze. “Yeah, I’m with Buckaroo on this o-“

The sudden soft dragging sound and a clink drew the gazes of all three men. The bottle, having spun a bit, came to a slow stop under their watchful eye.

“Dammit, Loki-“

The trickster raised his hands in defence, chuckling again. “I did not do anything!”

“Yeah, right-“

The bottle shifted again, this time spinning fast – and stopped abruptly at once.

“But-“ Bucky froze mid-sentence. Then, his head snapped in the direction the bottle was pointing now. His eyes found the young redhead witch, walking out of the room hand-in-hand with Vision. As Tony followed Bucky’s line of sight, his mouth fell slightly agape.

Loki only smirked harder. “I must say, it is always a pleasure to say this: I told you so.”

“No way,” Tony breathed out, incredulous.

“Stark, give that girl a raise,” Bucky muttered, shocked as well; but completely sincere in his request. Bless magic. Bless that girl for pushing the idiot of his friend into what Bucky couldn’t convince him to do for months.

Wanda only smiled at them over her shoulder and walked out of the door with a silent ‘good night’.

Steve Rogers masterlist 

Complete masterlist

The prompt was Only when you and your significant other are locked in the closet for 7 minutes, you’re transported somewhere else. and well. Yeah. I transported them into each other’s head – specifically, into their filthy fantasy. I am not even sorry anymore for that cheat if it is a cheat🫡 Though I am a little sorry for the length because this was supposed to be a one shot (story of my life).

Well, this was a LONG ride. I hope you enjoyed it 🤭

Let me know if did and if you can🥰

Thank you for reading!

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