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brbsoulnomming · 7 months

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 18

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Fortunately, Eddie doesn't actually have to participate much once he and Robin make it back to the living room. The best seating seems to be reserved for the injured and injured adjacent, since Max is already sitting between Lucas and El on one of the couches, with Dustin and Steve on the other. Steve scoots over, leaving the middle cushion open for Eddie to claim, and Robin comes to sit on the armrest of the couch by Steve. He drapes his arm over her thigh, and she checks his shoulder with her hip, shooting him a little smile.

He watches them for a moment, attempting to be an adult and sort out what he's feeling about it now that he knows Steve and Robin are soulmates, but after a few moments he concedes that's going to take longer to process than he's got right now.

Everyone else is scattered around the room in various seating - Will and Mike squished together in the armchair right by Max, Lucas, and El's couch, Erica curled up in the second armchair, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle occupying what looks like chairs dragged in from the dining room.

Conversation goes around in circles. There isn't an active threat forcing them into a quick decision, which apparently means they interrupt each other and veer off on tangents and attempt to solve at least four problems at once.

Eddie's a little too floaty from the pain meds - and a little too occupied with Steve's thigh pressed up right against his own - to join, but it's nice, listening to them. It reminds him he's not alone.

They talk about what to do with Vecna - nothing, for the moment, just continue to let El rest and rebuild her powers, with El and Will keeping an eye on Upside Down things; what to do about the gates still open in Hawkins - regular patrols, no one goes out alone and everyone brings a weapon and their walkie with them at all times; what to do with Hopper, who has apparently been alive this whole time and was being held in a Russian prison after being captured at Starcourt - which, sure, of course, it's not like that's the craziest thing that's happened this week. Some guy named Murray is working with his contacts and they're going to spin a story to present to the Hawkins PD.

Eddie watches Steve out of the corner of his eye when he feels him go tense at that one, sees him shift his hand on Robin's leg so it's palm up. She immediately takes it, lacing their fingers together and giving his hand a squeeze. He debates with himself for only a moment before he lets his own hand rest on Steve's knee, squeezing it lightly as well.

Both Robin and Steve turn to him, smiling at him in a way that makes warmth bloom beneath his ribs - Steve with surprised affection, and Robin with a pleased little knowing. He ducks his head and pretends to be really focused on what the group is arguing about.

At some point, the conversation shifts to what they're going to do about Eddie's situation, and, unfortunately, then he really does have to focus.

He doesn't really want to. They don't really seem to have a lot of ideas other than to get Hopper reinstated at Hawkins PD, to work with Murray to come up with a story to pin everything on Henry Creel, carrying on in his father's footsteps.

It just makes him tired.

"This is a lot of talking for what's essentially wait until everyone's back up to full strength and then we can figure out the details," he says after a while.

Steve snorts next to him. "It's not like Eddie's going anywhere," he tells the others. "He's safe here until we figure it out."

Some part of Eddie - the Eddie he was before all this, who didn't need anyone and was convinced Steve Harrington was a jackass - kind of wants to bitch about being under house arrest at the Harrington palace.

But, well. That part is a fading ember compared to the rest of him that wants to grab onto that and take it as an excuse to make himself at home in Steve's life and never leave. The rest of him wants everyone to just get the hell out already, so he can stop trying to pretend he isn't pants shittingly nervous about finally telling Steve he thinks they're soulmates.

Platonic soulmates, he reminds himself.

It takes forever.

Everyone stays for dinner, and Eddie really wants to be pleased about that, to bask in the sounds of so much life, of bickering and teasing and shouting and a fierce, aching love that's woven into every word spoken and every one left unspoken, into every gesture and laugh and shout. To bask in the way that it includes him, how easily he's been folded into it all, how it makes him itchy and content all at once. To bask in the way it makes Steve come alive, golden and vibrant and looking like he's never been happier.

It's just that it also makes him even more antsy about confirming once and for all if Steve is his soulmate, and every time he sees him light up or look so goddamn fond beneath a bitchy expression, he kind of wants to bite him. Or, barring that, get his hands on him, run his fingers over the words etched on Steve's skin to see if it's really true, what he's heard about. If it really does feel like nothing else when your soulmate finally touches the words they've marked you with forever.

Robin keeps shooting these little looks at him, which doesn't help at all, especially because he catches Steve looking back and forth between them with a little scrunch to his forehead - that only gets deeper every time Steve meets Robin's eyes and she just looks back at him, wide eyed and innocent.

She does loudly mention her curfew multiple times, though, and that she's sure Eddie is exhausted after being subjected to them all day, which is worth the protesting shouts she gets from his Hellfire trio.

When they finally all leave, well. Eddie is kind of exhausted, and he tips his head back to rest on the back of the couch for a moment.

"You want me to carry you upstairs?" Steve asks.

His voice is teasing, but when Eddie cracks open one eye to look at him, he looks sincere.

"Thanks," Eddie grumbles. "But I think I'll try to keep what's left of my dignity."

He does kind of want Steve to carry him up, is the thing, but he definitely doesn't want to admit it. Or to deal with it while he's still trying to figure out how the hell he wants to do this.

Steve looks like he wants to say something scathing about Eddie's dignity, but he holds himself back, and offers out a hand to help him up instead.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie grumbles, deciding to respond to whatever Steve thought of anyway, just to show him that nope, he can't get away with that.

He does take his hand, though, and leans on him as they walk up the stairs. He counts each step as they go, telling himself over and over that okay, he needs to get this sorted out before they reach the halfway point - before they reach the top - before they make it halfway down the hall - at least before they get to Steve's room, come on -

Eddie plops down onto Steve's bed, silently cursing himself as he accepts the bottle of meds Steve offers him, downs two and hands it back.

"So," Eddie says, because he's an idiot. "You and Robin, huh?"

Steve's brow furrows in confusion, which - yeah, fuck, of course it does, because Eddie literally announced that out of no where, and he focuses on that and not on how cute Steve looks.

"She told me this morning," he clarifies. "About the whole two soulmate thing."

His expression clears up, goes all warm and fond even as he rolls his eyes. "That's what all those looks were about, I knew it was something."

When he looks back at Eddie, his expression is a little more closed, eyes a little wary. "Yeah. She and I are soulmates, and we've both got another one we haven't found yet."

Eddie nods, hoping he's accurately conveying just how cool he is with this. In the grand scheme of things, his maybe soulmate having another soulmate is a whole hell of a lot more normal than everything else that's happened in his life recently. "The same one, you think?"

That gets a small smile. "Nah, we've compared." Steve picks at the label on the bottle of pills, not looking at him. "You don't think it's weird? Or I'm - just greedy, or something?"

He flinches, just a little, because if he's being honest - yeah, if he'd found out a year ago, hell even a few months ago, that Steve Harrington had two soulmates, he probably would have rolled his eyes and called him greedy. Little rich boy taking more than his share, Mr. Popular Jackass who of course has two people destined to fall over him. He thinks back to what his uncle had said to him, before high school, and feels shame curl at the bottom of his gut.

"I think," Eddie says after a long moment, because he's still an idiot, but he doesn't want to run anymore, he doesn't. "That I'm your other one. Your - uh, platonic. You and me, platonic soulmates."

Steve looks - all right, Eddie can't actually figure out how he looks.

"I think I like weird," he continues, because he doesn't know how to shut up. "I think you're so, so different from everything I thought you were, and I'm still a little pissed off about that, man, the Munson Doctrine was sacred and here you are blowing it all up. I think if I had to have a jock for a platonic soulmate, I don't want it to be anyone but you."

Steve's looking up at him with these huge, liquid eyes, now, and Eddie's tongue feels like it's glued to his mouth, and then -

"I didn't miss you before I even met you," Steve says, and Eddie feels the quick prickle of heat around his ankle, and -

"Holy shit," he says, laughing because he doesn't know what else to do with all the feeling bubbling up inside of him, because -

Because Steve'd told him that Nancy was the only person that he'd ever wanted to be his soulmate so bad that he wanted to test it, and it - it's not the same, it's not, and when he comes down from the high of having found his soulmate he's going to realize how fucked he is if he doesn't get over this crush on him, but -

"I didn't think about my soulmate all that often," he says, just so Steve can have the same feeling he does, and then he ducks his head a little, hand tugging his hair in front of his mouth. "Yeah? You wanted it to be me, too?"

Steve quirks a little smile. "Yeah. I really did."

Eddie groans. "Jesus, Steve, you can't just say stuff like that to me."

Steve's smile grows. "Too bad. I'm going to say stuff like that all the time, you're going to have to learn to take it."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck don't think about that, nope, don't think about Steve - his soulmate Steve - telling him how much he wants him and showing Eddie how to take it and - Eddie laughs, feeling it bubble up through his chest, a little bit giddy and a little bit hysterical.

Before he knows it, Steve's huffing out a little laugh, too. "I knew you lied in there with Mike, man, I could feel it. I just couldn't drop my pants in the middle of the living room to check what it was, but when I did, you were going to be so busted."

"I mean, you could have. There were a few people in there who probably would've appreciated the view," Eddie teases. "You might've scarred Mike for life, though."

Steve's lip curls into a grimace, and then they're both giggling again.

"Thanks for being brave," Steve tells him quietly when they've managed to put a lid on their laughing.

Eddie twitches, barely resisting the urge to twist to check to see if he's got a new lie on him. It's just - Eddie hasn't been brave. The one time he did decide to be brave, he nearly died, and people keep yelling or almost crying at him about it, so he's pretty sure they think that was more stupid than brave. "For being what now?"

"For being brave about this," Steve says. "I've kind of wondered if it might be you for a while, just kept telling myself it wasn't the right time to ask."

Oh. All right, yeah, he did beat Steve to it, didn't he? He grins at him. "So when did you first start wanting it to be me, huh?"

Steve rolls his eyes, and for a few moments Eddie thinks he's not going to answer, but then he says, "In the woods, when we were trying to find the gate. After you tried to make Lucas feel better, got him and Dustin distracted."

That - Eddie wasn't expecting that, even though part of him thinks yeah, it would be about the kids. "Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, I suspected earlier. There wasn't a lot that could give you away, but what you said about jocks being violent monarchs - some of your table speeches had similar phrasing."

Fuck.

It's - he'd known, that he and his soulmate would have to talk about why they stopped talking. Known that he and Steve would have to talk about it. He'd just kind of hoped it was another one of those things he could add to his pile of later.

"Steve," he says softly, but he can't think of what to say to continue, and it just hangs heavily between them.

"I know," Steve says after a moment. "I figured that was why you stopped talking to me. That you realized I was one of the kind of people you hated."

He wants to tell Steve that he wasn't, but he's too worried it'll be a lie. Steve was the kind of person that Eddie used to hate - not really because of anything Steve had done, but because of what Eddie assumed about him, because it was easier to believe all the popular kids were the same than maybe some of them were different.

"You aren't," he says instead. "The guy I was talking about - he graduated the year before you - you're nothing like him. You weren't even back when we were in high school. You weren't a bully, man, just kind of a bitch. I was the one who didn't care about the difference."

Steve considers that for a moment. Then, "I'm still kind of a bitch."

Eddie lets out a bark of startled laughter, hand coming up to press against his abdomen. "Fuck, dude, don't be funny, it pulls at my stitches."

Steve grins at him, entirely unapologetic.

Eddie almost hates to ruin it, but - shit, he has to know, and he lets out a slow exhale. "That why you stopped talking to me, because you knew I didn't want you to?"

Steve's grin fades, but he looks like he'd kind of been expecting that question. "That was part of it. But also, I was mad at you," he admits. "Everyone always had these expectations of who I was and who they wanted me to be, and when I saw you talking about jocks and popular kids like they were the enemy, I realized you had them, too. I knew I wasn't going to live up to yours."

"Fuck my expectations, you're better than anything I could have dreamed of." Eddie - hadn't meant to say that, and he spends a quick moment freaking out a little in the back of his mind, because that didn't sound platonic at all.

Steve doesn't seem to think anything of it, though, just gives him a pleased little smile, ducking his head like he thinks it's going to hide how his ears have gone pink.

"It's not like your expectations were that unreasonable, lumping everyone together aside," Steve says. "I could have taken a step back and wondered why it pissed me off that you expected me not to be a violent jackass, but I was too busy getting wrapped up in all that popularity shit. I'm sorry for that."

There's a pause, then, "I'm not sorry for being a jock, though. I like sports, that's not going to change."

"I don't want it to change," Eddie says, but it comes out more like a promise. "You already did a hell of a lot of changing, man."

Steve gives him a little crooked smile. "I guess a good thump on the head will do that to you."

Eddie grimaces. "Upside Down shit?"

"Nah, just Nancy and Jonathan, actually. When Jonathan and I had that fight in the alley, I - I was angry, and hurt, and I wanted to make him hurt. It comes easy, you know, knowing what to say to hurt someone the most. How to be cruel."

The other side of being good with people, yeah, Eddie knows that. He'd never been on the receiving end of it, but he'd heard the gossip about what happened when Steve Harrington got pissed. It's what he meant when he said Steve was a bitch.

"Later, I was sitting with Tommy and Carol, listening to them talk about jumping him as soon as he was released from the station and I just kept thinking - I sounded exactly like my dad in that alley. That's the kind of people that Tommy and Carol were, and that's who I was going to be if I stuck with them."

"But you didn't," Eddie says.

"But I didn't," Steve agrees, giving a little shrug.

Eddie's quiet, in case Steve wants to say more, but it seems like he's done talking about that, because after a few moments he gives Eddie a little smile.

"So I, uh. I told you mine, you gotta tell me yours now. When did you change your mind and decide you wanted it to be me?"

"Oh, uh. Same as you, actually. I didn't admit it until after the first time in the Upside Down, but when we were in the woods, and you looked at me like I was doing something good, and I - yeah." Eddie's pretty sure he's a little flushed, now, and he looks away.

Steve just gives a little hum, and Eddie looks back at him, eyes narrowed, but he can't quite make out his expression. Eddie barrels on past all that, then, not giving him time to do - whatever that face he's making is a sign of.

"I wondered way earlier, though," he adds. "I kept getting stuff about not being all that hurt and not wanting to go to the hospital, and then you'd show up all beat up. Which, by the way, I was really mad at you for, you kept scaring the shit out of me."

"Sorry," Steve says, and he does look reasonably apologetic. "At least I went to the hospital this time?"

Eddie raises one eyebrow, assuming the withering look he gives him is enough to tell him exactly what he thinks about that. "How about you stop needing to go to the hospital, huh?"

Steve looks at him, quiet for a long moment. Then, "You're the one who said I'm a paladin."

"And I already regret it." Eddie nudges him with one knee. "Mike's convinced you're a barbarian, anyway."

Steve makes a face, like he's immediately having some regrets of his own. "Mike's in on this now? I'm still not playing with you guys any time soon."

Eddie grins at him. "Any time soon isn't never, man, I-"

He cuts off as he realizes that this is the second time that Steve has said he wasn't playing any time soon, and it prompts him to remember -

"You lied!" he shouts gleefully.

"What?" Steve asks, caught off guard.

"Hang on, gimme - just let me-" Eddie grunts as he tries to pull off his sweatshirt too quickly, ends up twinging his shoulder, and has to do it more slowly.

"There," he says triumphantly. "Left shoulder blade, it says I'm never going to play this thing with you, man, you might as well stop asking."

Steve wrinkles his nose. "How do you know that was about this?"

"Because you're good at adjusting your words to make sure what you're saying isn't technically a lie, and this fits. I'm right, aren't I?"

Steve is looking at him like - well, like Eddie probably looked at Steve when Steve told him that he knew what it meant when Eddie's face shut down. Like he didn't realize Eddie noticed that about him, and Eddie almost lets himself get tripped up on it, but - no, he doesn't want to go there, doesn't want to let them get off track.

Instead, he just waggles his eyebrows at Steve, who groans.

"Okay, okay. I knew after I said it that those kids were going to wear me down sooner or later, I just didn't want them to know that."

Eddie scoots a little closer, until their knees are brushing together. "Have you played yet?"

Steve tips his head back, like he's looking to the heavens for support. "I played. Erica wanted to practice as a DM, so Robin, Dustin, and I played for her first game. And before you ask - yes, I did have a good time, but I don't really think it's something I'd want to do all the time."

Yeah, all right, that's fair enough, and it doesn't really put a damper on Eddie's glee. It means it's pretty likely that he could get Steve to play for a one-shot sometime, maybe even a short campaign.

If he's honest, part of him was a little worried that he might not look at D&D the same way after all of the comparisons to a campaign he was doing, but no, he feels the same excited energy that he has before. It's a relief to know that this wasn't taken from him.

Steve's tipped his head back down and is looking at him, now - or, more accurately, looking at his bare torso, eyes scanning a clear line from his neck and shoulders down to his waist, and back up again. Eddie's mouth goes dry, and abruptly he feels - self conscious? Hesitant? Some kind of nervous energy, which is stupid, because it's not like Steve Harrington would - but shit, Eddie knows the way Steve looked at him after washing his hair, he doesn't think he was so out of it that he could conjure that out of nowhere -

"Let me get the first aid kit," Steve says, pushing himself up.

And right, yeah, the first aid kit. For the bandages that Eddie almost forgot he was wearing, which is a far more likely reason that Steve was staring at his bare chest, except - well. Except there'd been a hunger in Steve's eyes, and Eddie doesn't think it's just because the guy was so damn eager to change out his bandages.

He drops it, though, reminds himself platonic over and over again until Steve comes back with his massive first aid kit.

Steve strips off his own sweater before he sits back down on the bed, and Eddie doesn't bother to try not to look. Now he doesn't have to feel bad about letting his gaze sweep over every bit of that perfect, hairy chest, eagerly reading any bit of writing he can see, and - wait.

"Can I?" Eddie asks, making grabby hands at him.

Steve looks down at himself, sees where Eddie had been staring - at I love it when coffee is so weak you can barely taste it just below his collarbone - and huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah, sure."

Eddie reaches out, just barely brushing over the words with his fingertips, and Steve sucks in a harsh breath.

"Bad?" Eddie asks, going still.

"No," Steve says. "Just different."

He's going to take that as permission to continue, so he keeps going, rubbing his thumb over If I could have a whole swarm of silverfish in my room, I'd be so happy on Steve's side. Steve shivers, and Eddie reminds himself - platonic.

"Here, let me-" Steve reaches down, carefully peeling off the bandages from around his stomach.

His demobat bites look a lot better than the last time Eddie saw them - less open and weeping, more stitched and healing, which makes Eddie give a soft sigh of relief.

There's ink leading up to one of the bites, looking like it got cut off, and Eddie leans in a little to see it better.

For your mo, it says, and Eddie barks out a laugh.

"For your modesty, dude," he says, lightly touching it with one fingertip. "It caught me. It was for my own sanity, I knew I was going to keep trying to see your writing."

Steve huffs out a little laugh. "I didn't even feel it."

"The gaping stomach wound probably edged it out a little," Eddie teases. "You feel it now?"

Steve's gaze catches and locks on his. "Yeah."

Eddie swallows. "You said it was different?"

Steve hums an affirmative. "From Robin's. It feels different when she touches her words."

Right.

Of course it does.

"How does hers feel?" he asks. He half fears it'll come out jealous, but - no, it just sounds curious, and he realizes that's mostly what he feels.

Curiosity, not jealousy.

"It's changed, but at first it was… fizzy," Steve says. "Like butterflies in your stomach, or drinking a beer too fast. Now it's like - holding hands in the rain, or the first drink of hot apple cider when it's cold. Like coming home."

Huh.

"Poetic," he says, half teasing and half sincere. "What does mine feel like?"

Steve considers that for a moment. "Electric," he decides. "Like static shock, or the moment before a first kiss. Or a metal guitar solo in the Upside Down," he adds slyly, then reaches out for him. "Can I…?"

"Yeah, uh, go ahead."

Steve's eyes scan over him again, like he's looking for something, and Eddie's gaze drops down automatically to his own torso. Which - is covered in gauze and medical tape, and at this point he's pretty sure there's more bandage showing than skin.

"Not a lot of real estate left, though," he says.

It comes out shakier than he'd meant it to, and he sucks in a ragged breath. If at least one of his lies on Steve had gotten cut off, he knows that means a decent number of the words on his own skin are gone.

Fuck.

He hasn't really looked at himself, but now he wonders which ones it is, what words he'll never see again. If it's the ones that he read over and over again, that made him smile so wide when he was fourteen, the ones that made him so fucking angry, the ones that scared the shit out of him. It shouldn't matter, he tells himself, because they aren't meant to have this many words between them anyway. It's supposed to mean there's something wrong with them, that there's too many lies to make things work, but - it's different, it means something else.

It's always meant something else, to Eddie.

"Hey," Steve's saying softly. "Eddie, hey, look at me."

Eddie nods, already preparing to hear Steve tell him that it's okay, that it's better this way, that less words are a good thing, and then looks up.

"I'm not taking my rain check now."

There's a sting somewhere on his lower back, and Eddie blinks at him.

"What?" he asks.

"My rain check," Steve repeats, like it's supposed to make more sense a second time. "To tell you the things I like about you. I'm not taking it right now."

Eddie's mouth goes dry, and he feels like he can't do anything but stare at him.

"I don't think you have a good heart," Steve says.

Lie, blooming over his spine.

"I don't think you're clever. I don't find you funny. I don't think you're really good with the kids. I don't think you're brave."

Each one of them a lie, writing themselves on Eddie's skin forever, and every one of them steals more and more of Eddie's breath. Fuck, if he keeps going, Eddie's going to kiss him, going to ruin this right after he found it.

"Steve," Eddie says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not proud of you."

"Touch me," Eddie blurts out, sounding a little strangled.

Steve's brows furrow, pupils blown wide as he looks at him.

Eddie forcibly wrangles his thoughts back into some semblance of order. "Didn't you want to…?" he trails off, gesturing at his own torso, jerking a thumb at his shoulder where he knows at least some writing is visible.

"Oh!" Steve swallows, looking like now he's the one who has to get his thoughts back in order. "Yeah, yeah I did."

He reaches out determinedly before Eddie can try to think too much into that, resting his palm flat on Eddie's chest for a moment - right over his heart, and Eddie wonders if he can feel how quickly it's beating, if he - then it slides up, smoothing over where some of his words peek out from under the bandages.

Fuck.

Despite Steve's halting poetry about how his soulmate touches felt, Eddie wasn't prepared for this. It feels like -

It feels like Steve's fingers running through his hair, blunt nails scratching over his scalp, little goosebumps shuddering over his skin. Like hot water washing everything away, strong hands cradling his head in their grip.

"Oh," he breathes out, not really meaning to, but his entire brain has just shut off.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, sounding pleased, and his hand sweeps up, stroking over any bit of soulmate ink he can find. "What's it feel like?"

"Like a hot shower after a week in the Upside Down," Eddie tells him, because that's true, and easier than admitting it feels like when Steve washed his hair for him.

Steve huffs out a little laugh. "Pretty damn good, then," he teases, then pulls his hand away. "Speaking of showers - we should both probably take one before we change these bandages. You want help with yours?"

Yes, fuck yes, he really does.

And yet -

"Nah," he says, and it's not a lie. He knows there's no way he can handle being in the shower with Steve after all this. "I can stand long enough now, I should be good."

If Eddie didn't know any better, he'd think there was a brief flash of disappointment in Steve's eyes. But he doesn't say anything, just helps him remove his bandages, gets out a clean set of clothes for him and gets the shower going.

"I'll be right outside, just yell if you need anything," Steve says before he steps out of the bathroom and leaves the door open a crack.

Eddie takes a few deep breaths before he looks at himself in the mirror. It's… not as bad as he was expecting, really. He'll have scars over his stomach, scattered across his chest, curving up to his neck, but it's no where near as bad as it could have been if the bats had been able to go at him even just a little longer.

He's lucky, in more ways than one.

The shower goes - fine. He manages. He can't really wash his hair, but he gets the rest of him okay, gets to look at Steve's shower products and grin a little at his shampoo and conditioner - Faberge Organics, with honey and wheat germ oil. When he's finished, he even manages to mostly towel off and get dressed, forgoing the shirt for the moment.

He pokes through the first aid kit while he waits for Steve to take his turn in the bathroom, not entirely surprised at how well stocked it is, considering everything.

When Steve's finished, Eddie insists on bandaging him up first, carefully wrapping them around his stomach and trying not to think about Nancy doing this for him in the Upside Down, or what he'd thought it might mean then, or what it means that Eddie's doing it for him now.

It means they're soulmates, and Steve trusts him. When it comes down to it, that's all that really matters.

When he's finished, Steve twists a little so Eddie can spread some ointment over his shoulders and back, hissing in sympathy at the healing skin there.

Steve slips on a short sleeved t-shirt, then returns the favor.

His hands brush over the words on Eddie's skin often enough that he's reasonably sure it's purposeful, especially because they linger on the ones that Steve'd just put on him.

Eddie huffs out a little laugh, more to diffuse the way the feeling keeps bubbling up inside him than anything else. "This a thing for you?" he teases.

To his surprise, Steve's ears go a little pink. "I mean, kind of? It's - nice. I know everyone says that having so many lies is bad, and it's supposed to mean more when you only have a few to touch like this, but…"

He trails off, but he looks like he wants to say more, so Eddie stays quiet as Steve finishes bandaging him up.

"Did you know you can get them removed?" Steve asks after he's done.

There's a surge of panic, and Steve must see it in his eyes, because Steve's own eyes widen.

"Shit, I'm sorry, that - wow, that was really bad timing, I can't believe I just said that when you-" he cuts off, gesturing at Eddie's torso. "I don't want to remove ours, I'd never remove them."

The panic fades, a little, though he still has to resist the urge to cup his hand over his own side, where some of his words are missing.

"I'm okay," he says after a moment. "You can keep going."

Steve frowns, looking uncertain.

"Please," Eddie adds. "I like it when you talk to me like this."

And that's the right thing to say, because it makes Steve light up a little.

"Okay," he says. "Just - let me know if it's too much, okay?"

Eddie nods.

"My parents never had any visible words, no matter what they wore," Steve continues after a moment. "It was a point of pride."

Of course it was. It usually is - that's not something exclusive to the rich. The fewer lies you have, the better your match is, everyone is supposed to want that.

"They always told me to be careful what I said, that my match was going to be someone like them, someone who didn't have lies between them. Said I would be messing up her life if I told too many lies and she had to have a visible mark. I believed them."

"What changed?" Eddie asks, before he can help himself.

Steve gives him a crooked little smile. "When I was like eleven or twelve, my mom got a few on her arm, where she'd have to wear long sleeves to hide them. Never knew what they said, but I saw them. I was… I don't know, shocked, I guess. I couldn't believe what happened. She wore long sleeves for a couple of days, and the next time I saw her arm, they were gone. I asked her what happened, and she just - looked at me, and told me it was nothing to worry about. 'The Harringtons aren't liars, sweetheart, those were a mistake.'"

Jesus Christ.

"I didn't really know what to think at first. But then I heard her and my dad fighting. She was yelling at him about the money she just wasted getting his little mistakes corrected." Steve's face mimics a cold expression, then, a haughty sneer at his lips as he says, "'What good is all that Harrington charm if you can't even get your little bimbos into bed with you without lying? The next time I see any words, that's the end of your trips alone.'"

He deflates, rubbing absently at the back of his neck. "It was like - the cheating wasn't even worth fighting about anymore, but the lying? That's when I started realizing that it was all about appearances with them."

Eddie's quiet for a long moment, fitting all of that into what he knows about Steve - and what he tried to figure out about his soulmate, all those years ago. "She was the one you lied to about being able to handle it by yourself."

That little crooked smile is back. "Yeah, after she started going with my dad on his business trips. I figured out how to handle it eventually. You, uh. You really helped a lot, you know, when you started talking to me. Made me feel like I wasn't alone."

Fuck if that doesnt make him feel all warm and pleased, knowing that Steve had gotten something out of it like Eddie did, even if it had gone sour for a while.

"My uncle helped me talk to you most of the time," Eddie admits. "I think he knew that it was probably going to go south at some point, but he wanted me to figure that out on my own, you know?"

Steve smiles. "Your uncle sounds like a good guy."

"He is," Eddie replies, trying to push past the twisting in his gut at the reminder that Uncle Wayne is out there with no idea what's happened to him right now. "Course, he also called us little jackasses with no impulse control."

That makes Steve laugh. "He was probably right," he says, eyes gleaming with mirth. "Anyway, I, yeah. It's how I figured out I had two soulmates, because Rob got freaked out at all the words appearing on her skin at first. It wasn't until we actually met that we figured out how we both really feel about them."

Eddie's breath catches, mouth going dry. He licks his lips, trying to work up enough saliva to speak. "How's that?"

Steve's quiet for a bit, brows scrunched just a little like he's trying to figure out how to put it into words. "They're a lifeline," he decides finally.

And what the fuck is Eddie supposed to do with that?

"So I just, yeah, it's kind of a thing for me." Steve runs his thumb over a scattering of ink on Eddie's sternum. "I get it."

Nope, no, Eddie is not equipped to handle this right now, not prepared to deal with the shuddering feeling that rocks into him with Steve's touch to some of his words at the same time that Steve just validated every feeling he's ever had about having so many lies splattered across his skin.

He sucks in a ragged breath, and just barely manages to get out, "Thanks. For, uh." Eddie clumsily jerks a hand at himself, vaguely in the direction of one of the lies that Steve had just said tonight.

"Yeah," Steve says, and fortunately for Eddie's everything, that's it.

Admittedly, Steve looks pretty drained, too, and Eddie gets the feeling that he's not the only one feeling wiped from this much emotional honesty.

With his soulmate.

He kind of thinks that exhaustion or not, there might be too much on his brain to sleep quickly tonight, but his brain has also apparently decided it would really rather just not.

It shuts off pretty much the second he's under the covers and flat on his back.

This ended up being the longest part so far, but I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! We're definitely winding down now - I anticipate probably six or so more parts to this and then it'll be wrapped up.

-----

Part 19

Tag list (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 @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 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie fic #steddie soulmate au #platonic soulmates stobin #soulmate confession #they talked about so many things and yet #mention of steve's less than stellar parents

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navybrat817 · 6 months

Note

How does Bucky handle you being sick? 🥺

I may have gone overboard, nonnie. 😂

Sick Day

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky takes care of you when you get a cold. He also takes care of the guy who may have given you a cold.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, humor, established relationship, reader has a cold, implied smut, interrogation, Bucky Barnes being a ridiculously wonderful boyfriend in love (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I don't know where this came from. Maybe a bit of inspiration from @inklore here. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When you had a hard time getting out of bed this morning due to a cold you caught at work, you tried to brush it off. Bucky immediately called in to take a personal day and said he had to take care of you, which forced you to take a sick day as well. It was for the best. You had a tendency to push yourself past your limit some days and he kept you in check.

You snatched a tissue out of the box beside you just in time to sneeze into it. With a pained groan, you scrunched up your face and dropped the tissue into the small pile in your lap. It took you a moment to sip your water, followed by your herbal tea. Though your throat was sore, you had to stay hydrated. You also had to get some rest.

Bucky wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“I hate this,” you mumbled to yourself before your boyfriend rushed into the living room to check on you, his piercing eyes searching the room as if to assess a threat.

“I heard you talking, baby. You need to rest your voice,” he said, adjusting the humidifier he set on the coffee table before his concerned gaze snapped back to you. “Wait. Do you need something? Do you not have enough blankets? I can get you more tea. Or I can put something on TV. Shit, where’s the writing pad?”

You tried not to smile as the massive shirtless supersoldier bustled around the room. He hadn’t seen you under the weather since the two of you started dating and you should’ve known he’d make a big deal out of it. Whether it had to do with growing up with Steve who dealt with all sorts of ailments or simply because it was his girlfriend feeling less than stellar, you weren’t sure. Either way, it was endearing to see the former Winter Soldier worked up over you.

He had nothing to worry about though.

“I’m fine,” you croaked before you went into a coughing fit.

Bucky’s eyes widened as he crouched beside you and brought the water back to your lips once you had yourself under control. His brows furrowed when he checked your forehead with his right hand, which made you fall in love with him a little more. You tried to tell him earlier to keep his distance so he didn’t get sick before he gently reminded you that he wasn’t exactly prone to catching colds thanks to the serum.

A silver lining from the pain he had to go through.

“You’re not fine. You’re sick. Well, you’re still 'fine',” he smiled a little, making your heart swell. “I used that in the right context, didn’t I?”

You almost went into another coughing fit as you giggled, the sound huskier and deeper than normal. “Only you would think I’m fine when I’m like this,” you said, reaching up to run your fingers through his silky chestnut hair. He hadn’t brushed it today. Too busy taking care of you. “And I’m not ‘sick’ sick. it’s just a cold.”

“It isn’t just a cold. Not to me,” he said, his jaw clenching as his vibranium fingers curled.

“I’ll be better before you know it,” you assured him, raising an eyebrow as his cheek twitched. “What’s the matter?”

Why is he getting himself worked up?

“I just don’t like you feeling any kind of pain,” he said, leaning up so he could press his lips to your forehead. He huffed as they lingered there. “I wish I could take it away and I can’t.”

It was a sweet sentiment, especially after everything he went through.

“I know you would if you could and it’s okay that you can’t,” you said. You understood where he was coming from though because you didn’t like the idea of him in pain either. He had a heart almost as large as his body and you were lucky to get a single ounce of his love. “Don’t worry, okay?”

“You’re my girl and it's impossible not to worry,” he said, a touch of possession and tenderness seeping into his tone. Belonging to him was as natural as breathing. “But I'll try to relax a bit.”

“As long as you try,” you said as he pressed another kiss to your forehead.

Your head tingled from his lips before you frowned. This close, you could usually get a whiff of his woodsy cologne. Your eyes welled up when you inhaled again and couldn’t smell him, doing your best to blink the tears away so he wouldn't catch them. It was silly that you suddenly missed the comfort of that smell because your nose was acting up.

He didn’t need your tears on top of that.

But, of course, he caught your sad sniffle, which sounded slightly different from your cold sniffle. His body stiffened, like a cobra ready to strike. “Tell me what’s wrong, even if I can’t physically fix it.”

God, I love this man.

“I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but I really miss the smell of your cologne,” you told him, your gaze probably nothing short of pathetic as you tilted your head to see his handsome face.

Your breath caught when he looked back at you and brushed a tear away with his thumb. There was nothing but love and adoration in those brilliant eyes of his. It made you feel lighter.

“That’s far from ridiculous because I smell amazing,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours to bring a smile to your face. “How about I spray the blankets after you take a nap and I make you some soup? That way my scent will be there even if you can't smell it.”

Tears clogged your throat as you gave him a nod, committing the moment to memory. You were used to going it alone before he came into your life. He couldn’t take the pain away, but he could make you feel better in ways that mattered to you. That likely comforted him just as much as it soothed you.

“That would be great,” you said, yawning a bit. “Can we watch a movie after my nap?”

“We'll watch whatever you want.”

You pulled him close so he could join you on the couch, knowing that his muscular and warm frame against yours would feel just as comforting and safe as the blanket that covered you. And he relaxed and quickly accepted your wordless invitation to wrap his arms around you, keeping you in his loving embrace. It was home and always would be.

“Thank you for taking care of me,” you said, closing your eyes as you nuzzled your head against his bare chest. “I love you.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” he promised, his vibranium hand moving in slow circles along your back as you began to drift off. “I love you, too.”

You let out a happy moan before you said one more thing. “And hunt down the person who gave me this cold, okay?”

With your eyes shut, you didn’t see the determination written all over his face. “You got it, baby.”

You were right as rain and back to work a couple of days later, thanks to Bucky caring for you and some much needed rest. Not even an hour into your shift though, Steve requested for you to meet him in the second lower level. You didn't hide your surprise as that was usually reserved for interrogations.

Which was exactly why he called you down there.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked into the viewing room. Steve, Sam, Natasha, and Tony all looked your way, but didn't give you any sort of response. “Seriously, what's up?”

“You don't know?” Natasha responded, nodding toward the glass.

You followed her gaze with a gasp as you saw Bucky tower over some blonde male agent in the cell. Your boyfriend was almost unrecognizable with his face devoid of any emotion, dominant and on the edge of terrifying. It was a far cry from the loving side you were privy to, yet you loved this side of him just the same.

“Buck dragged John down here a few minutes ago,” Steve explained in a quiet voice as he punched the bridge of his nose. “Said something about him hurting you.”

You tilted your head as you looked at John, recognizing him after a second due to his punchable face. “Him? No. He didn't hurt me. He just bumped into me the other day in the break room,” you explained. Which wasn't that big of a deal to you, but probably offensive to Bucky. “But he didn't apologize.”

He also had a cold.

Oh, no.

“So, you had nothing to do with this?” Sam asked, chuckling as you lifted your chin.

“No, I didn't,” you replied as you bit your lip. “At least, I don't think I had anything to do with this.”

Your heart raced faster when Bucky pushed the sleeves of his shirt up and gripped John by the collar, the veins in his right arm popping out. You wished you could lick them. Maybe later.

“I know it was you, you piece of shit,” he said, roughly shoving the agent back into his chair. “You got my girl sick.”

Oh, Bucky.

You stared straight ahead as you felt the group collectively look your way, refusing to react under their stares. “Before any of you say another word, this is definitely not my fault,” you stated.

“Of course it isn't,” Natasha smirked. She knew Bucky loved to play the hero on your behalf even though you could take care of yourself. “Just enjoy the show.”

Your mouth fell open as your boyfriend slammed his left fist on the table, leaving a sizable dent as John nearly fell backwards in his chair. This guy was an agent? He was either new to interrogations or simply scared shitless of the former assassin.

Maybe both.

But you ignored him as you shifted your attention back to your beefy, perfect boyfriend.

When you had mumbled for him to find the person who gave you the cold, you didn’t think he’d actually do it. You weren’t sure how he narrowed down to John, but the former assassin was resourceful and you should've known he'd take you seriously. And, fuck, if it wasn’t slightly mortifying on your behalf and hot as hell watching him in action.

“That cold you gave her made her cry. You made my girl cry. Do you know what I do to guys like you who make my girl cry?” Bucky said through his teeth, bringing his fist down on the table again as John flinched and you smiled. With all the strength he possessed, you never had to worry that he'd hurt you. But you couldn't say the same for the frightened agent. “You're about to find out.”

You didn't think you could love Bucky more after he helped you get over your cold, but he proved you wrong.

And you could now add Bucky threatening people to your list of things that made you dreamily sigh and tingle between your thighs.

“Look, I'm sorry. I’m sorry! All I did was bump into her. It was an accident!” John shouted, putting his hands up in surrender and trembling when Bucky stood to his full height and cracked his neck. Your boyfriend waited a beat before he grabbed one of his hands and began to twist, making the agent pale as you bit back a whimper. “Fuck, stop! I won’t even breathe around her again. I’ll hold my breath! Just let me go!”

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Tony asked you, taking out his phone to type a quick message as you hummed. Maybe you were enjoying it. How many guys went out of their way to scare someone who possibly gave you a cold? “Does the Manchurian Candidate know how much I’ll have to pay to keep this guy from suing him?”

“We can tell him it was a prank?” Steve suggested, bringing another laugh out of Sam as Natasha shook her head.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he flung the hand away, his hair falling in his eyes as you held your breath. He looked like a wild animal, untamed and stunning. “I should choke you. Make you see how long you can really hold your breath before you pass out,” he snarled as John rubbed his sore skin.

Steve snuck a glance at you, his cheeks a little pink when you put a hand to your throat. “I don't want to overstep because you're my best friend's girl, but you do know you just moaned, right?” He whispered low enough for only you to hear.

Oops.

“Oh, my god,” you groaned, putting your warm face in your hands to hide your embarrassment for a moment. “Is anyone going to stop him?!”

“Why haven’t you stopped him?” Natasha countered knowingly.

Because I’m too busy thinking of how I’m going to suck his dick so good later that I'll make him see God.

You took a breath as the ache between your legs got stronger and pressed the button beside the glass. “Bucky?”

He swung his head toward the glass and met your gaze even though he couldn’t see you. No matter what, he’d always be able to spot you. “Hey, baby. I found the prick who gave you a cold. Want me to beat the shit out of him?” he bragged as John paled.

“I love you,” you giggled from how sweet and ridiculous he was. “And no. I appreciate you defending me, but I think you can let him go.”

Tony playfully rolled his eyes when Bucky grinned. “Your crazy matches his crazy.”

True.

“Okay. I love you, too,” Bucky said in a light tone, his smile falling the second he looked back at John and smacked the table against the wall with a clang. The agent looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Next time you see my girl, apologize and walk away. And the next time you have a cold, stay the fuck home or you'll answer to me.”

Yeah. I’m going to suck the soul from his body to thank him for everything the moment we get home.

And maybe the two of you could take another sick day to spend the day in bed.

Totally normal boyfriend, right? Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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kiwisbell · 6 months

Text

Las Mañanas || Chapter 1 [javier peña]

She’s a waitress in a little café. He’s a DEA agent who likes the coffee. Just the coffee. That’s all. Or, slices of life (and sometimes pie) shared between Javi and his wife, including his tireless journey to making her his wife.

series masterlist | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: coffee shop AU if you squint really hard, reader has a shitty husband, domestic violence, mentions of sex work, soft and sweet!javi, protective!javi, grumpy!javi, simp!javi tbh, alcohol, smoking, javier pines like a mf, FLIRTING, referenced PIV (protection implied), food as sexual tension, angst, so much fluff, some light touching, steve being a little shit, nobody fucks with javi's girl, overuse of spanish pet names, poorly-translated spanish, "she" pronoun used throughout

word count: ~ 8.8k

a/n: HOORAY! it begins! since this is my oldest fic, it lacks some polish, but neverthless!! i'll be posting new chapters every couple days so your dashboards don't get clogged up, but i sincerely hope you enjoy this series!! to my lovely friends who have already read this series and given it so much love, words cannot express how much i appreciate you. to my newcomers, i am kissing you through my screen rn for giving this fic a chance. i hope you like!! xoxo

chapter one: for all the coffee beans in colombia

The café, Las Mañanas, makes stellar coffee. Javier Peña knows this; everyone in Bogotá knows this. That’s why he comes in at seven o’clock every morning and pays 30 pesos for a cup. Black. Then he sits at a table and sips it while he watches her move. He leaves at seven-thirty and clocks in at the Embassy ten minutes later. He does it again the next morning.

Two months ago, he would come in twice a week. Two weeks later, three times. Now, it’s daily. He thinks he might have an addiction, but so does every other bastard in the city. It’s not his fault the coffee wakes him up just right, striking his tired bones like hammers and making him sit upright all day, alert as a rearing cobra.

She’s got eyes like that: bright, sharp. They cut incisions into early-morning brain fog and part the haziness like curtains. Then she sutures the edges with that smile and turns every man in the café complacent, cheery, harmless. Javier goes for the coffee, but it’s nice to look at her. It’s not his fault she’s so nice to look at.

She doesn’t own the place. Her boss is a family friend and doesn’t share her last name; he knew her father, who died. The records don’t say how, and Javier had to sneak out before he could find out more. Technically, he wasn’t allowed to be snooping around in records that didn’t have explicit relevance to his job, but he was just being safe.

He knows this because he likes to know things. He’s proactive. It reassures him to know that his thorough background checks on each employee and regular produced nothing of concern, that she’s around safe, innocent people all day. When she brings his coffee to him, she smiles at him, and her eyes shine. He knows that when he leaves for work, she’s safe. It’s real fucking hard to be safe in Bogotá these days.

Javier drinks. The coffee goes down hot, always the same temperature, always strong. He lifts a cigarette to his lips, watches her, lights it. He keeps it in his mouth when she raises her eyes from her notepad at the counter and smiles. From this corner of the café, he has a perfect view of her. She’s relaxing to watch. She walks with a sway to her hips; she bags pastries so delicately it’s like they’re strapped with C4; she writes little notes on her customers’ receipts and her handwriting is impeccable. He keeps his receipts.

She puts her lip between her teeth and worries it, like she’s debating something in her head, pen pausing over paper. Javier narrows his eyes playfully at her, and then she moves. She ties her apron tighter around her waist, tucks her hair behind her ear with the pen, and grabs something from behind the counter before she’s moving. Toward him.

Javier panics for a moment, but he feels stupid when he does. He forces himself to adjust minimally, sitting up straighter and tucking his cigarette to the corner of his mouth. She’s carrying a pastry bag. “Here,” she says, “for when you leave.”

Her honeyed voice seeps bone-deep. They speak in English, but he’s heard her use the local colour with her patrons. “What’s the occasion?” he asks her.

“I want to see how long the poison takes to activate inside a human body.” She thrusts the bag out farther. “It’s a thank-you. Empanadas. New recipe.”

Javier takes it, looks inside. “You poison all your customers, or am I special?” he says, inhaling the fresh burst of warmth. “These smell incredible.”

“I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

“God, no.”

“More coffee?”

He glances at his watch. 7:23. “I can’t,” he says, and it gives him pause when his voice carries a faint whine. “Work.”

She bites her lip again. Instinct tugs his eyes down to it. “You’re certainly the most mysterious customer I’ve ever had.”

He stands up so he can look down at her, puffing at his cigarette. She puckers her lips and blows the smoke away from her face with a teasing glare. “And the only one special enough to try the new recipe for free,” he says lowly. “Isn’t that right?”

She shoves the bag into his chest and rolls her eyes, beckoning him back toward the counter. “Who said it was free?” she says, looking back at him over her shoulder. It stops him, stunned, in his tracks.

He comes back the next day. He makes sure to learn her name this time.

At some point in the seven months since he first entered the café, Javier makes a friend.

He does not remember how it happened. His life is not conducive to friendship. But this half-hour routine inside the café doesn’t give a shit about his life. She’s begun to call his name when he steps through the door.

“Javier!” She shimmied around her coworker as she hurriedly untied her apron. He barely had time to open his mouth before she continued, “I took my break early. Now come on, I made churros.”

“Fuck, cariño, I think I’ve gained ten pounds since I met you.”

She just grinned at him and shooed him toward his usual table while she grabbed a plate with two sweet-smelling churros on it. “My father would say that’s a good thing. Go, go!”

He obeyed her without further complaint and put out his cigarette so he could sip at the coffee that was already steaming on his table. She slid into the chair across from him. He knew churros for breakfast were a terrible decision for his digestive system, but he physically could not refuse her. Her leg bounced excitedly when he picked one up and took a bite. He closed his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re fucking magic. Where did you learn to bake like this?”

She grinned and took a bite of her own churro. He noticed she liked to hold her free hand underneath her chin to catch any residue that would make a mess of her apron; preventative measures. She was careful, meticulous. “My father lived in Spain most of his life; he taught my sister and I to cook from the second we were able to walk.” Her head tilted as she watched him eat, her smart eyes travelling in latitudes across his face like she was memorising a script, line by line. “I’m lucky to see other people fall in love with my food the same way I loved his.” She smiled suddenly, warm. “You’ve got churro dust in your moustache, viejo.”

He raised a brow. “You learn enough Spanish for that, huh, smartass?”

The bell above the door chimes when he walks through. She’s tending to a customer at the back of the room, but she looks over her shoulder. Smiles and waves. Gestures with her eyes to his usual table.

His table, which now has a very new, very handmade sign on top of it: RESERVED.

Javier sits down and touches the black ink. It smudges on his finger.

“I almost had to rugby-tackle Jorge for sitting there during his break,” she says when she arrives.

“All this for me?” He clicks his tongue. “Bad for business.”

“You’re a paying customer, viejo,” she says teasingly. “You are business.”

Javier slides his sunglasses off his nose and stares her down, dropping his voice all low and mean. “You better knock that nickname habit quick, baby. Could get you in trouble.”

“More trouble than the man who comes in every morning with a gun in his pants?” She bites her lip when she grins. “I think I’ll be okay. Oh, and here’s your coffee.”

She places a mug in front of him, snatches the RESERVED sign from his hand, and carries it with her to the counter.

“What is it you do at your big, scary, gun-totin’ job, anyway?” she asks as his coffee pours. He’s at the counter, waiting this time, knowing no one’s going to take his table. Not if they know what’s good for them, what with the leopard behind the counter.

Javier lights his cigarette. “Don’t wanna have to kill you.”

She cocks her head. “Can’t kill me, viejo. Who’d make your coffee?” She leans in real close and whispers, “Jorge can’t treat you like I can.”

He does not focus on the way her breath knocks against each knob of his spine.

“Janitorial services,” he blurts out, not so much suavely, “at the Embassy.”

“Hmm. Didn’t know they let janitors carry guns nowadays, but I guess there’s always something new to learn.”

“Tell me something about you,” he says.

“My doctor says I’ll never be able to get the smell of coffee out of my nose.”

Javier laughs, plucking the dish rag from her hands so she stops cleaning the counter and looks him in the eye instead. “Gonna need more than that. Tell me something I don’t know, cielito.”

She flushes. “You have to pay extra for that.”

“Then pour one on me,” he says, sliding the coffee pot toward her.

A wicked smile overcomes her face, one she tries to tame by chewing on the inside of her cheek. She spots a customer waving her down, so she turns quickly to Javier and says, “Give me two minutes. Pour it for me.”

He fills the cup she’s just cleaned until it’s almost overflowing.

The first day something goes wrong, Javier is unprepared.

She’s all smiles and flowy skirts when he walks in the door, but he feels out of sorts when he spots the men she’s pouring coffee for—mostly because he recognises them, and they’ve never been in here before.

His heart swoops down into his gut when he remembers where he’s seen their three faces before.

It stings to watch her smile falter when he ignores her familiar greeting for him, pretending like he doesn’t know her. He heads straight for the counter, sits down, waits twenty seconds, and then accidentally knocks a mug to the floor.

A few people idly turn, but it’s her excusing herself to clean up the mess that matters. He lowers himself to the ground with her when she grabs the broom and dustpan. “Keep smiling at me,” he says under his breath. “Don’t let your face change.”

“Javier…” His name is an exhale from her mouth. “What’s going on?”

“Those men are involved in some bad shit, and I don’t want you in it.”

To her credit, she does not look at the three men at the table, nor do her eyes widen, her mouth drop. He knows her mind is chewing on this, working it through, judging whether or not she can trust him. At last, still cleaning up the ceramic shards, she asks, “What do I do, Javi?”

That’s his girl. “I need you to take your break until they’re gone. Can you do that for me?”

She breaths out a yes and looks up at him for one brief moment. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she whispers. “Paying customer, remember?”

“Always and forever, baby. Now go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She stands up with the dustpan and thanks him loudly, that bright smile still on her face. She takes the broken mug into the back room, and she does not reappear.

Javier has backup waiting when the three narcos leave, filled with his waitress’s coffee and pastries. Javier stays inside, sipping his own coffee. They won’t know he called for backup. They’ve never seen his face. But they’ll be ambushed once they’re a safe distance from the café, and they’ll go away in handcuffs for the couple kilos of cocaine inside the trunks of their taxis.

Javier comes in the next day and expects her to cuss him out. She’s had every opportunity to call the police, to report him for being somehow involved with bad men, to ban him from her little safe haven. Instead, she just sets down the coffee at his table and shakes her head.

“Janitor, my ass.”

He wishes he could shut his mouth every now and then, but he finds himself telling her the truth about his job before he can think to stop.

He rationalises.

He owes her this much. The strange men may not have harmed her, but in a line of work like Javier’s, people have to learn to be cautious. In his case, he may have been uber-cautious, but his senses become a whirlpool when it comes to her.

She takes it all in stride, same as yesterday. She’s a rapt listener, tuning out the world as he stumbles through the truth, and when he’s done, when he thinks he’s laid out all she needs to know for now, she nods. She understands.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says, unusually sombre, brushing a knuckle under his chin the way he does her.

“Can’t stand the thought of you mad at me, cielito.” It’s the truth—he thinks he would forsake all his manliness and beg on his knees for forgiveness.

But he doesn’t need to do that with her. “It was scary, Javi,” she says earnestly, “but it would’ve been a lot scarier if you weren’t there, talking me through it.”

He grins up at her where she stands on the other side of the counter. “Any chance that means free churros for life?”

She hums like she’s pondering the thought. “For you, viejo? That’s only two more years at your tender age.”

Javier leans in close to her and glares. “Keep it up, honey.”

She drums her fingers on the side of his mug and smirks. “Plan to. More coffee, Agent Peña?”

She’s talking to another man when Javier walks into the café. He’s average height and muscled, around her age or a bit older, wearing a black leather jacket that matches the beard and hair on his head (the stuff that’s not greying), and he’s speaking rapidly, tautly. She keeps shaking her head, her lips pressed tightly together, furiously wiping down the counter and nudging his elbows away when he tries to set them down. Javier tries to eavesdrop, but they’re speaking too quietly, interrupting one another, so he settles into his chair at the back with his sunglasses still on his nose. And he watches carefully.

He's never seen this man before. He isn’t a customer, and his scowling face was not one Javier had combed through during his dubiously ethical background checks. It unsettles him enough to lean forward in his seat when the man abruptly tears the rag from her hand. Javier instinctively reaches for the gun in his waistband, but he will not fire here. He bites down on his cigarette when she aggressively wipes under her eyes and storms into the back room. Moments later, she emerges with her purse, fishes out a wad of cash, and throws it square at the man’s chest. He leaves once the money is tucked inside his pockets.

Javier approaches the counter with his coffee. She is visibly shaking, but she smiles at him like he’s a relief to see. “Javi,” she says in one long exhale. “Good morning.”

“Thought you might like some company,” he says, setting down his mug.

He doesn’t press her to tell him about what he’s seen, even though he knows she saw him walk in. Her shoulders loosen. “I… I didn’t have time to make you something, Javi.”

Her eyes are watering, and her irises undulate like they’re caught in a swell. Not for the first time in seven months, Javier reaches out and touches her. Lays a hand atop hers and squeezes her fingers. “You’re gonna make me fat, cielito,” he says softly.

She doesn’t let the tears fall. She just laughs and rolls her eyes, her cheeks warm.

It’s another month before Javier sees the man again.

Javier has been very good at keeping his life behind a wall, and while it’s obvious she notices, she doesn’t press him. He is profoundly stupid to give her the information he does; he’s told her about his father (she smiles like she’s remembering an old friend), bitched about Murphy (constantly), and told her about his hobbies. He told her that he reads in his spare time, even though nobody expects him to and fucking backwoods-hillbilly Murphy gives him constant shit for it. She knows he likes Tolkien, that he’s a fan of Lewis and Fleming. She gives him shit for reading so many “manly” books, but she laughs while she does it, and the corners of her eyes crinkle.

He knows he is older than her. She’s never read Tolkien. He finds himself promising things. He’s going to lend her his copies. He wants to share his interests with her, to watch her face light up with excitement when she tells him how much she loves Marilyn Monroe and Gloria Estefan and Selena.

She moved to Colombia two years ago, but he doesn’t know why. There is the switch. He’s found it: the moment of closure, when her spine stiffens and her smile trembles in an effort to hold on. Everyone has their switches. Javier understands.

But for the first time since he came to Bogotá, he wants to know someone. He wants to get attached. He wants a friend. Why the fuck shouldn’t he have that?

“Javi.”

He looks at her over the rim of his mug. “Hmm.”

She bites down on her smile. “It’s seven-thirty.”

Shit. He says as much, downs the rest of his coffee (she watches him with a raised brow), and begins to haul his jacket over his arm. He’ll have to put it on on the move; he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave now.

The bell above the door chimes.

He’s dressed the same as last time, but Javier knows his clothes are expensive. When he doesn’t see her at the counter, he peers through the employees’ door, then scans the café until he spots her, sitting across from Javier.

He stalks over and goes off immediately. “Whoring around, guapa? Haven’t you learned your lesson?”

He doesn’t even spare a glance toward Javier.

She looks more angry than embarrassed. “Nicolás, you need to leave.”

Javier settles back into his seat. No way in fucking hell he’s leaving her alone with him.

His dark eyes blaze at the woman, and he crowds her space, frowning. “I’m not signing.”

“We’ve talked about this,” she says calmly, though her skin is stretched over her knuckles as her hands clasp each other.

“You don’t just get to leave me.” The man’s scowl deepens, and when he grabs her by the wrist, she yelps, slapping a free hand over her mouth so nobody notices.

Well, Javier sure as fuck notices.

Last time, he stayed back, let the situation diffuse. He didn’t want to make a scene, didn’t want her to be uncomfortable. This time, he doesn’t give a shit.

This time, Javier sees red.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

He stands up and clasps his own hand around the man’s wrist.

“I don’t see you letting her go,” he says gruffly. “Let’s try again.”

“You fucking son of a bitch, trying to tell me what to do with my wife,” grunts the man, letting go of her wrist with a jolt. She stands up and pushes him squarely in the chest.

“I am not. Your. Wife,” she says, spitting a large glob of saliva in his face. “Sign the papers, Nicolás. I don’t love you. I don’t even give a shit about you.”

Nicolás moves like he plans to smack her across the face, but Javier is quick—and itching to knock him unconscious.

The punch cracks his jaw. He howls while the owner emerges from the back room and another customer helps drag Nicolás out the door. They throw him on the street and cuss him out. Javier shrugs on his jacket and sniffs, feeling accomplished.

“Cielito,” he mutters, offering his hand. Trembling (more with rage than fear, he suspects), she holds out her wrist and he gently prods around the area, feeling for disturbances. She winces, but it will only bruise. Still—

“I should have been faster.”

“Javier,” she whispers. “Don’t start.”

He lets out one frustrated sigh through his nose and nods. “Is it a judgment against your character if I say you married a complete fucking asshole?”

She laughs softly, like sad little bells. “Wasn’t my choice in the first place.”

He frowns down at her. “Cielito—”

“You’re already late for work, Javi. They’re gonna chew you out.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, brushing a knuckle over her chin. “I’ll lay on my charm.”

She hums. “Maybe you’re the asshole, Javier Peña.”

It’s been a year since he met his waitress. Tonight, for the first time, he pictures her face to make himself come.

He’s in the shower when it happens. Standing under the stream of hot water, he's unable to quell the image that bubbles up in his hindbrain. He imagines her lips around him as he hardens, and when he takes himself in his hand and juts out his hips roughly, he grunts, pretending he’s pushing past the seal of her pretty lips. Her face—so beautiful, so smiling and kind—sweaty and ruined, more radiant than ever. Her body: its curves and its delectable softness, its taste like coffee beans and flowers, if he can imagine it. The tempting, unknowable skin under that waitress’s uniform. He wants to make her feel good. He wants to lick every inch of her, savour every drop of her wetness when he gets her ready to take him. Tangy sweetness, twilight and the calm of the water at dusk. Flashes of teeth, lips, skin.

That's it, baby. You can take me. I’ll make you feel good.

Javier… A rush of breath, the distant cry of a swan over the water. Please.

He doesn’t think until he’s spilling over his hand and the wall, harder than he’s come in a long time, of how wrong this is. How wrong of him to imagine a claim on her body, her life. Underneath the steaming hot water, his mind sharpens. He wants her, and he feels so filthy for it.

He turns up the heat some more and lets himself scald.

Seeing her in the little café after fucking himself to the thought of her naked is a surreal experience. He’s never even seen the more intimate areas of her; she wears an apron and a dress, and he can only ever see her knees, her arms, her collarbones. But now he wants to trace them with his fingers, watch them hollow out when she inhales, watch the curve in her throat as she swallows and sighs. He wants to get on his knees and lift up her dress so he can make her fall apart on his tongue. He’s fucked everything up.

Him and his stupid goddamn dick.

“I’ve figured it out,” she says triumphantly, sitting down at his table across from him. There’s a cup of coffee for both of them; he figures she’s taken her break. Which means she likes to spend this half-hour with him. Which means she likes him.

“What have you figured out?” he asks, pushing his sunglasses further down his nose to peer at her.

“That DEA disguise might work for you, but I see all.” She reaches for his glasses and puts them on her own face, pantomime-lighting a cigarette. “You’re a spy, Agent Peña,” she says mischievously.

He really, truly, desperately wants to kiss her.

The sunglasses slip down her face, so he pushes them onto the top of her head. Stares her in the eyes. “You got me, honey. What are you gonna do, huh? Lock me up?”

“How much money can I get for a spy?” she muses. “Guess it depends how good you are.” Her eyes narrow when a grin slithers up the corner of his mouth. “Javier, do not—”

“Oh, I’m very good,” he says, toasting his cup of coffee.

With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her own cup in toast, and takes a sip. The sight of her lips on the rim while she meet his eyes is enough to make Javier wish he owned looser jeans.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

Her eyes ask the same question, but she phrases it sweetly, the way she always does. She’s a fucking tonic to his bones and the reason he’s so goddamn tense. “Blinking is very important, you know.”

He does just that, clearing his vision and letting her come back into sharp focus. The morning sunlight adorns her skin like jewellery. She’s a vision. Even someone with a single sense out of the five could tell how beautiful she is, but it doesn’t make his life any easier. It doesn’t lower his heart rate, doesn’t cool him down, and it definitely doesn’t help the tightness in his pants.

He fucks his hand in a bathroom at the Embassy, and then he brings an informant home and fucks her, too. He makes sure she enjoys it when she’s on her hands and knees, because all he’s doing is picturing his waitress. He hates himself for the way it makes him grasp her a bit tighter, pump her a bit harder: imagining her syrupy whines, her flushed chest, her smooth skin all for him. He tunes out the noises she makes and pretends it's her. When he makes her come, he pictures her brows scrunching up, her eyes squeezing shut when she can't take the pleasure he gives her. He’d make his girl real happy, make her satisfied and dazed and fucking drooling.

Javier completes the transaction and cleans up in the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror for a long while, at his dishevelled hair and his tired eyes. Sex didn’t help.

She’s still in his blood. She’s in his system for good.

He doesn’t want a quick fuck. He wants her: his friend, his secret. His girl, whether she knows it or not.

The next day, she’s working on the books when he comes up to the counter, a pair of glasses perched on her nose, so engrossed she doesn’t even notice he’s arrived until he sits down.

She’s so fucking cute, he thinks, with her glasses and her thinking face, brows pinched together. But she smiles up at him like always. “Good morning, Javier.”

His mind is really a bastard, feeding him flashbacks of last night's wet dream. On her knees, taking him so well, so perfect, on her back while he left marks that would let everyone know she'd been fucked and who’d done it, on top of him, writhing and gasping and collapsing next to him. In his dream, he kissed the top of her head, laced their fingers together, and mumbled how well she’d done until they both fell asleep.

“Morning,” he says. “Don’t you have people for that?”

She huffs. “We’re short-staffed. Which means there’s me, one other cook, and Jorge. So I’m stuck making sure we won’t get audited.”

Javier whistles lowly. “Jorge’s got a real soldier working for him.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. He likes making her nervous. “Maybe if you say that to his face, he’ll give me a raise.”

“You need money?”

Fucking moron, he thinks. Way to scare her off. Her eyes widen, but then she’s saying, “Oh, Javi, no. I’m doing all right. I promise. Just some… marital strain.”

His jaw may snap off if he clenches it any tighter. He can’t meet her eyes when he asks, “He been bothering you?”

It doesn’t piss him off that she’s married. She hates the guy, never wants to see him again. She’s been trying to get him to sign the divorce papers for over a year. What pisses him off is that any mention of her husband sucks her cheer away like blood from a wound. Javier has a real problem with someone making her frown.

She rests her cheek in her palm. “Every time I try to pay him off, he comes back saying it wasn’t enough, that he can’t afford a lawyer. Which is bullshit, by the way. He makes a hell of a lot more than me.”

“What does he do?”

She shutters off again, looks back down at her books. “It’s not a moral sort of work.”

Javier would know all about that.

“Oh!” she says suddenly, whirling around, the glimmer in her eye back again. “I forgot—I made you something.”

His chest feels tight. “ Bonita—”

She slides the books aside and places down a piece of blueberry pie. “You can’t say no,” she says, producing two forks, “because I’m helping you eat it.”

He’ll prod about her shitty husband later. For now, Javier enjoys the half-hour he has with her. They finish the pie in minutes.

Steve Murphy is a dick.

Javier knows it was a mistake to bring her up to him, because now Murphy has forgotten all his paperwork for the night, and he’s got his eyes set on making his partner’s life hell.

“Does she know you got those narcos arrested a few weeks ago?”

“She’s not stupid, Steve.”

“Do you know her last name?”

“Yes.”

“Is that because you told her, or because you stole her personal file?”

“Murphy, if you don’t shut up—”

“You’re not fucking her, are you?”

For some reason, that pisses him off the most. Javier grits his teeth. “Knock it off.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. Jesus, Javi.” When he leans back in his chair, he’s still watching Javier with a smile spreading slowly across his face. “You really aren't.”

Javier puffs his cigarette and tries not to fly across his desk at his partner. “And how do you know that?”

“’Cause if you didn’t respect her so damn much, you wouldn’t get all defensive.” Murphy whistles lowly. “You’re so fucked, Peña.”

Javier doesn’t look up from his typewriter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, man. You don’t wanna fuck any random girl.” Murphy hides his mocking laugh with his hand. “You want to fuck your friend.”

Javier flicks his cigarette and it smacks Murphy in the cheek. “Pendejo.”

Murphy’s still laughing when Javier grumbles about going somewhere. He doesn’t even know where he’s planning to go, but it’s his lunch break and he needs fresh air. He definitely doesn’t want to linger on the reality that Murphy is right.

There’s a market across the street and down a block from the Embassy, which itself is a block away from the café. It’s not strange that she’s there, tediously browsing apples like choosing the wrong one will poison her customers, but Javier’s heart still kicks up, watching her as he waits for the traffic to clear.

She’s real fucking pretty in the daylight. Her hair is down, no longer in its clean ponytail, and the breeze picks it up like it’s watching her, too. She smiles at the vendors she passes; some call out to her, trying to sell or flirt. Javier crosses the street and gets giddy at the thought of seeing her outside.

He strolls up behind her and watches her inspect an apple. “If you stare any harder, it’ll wither.”

A little gasp leaves her mouth. “Javi!” she says brightly, eyeing him without a modicum of shame, her hand over her brows to shield herself from the sunlight. “So this is how you look in the light.”

She’s dressed in a flowy skirt that forms around her thighs when a breeze rolls by, and her shirt shows more of her cleavage than he’s ever seen before. He knows she notices his gaze lingering, but he doesn’t particularly care to look away. Watching her roll her eyes above his sunglasses delights Javier to no end. “You’ll get arrested walking around like this, cariño,” he says, leaning in real close and feeling her shiver when his breath reaches her ear.

She steps backward and holds onto the lapel of his jacket. “If you’re going to flirt with me, Javier, do it while you help me shop. I don’t have all the time in the world like you and your fellow superheroes.”

It only spurs him on. He lifts the canvas tote off her shoulder. “Fine by me,” he says. “What are the apples for?”

“Pie,” she says, picking two more apples from the cart. “You ever bake?”

“I cherish my place too much; don’t wanna see it burn down.” He steps in front of her when she reaches into her pocket to pay the vendor, slapping his own pesos into the man’s hand. She slowly lowers her hand and smiles at him in thanks. He lets her put the apples in the bag. “You want to teach me?”

Her face glows at the thought. “You’d really want to learn?”

It feels so good to make her happy that Javier doesn’t give a shit if Murphy finds out he offered to bake with this girl. “Will you put your hands over mine to show me how to knead the dough?”

Her hand trails across his stomach when she passes him. “Anything you want, honey,” she says.

Javier feels like he’s in high school again. He shuts his eyes for a moment to reset his brain, since the imprint of her hand on him shut it off. When his eyes are open again, she’s three vendors away. Javier scrambles to catch up with her. “So,” he says, “come here often?”

“Don’t you have a job to get back to?” she says. “You and your big, scary bloodhounds.”

“They only allow one bloodhound for a partner, and he’s pissing me off. Besides, how could I just let you walk around by yourself out here? It’s dangerous.”

She pokes him in the stomach. “You’re the dangerous one, Peña.”

She stops between two vendors’ carts and stares up at him with her hands on her hips. For a moment, Javier worries he’s in trouble, and he’s about to open his mouth to apologise, when she asks, “Are you free tonight?”

It is frankly humiliating how fast he blurts out a yes.

“Good,” she says plainly. “I’ll teach you how to bake.”

Javier is practically salivating when he arrives at her door for dinner. There are two reasons for it.

One: whatever she’s cooking smells incredible. It’s a lot fucking nicer than the shit he eats at home—on the rare nights he remembers to eat after all the long nights at work.

Two: she’s dressed in loungewear. It’s a pair of shorts and a too-large sweatshirt. It should not make him half-hard. But she’s adjusting the bun on top of her head when she opens the door and beams at him and Christ, he’s going to be lucky if he lasts the night without excusing himself to his car to relieve his situation like a horny teenage boy.

A grin splits her face, and she leans on the door. “You brought flowers.”

He did. He thrusts them out in front of him and grimaces, his face warm. “You like lilies.”

“Yeah,” she says softly, squeezing the hand that holds the bouquet of white flowers, “I do. Come in, Javi.”

He thinks of himself as a gentleman where it counts, so he bites his tongue when he takes in the state of her apartment. She isn’t messy—she’s clearly done her best to keep up appearances, despite the fact there are leaks bleeding down the walls and peeling wallpaper and her bed is mere feet from the puny bathroom. Javier feels suddenly embarrassed by his own swanky place, set up for him by the DEA. He’s hit with a burst of cold air when he enters the room, and she crosses the room, flowers in hand, to fiddle with the thermostat.

“I’m sorry it’s so chilly,” she says sheepishly. “This thing needs fixing. Unless the problem is behind the wheel.” She tries to dial the heat up by two degrees, but the dial falls off and lands next to her feet. She just sighs. “You ever go undercover as a handyman, by any chance?”

He chuckles, closing the door behind him. The broken chain lock worries him; there’s nothing but the lock on the door to stop someone from breaking in, and picking this sort of lock is too simple. “I don’t go undercover,” he tells her, “but I can smack your landlord around.”

She hums. “They’ll trace it back to me. Gotta be careful about those things, Peña. There should be a vase in that cupboard behind you.”

He finds it, fills it with water (which sputters for a while before it runs), and places it on the dining table (barely big enough for two). She places the flowers inside and smiles fondly. “You have an eye for décor.”

“Wrong,” says Javier, “I have an ear, and it listens to what the woman likes.”

She swats him gently in the chest. “Flattery doesn’t excuse you from helping the woman in the kitchen. Get an apron on those hips.”

Javier decides he hates baking. But she makes it tolerable.

His job is full of tedium. He likes to leave that behind in his personal life. She’s so easy to be around, to talk to. He likes leaving the Embassy, leaving behind the narcos, and knowing she’ll be the first person he talks to the next morning. There’s no politics, no bureaucracy, no bullshit with her. He trusts her.

Baking is tedious as shit. It’s precise, all about waiting, timing, and the end result is only good if you’ve worked like hell for it. It’s too much like work.

She has flour on her nose, and he lifts his thumb to wipe it away. The look she gives him makes him forget why he hates baking.

Javier tried to knead the dough for the pie crust but ended up treating it like an interrogation suspect, so she did as promised and placed her hands over his. He remembers her cheek resting against his arm as she leaned around him, felt her breasts on his back, her impossibly soft hands, her warmth.

“Be nice to it,” she whispered. “We don’t want our food to bite back.”

“It’s delicious, Javi,” she says, finishing her last bite of the apple pie. They made it, together. Javier is proud of that no matter how much sweat he wasted slaving over that oven. “Worth all the pain and swearing?”

“Fucking malparido,” he hissed. She whipped around, eyes wide. He rubbed his elbow. “Burned myself.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, wetting a cloth with cool water and wrapping it around his arm. She was always quick to react, quick to soothe. “¿Mejor? (Better?)”

He liked the way Spanish rolled off her tongue. It was sweet and smooth, not quite fluent but proficient enough to fake it. He grinned down at her. “Eres demasiado buena para mi, bebita (You’re too good to me, baby).”

She looked away and he pretended not to notice her smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Worth it.”

It is a damn good pie.

He’s still in her apartment four hours later, and she hasn’t given him a hint she wants him gone. It’s the longest he’s spent at a woman’s home without getting into bed with her. Sure, he wants to, but Javier’s content here, on her small sofa, sharing a bottle of wine.

“So. Want to tell me how you ended up working in a café in Bogotá, married as far down as someone can possibly go?”

She shoves him lightly. “Don’t rub it in, Javier.”

“Just can’t get my head around a guy like that marrying a woman so far out of his league. You’re you, cariño. He’s—”

“A moron?”

“You said it, honey.”

She traces her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Javi, I trust you. I honest-to-God trust you more than I’ve let myself trust anyone in a long time.”

He lifts a brow and ducks his head to meet her eyes. “That’s a good start.”

She lets out a shaky sigh. “I came to Colombia to help take care of my sister. She was sick. Nicolás approached me one night while I was out for her medication. He offered me work, told me it would pay more than anywhere could. I was desperate and stupid enough to buy it.”

Javier doesn’t like where this is going. Still, he places a hand atop her knee and lets her continue. “He turned me into a whore, Javi. I don’t care about that, not really. It paid, it gave me work. But the things he would make me do…” She breathes in harshly, like the memory pains her. “He made me believe he loved me. I married him, and my sister died anyway.

“My brother-in-law is a lawyer. When I served the papers, Nicolás took all the money and ran off. He only started coming back a few months ago, trying to make me believe he’s broke.”

Javier brushes a knuckle across her chin. His rage, horror, and sadness are a cocktail in his aching head. Her husband was her pimp. He forced her into sex with men and then put her money in his pocket. Javier wants to act—he needs to help her, to pull strings with folks outside the DEA and get the asshole to sign the papers. If not, a restraining order could work. But there are tears falling down her cheeks, and Javier’s plan of action retreats to the back of his mind. He smooths back her hair and places a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, nearly chokes out, voice strained. “Thank you.”

She sniffles. “I can see your wheels turning, Javi. What are you thinking?”

“I know how it feels to be trapped in a marriage,” he tells her. She frowns.

“You were married?”

“Nearly,” he amends. “The kid wasn’t mine.”

“Ah.” She nods in understanding, like that’s all the explanation she needs. “We’ve both been truly fucked over, huh?”

He lifts his glass in toast. “That we have.”

She clinks their glasses together. “To making bad decisions.”

He chuckles. “I can toast to that.”

“Like… none?” Steve peers at him from across their desks. It’s times like these Javier hates being forced to sit right in the bullpen with Murphy. “None at all? How long?”

“You wanna play this game, Murphy? Really?” Javier glares. “When’s the last time you got fucked by your wife, huh?”

Murphy throws a pen at him, but Javier catches it. “Don’t talk about my wife, Peña. And since you’re curious, last night.”

Well, fucking good for Steve Murphy. Javier hasn’t cared to get in bed with a woman for weeks; even in the weeks before that, the sex was nothing inspiring, nothing good enough to make him forget about how badly he wants his waitress’s sweet body beneath him.

“Fuck your hand later, man,” says Murphy, “we got doors to knock on.”

Javier rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m sitting this one out. Got another lead to look at.”

Murphy grunts. “Sure. Make sure you pay her well.”

“Fuck you.”

Javier waits outside the unassuming house, drumming his fingers beneath the driver’s side window with his sunglasses pushed down to the tip of his nose. He has triple-checked the address, memorised the routine of the man he’s watching, but it still unnerves him when he finds himself waiting for a long damn time for him to emerge.

When he does, Javier steps out of his car and walks right up to him. “Nicolás.”

The man curses when he sees Javier, surging forward. “You want to assault a DEA agent?” Javier challenges, choosing Spanish. “I just want to talk.”

“You assaulted me, you son of a bitch,” says Nicolás. “She send you?”

“No. But you’re going to sign the papers.”

Nicolás scoffs. “Just because you’re fucking my wife—”

Javier itches to pull his gun and press it to the asshole’s forehead until he shits himself in fear. “I’m not fucking your wife,” he says, “but it doesn’t seem like you are, either.”

Nicolás snarls. “I’m not signing the papers.”

Javier feels dirty when he reaches inside his vehicle and pulls out the divorce papers he stole from her bedside table. Nicolás’s brows come down in a furious line. “This is coercion,” he says.

“It’s a warning.” Javier’s patience is waning. “She’s not going to be nice forever, and neither am I. I won’t lose sleep if you go to jail.”

“Let me tell you something,” says Nicolás. “I own her. I have owned her from the moment she signed her contract and I will own her even if she’s not my wife. I have shit on her that will destroy any chance she has at a life, a career. You’ll have to do a lot better than fucking divorce papers.”

Javier’s jaw ticks, but he’s already tucked away the information he needs. He’s going to get her out.

That night, she shows up at his home.

Javier opens the door when a soft knock sounds. He’s not expecting anyone, which is why his gun is tucked into his waistband.

Her face is puffy with tears, and Javier is on red alert. His hairs stand on end and he steps into the hallway, crowding her gently so he can place his hands on her shoulders. Her lower lip trembles when he touches her. “Oh, cielito,” he murmurs. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

She shivers. It’s raining outside, and she’s soaked to the bone, her pretty skirt clinging to her thighs and her knit cardigan a blanket of sopping fabric. He knows she doesn’t have a car, that she walks everywhere, but he feels like an asshole for not tracking her down and picking her up anyway. “Went to the Embassy,” she says, teeth chattering. “I found your friend Steve; he gave me your address.”

“Oh, shit, honey.” He grimaces. “I’m sorry. He’s an asshole.”

She tries to laugh, but tears are still rolling down her cheeks. “I—I’m sorry, Javier. I didn’t know where else to go.”

Javier ushers her inside and she stands timidly on the mat while he closes the door behind them. “C’mon, take your shoes off. Can I…?” She nods, and he helps her shrug off the heavy wet cardigan while she slips off her tennis shoes, still hesitant about stepping onto his hardwood floors. “A little water never hurt me, honey. I don’t pay for this place. C’mere, I’ll get you some clothes.”

She holds herself reserved and taut as she follows him, but does not step beyond the threshold into his bedroom. He roots through his closet and refuses to look at the bed. Javier does not let himself imagine her lying there, both of them rolling around in hazy desire, morning laziness, and close talks while squinting against the morning sunlight. He finds a pair of sweatpants and an old, shitty sweatshirt emblazoned with Texas A&M spirit. She smiles down at it and says in a wrecked voice, “It’s gathering cobwebs, viejo.”

He wants to fire something back about her smart mouth, but he doesn’t have the heart. Not when she’s crying. “You can change in here,” he says. “I’ll make you some coffee. That okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’ll make some for myself, too. How about that?”

Finally, she nods. “Okay.”

He leaves her just as she’s beginning to pull off her shirt, and he warns his heartbeat to settle before working on the coffee pot. Javier doesn’t let himself think much when he’s working. He tries to get the job done, accomplish what’s necessary. If he thinks… Well, if he thinks, he’ll think about why she’s crying. He’ll wonder what happened to her that was so bad she didn’t have anywhere else to go. He’ll want to track whoever did this to her down and the things he’ll do to them will be horrific enough to land him in jail, let alone fired. No. He’ll make coffee. He will assure that she’s comfortable. He will not—

Fuck.

Javier’s brain goes blank, like he’s wiped all the chalk off the board, when she emerges wearing his clothes. Her feet are bare, the sweatshirt too big, her arms hugging herself as she pads over to him. It’s almost domestic; it’s his fucking dream, seeing her in his home like this, and he can’t enjoy it because she’s in trouble.

He hands her a mug and waits for his brain to restart. They sit together on his sofa and she watches him for a while, scanning his face.

He doesn’t realise until a minute passes that he’s fucked up. Royally.

Her gaze is soft. “I don’t blame you, Javi. Please don’t blame yourself.”

Javier pinches the bridge of his nose and curses at himself in Spanish. “I… Fuck, I just wanted to help. I promise you.”

She reaches out and grasps his hand. “I know,” she says. “He didn’t hurt me.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice raspy, “he did.”

She shuffles closer, and he can feel her fresh warmth, smell her dewy hair, watch her irises shimmer in the dim light. He clenches her hand tighter. “I’m okay,” she says, reassuring him even though he’s the one who brought the wrath of her husband down upon her. “Just had to see you.”

“Tell me what he did to you.”

“Knocked on my door and told me off for getting involved with a hijo de puta like you.” She smiles wryly, looking down at their joined hands. “His words. Then he told me you showed up at his house, threatened him.”

He tries a joke and feels even more rotten inside for it. “Couldn’t help it. He’s easily threatened.”

Now, as the initial panic subsides, Javier begins to think.

There isn’t a noise inside his home besides the sound of their breathing. He’s wearing jeans, a button-up, and he still feels like he’s on fire. She’s on his fucking couch. Her legs are tucked underneath her and she’s sipping his coffee, and she’s so close to him her arm brushes against him whenever she shifts. Her face is a foot away from his; there are little specks in her eyes, tear tracks on her face; she parts her lips to say something, and his ears begin to ring. He needs her. He needs her close.

Javier cups her face in his hand and brushes his thumb along her chin. She leans into his touch like it’s the most natural thing he could do, like they aren’t crossing a hundred lines. Both of the mugs are set down on the coffee table. She turns her body to face him, looking up at him with doe’s eyes, and his entire body hums for her.

“He knows, Javier.” Her voice is a whisper. “He knows what you mean to me. He said if I don’t start working for him again, he’ll kill you.” She licks her lips, curling her fingers around his forearm. Her eyes are welling up again. “I can’t…”

“Shh, cielito.” He wants her out of her head, wants his girl back. He drops his voice, too, and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Gonna get you out of this.”

She’s butter beneath him, soft and sighing. “Javi, I—”

“I know.” His other hand slips around her hip, fingers teasing the skin beneath the hem of his sweatshirt. She’s so soft.

He drinks in her little gasp. “We can’t—”

“I know.” He brings his hand forward, pressing gently into the small of her back and enjoying the way her warm body curves to him. He slides his hand back around the curve of her waist, memorising, relishing, making a map of the places he wants to explore.

She whimpers when his hand leaves her skin, only to rest between her hip and thigh. “He’ll use it against me.”

“I know, baby.” She’s close enough now that he can brush his lips to her temple in the mere suggestion of a kiss. “We’re gonna do this right,” he says, trailing his hand back up her side so he can grab her other hand and squeeze. “Hey? You and me.”

She nods fervently. “You and me.”

“That’s my girl,” he says into her ear.

“What do I do?”

“It’s already done. I just need you to do the final step for me.”

She traces her fingers along his jawline and he feels the tremor through his spine. He’s at home, here, melting under her touch. He nudges the pads of her fingers with his nose, and she smiles at him like he saved her life. “Anything,” she whispers.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #javier peña smut #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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lovebugism · 1 year

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✶ ┄ FIX IT !

summary: you thought you were over it, the whole steve-and-nancy thing. spoiler alert: you aren't. pairing: steve harrington / f!reader word count: 3.5k warning: angst. gut wrenching angst. with a sort of happy ending. a/n: i'm such a sucker for angst it's gotta be unhealthy at this point. anyway, shout out to all my angsty fic enjoyers. let's read this and cry together <3

Having four roommates and only two bathrooms was worth it if it meant getting out of Hawkins. The apartment was a quaint little thing just outside of Indianapolis — up four flights of stairs with no elevator, cracks in the walls, and a stellar view of an alleyway.

But it was nice to have a place all your own. Sharing it with all your best friends was even better. That was the dream after all, wasn’t it? And being with Steve — that was just the cherry on top of it all.

So you weren’t going to let your mean, green, and envious heart ruin the new life you and your friends were trying to build in this tiny apartment.

You didn’t even think yourself the jealous type. Not until you realized that Steve was going to live under the same roof as his ex-girlfriend. It was dumb and it was irrational and you just couldn’t shake it.

It was probably a whole lot harder for Steve than it was for you, really. Besides, it had been years since they were together. Both of them had moved on, both of them had new and blossoming relationships.

Jonathan was good to Nancy. And to you, Steve was… well he was perfect. More importantly, he was yours.

So it really shouldn’t bother you.

And it didn’t. Not for a while.

Not until Nancy and Jonathan broke up out of nowhere and he’d announced to all of you on movie night that he was moving out.

He said that he missed California too much, that Argyle was getting lonely all the way out there, and that he had a spare room at his place. You couldn’t tell if that was the truth or just some bullshit excuse.

Maybe both.

What made it worse is that Nancy hadn’t seemed all that upset about it. Hell, you were more sad about him leaving than she was.

She told you as much during your weekly designated wine night (the one where you and her and Robin got drunk on cheap wine, while the rest of the boys fucked off and got drunker on cheaper beer).

“It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would,” she’d confessed with a shrug, only slightly tipsy and cheeks pink with it. “We… drifted apart, I guess. Just felt right to end it.”

You and Robin spent the rest of the night comforting her, anyway.

She loved Jonathan, everyone knew that. It sort of came with the whole shared trauma thing. She had to be at least a little bit sad that her person was gone, but she hid it away from the rest of you like it was her job.

But when the days got really bad, and she found herself missing Jonathan more than she liked, she sought refuge in Steve. Your Steve.

And it made sense. He knew her better than the rest of you.

But it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

A sick feeling twists in your stomach when Steve accompanies the girl on a liquor store run without her having to ask. You watch with your heart in your throat when he leaves with her in the dead of night — a swirling bubble of jealousy in the pit of your chest with an ache so palpable you can taste it.

You spend the next several minutes trying not to look as sad as you feel while Eddie can’t stop debating on what the two of them might be talking about.

Nancy had been more reserved as of late, carrying a rain cloud over her as she wandered through the apartment like a ghost — he concludes they’re just going out to spill some hot goss. Robin makes him promise to never say those string of words ever again while you quietly dismiss yourself to your bedroom.

Nancy and Steve have been gone for an hour.

Lying in the dark and staring up at the textured, water-stained ceiling, you start to do the math. Fifteen minutes there, fifteen minutes back with traffic — but the streets are usually bare after nine o’clock. Either way, that leaves a half hour spent trying to choose what alcohol to splurge on.

You’ve seen Nancy try to pick out wine, she’s indecisive and a perfectionist to boot. She could spend hours dissecting each bottle to find the perfect one, if Robin wasn’t constantly over her shoulder rushing her.

Maybe that’s why Nancy had declined when the girl offered to tag along with them.

Or maybe she just wanted to be alone with Steve—

You have to physically shake that thought from your head. But even when you shut your eyes, it’s like the image of him and Nancy making out in the back of her Station Wagon is ingrained in the depths of your mind.

You curl into yourself and bathe in the depths of the dark abyss you’ve created in your bedroom, trying to see your way out of your handcrafted turmoil like a bad cold.

When Nancy and Steve return, they come cradling paper bags in their arms like babies.

Robin relieves the latter of the load in his hands and follows the darker-haired girl into the kitchen connected to the living room, no larger than a decent-sized closet.

Steve notices the lack of your presence as soon as he walks through the door. When he’d left, the three of you were pregaming — a feat that often led to Eddie breaking out his guitar and you and him singing terribly off-key to whatever was playing on the radio.

Now you’re nowhere to be found, and he feels it like a missed meal. He feels the ache of your absence like an empty stomach.

“Where’d she go?” Steve asks Eddie, who’s lounging on the couch and taking up the entire space — legs spread and arms thrown over the back.

The curly-haired boy takes a noisy sip of his nearly gone beer. Then exhales rather dramatically when he sits the can on his thigh. It leaves a damp ring on the denim. “Hey, buddy... Just blow in from stupid town?”

“…What?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, already annoyed and knowing more than he lets on. “She’s in her room, dingus.”

“She okay?” Steve wonders with furrowed brows, uncaring of the use of the stupid nickname because there’s bigger things to worry about apparently.

It wasn’t like you to miss a night of drinking. He gets momentarily fearful that you’d gotten sick while he was away, that he wasn’t around to help you if you had.

“Why don’t you ask her?” Eddie lilts with wide eyes, like it’s a bright idea that neither of them would’ve thought of otherwise.

His sarcasm makes Steve roll his eyes, but he heeds the boy’s words anyway.

Through the short hallway and the last door on the right, he finds you in the darkness of your shared bedroom, illuminated only by the orange streetlight that filters through the blinds. You're hid beneath the covers, a little lump on the mattress.

He idles in the doorway and waits for you to react to his presence.

You don’t.

“Hey, babe,” he greets cautiously after concluding you just hadn’t heard the door squeak open upon his arrival. “You feel okay?”

You mumble something he can’t quite make out. He takes the raised infliction as an affirmative and shifts his weight on his feet because it’s unlike you to be so one-note with him.

“Well, I, uh— I bought some of that wine you like... I couldn’t remember if you liked the blackberry or blueberry, so I ended up just getting both, you know, just in case.”

“Okay,” you respond after several agonizing seconds. Your voice sounds so fragile in the still darkness. Like he didn’t already know something was wrong.

He so desperately wants to pry but chooses to err on the side of caution for now, out of fear of turning the bad, worse.

“You wanna come down and try it with me? If you don’t like it we can always go back—”

“I’m okay,” you interrupt gently, with a tone so soft and coated with so much emotion that it makes his heart sink. You’re anything but and he knows it.

“Okay,” he nods anyway with the hope that he can pull you from this funk you’d managed to fall into. “Do you, uh… Do you want me to stay in here with you?”

He hears your deep sigh and sees the way the wad of blankets rises and falls again. A telltale sign of your annoyance. He knows then that he’s overstayed his welcome.

Your voice remains quiet but loses its kindness when you tell him: “You can do whatever you want, Steve.”

He’s hurt by the way you’re so suddenly short with him, then angered because he didn’t do anything to deserve it in the first place.

“Okay, what’s wrong with you? What did I do?”

You don’t answer. You just sigh again, the same really big, dramatic one that’s more to showcase your irritation with him than anything else.

You’re more than keen to end the conversation right there, but Steve isn’t. Not when something’s eating you away from the inside out and he can’t do anything to help you because you won’t let him.

“Babe, c’mon. I get it, alright? You’re mad at me. Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix it,” you monotone, stifled beneath the covers.

“I can’t fix it?” he repeats with furrowed brows. “What do you mean, I can’t fix it?”

You use your silence as an answer, as a weapon. It’s almost worse than any silver-tongued reply you could've given him. The quiet forces him to think for himself and imagine all the things he could’ve done wrong that he can’t take back. It feels like quicksand.

Did he forgot to kiss you good morning? Of course, he didn’t — actually, he gets mad at you for forgetting — and you were golden before he left. Eddie probably said something stupid, that was likely. Or maybe Robin made a joke that upset you, that was even more likely.

He figures it’s something in between all those. Something silly that feels like the end of the world. He can make it better. He always makes it better.

Steve lifts the lump of covers you shield yourself with and crawls beneath them with the intention of pulling you out of the void you’ve sunken into.

It’s not so comfortable, lying in bed in socks and jeans and a collared shirt, but he doesn’t need to feel good right now — you do. He’ll be content if he can just hold you in his arms for a couple of hours, the rest of the night if that’s what you need.

But he can’t even do that.

He reaches for your arm, fingers just barely trailing across the warm skin there, and you jerk away from him like he’s shocked you.

It startles him, how quick you are to avoid him. It has him jerking back too, because you’ve never denied him the opportunity to touch you. He becomes the same sort of storm cloud that you are now, because he doesn’t know what he did to deserve this. Any of it.

“Why are you doing this?” he asks you, less soft than he’d been before.

You sniffle. “I told you I didn’t want you going out alone with Nancy anymore,” you mumble, face still shoved into your pillow. The words are slightly muffled but he can hear the tears that coat your voice.

“That’s what this is about?” he wonders, not as empathetic as you’d hoped he might be, but genuinely confused. With your back to him, you don’t see the smile pulling at his lips while he shakes his head, like it’s funny to him. “Babe, we were just getting drinks. It’s no different than you going out with Robin.”

“It’s totally different! Because I was never in love with Robin. She was never in love with me—”

“Well, I beg to differ,” he murmurs in a soft laugh.

“It’s not funny, Steve,” you retort wetly and then sniffle again. When you turn to face him, he sees for the first time what he’s done to you.

The orange of the streetlight lamp outside bathes you in a sunset shade of neon — your eyes are glassy with tears that gather at your lashes. Emotions glow at the tip of your nose and your cheeks. Your skin would be hot to the touch if he felt you now.

“Do you know how weird it is for me? To watch my boyfriend and his ex go fuck around with me?” you ask him with a scrunched nose and brows, like your trying to keep yourself from falling apart in front of him.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Steve scolds. “She just wanted to get alcohol for tonight and had some shit to get off her chest. I mean, she’s been having a really hard time lately—”

“It’s not your job to take care of her, Steve!” you shout before you even realize you’re shouting. You take in a shuddered breath and let it out in a trembling sigh, shining eyes flitted away from him and towards the ceiling as you calm yourself down.

When you start your lament again, you’re quieter.

“You can’t just be this, like, emotional crutch for her every single time something’s wrong. She’ll just get invested in you all over again and…”

Steve watches from beside you, propped up on his elbow, as you trail off. The frown between your eyebrows deepens, a great and inquisitive crevice, while your eyes widen and your mouth falls softly agape — like you’ve discovered something in the midst of your rant.

“Is— Is that what you want?” you ask him then. “Do you, like, need her attention to feed your ego or something?”

He’s too offended by your words to tell you all the ways they aren’t true. “What? No! Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, Steve.”

“What is?”

“Watching you and her together!” you admit through a tightening throat. You rise from where you’d been laying down and Steve follows you, settling in front of you as you wrap your arms around your knees. “When I have to sit here, by myself, while you guys spend time alone. When she always knows what you’re up to, and I don’t—”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quietly, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“—It’s not fair. She’s not your girlfriend, Steve, I am. It’s your job to take care of me, not her.”

Steve deflates like a popped balloon. His chin falls to his chest and his eyes squeeze shut at the weight of your words.

It’s like you’re reminding him that he’s supposed to be in love with you and not someone he cared for a long time ago. Like you felt the need to remind him because you thought he’d forgotten somewhere down the line.

It hurts him too. It feels like you’ve got his heart in your hands and you're wringing it in your grip.

“You’re right,” Steve concedes with a nod. “I just... I guess, I never thought about it like that.”

He feels the same way, too, sometimes. When you and Eddie go all buddy-buddy mode and want to spend time together.

When you’re out all night with him at band practice. When you’re attached at the hip and having sleepovers in his room to talk about everything and nothing for hours until you fall asleep when the sun rises. When you both come down at one in the afternoon the next day for breakfast, giggling about the thing you said the night before.

It makes him feel like he’s missing out. Like you’re sharing parts of yourself with someone else and he isn’t allowed to see it.

And sometimes he gets irrational — keeps himself up all night as he imagines you and Eddie making out on his floor after going through all his new tapes or fucking in his unmade bed while he keeps a hand on your mouth to keep you quiet.

Steve concocts waking nightmares for himself whenever you’re not beside him.

But even then, it’s different. Because he used to do all that shit with Nancy. They fell in love, made out for hours because they didn’t want to stop feeling each other, had sex on a twin-sized bed and tried to keep from falling out of it while they did.

You’d never done that shit with Eddie — or with anyone you’re now sharing a home with. Besides Steve.

Because he’s yours now. And you’re his.

But you can’t stop thinking about how he used to be Nancy’s too.

“I don’t need you to tell me that I’m right,” you murmur with the childlike shake of your head, slow and lazy, as you wipe your wet cheek on your shoulder. “I need you to do something about it— I needed you to do something about it a long time ago.”

“I will, okay? I will. I promise. I’ll fix it,” Steve assures you quickly, with wide and hopeful eyes and a nodding head that makes his hair flop against his forehead.

He can see you losing hope in front of him, like a flame going slowly out. You’re slipping away. He keeps fighting to keep a hold of you.

“No.”

“…No?”

“You can’t,” you sniffle. “You can’t fix it.”

“Baby—”

“It’s not fair. To either of us,” you tell him, looking at him through clumped together lashes and heavy, sparkling eyes. “And it’s not your fault, okay? But I can’t keep feeling this like. It’s not healthy— this isn’t… this is what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. It shouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve blinks back stinging tears. He brings his hand to his face and rubs the back of it against his burning nose. He feels a bit like you do now, hopeless. You’re slipping away and he is too and you both just keep on slipping, just going going going.

“You’re not even—” he clears his throat when his voice breaks halfway through. “You’re not even gonna let me try?”

You shrug weakly. Tears burn as they gather at your waterline. You revel in the sting because it’s better than the hole ripping through your chest.

“I don’t know. I think… I think it’s too late.”

“Why would you say that?” Steve agonizes with the shake of his head, looking like a wounded puppy as he gaze at you with brown eyes full of hurt. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“Steve—”

“No,” he interjects firmly, stopping the spiral before it can start again.

He positions himself so he’s sitting further ahead of you and holds your arms in his numbing hands, ducking down to catch your gaze when you try to look away from him.

“I love you, okay? I’m an idiot and I’m sorry and I'm stupid, alright? I wasn’t thinking. But we can’t just… It’s not too late. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

Your chest aches at his plea, at the way he still doesn’t understand.

It’s not his fault you feel this way, not entirely. It’s not anyone’s fault and that’s what’s so scary. There’s no one to blame the pain on, no root to cut out and put an end to it. You’re frightened that it’s always going to be there, constantly in the way, forbidding either of you from ever moving on.

“Steve...” you murmur through tears while the boy gathers you in his arms. You try to stop him but your voice gets caught in your throat halfway through. Because you don’t want him to stop. Not ever.

He nurses you into his velvet hold, wrapping a pair of strong arms around you to cage you against him. He presses his nose into your temple while he rocks you back and forth. “I promise. Everything’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

He repeats that like a mantra while you keep your head pressed against his chest — everything’s gonna be okay, I can fix it, I love you.

It’s a promise. One that he’d rather die than break.

You stay there, curled against his chest, while dark feelings ebb and flow in a constant and bitter cycle.

You hope he’s right. That these big feelings are just big stupid feelings that'll pass come the pink and blue sunrise. That everything really is going to be okay and that he really can fix it.

Because even now, all hopeless and full of doom and gloom, you feel soothed in his hold. You’ve never felt safer anywhere else. You’ve built a home in the peace of Steve’s arms and you want to keep on living in them.

“I’m gonna make it better,” he whispers against the crown of your head. If you’ll let me.

He feels you nod lazily against him. “Okay.”

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #stevie oneshot #published by bug #st oneshots

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strangersmunsons · 2 months

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💖 Eddie Munson x Reader Fic Recs 💖

I just wanna show some appreciation for a few of my all-time favorite Eddie fics! Here’s a handful of the series & oneshots that have really stuck out to me in all the time I've been reading - there's A TON of great writers on here who have posted really stellar work :^)

List under the cut!

june baby by @luveline - luveline jade u are a celebrity to me. this was the first Eddie story I ever read and it is so beautiful. it's tender. it's melancholy. it's realistic. it's gorgeous. it honestly makes me feel something I've never felt reading any other fanfiction.

oh, baby by @inknopewetrust - another one of my first Eddie fics! the feeling that this series invoked in me is what I aspire to invoke in others for my own writing someday. it's just so sweet and funny and made me nostalgic, in the same way that watching '80s teen films do, except it's even better because Eddie is in this one. I wanted so badly to just dive into the story and really experience it for myself.

hoping I'll find [a glimpse of us] by @inknopewetrust - this smashed my heart into 1000 pieces, and then promptly glued it very sloppily back together and I've reread it like six times just to reinflict the pain. I love rockstar!Eddie stories that maintain some realism about what that type of relationship would look like, and this fic does that SO perfectly. masterclass in angst right here.

dancing with myself by @ambrossart - this one hits close to home! and even though it hurts along the way, there's a happy ending that it builds so nicely towards! it's beautifully paced & the reader is very funny. you can just tell that the her backstory & relationship w/ Eddie was so carefully thought out, it really feels like this was written with so much love! and I LOVE that it doesn't paint Chrissy as a villain.

10 things I hate about you by @spideyanakin - so glad that we all collectively agree that Patrick is Eddie-coded. and in this fic the parallels are there, without Eddie sacrificing his own unique character - that part is handled really beautifully! and the ST characters are worked into the original movie's narrative so well. it's the perfect mix of fluff and drama!

freaky friday by @jo-harrington - I adore this series! I love this version of Eddie so much I could cry, he is so sweet and selfless, I want to give him the entire world. and an Eddie & Steve body swap? 10/10. lindsay and jamie lee, eat your hearts out.

to know you're mine by @blueywrites - oooohboy. I almost didn’t read this one (just because I would normally avoid swinging/cheating in a fic) but I'm so glad I did, because it was like being on the homer's odyssey of 18+ ST fanfiction. it’s wild. bluey girl u were insane for this. and i mean that as an extremely high compliment. i was so damn invested!

i will wait by @abibliophobiaa, @blueywrites, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, @fracturedarkness - there's three chapters, it's on hiatus, I don't care, I will literally keep reading these three chapters over and over again and just fill in the blanks myself if I must. it's that good. you guys are amazing. I am totally enthralled.

rumor by @msgexymunson - this is what turned me on to older!Eddie. I love him, and I desire him carnally, and specifically this version of him. when I daydream about Eddie sweeping me off my feet, I think about Eddie in this series. he's everything to me. I even wrote my own older neighbor Eddie fic because of this!

trapped under ice by @munson-blurbs - the iron grip this fic had me in...I'm still going back and re-reading my favorite parts. it's beautifully developed. this version of Eddie is so real and believable. Harris is my favorite kid he's ever been given. an all-time, truly, I can't sing its praises enough.

siren!eddie by @parkermunson - a monster-ish Eddie fic! I'm a sucker for anything that incorporates mermaids and sirens and the like, so I really love this concept. it's a great story, I love our protective, doting fishboy, and hope to see more of him!

use me by @reysorigins - simultaneously the nastiest and sweetest fic ever. smut, but it's interspersed with these moments of such deep-seated love and yearning between Eddie and the reader that it made me want to cry! incredible piece.

mine and yours by @muertawrites - ahhhh this one is so so sweet! dating is so fucking hard, I think we could all use a comforting, reassuring moment with a sweetheart like Eddie, who is especially kind to us in this fic. I love the way he’s written here.

our patron saint of the arts by @storiesbyrhi - I love an artsy, crafty reader! I feel like Eddie would be sooo into someone who’s creatively-minded like him. this is the dream relationship, basically, these two are adorable together! (and Eddie in a dress! 😗)

And this is just a sample of what’s out there! Some of these are fics that I read very early on, even before I started this blog. I was more shy then, too, so I feel like I never showed them the appreciation I should have! You guys are all so talented, these works are very inspiring to me.

To readers: I encourage you to let the writers know how much you enjoy their work! Reblog! Leave a comment, even if it’s just in the tags! Write a reply, or send them a message, even if it’s on anon! I’m trying to get better at doing these things myself, too 💖

#eddie munson fic recs #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson series #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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steddieunderdogfics · 7 days

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Now I'm A Stranger by MuseumGiftShopEraser

@museumgiftshoperaser

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

25,433 words, 8/8 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Roommates, Eventual Happy Ending, Steve's Pov, eddie is a bartender, Homophobic Language, sincere yet failed attempts to talk about their feelings, the boys try to set up robin and chrissy, and it may or may not be a thinly veiled excuse to hang out themselves, Alcohol, Weed, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, that's not really a plot point or anything, I'm just absolutely convinced

Summary:

“Can I ask you something?” the bartender asks and he licks his bottom lip. “Do you not remember me?” “Um...” Steve scans the guys face but his brain comes up empty. “Should I?” He sets his elbows on the bar, right next to Steve’s beer. His hair obscures half his face, but he tilts his chin so he can keep eye contact. “I should have known the great Steve Harrington wouldn’t remember me.” He spits out his name like it’s a curse word. When he forgets the keys to his apartment, Steve has a few hours to kill at a random bar down the street. The bartender, Eddie, recognizes him right away and Steve’s embarrassed to admit he has no idea who the guy is. After making a complete idiot of himself, he figures out they went to the same high school. This is bad news for Steve, who was a bit of an asshole back then, with a less than stellar reputation. Robin does recognize Eddie and when the two reconnect there’s no escaping him. Steve’s desperate to prove that he’s changed since his high school days, but no matter what he says, Eddie seems to hate his guts. (Part of a series, but can be read separately!)

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @museumgiftshoperaser. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

#writer's spotlight #steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #Modern AU #enemies to lovers #slow burn

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rustedhearts · 1 year

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Turn Me Loose (Steve Harrington x Fem!reader)

summary: steve has a hard time committing—you have a hard time letting him go.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ all out 80s: short fics based off 80s hit classics ♡ based off the song ‘turn me loose’ by loverboy

warnings: infidelity, loveless relationship (on steve's part), angst, break-up.

w.c: 2.2k

hawkins, indiana august 1987

Before you, Steve had a reputation.

Golden-boy, stellar athlete, peaked-in-high-school Steve Harrington was constantly surrounded by women. They rotated through the passenger seat of his BMW like a revolving door. Caroline on Monday, Heather on Wednesday, Natalie for the weekend. Word spreads quickly in a tiny town like Hawkins, and in no time, Steve Harrington became Hawkins' resident man whore.

But then he met you—and for the first time, he was hooked. He stopped going out of his way to chat up other girls at the mall, started calling you once a day. He was eager to take you out to dinner, overjoyed by every kiss and minuscule affection. There was something so enticing about you, and every moment spent with you felt like electricity in his veins.

At the five month marker, you decided to move in together—a small apartment on the outskirts of town. You fell into a normal routine, maneuvering around each other in the kitchen, falling asleep in each other's arms. You spent nearly every moment together, and it only took a few weeks of constant attention for Steve to feel suffocated. He quickly realized that your glittery charm wasn't enough to keep him satisfied.

It lasted a year before he cheated.

The first whiff of infidelity had you crumbling. Steve started coming home late, stopped answering the phone when you called him at work. His friends assured you he was just busy, stressed with the new role he took on at work as manager. But you could see it in the strained pull of their smiles—they knew, just as well as you did, that he was being unfaithful.

He came home one night drenched in sickeningly sweet perfume with lipgloss smeared on his collar, and you broke down. You spent hours screaming at each other, throwing anything in your reach at his stupid pretty face. He slept on the couch, and you cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning, he crawled into bed with you and wiped your face clean.

"Baby...baby, I'm so sorry. I'm so stupid. I just...I don't know how to have a girlfriend, honey. I love you, you know I love you. I'm just not good at all this."

He promised it was the first and last time. A stupid mistake. He'd never make it again. He'd be better now. And you swore that if you heard he was unfaithful again, you'd pack your bags and be out of the house before he could even beg you to stay.

Steve lied.

But so did you.

♡ ♡

"Hi, honey."

You came flouncing into the room dressed for work, pencil skirt neatly ironed and blouse buttoned to the collar. You breezed past Steve at the kitchen island, hunched over a bowl of cereal, stopping only to press a kiss to his cheek. His reply came in the form of metal against porcelain, his spoon clanking into the bowl.

You pulled a mug from the cabinet and reached for the coffee pot, glancing at him over your shoulder with a raised brow.

"You okay?"

Steve's eyes barely flickered your way as he hummed, eyes empty and face blank. "Yep."

You swallowed, putting the coffee back. After a small sip of the bitter drink, you leaned back against the counter and flashed him a small smile.

"I was thinking we could have dinner together tonight after work? I'll cook—"

"—M' goin' out with Eddie."

Your cheeks warmed, heart sinking. You placed your coffee mug down and cleared your throat.

"Oh. Okay...I'll see you after then?"

Steve huffed, brushing his ruffled hair out of his eyes. "Maybe."

You smoothed your hands over your skirt, looking at anything but the bored expression on his face.

"Okay...have a good day, honey," you cooed, crossing the kitchen to stop next to his stool and press another kiss to his cheek.

He tipped his head away, and you pulled back with a frown.

"I love you."

Steve flashed a tight-lipped, toothless grin. "Mhm, you too."

You stomped down the stairs to the parking lot and slammed your car door closed, willing hot tears away before they soiled your makeup. Steve had been like this for weeks now. He was there, but he acted like it was inconvenience to him. His annoyance was always a little too evident. You wished he'd try a little harder to hide it, or at least keep it tucked away until he went out with Eddie Munson. You knew every time they 'went out,' it was to pick up girls at The Hideout and complain about you.

But all you did was love him. Why couldn't he see that?

Back in the apartment, Steve shoved his head into his hands at the kitchen island. His cereal was soggy, his head was pounding, and the kitchen still smelled like your perfume. It was the same one you'd been wearing for years, and it used to make Steve woozy and lovesick. Now, it just made him plain sick.

You were gorgeous, no doubt. Sweet, funny, loving, and kind—but Steve just didn't love you. He wasn't sure he ever really did. But you were always there, promising him happiness and looking at him like he was the best thing in the world. You fueled his ego, at least for a little while.

Now, it wasn't enough. He was bored. And no matter how many times he cheated, how many times he left you waiting or wondering, no matter how many times he flaked on plans you'd had for months—you always stayed. He didn't know how else to drive you away.

"She just won't break up with me," Steve groaned to Eddie that night.

They were sitting at a sticky, wobbly wooden table at The Hideout. The crowd was sporadic, the hour still a little too early for most. But Steve's beer glass was already half empty, and two shots had already been thrown back. Eddie chewed on a toothpick and rolled his eyes.

"Crazy idea, Harrington," he droned, tearing the took pick from his mouth, "why don't you just break up with her?"

Steve winced and grimaced, gazing down at his frothy beer. He gave his glass a shake on the table, sloshing it around.

"I can't. I can't do that to her."

Eddie shook his head, reaching over to punch Steve's arm. "Oh, sure you can, champ."

Steve pushed him away, eyes drooping.

"Eddie, I'm serious, I can't."

Eddie leaned his elbow against the table, cupping his hand over his forehead. His patience for dealing with his best friend's relationship had been wearing thin for a while now.

"You dip into a new pussy every night, but you can't cut this girl loose?"

Steve's cheeks burned at the admission, but he concealed it with the rim of his beer glass, gulping down the tangy liquid eagerly. He slammed the empty glass down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I don't want to hurt her."

For a moment, it was quiet, the void filled only by the low hum of the jukebox playing a KISS song—until Eddie cackled so loud heads turned. Steve's own snapped up to glare at his friend, who had fallen into a hunched over fit of laughter.

"Alright, shut up," Steve scowled, scratching at his hair.

Eddie clutched his stomach, gasping in air.

"You cheat on this girl regularly, shove it in her face, but can't break up with her be-because you don't want to...hurt her?"

Eddie giggled again, waving his hands as if in a plead to make Steve stop amusing him, but the latter could only glare at his friend across the table.

"Oh, now that is rich, Harrington," Eddie chuckled.

Steve snatched a pretzel from the bowl between them and gnawed on it anxiously. He looked off toward the bar, where a familiar long-legged redhead perched on a stool. She waggled her fingers at him, a sideways smile painted on her red lips. Steve sighed, shoving the rest of the pretzel in his mouth.

"I gotta break up with her, don't I?"

Eddie eased back into his chair, following Steve's line of sight toward the redhead. Eddie crossed his arms, head shaking again slowly.

"Someone's gotta put an end to this shit."

Steve tore his eyes away from the girl, nodding in agreement toward his friend. He motioned toward the tequila shot sitting in front of Eddie.

"You gonna drink that?"

Eddie held his hands up in surrender, and Steve quickly snatched the glass and threw it back. He groaned at the sting, stood to his feet, and clapped Eddie on the shoulder.

"Thanks, buddy. I'll see you later, yeah?"

Eddie opened his mouth for a reply, but Steve was already off. Eddie watched him stagger toward the pretty girl at the bar, and snickered when she immediately began to giggle as he leaned against the bar beside her.

"Stupid bastard," Eddie muttered.

♡ ♡

That weekend, Eddie hosted a party at his trailer. You always tagged along with Steve when Eddie had a party, and tonight was no different. You sat on the bathroom sink and smudged eyeliner on your lash line, mouth hanging open as you applied mascara. You called to Steve to toss you your lipgloss on the dresser, and when he came into the bathroom to hang it to you, he paused in the doorway.

"What?" you asked, turning to take it from him.

He shrugged, head shaking. "Nothin'. You look pretty, s' all."

You broke into a smile, heart thumping hard in your chest. He hadn't given you a compliment in a while. Steve realized, as you thanked him sweetly and giggled to yourself, that he hadn't seen you smile in a while, either.

He trudged into the living room to wait for you with a lump in his throat.

At the party, Steve excused himself to get a drink, and immediately cornered Eddie in the kitchen.

"I'm doing it tonight," he declared quickly.

Eddie pushed Steve back by the shoulders, tossing him a look. He dipped into the cooler on the counter and pulled out a beer for Steve.

"Doing what?"

"Breaking up with her."

Eddie tossed his head back with an incredulous groan. "Dude, seriously? Don't fuck up my party with your drama."

Steve snatched the beer in his hand and scowled. "I'm not gonna fuck up your party, man. Just don't let any of the hot chicks leave. Thanks, buddy."

Eddie glared at the back of Steve's head as he rushed off, shaking his head to himself again. What a tool.

You were waiting for Steve in the living room, smile slipping when he came back with only one beer. Seeing the change in expression, he handed it off to you.

"You didn't want one?"

Steve shrugged. "I'll get one later."

You accepted the sweating bottle gingerly, flashing a smile. You hated beer, and after over a year together, you figured Steve would've remembered. But it was the thought that counts.

"Thanks, honey."

Steve sank down beside you on the small couch, hands clasped together dangling over his knees. You took a tiny sip from the bottle and winced, clearing your throat to combat the taste. Steve ran a hand through the front of his hair, scratching at it frantically. You frowned, reaching over to rub his shoulder.

"You okay, Stevie?"

Steve sighed, hooking his chin over his shoulder to look at you. Just one last time, he wanted to look at you and know you were his. His heart squeezed at your eyes blinking up at him, your lips pouty and glossed. He felt terrible, but it wasn't right. He couldn't let this go on.

"Actually, can we go talk somewhere? Just us?"

You pulled your hand away, searching his eyes. They were softer than you'd seen in a long time, round and doe-like. He looked sad.

"Yeah, okay."

He took your hand to guide you toward the hall. His touch was soft and warm, and you could only peer at your intertwined fingers longingly as he pulled you into Eddie's room. Steve gently nudged you toward the bed, and as you sank down onto the edge and watched him pace, you suddenly knew exactly what he was going to say.

Steve's hands found his hips, head hanging toward the floor to watch his feet stride back and forth. You sighed, pulling at the soggy beer label with your fingernail.

"I know what you're gonna say, Steve."

Steve came to a halt, eyes wide on your deflated figure.

"You do?"

You nodded, grinning solemnly. "Yeah, honey. Yeah, I know."

Steve sighed, and when he sank to his knees in front of you on the carpet, he felt like the world's biggest loser.

"We should've done it a long time ago, baby. I just...I can't be anybody's boyfriend, you know? I don't know how to...be good to you."

You nodded, and this time your smile was sarcastic. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Your fingers were cold and damp as they swept across his forehead, brushing his hair aside. For the first time, you could see the guilt wading in those big hazel eyes. It seemed in that moment, Steve realized what he had all along.

"Good luck, Steve. I hope this makes you happier."

But it was too late. Slumped on his knees, Steve watched you walk out the door, and never look back.

#rolly!#steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfiction #steve the hair harrington #stranger things fic #steve stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #joe keery

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kandisheek · 2 months

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FIC REC WEEK 9 – AUs

Cold Space, Warm Welcome by Annie D (scaramouche)

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 15,572 Tags: Sci-Fi, Misunderstandings, Pining Steve

Summary: Tony’s spent a couple of years flying around the galaxy in his best friend Rhodey’s spaceship the Iron Advance, doing what could perhaps be counted as ‘hero’ work. Among their allies is Steve Rogers, captain of his own crew, with whom Tony has a… potentially friendly relationship. When Steve’s ship is irreparably damaged, Rhodey takes him and his whole crew onto the Iron Advance to recover. Tony’s not at all nervous about this, because so what if this is the first time Steve will see him without the Iron Man armor?

Reasons why I love it: Steve is so whipped for Tony, oh my god. I adore their dynamic here, and it's so much fun to see all of Steve's fumbling attempts to make his interest known from Tony's point of view, who is utterly oblivious. And the setting itself is fantastic, it really paints a picture of what their lives in space are like. I love this fic to bits, and I bet you will too!

The Scars of Your Love by blue_jack

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: M Words: 5,462 Tags: Scars, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up and Making Up

Summary: On the day Peggy moved out, Steve stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at all the ragged lines running over his body. He felt like someone had taken a knife to him, slicing every inch open, and he didn’t understand how there wasn’t any blood. He traced one particularly thick scar on his stomach, gritting his teeth against the pain, the memory of the first time he’d brought Peggy over to meet his family and all the teasing that had accompanied it burning through his mind. He couldn’t imagine her marks ever disappearing, and in that moment, he didn’t want them to, didn’t want to ever expose himself to that much hurt again. Once in a lifetime was enough.

Reasons why I love it: Having heartbreak leave actual, physical scars on your body is such a kickass concept. Emotional pain is so real it often feels like it should leave scars, and Steve sure hasn't been spared during his lifetime. I really like how the whole later conflict with Tony is set up because of Steve's relationship with Peggy. It feels very true to Steve's character that he acts the way he does. And oh my god, poor Tony. I love this one, please go and check it out!

Missing and Ravished by SailorChibi

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 8,760 Tags: Serial Killer Steve, Officer Tony, Gore

Summary: Officer Tony Stark really did not mean to fall in love with a serial killer.

Reasons why I love it: This might sound weird, but if canon Steve ever became a serial killer, I imagine that it would be exactly like this. I love the whole premise of the fic, of Tony being torn between his duty, his morales and his emotions, and the moment it all comes crashing down is immensely satisfying. I love everything about this fic, so I hope you give it a shot!

Steve Rogers' Life Is Not A Romance Movie (He Wouldn't Get The References, Anyway) by someonelsesheart

Pairing: Steve/Tony, Pepper/Natasha Rating: T Words: 7,909 Tags: High School AU, Humor, Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Steve hasn't always had this ridiculous crush on Tony Stark. (Or, the one where Steve is his polite old self and doesn't really hate Tony Stark (unfortunately), Tony is a child progidy and apparently a cab driver now, too, and high school is still high school, even when you are the son of a billionaire.)

Reasons why I love it: Steve the spitfire makes an appearance! They're both such dorks in this, and the way they stand up for each other in front of bullies legitimately makes my heart melt. Also, Pepper and Natasha are queens, and I adore them with my whole heart. Definitely check this one out, it's adorable!

Stellar Love Affairs by AvengersNewB, BladeoftheNebula

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: E Words: 5,407 Tags: A/B/O (Omega Tony, Alpha Steve), Mating Cycles, Space AU

Summary: Captain Steve Rogers gets assigned to command the starship Avenger. Everything is going as expected until he sets eyes on Tony Stark, who happens to be the first omega Steve's ever met.

Reasons why I love it: A Star Trek fusion, A/B/O, fuck or die fic written by two of my favorite people in this fandom? It's like this fic was written for me! I love everything about it, from the worldbuilding to the smut to them getting their heads out of their asses and finally communicating. It's fantastic, and I highly recommend you check it out for yourself!

#marvel #stony #fanfic #fic rec #fanfic rec #ficrec #a year in fanfic recs #AUs

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ghost-proofbaby · 8 months

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ever since the epilogue was posted ive been thinking of 24 hours on a 24/7 basis !!! its just so good and im so sad to see it end but so happy to have a happy ending 🎉🎉

i just wanted to see if you recommend any other authors that can possibly fill the hole in my schedule that was waiting for a new chapter of 24 hours im already reading simmer, the yes policy, and a few others but is there anymore you recommend??

ONCE AGAIN i am forever kicking, screaming, sobbing and forever in your debt for writing such a masterpiece like i don’t usually re-read stories but i might have to because i laughed, cried, and screamed during this read omg

oooo depends on what vibes you’re going for!!!

if you’re looking for some “quick” immaculate vibes, @loveshotzz Whatta Man two night series is amazing.

anything by @luveline just warms my soul.

Do I Wanna Know? by @hellfire--cult is stellar and soon to be finished so 10/10 recommends (even if it hurt this latest chapter).

i’m also personally diving into @munson-blurbs’s Trapped Under Ice, so if you’re looking for singledad!eddie and want someone (aka me 🥺) to scream about it with as you dive in… 😌

if you’re more into stunning imagery, gut wrenching vibes, and just overall painful beauty, i recommend @jo-harrington. she has her current series As Above So Below focused on kas!eddie, but her store manager verse and freaky friday series also hold special places in my heart.

also all of @lovebugism’s summer fics have finally gotten me to live out my romanticized summer vibes ngl. they’re gorgeous and a hit every time 🥰

and i have yet to dive in properly yet (be still my beating heart), but my love @abibliophobiaa has a beautiful series for eddie currently called daylight that i am so excited to have some free time to properly read (also… for my steve girlies… beyond is to fucking die for.)

this is just a few i’m personally reading tho!!! i’m forgetting so so many people because the amount of talent on here is just unreal. i could go on and on with more authors but i need to contain myself and not be annoying lol 🖤🖤🖤

#you name a vibe i can give you a writer guarantee it #making this post made me realize just how many talented mother fuckers are just out here on this site for FREE #i have so much love for every goddamn writer you guys are so incredible #THERES ALSO SO MANY AUTHORS AND FICS ON MY TBR #i’m so tempted to add more but 😭 i could generally go on for miles #thank u ily <3 #i’d make a rec post but it would be so so long haha

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stevetonyweekly · 6 months

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SteveTony Weekly - November 12

Happy weekend, friends! I’ve got a short list for you this week, which tbh, is gonna be the trend for a while. Work is increasingly busy, as are family commitments, and grad school is scheduled for January. Sorry about that. Anyway--enjoy these recs and be sure to leave a comment/kudo for your fic authors!

~*~

stellar collision by Pandemic

He turns sixteen in front of his bathroom mirror with a chill across his skin, goosebumps on his arms, and a burn across his sternum. A wet laugh bubbles up from his mouth, too close to tears, as he watches avidly as ink pours across his skin. He thumbs the mark, presses into it, and gasps when he feels his stomach twist and a feeling he can’t shake that his soulmark is somewhere out there doing the same.

"I loved them instantly. It’s remarkable. Where was that love before? Where did you acquire it from? The way it is suddenly there, total and complete, as sudden as grief but in reverse, is one of the wonders of being human.”

Dedicated to You by mariana_oconnor

Steve Rogers is happy with his life. He runs a small bookshop, has good friends, and he fervently believes that the printed page is not obsolete. He's not expecting Tony Stark, billionaire inventor of the best e-reader on the market and perennial prey of the gossip magazines, to walk through the door.

His friends think he's crazy not to at least get the man's number, considering he's had a crush on Tony for years, but as luck would have it Steve might just get another chance.

A Notting Hill AU.

it's a small world after all by earliebirb

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

Selvage by elwenyere

When a mysterious knight is wounded in battle while protecting King Anthony Stark, it's hard to tell who's more frustrated: the king, who has so far failed to discover any clues to the missing man's identity, or the king's personal attendant, Steven Rogers, who can't believe King Anthony took the field in the first place.

What Lies Inside by Penumbren

When the Avengers discover Captain America in the Arctic sea, they find more than just a new team member: Tony Stark discovers his fated mate. The problem is, Steve Rogers is a man out of his own time and apparently straight, and Tony's not about to force anything on the man he loves--even if it means his own death. Besides, Tony's spent his entire life keeping secrets. How can he possibly tell Steve that he's really Iron Man, let alone a werewolf?

this is the long haul by meidui

It takes them eleven years to go on a first date.

the steve rogers rating system by meidui

Tony has an internalised Steve Rogers rating system, but it’s not standardised. It’s also not a foolproof system because Steve behaves in ways that crash it all the time.

Advice for the Modern Merman by KandiSheek

It's been ten years since technological advancement finally allowed merpeople to join the regular human society. Steve never thought he'd be dating the man who made it all possible.

Or Call Me Something Else by FestiveFerret

There are things Steve Rogers doesn't like about the future - see: Instagram - and there are things Steve Rogers loves about the future - see: hot, wild, no-strings-attached sex with Tony Stark. That is, until Tony drops the "b" word, and Steve realizes that what he thought was casual fun was something much more serious to the other man.

A platform for love by BladeoftheNebula

Single parent Steve has a scary moment on the subway, but thankfully a handsome stranger saves the day.

Can't Write One Song (That's Not About You) by FestiveFerret

Ten years ago, Tony fell in love with his roommate: funny, handsome, kind, smart Steve Rogers, who also happened to be the lead singer and guitarist of a band, The Howlies.

Then The Howlies made it big, Steve moved away, and Tony vowed to avoid any mention of the band, their songs, and the man he missed his chance with.

But chance has a way of giving you exactly what you need, even if you don't know it yet...

you'll be mine and i'll be yours by complicationstoo

Five words ruin Tony's life.

“He doesn't love me back,” Steve says, and Tony feels his world crumble to pieces at his feet.

Steve loves someone, and Tony knows it isn't him.

The warmth of your cheek against mine by BlossomsintheMist

Steve's hurt. Tony looks after him. Established relationship.

I'll turn hours into gardens by nanasekei

Every week, a plant arrives.

Double or Nothing by RurouniHime

One of these days, they're actually going to get that sleepover.

Steve's patient, Tony's determined, and Bucky is... wait, what's the opposite of helping? (otherwise known as the sex-filled sequel to Place Your Bets)

Sugar Seeking Sugar by NotEvenCloseToStraight

After Howard kicks Omega!Tony out, Tony is left to raise baby!Peter by himself. Working a crappy job and barely surviving, the Omega is desperate for help. When Omega!Clint suggests a Sugar Daddy, Tony is first horrified then resigned to what might be his only option to keep food on the table.

Alpha!Steve has a career, a big house, and money but is lonely every day of his life and doesn't know how to change it. When Alpha!Bucky suggests a Sugar Baby, Steve is first scandalized and then hesitantly open to at least trying.

The Sugar Seeking Sugar Agency matches Tony and Steve, and sparks fly right away between the pair. One date leads to two, then shopping trips and sleepovers, and Tony has money for bills, diapers and baby clothes while Steve is happy with the company and quickly falling in love.

Alphas usually don't want to deal with another Alpha's kid, so Tony keeps Peter a secret as long as he can but eventually he has to tell Steve about his past, his complicated life and what it might mean for their relationship.

Will the truth put a stop to their slowly progressing romance, or is a family with Tony exactly what lonely Alpha!Steve has always wanted?

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

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ellewritesandrants · 2 years

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Singer Steve, Actor Billy and Rockstar Eddie AU

I'm still working on the actual fic itself and a prequel but here's the outline I'm working with.

Steve's a famous singer who met model turned indie actor Billy at a Halloween Party after being broken up with. They had a one night stand which developed into a relationship and they dated for a few months before moving in together. All of Steve's friends had doubts about Billy because he was definitely far from rich and he could stand to gain a lot from Steve. It also didn't hurt that Steve loved to spoil Billy with fancy stuff and Billy couldn't say no to Steve.

Billy was shy and abrasive around the rest of Steve's friends and family because of his less than stellar upbringing. He wasn't the best with dealing with his emotions because he'd been brought up to suppress them like a real man and he struggled with his words, preferring to show his love through actions and acts of service.

Around Steve or Max, he could let his guard down but the rest of the world saw the hardened shell that Billy had been forced to create. It also didn't help that Max was finishing up her degree in NYU and his anxiety at having his sister so far away again left him snappy.

They'd all suspected Billy to either be a social climber or a gold digger when he revealed he'd liked Steve's band before they met and that Steve had ended up getting him his first big break with a director friend of his.

All throughout their relationship, none of the kids, teens or the adults were really all that welcoming to Billy but he was able to ignore all of that when he was with Steve. They weren't even public because Nancy, Steve's manager thought that it would be too drastic a departure for him to suddenly replace his high school sweetheart with an actor.

Steve ended up writing an entire album in three months when he was in the honeymoon stage with Billy and it had been his most popular album yet. He'd even convinced Billy to sing backing vocals for one of them.

A few months pass of Steve's friends and family planting doubts about Billy in Steve's mind and suddenly, Steve’s preparing to go on a big world tour and he meets Eddie, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin who’s going to be opening up for the entire tour and he feels sparks there. He sees that Eddie’s a lot more open with his emotions and everything and he finds himself smitten.

Billy’s been pulling away a bit more supposedly because of work but Nancy sends him a picture of Billy out on lunch with some guy, looking like’s having the time of his life. It’s the last straw for Steve and he breaks up with Billy when he gets home at their apartment.

He tells Billy that he wants that emotional connection and after almost a year, Steve still feels like there’s so much of Billy he doesn’t know about. Billy's heartbroken but he's not the type to beg for scraps after being thrown to the side too many times and while he wished that he could have opened up more with Steve, he still carried the literal and metaphysical scars of his childhood.

“Is that it?”

“I guess it is. Don’t worry about moving your stuff. I’m about to go on tour anyway so I can just get someone to get my stuff since we’re busy with rehearsals.”

“O-Okay. Good luck on tour then.”

“Thanks. Good luck on your acting gigs.”

Steve broke up with Billy two weeks before the tour starts and a month into the tour, Steve and Eddie had been caught kissing. They played it up and even kiss on stage. The tour was about nine months and after the tour, they move in together but they don’t work well in that regard.

Eddie’s a slob and he doesn’t do household chores. He doesn’t know how to cook or clean or anything. Steve isn’t the best at it either so they don’t how to make that work. Also, the conflicts in schedules after the tour was even worse than it was with Billy.

With Billy, Steve got delicious homemade and healthy meals ready to go whenever he wanted it and Billy was a bit of a neat freak but he loved that about him. Sure, Billy would go off to shoots and everything but Billy never went to sleep without calling Steve after his shows, even staying up late or working around timezones.

Eddie was always hyper and ready for the next big thing. He was more of an in the moment guy and that worked really well when they were together on tour but Eddie had a hundred things going on and he didn’t really ever check in, not the way Billy did.

Steve found himself missing Billy and trying to find Billy in Eddie. He’s half tempted to search him up and see what he’s been up to but after seeing Max at one of their tour stops, angry on behalf of her brother who had been heartbroken to have been replaced so quickly, he doesn’t dare.

He heard that their little friend group had split with Dustin, Mike and Lucas in support of Steve breaking up with Billy while El, Max and Will were upset with Steve for it. Dustin, Mike and Lucas all liked Eddie better and so did Nancy, Robin and Jonathan but Steve missed Billy.

After three months of it not working out with Eddie and going more than a week without talking to him, Steve called it quits and Eddie agreed, thinking they were better off as friends instead. After that, Steve had a pretty steady stream of boys and girls who wanted in his pants and while he indulged in some, he couldn’t help but look for Billy in each and every one of them.

After a few months, he called it quits on dating and instead focused on his new music. Oddly enough, it wasn’t going as good or as quickly as the past ones did. He realized that with his latest album, he'd worked on them with Billy because even if he was an actor, Billy was a literature Major who loved to write poems and stories and Steve loved that about him.

There were always sweet little messages written in his trademark cursive that he would hide in the most unexpected places just so that he could get Steve to smile and he would always show his love in unorthodox ways but Steve loved it.

Steve lived the single bachelor life for a few more months, trying and failing to write anything good before he received a link from Eddie, who he’s remained good friends with about an actor who wrote and sang the theme song of his new movie. Eddie said that the guy had the voice of an angel and the body of a god.

“Hey Stevie! Have you seen this? This guy’s the total package I swear. Voice of an Angel and Body of a God. If I ever get the chance, I’d want to climb that tree."

Steve’s surprised to see Billy on the thumbnail, but he watched the live performance of it in promotion of the movie and his heart clenched at the song. He’s hooked and he watched the interview that came before it. The host asked about the inspiration for the song and how the whole writing process went.

Steve found out about the anniversary surprise Billy had planned which he'd inadvertently ruined. Finding out that he was the inspiration for the heartwrenching song Billy wrote made him feel like a total asshole and hearing a bit more about his past with his father made him feel even worse for never asking about the scars he'd had.

Steve desperately wanted to contact Billy but he controlled himself. Instead he went onto twitter where Billy and the song, Hallelujah happened to be trending.

He found everyone thirsting over Billy trying to figure out what his sexual orientation was, eventually culminating in a fan finding a picture of him at pride with his sister and her girlfriend while wearing a gay flag. The girls are sad but still thirsty while the gays rejoiced.

Eddie was highkey simping over Twitter and he was leading the revolution, tweeting out pics of younger Billy from Insta and finding him absolutely adorable.

Billy’s not the best with social media but Twitter was his favorite place to rant and he just used his main since it didn’t have that many followers before but someone found it. Someone shares some of the tweets from when Steve had just broken up with him and fuck, Steve feels like an asshole. It doesn’t help that assholes like Eddie are quote tweeting it with an I can treat you better baby and all of that.

Billy finally gets on Twitter again, surprised that they found him so quickly but he tweets out that applications to be his partner are vetted by Max and El whom he tagged. They retweeted saying, serious applicants only.

Eddie bugged Steve, asking if he’s listened to the song and Steve had to listen to his ex rant and rave about his other ex. He doesn’t know if it’s the universe’s way of punishing him or his own folly coming back to him.

Either way, he wrote his first decent song in ages, a song basically begging Billy to take him back about how he saw Billy in other people which he records in record time and releases as a single right around the same time that Eddie's band releases a single all about being able to treat someone in a relationship better if they had the chance.

Unsurprisingly, the song went viral and when asked in an interview about the inspiration behind it, Steve talks about someone he loved that he'd hurt but couldn't help but want back. Obviously, Eddie's song also went viral and he point blank said it was for Billy, to try and convince him to give Eddie a chance.

The internet started connecting the dots and some people who ship Eddie and Billy ask Eddie if he’ll back off if it turned out that the ex Steve was talking about was Billy. He tagged Steve in a tweet that said Game on. The entire time, Billy was apparently having the time of his life celebrating his sister's birthday at Disneyland with his sister and her partner so he didn't know about any of the drama.

The hard part was Billy was a fan of Corroded Coffins even before it got super famous so people managed to find his old tweets about them, specifically those about Eddie and they shared them, telling Eddie he had a chance.

There were literal shipping wars between Steve and Billy or Eddie and Billy but everyone agreed that the most important thing would be that Billy was happy. He's exceedingly surprised when he comes home to have people literally begging him to listen to the songs and tell them what he thought about it.

Max and El were tempted to give Eddie a shot because he actually did contact them first about dating Billy and he was serious about it from all that he’s heard about Billy. On the other hand, they heard the song from Steve and they saw Billy’s reaction to it because try as he might, some part of Billy would always love Steve since he was his first love. They consulted with Billy who agreed that it wasn’t that bad to give Eddie a date just to hype things up but also because he did want to get to know him.

Billy didn’t really want it to be public though so he asked Eddie if he’s fine with a date at home. Billy cooked because he’s a great cook and Eddie made him laugh with his antics and anecdotes. Eddie suggested they take a picture of them together and share it on his Twitter to reward the fans who helped him get where he was and Billy agreed.

Steve saw it and burned with jealousy. He sent Billy a huge bouquet of his favorite flowers just like he used to do before his premieres with one of Billy’s favorite poems about finding his way back to the one he loves or something. Max is the one who shares a picture of it and tags Steve, asking what the hell it was. He replies a gift.

Courting Wars launch between Eddie and Steve for Billy. Billy’s head spins because it’s literally his past and his present fighting over his future and it’s so weird. Billy doesn't really know what to do so he takes it a few steps at a time, allowing each of the boys to have their dates, making it clear that nothing was going to happen until he made a decision.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie and Steve come to a stalemate and they decide that there's more than enough of Billy to go around so they decide to start courting him together instead of individually, just so that they could get him and keep him all to themselves since there were a lot of other individuals trying to steal their Billy away from them. Billy didn't stand a chance against them combined.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove deserved better #billy deserved better #ellewritesandrants #harringrove #billy hargrove au #steve harrington #billy hargrove redemption #stranger things rewrite #billy and max #bottom billy hargrove #steve x billy x eddie #mungrove #harringroveson #steddilly #stilldie #billy x steve #billy x eddie #eddie munson

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brighteyedjill · 3 months

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🥤 📚 🏜️ 🐝 🧩 for the ask game!! <3<3

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Here's a few amazing fics in some different fandoms:

Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Edgin/Xenk: To the Ends of the Earth by @moorishflower. An AU in which Xenk comes to recruit Ed while he's in Revel's End, there's a lot of irritation, and then they discover maybe they both misjudged the other. Xenk's internal monologue is so good.

The Witcher, Aiden/Lambert, Keira/Lambert, and Aiden/Lambert/Keira: Even if you don't know anything about Keira, or don't usually read about her, the Trust series by @bomberqueen17 is a treasure. It's got nonbinary Lambert, Aiden captured by an evil sorceress, cute domesticity, and heart-wrenching misunderstandings. You can start with Very Dark Magic if you're mostly here for the Laiden of it all, but I bet you'll want to go back and read what's been going on with Lambert and Keira.

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows, Jesper/Wylan: My Little Pony: BDSM is Magic by @sparrowmoth. I'm not saying this just because they sent this ask! If you haven't really thought pretending to be a horse could be hot, prepare to have something awakened. Also, it's tremendously sweet and the characterization is spot-on.

MCU, Bucky/Steve: Lead Me Not into Penn Station by @kaasknot has an excellent title. It's a delicious little one shot set in pre-war Brooklyn about Bucky taking Steve to the baths for a good old-fashioned gang bang.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app?

A list of things I wanted to google when I had cell reception back. 😂 I cannot function without immediate access to all knowledge!

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All comments are cherished. One kind I really enjoy is the live slug reaction kind where people write down reactions as they go, sometimes pulling out quotes from the text that really strike them. Like, "Oh noooo that is so like them!" or "This line hits hard." Another type of comment I really enjoy is the woeful sort, usually in response to an angsty fic, i.e. "I am in a puddle on the floor of my bedroom now my heart will never be the same, brb my feelings are slowly draining into the void."

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@bittylildragon is a tremendous beta and cheerleader (and writer and artist). The amount of helpful insight and criticism they have provided over the years I've known them is.... massive.

@contemplativepancakes is such a stellar commenter. I think she's commented on, like, every Witcher fic I've ever written? I always smile when I get an AO3 notification about one of her comments.

@ainawgsd is another power commenter. I always enjoy seeing their icon (is it a German Shepherd?) in the comments section.

@kuwdora is the patron saint of obscure pairings. They are always right there with incandescent joy and thoughtful comments when I post a fic for a little pool noodle of a ship.

@rubynye is a delight who is always a bright spot in my inbox. Also, there is no squee like a rubynye squee.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

No paragraph breaks. I am sorry, my eyes no work like that!

From the Writers' Truth of Dare Ask Game. Send me an ask!

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karmic-vibes · 1 year

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If I Can Dream

25 - While I Can Dream

art credit: @lazylittledragon on tumblr / lazyjunebug on twitter

cw: emotions :’)

a/n: this is the LAST chapter/installment of this fic. i may post more little one-shots to add to the steddie dad multiverse (ie w the new addition of Theo 🥺💕), but for the main story, this is it, folks. i hope you enjoyed the ride!

Year: 2006

“Okay, do you have your phone?” Eddie asked.

“Yes, pops.”

“Your guitar?”

“Yes.”

“Your bedding?”

“Yeah.”

“Your–”

“Eddie! We have been through this list a million times! She has everything!” Steve interjected.

“Jesus, alright… do you have–”

“Edward!”

“Christ, okay, let’s go.”

The family piled into the rented U-Haul and started their journey to UCLA. Bobby had been dreaming of moving out to California for as long as she could remember. She begged and pleaded with her fathers to move, but they told her that they should stay put while she finished school.

Now that she was college age, the world was her oyster. She initially wanted to go to UC Berkeley, but she was waitlisted, so she had to resort to her safety school: UCLA. “Safety school” was a reach, as both universities had an acceptance rate of less than 30%—the boys were beyond proud, to say the least.

Throughout her rebellious four years of high school, the boys worried about her getting into any colleges at all. But to find out that she was accepted into one of the top universities in the country, they were left speechless.

“I told you she didn’t get any of your bad traits,” Steve teased.

And he was right.

Despite being sneakier than a ninja, and constantly back talking her fathers, Bobby Judas Harrington had impeccable grades, stellar extra curricular activities, and an exceptional entrance essay.

All thanks to Eddie.

Her grades were a result from being able to focus from her ADHD medication and her dad’s unmatched, under appreciated brain (which was used to learn music in an unbelievably short amount of time and write campaigns no one else could’ve dreamed of).

Her extra curriculars, which ranged from marching band, to Hell Fire, to her independent garage band, to being credited as a producer on a Corroded Coffin album, to even working part-time as a waitress at a local restaurant on the weekends. She showed a balance between school, fun, and work like no other.

Then her essay—it was arguably the best UCLA had ever received. While most wrote about rewarding times they had whilst volunteering, or how hard they worked in high school—Bobby wrote about her unconventional upbringing and how it shaped her into the person she became.

How having two dads, one being transgender (and famous) affected her. How both her parents were young when they had her, and how that didn’t stop them from being the best parents they could be. How deeply the two cared about her, more so than most conventional parents cared for their children. How having two godmothers (and no godfathers), two singular grandparents, and a gaggle of aunts and uncles (who weren’t even related to her) helped raise her.

It was touching. It was unique. It was authentically Bobby.

While the last few years were a challenge, raising an angsty teenager in a house with no one who could relate to her—they managed to create the best Munson or Harrington to ever exist. They couldn’t even believe it themselves. How they were unable to do it for themselves, yet they helped raise a daughter who essentially became a genius in secret astounded them.

They were proud, to say the least.

On the long, grueling ride to the campus dorms, the boys cherished every last second they got to spend with their daughter. After all, they wouldn’t be seeing her again until thanksgiving. The three of them were smushed, shoulder to shoulder, in the rental. The boys beaming—Bobby, not so much.

“So, pops,” Bobby started. “You gonna start touring again now that I’m gonna be in college?”

“Possibly,” he sighed. “The rest of the band has kids now, so we’ll have to work around them.”

“Would you come play at my school?”

“If they ask us,” he chuckled.

“Would you guys consider moving out to California?”

“I thought you wanted to be far away from us,” Steve teased.

“I want some independence, sure, but I’m still gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll miss you too, Bee, but… I dunno if we can leave everyone in Hawkins behind,” Eddie honestly answered. “Especially with Wayne and Pattie being a bit older. I wouldn’t wanna be too far from them.”

“No, I understand,” she sighed. “It’s gonna be so weird being away from everyone.”

“I know. I don’t know what we’re gonna do without you,” Steve smirked. “What did we even do before we had her?”

“Like I’m supposed remember?” Eddie grinned.

“Let’s have a second kid—start fresh. After all, we’re only forty and thirty-nine,” Steve teased.

“Hey!” Bobby laughed.

“If you think I’m doing all that again, then you must be crazier than I thought, Harrington,” Eddie warned. “I’ll consider a dog, though. Possibly a cat.”

“Oh, okay, yeah that’s a good idea.”

“Let’s give it Bobby’s room.”

“Hey!” She giggled. “I’m still right here!”

“We know, bug.” Eddie jokingly nudged her arm. “You could never be replaced. You know that.”

And she did know it. She knew she was irreplaceable. She knew, no matter what—even now that her parents were old and gray—she was their baby.

Their first day of driving was coming to an end in Texas. They booked a crummy hotel room to sleep in for the night and told themselves they’d be back on the road first thing in the morning.

The second day of travel was more or less the same—everyone crammed shoulder to shoulder in the U-Haul, desperately trying not to kill each other. The boys endlessly argued over directions, saying that the GPS didn’t know it’s ass from its elbow, and Steve yelling that it didn’t have either (so, of course, how would it know?).

The day before Bobby was officially dropped off at college, they stayed in a hotel near campus, so they’d be able to sleep in prior to moving day. That evening, Steve was asleep as soon as the sun set, but Eddie and Bobby couldn’t doze off to save their lives.

“Pops,” Bobby whispered.

“Hmm?” he hummed.

“Wanna go outside by the pool? I can’t sleep.”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “I’ll grab a couple beers. You want any?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled.

The pair slipped out of the room, making their way outside the hotel. They occupied a few pool chairs, popping open the overpriced bottles of beer.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Eddie asked.

“Are you ready?”

“I mean… yes and no. Yes, because I’m excited to see you grow up and be on your own. No, because… you’re growing up. After tomorrow, dad and I are officially empty nesters. We’re not gonna know what to do with ourselves,” he quietly laughed.

“You’ll figure something out.”

“You’re a good kid, Bee, you know that, right?”

“I try,” She grinned. “Papa?”

“Yeah?”

“What happens if I don’t like UCLA?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I don’t like the school? What if I wanna come home?”

“Then you come home and we find a school that’s right for you,” Eddie shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“You won’t think I’m a quitter?”

“God, no, pumpkin, of course not. You’re doing something no Munson or Harrington has ever done. That alone is something to be proud of. And if you don’t like it, then you don’t like it.”

“What if this whole thing was a mistake? Moving out here?”

“You know, Bee…” Eddie sighed as he took another sip of his beer. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. I’ve sold drugs, I’ve done drugs, I’ve skipped school, I’ve cursed dad out countless times. Hell, I’ve nearly even kicked him out once or twice. I have made so many mistakes. But you? You’ll always be my best one. Not all mistakes are bad, love bug—some just may be the best thing to ever happen to you.”

“I was a mistake?” She teasingly gasped. “Now here I was, thinking I was thoroughly planned.”

“Yeah,” Eddie snickered. “A pair of twenty-one and twenty-two year olds thoroughly planned you. You’re funny.”

“I try,” she giggled. “I’ve only learned from the best.”

“Damn straight.” The two clinked their bottles. “Shit, love bug… you’re a grown up. Where’d all the fuckin’ time go?”

“I’d ask you the same thing.” She weakly smiled, plucking a gray curl from Eddie’s head.

“Ow, you bitch,” he laughed. “God help your father. I don’t believe in Heaven or hell, but if there is one, dad’s going straight to Heaven for putting up with the two of all all these years.”

“We’re not that bad.”

“Bug, we’re the worst.”

The two chatted the night away until the hotel staff told them the pool area was closed. They headed up to bed, still tossing and turning, dreading the morning. When the sun rose, and it was Bobby’s check-in time, the family hauled themselves to UCLA to send their daughter off into adulthood.

They spent several hours moving everything into her cramped freshman dorm, but none of them cared. In the end, it was more time they got to spend together. Once the final box was unpacked, the boys offered to take Bobby out to lunch, to which she happily agreed.

The family gathered together, for what would be the last time for the next few months. Hours passed without any of them realizing—they were together; they were happy. Nothing else mattered.

When the boys dropped Bobby back off at her dorm, they wrapped her in huge tight enough to kill. While they wanted their little one to grow and flourish, they simultaneously couldn’t bear to live life without her. Alas, they broke free, sending their not-so-little girl off to be on her own.

“We love you, pumpkin,” Eddie whispered.

“I love you guys too,” Bobby sobbed.

“Stay safe… say no to drugs,” Steve mumbled into her curly hair.

“Unless you grow them yourself.”

“Edward!”

“Fine, sorry! Don’t do drugs, or whatever.”

“Call us if you need anything. Day or night.”

“I know, daddy.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Bye, love bug.” Eddie reluctantly pulled away from the hug, admiring his little twin.

“Bye, papa.”

“Don’t do anything I would do.”

“I know,” She giggled. “Oh, and uh… here…” Eddie moved his hair out of the way, unclipping his guitar pick necklace. “Take care of this for me, bug.”

“Papa, I… I can’t take this,” She whispered. “Sure you can,” he shrugged. “It’s good luck.”

“Thanks, pops,” She teared up.

“Okay, bye for real, gorgeous girl.”

“See ya guys. Call me when you get home safe.”

“We will…” Steve pouted.

She wrapped each of them in one final hug before running into her dorm building, officially fleeing the Harrington nest. Steve and Eddie clung to each other, silently crying, mourning the closed chapter in their lives.

“Well shit,” Eddie sniffed, “what the fuck do we do now?”

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tj-is-down · 2 years

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Radio Silence - Steve Harrington

Hey guys! This is my first ever fic, I hope you like it! I’ve become a real Steve simp recently and this is a product of that. Please be kind, but I’d love any notes/feedback you guys have! Also, please don’t steal my work! Thanks in advance, y’all.

Summary: You and Steve are best friends, until one day he stops talking to you for seemingly no reason.

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: One mention (literally less than a sentence) of a parent in less than stellar health, but otherwise none! Also, both reader and Steve are of age in this fic. I tried to be gender-neutral as well, but please correct me if I messed up at all!

Steve wasn’t talking to you. At least, that’s what you’d gathered from the fact that he, well, wasn’t talking to you. You weren’t sure exactly what you’d done wrong, but you knew one thing: he was pissed. The two of you were inseparable, thick as thieves since you’d moved to Hawkins in middle school, and even after he became the “King,” and the two of you had fallen into different crowds, the two of you would always make time for each other, whether it was studying for class during the week, catching a movie on the weekend, or just general dumbassery whenever you two had a free moment. You two were peas in a pod, and although neither of you would admit it, time apart was brutal.

Things changed a little more than slightly when he started dating Nancy. For you, at least. It meant seeing Steve less and less, and you were happy for him, but you were also a little sad. Steve was your best friend, and with every science test that passed or new movie that released, you were reminded of how things were, and how you had been replaced. Steve didn’t notice, and if he did, he didn’t say anything. You were still his best friend, and Nancy was his girlfriend, and life was pretty great.

That was, until Nancy dumped him for Jonathan Buyers, he lost his friends, and his world came crashing down in front of him. You welcomed him back with open arms, even after he fell to the bottom of the social totem pole. You were there for him through it all: you were there for the shit with his parents, and when he didn’t get into college. You even stayed back for him, passing up your dream school in favor of the local community college, although Steve never needed to know that. For all he knew, NYU had rejected you, and you stayed at home so that you could be with your family. You had a four-year old brother who adored you, and your mom wasn’t in the best health. Those were reason enough to stay, and Steve wasn’t going to challenge that.

So, movie nights resumed. Study sessions looked a little different now, with Steve helping you instead of the other way around, but you were just happy to be back to normal with Steve. (Except for the monsters.)

Except, things weren’t normal. Not for Steve. Something had shifted for him after Nancy broke up with him. If he was being honest, something had shifted for him a long time before that, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself. Every day contained some new and terrifying…thing that he had to deal with, whether it be the Upside Down, some crazy monster, or something else entirely, and you were the only constant he had. He needed you more than anything, more than air, water, food--even more than his hair. Hell, he’d almost shaved his head when you called it stupid one time during a fight. He loved you, and he was finding it hard to keep that to himself.

That’s why it hurt so much when you told him you’d been studying with a guy you met at school. Alex Cunningham, you said his name was. You flaked on Steve to study for an upcoming mathematics test, and that was just the first time. Your study sessions became replaced by study sessions with Alex, and Steve started spending most of his weekdays at Scoops Ahoy or with the kids.

It’s when you ditched him for movie night that really pushed him over the edge. He was waiting outside the theater for twenty minutes, and when you didn’t show he went to your house to make sure you were okay. Your mom told him you weren’t home, that you had gotten picked up an hour prior by “a nice boy from school.” She invited him inside to wait, but he declined and went home, a mix between angry and depressed. He didn’t sleep that night, and when his alarm went off in the morning, he was still filled with emotion. At first he didn’t know what to do, so he decided to just keep going on as normal, as if nothing had happened.

That didn’t last long.

You came into Scoops Ahoy around noon, a smile on your face and a wave directed at him. He started waving back, but stopped when he saw the sweater fit comfortably on your body. It was…new, and at further inspection it looked a little bit oversized, as if it belonged to someone else.

Alex Cunningham.

“Hey, man, can you take them for me?” He asked his coworker. “I gotta get something from the back.” He practically ran out of the front and into the storage area, nearly slamming the door on his way. You waited for him to come back, but after an inexplicable amount of time had passed you decided to leave.

Since that half-wave, Steve hasn’t interacted with you or even looked in your direction. You seek him out during the week, going out of your way to Scoops Ahoy or whichever house the kids are hanging out at--where Steve is no doubt bound to be--but every time you show up he leaves, or busies himself with something on his own, or just straight-up ignores you. You’ve asked him plenty of times what you did wrong, to warrant the treatment you were getting, but he’d just roll his eyes or scoff. The kids didn’t know either, and if they did they weren’t telling you.

It all came to a head one day in the middle of August. You’d stopped trying to talk to Steve, for the most part, and he hadn’t seen you in months. There were a few times when he’d driven to your house and sat there, contemplating coming clean before driving off and going home. The truth is, however much you thought you missed him, he missed you more, the feeling multiplying tenfold along with the guilt he felt for cutting you out of his life. As time passed he felt you slipping away, the opportunity to make things right getting smaller and smaller.

He and Robin were playing paper football at Scoops Ahoy when the phone rang.

“If I make this, you’re getting it,” Robin said quickly before flicking the paper triangle through his fingers.

“Fuck you, Buckley,” he said, pointing at her. He picked up the phone. “”Scoops Ahoy, how can I help you?”

“Hey, Steve, it’s Y/N. Listen, I know we’re not talking, but--”

He hung up the phone. A little bit too aggressively, because Robin looked up from what she was doing and asked, “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “Wrong number.”

The phone rang again, and his eyes widened slightly. “Don’t pick it up.”

“Why?” Robin asked, laughing. “One of your dates calling to cancel?” She picked up the phone and put on an exaggerated customer service voice. “Scoops Ahoy!” She glared at him when she realized who it was and that he had hung up on them. “Hey, Y/N, how’s it going? Sorry about Steve, he’s a dumbass. Yeah, I know, right?” She nodded her head as the conversation went on. “Uh huh, mhm, yeah, I know we have some. Anything else you need? Okay, see you in a bit.” She hung up the phone and turned back to look at Steve. “You’re a dick.”

“What did she want?”

“It’s her brother’s birthday, asshole. She wanted to know if we had any candles so she could do a little celebration for him here.”

“She’s coming here?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Steve said, grabbing his coat from the rack behind the counter.

“Uh, no you’re not,” Robin rebutted, yanking him back. “Your shift doesn’t end for hours and I am not closing this place by myself.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“I don’t care! What’s your problem, anyways? I thought you guys were best friends.”

“We are.”

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

“Friends fight, okay? This is totally normal.”

“Friends fight, yes, but you guys haven’t talked in months, and from what I understand, that’s all on you.” She flicked him. “So what’s the deal?”

“Ask Alex Cunningham.”

“Who?”

“Y/N’s new boyfriend.”

“Y/N doesn’t have a--”

The two are interrupted when you enter with your younger brother. “Steve!” He shouts, running over to give Steve a hug. Forgetting his conversation with Robin, Steve picks him up.

“Hey buddy! How are you? Being good, I hope?”

Your brother nodded his head. “Today’s my birthday!”

“I know today’s your birthday! How could I forget? You’re turning ten today right?”

“No, five!” Your brother said, laughing.

“Fifty?” Steve joked back.

“No, five!”

“Five hundred?”

“No, five!”

“Ohh, you’re turning five today. You’re so big! You want some ice cream?” Your brother nodded enthusiastically and Steve put him down, leading him over to the counter. “Whatever you want, it’s on the house, okay?”

Your brother ordered a double-decker hot fudge sundae that both you and Steve knew he wouldn’t finish and ran over to one of the tables.

“You want anything?” Steve asked, and you had to physically stop the shock from showing on your face. “It’s on the house, like I said.”

“You’re speaking to me today?” You asked back, a little too assertive.

“Fine, don’t get anything. Not my problem,” he replied nonchalantly, as if he didn’t care whether or not you ordered. The truth is, he knew what you’d order, and he wanted to show you he remembered. But you didn’t get anything, instead rolling your eyes and walking over to the table with your brother.

After a few minutes of glaring back and forth across the room between you and Steve, your brother called out. “Steve! Come sit with us!”

“I can’t, buddy, I’m working,” Steve replied, looking for any excuse to stay away from you.

Robin cut in. “Go ahead Steve,” she said, loud enough for you and your brother to hear. “It’s not busy, go sit with the kid for his birthday!”

He glared at her. “Thanks a lot, Robin,” he said through gritted teeth.

She smiled back. “No problem.”

He came and sat next to your brother but didn’t say anything. That was fine, because as he’d come to realize, when you give a five-year-old ice sugar and silence, they’ll do anything to fill it.

“Steve, are you and that girl friends?” He asked, pointing to Robin.

Steve chuckled. “Yes, buddy. That’s my friend Robin.”

“She’s pretty,” your brother responded. “Hi, Robin!” He shouted, turning to wave at her.

“Hi!” She waved back.

“I totally forgot, one second,” you said, going up to the counter. You grabbed the candle from Robin and stopped to talk to her for a few minutes, leaving Steve and your brother alone for a man-to-man discussion.

“Steve, do you like Y/N?”

Steve looked over at him. “Yeah, of course I do. Y/N is my best friend.”

“No!” Your brother responded, throwing his hands in the air. “I mean, do you like-like Y/N?”

“What? No. No, buddy, I do not like-like Y/N. Besides, they’ve got a boyfriend, anyways.”

You come back to the table, oblivious to the conversation the two had just had, until your brother said, “Steve said you have a boyfriend.”

You looked up in shock, surprised that Steve had said anything about you at all. “Did he now? Who would that be?”

“I dunno,” Your brother answered. “Who is it, Steve?”

“Some guy named Alex, from what I heard,” Steve grumbled.

“Some guy named Alex,” your brother repeated. He was acting as the messenger between the two of you, since neither of you were speaking to each other.

“Well, tell Steve that I haven’t talked to Alex in months, and it’s none of his business who I talk to or don’t talk to.”

“Y/N says they haven’t talked to Alex in months,” your brother stated.

“...And?” You coaxed him.

“And it’s none of your beeswax!”

“Tell Y/N it became my business when they ditched me for movie night. And when they came in wearing his sweater back in January. And when they pretended like nothing was wrong and didn’t even apologize.”

Your brother started talking, but quickly looked back at Steve. “Can you say that again? I forgot part of it.”

“It’s okay, I got it, bud,” you told him. You looked over at Steve. “Is that why you stopped talking to me? Because I forgot about movie night?”

“You ditched me! I was waiting twenty minutes for you, and then I went to your house to make sure you were okay, and then your mom told me that you went out with this Alex guy and I’m sitting there looking like an idiot. And then the next day you come in with his sweater on like I’m not supposed to be upset about that, and then you try to talk to me like nothing’s wrong--”

“Why would you be upset about that? Why does it matter whose clothes I wear?”

“Why do you think, Y/N?”

You paused for a moment, taking in the weight of his confession. “Say it, Steve.”

“What?”

“Say it. Tell me what you’re trying to say right now, because if you’re bullshitting me I will never forgive you--”

His lips were on yours in an instant. He crossed the table with impressive speed, the corner of the wood digging into his abdomen, but he didn’t care. He’s wanted to tell you--needed to tell you--for so long, and if there was ever a time to do it, it was now. He pulled away slowly, eyes closed, not wanting to see the reaction on your face until he was sure he was ready. When he opened them, your eyes were staring back into his, a mixture of confusion, surprise, and relief.

“Was that okay?” Steve asked.

You nodded. “That was…nice.”

“That was gross!” Your brother shouted, breaking the two of you out of your bubble. “No kissing on my birthday!”

“I’m sorry, bud,” You said at the same time as Steve. “Should we light your birthday candle so you can make a wish?”

“Yes!” Your brother yelled out. “I wish I could never see the two of you kiss ever again!”

“Well, we haven’t lit the candle yet, and you told us your wish, so it’s not coming true,” Steve said, leaning in to kiss you again.

Ignoring the shouts of your brother, you kissed Steve back. “Does this mean we’re talking again?”

“If you’ll have me back.”

You laughed to yourself as you lit the candle. “You got it, Harrington.”

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader

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