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#quick reminder that steve is over here now!!
toruslvt · 21 days
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i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA
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⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.
 ⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷
I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^
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there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.
he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’
Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.
it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.
walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.
“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.
“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.
we should hang out soon ;)
and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.
“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.
“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.
“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.
it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.
Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.
“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.
“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”
you swallow, “what are you doing here?”
“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”
“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”
he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.
“tell me what’s wrong”
“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”
“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”
you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.
“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.
“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.
there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”
“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.
“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”
“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.
he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”
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reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤
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hairmetal666 · 28 days
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Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.
And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.
They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--
Steve Harrington is his bed.
They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--
They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.
They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.
Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.
Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.
Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.
They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.
After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.
He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--
"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.
"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.
Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.
Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or
It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--
Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.
Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.
He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."
Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."
They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.
There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.
"Stop," he whispers to Steve.
Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.
"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."
"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"
"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."
"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."
"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."
"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.
"Then we'll deal with it together."
"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."
--
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.
A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.
Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.
They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.
"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.
"Hey yourself."
"It's Bi Visibility day."
"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going
"I want to come out."
He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"
Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.
"How do you want to do it?"
He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.
They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.
Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.
The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.
Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.
He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"
"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.
"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"
Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."
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stevieschrodinger · 16 days
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Part One Two
A small note: if you would like to be added to the tagging list please ask in a reply to the post, I won't check elsewhere.
Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.
Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.
He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.
They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.
Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.
Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.
Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”
Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.
Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”
“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”
“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.
Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.
Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.
Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.
Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”
And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.
Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.
Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.
Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.
“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.
Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.
It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.
Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.
Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.
Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.
Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.
Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”
They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.
Steve said he’d drive them.
“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”
“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.
“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”
That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”
“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”
And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.
So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”
Robin hums again.
Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.
For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”
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upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months
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my customer is running late and i'm in A Mood, so here we are
18+
“Keep watching, honey.”
You squirmed, trying not to make a noise. Not that you would’ve been heard, the film was playing loudly on Steve’s television, horror movie sounds making you flinch in fright every now and then.
It was hard to focus on the plot though, the storyline a senseless thing, cut up scenes of bad fake blood and awful zombies, all of it nonsense after Steve told you that you could sit on his lap. It had only taken ten minutes before your sleep shorts were pulled to the side, the boy taking his cock out of his sweats to let you grind on it.
He’d hissed when the length of him met your bare cunt, slick and warm, watching in awe as it slid between your folds. He kept one hand on your hip, letting you rut back and forth, the other squeezing at your thigh to keep you spread for him.
You whined, even though you weren’t supposed to, biting down on your bottom lip as your lashes fluttered. Even though you had your back to Steve’s chest, he seemed to know, running a quick hand over your slit so you jerked against him.
“Eyes open, you know better than that.” Steve’s nose nuzzled at your jaw, kissing sweetly at your cheek when you nodded for him, starting up that slow, dirty grind again. He was achingly hard, leaking at the tip and adding to the mess between your thighs. The front of his sweats were a darker grey in patches, all because of you - it was filthy, just the way he liked it.
“She’s soaked for me, isn’t she? Poor thing just wants more,” Steve whispered, letting his hand wander back between your thighs. His let his fingers rub over your clit, touching at his cock when you slid back too far. You lifted yourself a little, getting desperate, crying out when the head of him caught at your entrance, nudging up and stretching you out for just a second. Steve tutted. “Ah, ah, honey, c’mon now. Not yet.”
You wanted to cry, eyes turning glassy ‘cause your poor clit was swollen and puffy, desperate to come. You pouted, leaning back against the boy and grinding down harder, splitting your cunt over his cock until you felt it twitch.
“Needy thing,” Steve cooed, wrapping his arms around your middle. One big hand travelled up across your chest, cupping at your tits before he caught you chin between a finger and thumb. “Pretty thing.”
He directed your face away from the television, where you’d been told to look. Instead, your gaze landed on the armchair in the corner, where another boy was sprawled lazily. He was just as pretty as Steve, with his own jeans unbuttoned, his cock in his hand as he stroked it slowly.
“Gotta keep rubbing this pretty cunt on me,” Steve whispered, his lips at your ear. He squished at your cheeks until you let out a little whimper, stare heavy on the other boys hard cock and the way he was fisting it. “Gotta keep goin’ until Eddie says otherwise, you know the rules.”
Eddie smiled at the reminder of how he was in charge - tonight, at least. He swiped a thumb over his tip and tilted his head back, watching you from under his lashes. He let out a small sound when you picked the pace back up, spreading your thighs as obscenely as you could, letting yourself slip over Steve’s cock until he was as soaked as you were. Eddie swore when Steve hooked his fingers into your sleep shorts, tugging the material aside so he could really get a good look.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice was wrecked, a raspy thing from his panting breaths. “You heard Stevie. Maybe when we finish this movie, I’ll let you ride him, huh?”
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xoxoladyaz · 11 months
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You're My Heaven, Angel (Paramedic Steve x Rockstar Eddie) - Part 2
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (Coming Soon)
AN: I just wanted to say a quick THANK YOU to everyone who has been so kind and so supportive of Part 1! I hear you and I, too, want to create a whole series based around this idea. It's a lot of pressure following-up something that's so beloved, but I'm going to give it my best!
Robin must secretly hate Steve.
She must be the most incredible actress in the entire world. She must be the most prolific conman that’s in the business of conman-ing people or whatever. She must have made a blood oath with an elder god during a full moon that no matter how many days or weeks or months or years it took, she would one day make Steve Harrington’s life absolutely miserable. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why she insists on taking the scenic route to Eddie’s room - a scenic route which adds on two additional minutes of travel time instead of heading straight down the hallway (which maybe adds forty seconds tops). 
A route which means Steve has to bear two additional minutes of Eddie loudly introducing him to every single doctor, nurse, patient or family member that they come across on the way to his suite. Never mind that Steve’s worked with most of these doctors and nurses for years now, never mind that he actually goes to Sharla’s poker group when he has Thursdays off with the other fifty-something moms on staff (which Robin never ceases to find absolutely hilarious); no, Eddie is all smiles and arm flourishes, loudly – too loudly – proclaiming that they are now in the presence of his angel, his baby, his angel baby, the love of his life, the apple of his eye, his amor, his partner, his husband – 
“Congratulations, Steve! I didn’t know you got married!” Sue laughs as the entire production passes by. 
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve rolls his eyes. Eddie blows her a noisy kiss before clearing his throat. He takes a deep breath, and – 
“I’M GETTING MARRIED IN THE MORNING - ”
“Robin, he’s singing again!”
“I know, dingus, I can hear him.”
“DING DONG, THE BELLS ARE GONNA CHIIIIIMMMEEEEEEEE - ”
Steve turns back, risking a glare at Robin mid-step. “Remind me why we’re going the long way around?”
Robin snorts out a laugh, shit-eating grin firmly in place. “Come on, Stevie, we all need the exercise.”
“ – GET ME TO THE CHURCH ON TIMMMMMEEEE – Stevie? Stevie,” Eddie turns and sighs at Steve and okay, Steve can’t tell if Eddie’s eyes are super dilated because of the probable head trauma or if there’s a weird reflection from the fluorescents, but his eyes are, like, legit sparkling up at him. “Steeeeeevieeeee - ”
“Yep, I’m still here.” Eddie grins, flopping to the side so that their joined hands are resting up against his head. He sighs happily, his feet wiggling under the shock blanket, and it’s not cute Steve stop thinking it’s cute – 
“Steve!” He pulls his eyes away just as the gurney comes to a stop in front of Brenda, one of the intake nurses currently on shift. Brenda’s blonde and cute and ethically non-monogamous, but Steve is more of a one and done sort of guy. That doesn’t mean they don’t flirt like crazy anytime they bump into each other, though. (Hey, he’s gotta stay in shape somehow.)
“Looking good today. Is that a new shirt?” She asks with a smirk, her eyes running over his biceps. (It’s not a new shirt, Robin just ran it through the dryer, so it shrunk. Really, he should have gotten rid of it, but it makes his biceps look amazing.)
“Nah, it’s - ”
He has a line. He has a great line. But as soon as he opens his mouth to speak it, he’s cut off by a very loud hissing sound coming from his left and – 
Yep, it’s Eddie. Eddie, who’s glaring at Brenda like they’re mortal enemies. Seriously, it’s a good thing he doesn’t have laser eyes like that one superhero guy because if he did, Brenda would be at risk of getting too tan.
“MINE!” Eddie snaps at the end of his hiss and then, all while still maintaining eye contact with Brenda, he yanks Steve’s hand to his mouth and licks it. And not, like, a gentle lick that you’d get from a puppy. No, Eddie licks his hand like he’s trying to give Steve a tongue bath.
(His first instinct should be to pull away, but instead all Steve can think about it Eddie giving him an actual full body tongue bath - )
“Dude!” Steve exclaims when he does finally pull his hand away. (He hears Robin snort under her breath, clearly having caught onto the fact that his brain broke at the whole licking thing and shit, now he’s thinking about it again - )
“No, MINE!” Eddie growls, and Steve barely has a chance to wipe his hand on his pants before Eddie is grabbing it back, clutching it between both of his hands like it’s his special or something. (Special, was that the word that the guy used? The little creepy guy in that one movie? He needs to text Dustin and ask.)
“Aww, I’m glad to see you’ve finally met someone!” Brenda teases.
“Uh, yeah,” Steve replies distractedly, trying (and failing) to shake one of Eddie’s hands off of his hand because now that they’re actually at his suite, he’s going to need them. “Brenda, this is - ”
“The concussion patient from Lollapalooza, Sarah clued me in,” Brenda says, snapping her gum. “Eddie, right?”
Eddie pauses from wrestling with Steve to sniff at Brenda and honestly, as someone who spent way too much time at country clubs as a child because of his parents, Eddie has the whole I’m-better-than-you-you-poor-person-wearing-Adidas expression locked down. “That’s Mister Eddie to you, Briony.”
Briony? “Who’s Briony?”
Robin kicks the gurney forward with an eye roll and suddenly they’re moving into the suite. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, dingus.”
Eddie finally manages to tear his eyes away from Brenda. He perks his head up at Steve and once Steve’s face is in his line of sight his expression softens, the sparkles coming back in full force. “And it’s such a pretty head, baby.”
Such a pretty head SUCH A PRETTY HEAD – 
“I’ll show you – ow, Robin, seriously?” Steve yelps at Robin’s pinch.
“Stop being horny and help me get him on the bed.”
“I’m - ”
“Don’t listen to her baby, please, please stay horny, and lose the shirt while you’re at it!” Eddie sits up and starts frantically grasping at Steve’s sleeves. “Christ almighty, these arms, arms of heaven, arms of an angel - ” 
“Steve!” Robin barks and shit, he needs to focus. He takes advantage of the fact that Eddie let go of his hand to grab at his shirt and darts down to the other end of the gurney. They lift on a count of three, placing Eddie onto the bed and kicking the wheeled cart out of the way. (Eddie makes a loud WHEEEEEEEEE sound and then immediately goes back to demanding that Steve get naked.) Sarah, who’s followed the procession the entire time, grabs the empty cart and wheels it out of the room just as Brenda steps in.
“Well then, Eddie, let’s get started on intake,” Brenda nods, bringing out her iPad. “Are you ready to answer a few questions?”
“No.”
Robin groans and steps to the side, energetically fluffing and reorganizing Eddie’s pillows so he’s seated up. Somehow Eddie is able to lean around Robin’s wide-armed movements and fix Brenda with yet another piercing glare.
Brenda shoots Steve a look before nodding her head at Eddie.
Right.
“Hey, uh, Eddie, we really need to ask you a few questions - ”
“Hand!” Eddie snaps to look at Steve and sticks his hand towards him. He wiggles his fingers a few times before making a grabby motion. “Hand!”
It’s not cute. It’s totally not cute.
Steve sighs but walks back around from the foot of the bed and places his hand gently in Eddie’s. Eddie links their fingers and squeezes tightly. “Uh, how about now, is now okay to ask a few questions?”
Huffing, Eddie looks at their fingers for a few moments before looking upwards at Steve. Their eyes meet and he grins. “Hi angel,” he lets out a pleased sigh. “I missed you.”
Don’t say it don’t say it DON’T SAY IT - 
“I missed you too, Eds.” 
FUCK.
“Awwwww, my little schmoopers are being all schmoopy-moopy!” Robin sings in her best baby voice. (That’s it, he’s eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.)
“I’m eating the rest of the Chunky Monkey.”
“Uh, like fuck you are.”
“I'd rather have you eat me,” he hears Eddie whisper and yeah, okay, that’s one he’s just going to choose to ignore for the sake of what little sanity he has left.
“Right, okay,” he hears Brenda try to get things back on track. “About those intake questions - ”
“Oh, don’t worry Nurse Brenda,” the lilting voice of Dr. Suzie Henderson floats into the room. “I can take it from here.”
Steve turns just in time to see Suzie strut into the emergency suite. She shoots Brenda a grateful nod and Brenda, with one last wink to Steve, hands her iPad off to Suzie and heads out of the room. 
“Bye Steve!”
“Bye Brenda.”
“Yeah, bye Brittany!”
Suzie has the best laugh in the world, and she lets it fly on her walk over. “Hey Steve,” Suzie grins at him as she makes her way towards the foot of Eddie’s bed. “How are things going today?”
“Oh, good,” Steve replies quickly before turning to look at Eddie. “Eddie, this is Doctor Suzie Henderson, she’s my sister-in-law.”
Eddie slowly scooches his butt backwards so he’s sitting up more. “No, she’s our sister-in-law,” he huffs before turning and smiling at Suzie. “Hey sis!” 
“And you must be Eddie! I heard you were thinking about marrying into the family.” She lets out a quick giggle at those words but then clears her throat and throws her shoulders back. “Well, if you are serious about joining our Steve in holy – or unholy – matrimony - ”
“Fuck yeah,” he hears Eddie whisper.
“ – then I’m going to need you to answer a few questions.”
“Proceed, milady.” Eddie starts gently caressing Steve’s hand with his fingers. Steve shoots a look at Robin, who makes exaggeratedly sappy faces while glancing between Steve and their intertwined fingers.
(Forget the Chunky Monkey, he’s eating all of the ice cream they have left tonight.)
“Full name?”
“Edward Anthony Munson.”
“Age?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Name of your emergency contact?”
“Oh, that would be Uncle Wayne and Chrissy! Baby, you’re going to love Wayne,” Eddie says, turning to gaze lovingly up at Steve. “And he’s going to love you! Not as much as I love you though, that’s impossible.”
(Steve’s pretty sure that Bambi eyes here is the impossible one.)
“Great, is Wayne and Chrissy’s contact information in your medical file?”
“Uh huh,” Eddie replies dreamily, still gazing at Steve. 
“Okay, speaking of your file,” Suzie taps at her iPad, “any major events in your medical history that we should know about?”
“Hmmm?” 
He can feel it on his face, he can feel his stupid grin on his stupid face, but he chooses to instead focus on helping Eddie pay attention. “She wants to know if there’s major health events in your past that we need to know about, Bambi.”
“Bambi?”
“BAMBI?!” Robin squeaks after Eddie.
Shit shit SHIT -
“I mean - ”
“Bambi,” Eddie hums, blinking rapidly as he slumps back against his pillows. Once he's settled, he tosses his free hand across his forehead and moans happily. “He loves me. He loves me, he loves me, HE LOVES MEEEEEE - ”
Don’t blush DO NOT BLUSH BODY STOP BLUSHING
“Oh my god that was amazing, I have literally never seen you this red, you look like an actual tomato. Oh my god, I have to tell Nance, like, now.”
“Right, yes, okay Bambi,” Suzie interrupts with a snicker, “like Steve said, is there anything we need to know?”
“Well, we’re in love,” Eddie sighs, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Stevie’s hand. “I think I’m still a little high but it’s only weed, I’ve definitely stopped doing cocaine since, like, five months ago. No need to worry about that, angel,” Eddie pats the top of Steve’s hand.
“Yeah, no, I definitely won’t worry about that.” (He’s definitely going to worry about that.)
“Well, thank you for your honesty, Eddie. I’m going to take a closer look at your files once we get them just to get a better picture of your overall health before we run our tests. Now, second set of questions,” Suzie loudly taps and drags a new window on her tablet open. “What is your annual income?”
(Huh. That’s weird. Steve’s doesn't think he's ever heard any of the nurses ask that question before.)
Eddie snorts out a laugh. “God, I make so much money. A fucking stupid amount of money.”
“You have something in way of a retirement plan then?”
“Doc, I could retire for, like, the next five hundred million years.”
Susie hums as she makes a note. “Do you have anything against sharing resources with your romantic partner?”
(Okay, Steve definitely hasn't heard anyone else ask these questions before.)
“Nah!” Eddie scoffs before gently tugging on Steve’s hand to get his attention. “You’ll be the hottest trophy wife, babe. Do you have an apron? I’m going to buy you an apron.”
“And what are your feelings on children?”
“Kids? I love kids. Is he good with kids? I bet he’s good with kids,” Eddie rushes out. “Fuck, you’re going to look so hot pregnant, baby.”
Robin makes a loud barfing noise which Suzie naturally ignores. “What exactly are you looking for in a relationship?”
“Suzie - ”
“Him! My angel,” Eddie slumps to the side so he’s leaning up against Steve’s hip. “I want to wrap him up in a warm towel and keep him forever and make sweet, sweet love to him under the - ”
“OKAY, next question please,” Robin loudly cuts him off.
“So what you’re saying is you’re looking for a committed relationship with Steve,” Suzie ignores Robin's dramatics. “Are you prepared for lifelong monogamy?”
“Absolutely.”
“Suz - ”
“And you’ll work every day to be deserving of Steve?”
“For the rest of my life,” Eddie proclaims and fuck, he actually sounds serious. He actually looks serious too.
Huh.
Suzie quietly observes him for a moment before her face relaxes into a warm smile. “I believe you. Now, dealbreakers. What are your opinions on outdoor weddings? Steve gets scared in churches.”
“What?!” Eddie gasps, snapping back to Steve.
“SUZ – what, no, I’m not afraid of churches - ”
“Uh yeah you are, you said that every time you visit one you get nightmares about being sacrificed on an altar,” Robin chimes in.
“Gee, thanks, Robin.”
“Baby, baby, don’t worry, I’d never let them sacrifice you,” Eddie tries to comfort Steve, but everything that’s happened in the last thirty seconds – hell, the last thirty minutes – is starting to finally sink in and yeah, okay, there’s an obscenely hot and rich and famous rockstar telling Steve that he loves him and sure, he’s partially concussed but the joke isn’t ending, he’s acting like he’s serious and they’ve only exchanged like maybe twenty words total but he’s acting like this is actually happening and what if it actually could – 
“Shoot, we’re going to have to wrap it up here, loverboy,” Robin waylays his runaway thoughts as her beeper goes off. “We’ve got a fainter with a broken nose."
“Okay, okay.” Steve shakes his head and tries to gently extract his hand from Eddie’s grasp but Eddie lurches at the feeling of Steve moving his hands and whines, digging his finger into Steve’s hand.
“Eddie, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work.”
“But – no, angel, please,” he blubbers before turning his eyes on Steve and –
Oh.
Oh no.
They’re even bigger and shinier when he’s crying.
“I’m sorry, Bambi,” he replies totally deliberately, “but I’ve got to go finish my shift. I’ll come back when I’m done, okay?”
Eddie sniffles, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay,” he whimpers sadly, and – look, this joke isn't really joking anymore so if Eddie's gonna go all the way, he might as well go all the way too.
He leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the top of Eddie’s head. “Be good for Suzie, okay?” As he draws back, he glances back down at Eddie. Eddie is blinking dazedly at Steve, all glassy-eyed and rosy.
“Wow,” Eddie whispers, and while the smile that appears on his face is small, it’s the warmest one Steve has seen yet. “Whatever you say, baby.”
“Right, right.” Steve nods and then pivots, making a hasty retreat out of the room.
“Later, Bambi,” Robin sings behind him, and then she’s quick on Steve’s heels. The hall’s crowded, though, so they aren’t fast enough to escape the start of Suzie and Eddie’s conversation. 
(“So, outdoor wedding? Maybe in spring?”
“Can it be in Hobbiton?”
“Uh, it better be in Hobbiton!”)
“I’m kinda surprised to see you staking your claim already, dingus,” Robin says, thrusting the portable gurney mat into Steve’s arms as they walk. “I was worried I’d have to make you.”
“I shouldn't have done that. I mean, he’s a patient, Robin!”
“Not anymore, he’s not!” Robin gently bumps his hip. “He's not your patient anymore so now we need to start planning your next move. I mean, he’s obviously going to say yes when you ask him out, but it still needs to be smooth.”
“What – I’m Steve Harrington, I’m always smooth.”
Robin is purposely silent.
“Okay, first of all, rude,” he says after giving her plenty of time to politely agree. “Second of all, even if I did decide to make a move, there actually isn’t a guarantee he’d say yes. Even if he wasn't just doing this because he's heavily concussed, I’ve hardly talked to the guy!”
“I know, he has no idea how much of a dork you are, it’s great.”
Steve offers Robin a hand as he climbs into the ambulance. (Not without shooting her a look once they're both seated, of course because again, rude.) 
Robin shrugs Steve's frown off. “Look, dingus, I know you think that you have all these great lines or whatever - ”
“Uh, I don’t think, I do have them - ”
“ – but they’re, like, obviously lines. Whatever you say to him has to be more real. He needs to know that if he says yes, he’s going to be going on a date with a guy that has the ooiest, gooiest, squishiest little itty bitty heart!” She squeezes her hands together like she’s holding Steve’s heart in her hands (which definitely isn’t concerning given the fact that she’s technically a medical professional who knows just how vulnerable that particular organ is.)
“Robs - ”
“ITTY BITTY!” She kisses the tips of her fingers. “And that’s why we gotta plan, doinkus. Edward Anthony Munson needs to be constantly conscious of the fact that he’s dating the best guy on the entire planet because you are, Steve, you are the best guy on Earth and you deserve a Prince Charming even though the Prince Charming archetype is totally outdated and part of a patriarchal initiative to establish systematic gender dynamics - ”
Well, shucks. Maybe Robin doesn’t hate him after all.
“ - doesn't exist, its still what you deserve. But more importantly than that, if Eddie does start dating you, then I have a better shot of getting him to introduce me to Chris Hemsworth.”
“Chris Hemsworth?"
“Uh, yeah.”
"Chris Hemsworth - Chris Hemsworth? Out of every famous person Eddie could hypothetically introduce you to, you'd want to meet Chris Hemsworth?"
"Well, yeah," Robin takes a brief sip of her water before shooting Steve a playful smirk. “I mean, as great as you are, I wouldn't be opposed to upgrading my emotional support himbo.”
Never mind, she’s evil incarnate.
(And she’s going to be out of Chunky Monkey in about five hours.)
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navybrat817 · 9 months
Note
his tongue 👅
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YES. This man and his tongue.
What That Tongue Do?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky doesn't get why you're attracted to an actor who plays him in another world, but he's happy to remind you what his tongue can do. Word Count: Over 1.4k Warnings: Multiverse discussion, Sebastian Stan and his tongue, d/irty talk, implied o/ral (f. and m. receiving), jealousy, humor, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: It's Sebastian Stan's birthday and this is my take on Bucky discovering his existence. And for the Bucks and Noble server, a quick position mention. Hehe. ❤️ 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!
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“I don’t like him.”
You chortled as you turned in your chair to face Bucky, amusement twinkling in your eyes as his nostrils flared. “Why don’t you like him? That’s you. Well. Kind of. His name is Sebastian Stan.”
Bucky honestly couldn’t remember at this point if Tony had played around with something or if Wanda joined in and tampered with an experiment, but the monitors showcased what they were told were different versions of themselves in various worlds and dimensions. And you, his girlfriend, zeroed in on the screen where some punk who admittedly looked similar to him couldn’t stop showing his tongue and licking his lips.
Everyone else left quickly after that.
Does this guy have an oral fixation or is he a slut? Not that I would shame him if he is, but I don’t like how you keep looking at it.
“That is not me,” he stated, crossing his arms with a defiant glare. Had it been his old metal arm instead of the upgraded vibranium one, the distinct “whir” sound would’ve filled the room from how hard he clenched his fingers. “He’s a punk.”
“Steve is a punk. Seb is an actor,” you corrected him.
“Oh, it’s ‘Seb’ now. The punk has a nickname.”
“He is not a punk,” you giggled, the sound bringing a small smile to his face before he raised a lip at the screen.
I know punks and he’s a fucking punk. He can’t fool me. He looks shorter than I am. Why does his hair look so good after a fight? That’s not realistic. I have to admit, they got the likeness of the arm pretty close. Wait, do I make those facial expressions? Why are you smiling at his nose crinkle?
“His tongue is out. AGAIN. I swear he’s doing it on purpose,” he snarled when your head whipped back toward the monitor. “Seriously?! You’re looking?!”
“Only because he looks like you, Bucky!” you said innocently, facing him again. There was nothing innocent about it. The moment that guy’s fucking tongue moved, you clenched your thighs together. The only one he wanted you to do that for was him. “And like I didn’t hear you groan when you saw the Earth 314 version of me.”
That is not the same because I don’t love her. I love you.
“Fine. So, he’s an actor,” he grumbled as you got up and did your best to block out the view of the faces behind you. “And he ‘plays’ me?”
“Yeah, he does. In that world, James Buchanan Barnes, and pretty much everyone here that you know, are comic book characters brought to life. He plays you in the movies. Oh, they made a show, too. About you and Sam.”
What kind of world is that?
“Sam and I in a show together? That would never work.”
“It does in their world,” you said, touching his cheek and bringing his attention back to you and your loving smile. “Stop giving the television that death stare, please? Those monitors are shutting down in the next few minutes and we’ll never see those faces again.”
“Please. You think Stark didn’t find a way to keep that Earth’s video on a loop to taunt me at any given moment?”
Things were better between Bucky and Tony after what happened in Siberia, but the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, according to the actor who portrayed him, liked to give him hell from time to time. It was usually in good fun. Usually.
“So, I shouldn’t tell you it’s Sebastian Stan’s birthday today?” you asked, sucking your lips in as you tried not to giggle.
His nostrils flared again as he took a breath. He was a war hero. The former Winter Soldier turned Avenger. He was not about to be jealous of some actor in another dimension that you’d never see. “Why do you know that?”
“Because the information is right there,” you said, pointing over your shoulder. You had the decency to not turn around. “He was born on August 13th, 1982, in Constanta, Romania and he-”
Your eyes widened as Bucky gently shoved two vibranium fingers into your mouth, pushing them deep enough to make you pause. “Stop talking about the man who can’t keep his fucking tongue in his mouth.”
With a moan, you wrapped your mouth tighter around the digits and bobbed your head. You already choked on him once today. Maybe you’d do it again. Seeing that guy with the bright blue eyes though, he wanted to give you a firm reminder of what he could do to you with his tongue.
Why lust after him when you have me to worship you?
“Why do you like it so much?” he asked as his fingers slipped free.
You began to laugh before he tilted your head to kiss your neck, the sound shifting to a moan. “I don’t like his tongue, Bucky. I like yours.”
“Not good enough,” he murmured against your skin, trying to go slow when he was two seconds away from ripping your clothes off and bending you over the console. “I need you to love my tongue.”
“I do,” you whined, palming him through his pants. “Love when you get it nice and deep, just like your cock. Or when you thrust your fingers in and flick my clit with the tip of your tongue. Make me drip until I’m practically a puddle and you still don’t stop.”
“You and that fucking mouth,” he groaned, laying you back as best as he could and sliding your skirt up. The growing stain on your panties made him twitch and he told himself it had nothing to do with the actor who played his part well. It was all him.
“Remember the last time you ate me out?” you asked, biting your lip as he slid your soaked underwear down your legs. As much as he wanted to shove them in your mouth because he loved making you taste yourself, he didn’t want to smother a single sound. “You had me ride your face and it wasn’t enough. You spun me around after the first orgasm and kept your tongue inside when I got my mouth on your cock.”
That position deserves more attention.
“It’s never enough. I always want more,” he said, taking in the glistening lips of your pussy as he glanced down at what belonged to him and licking his lips as he ran a finger along the slit. “If you could eat yourself out, you’d understand why I love being buried between your thighs.”
“I’ll settle for your cock,” you said as he sank to his knees, a shuddering breath leaving your body. “And I’ll also settle for your tongue first.”
“Should make you beg for it,” he said in a low voice, taking a long lick and groaning at your taste. Sweet and a bit tangy, a hint of your essence coating his taste buds and daring him to have more. “Should slap this pretty pussy and remind you exactly who it belongs to.”
“It’s yours. It blelongs to you, Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. No one else,” you said, your hand shooting out to grip his long hair and twist the stands. “Get your tongue or your cock in me. I’m begging you.”
Bucky smirked, watching your hole clench around nothing. He’d fill you up the way you need. “That’s my good girl. Gonna make a mess all over this. Might make you lick it up when we’re finished.”
“Not to interrupt?” Steve’s voice rang out over the room speaker as Bucky gripped your thighs. “But I think the speaker is on and we can kind of hear everything?”
And you’re telling us now?!
“Stark has bet me twenty bucks that your lady will call out Sebastian’s name when you bring her to orgasm,” Thor chimed in. “Just so you know, my friend, I have the utmost faith that you will please her.”
You let go of Bucky’s hair to cover your mouth, your body shaking with laughter when he growled.
Of course, I fucking will.
“Make it forty bucks, Point Break. Ha. Bucks. Bucky. Yeah, get to it.”
“You heard the man,” you said through your laughter, not at all embarrassed by the commentary. “Get to it.”
Taking one last look at Sebastian’s face on the screen, Bucky smiled in determination and did exactly that.
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Happy Sinday! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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stevebabey · 1 year
Text
part one. the same cw applies as part one (cw: past sexual coercion is implied) thank u for any & all kind comments <3 hopin to deliver on the angsty hurt/comfort front >:/
“I’m sorry.”
It’s not exactly how he planned to start his whole apology speech but it’s as good a start as any. Steve is glad he says it. Eddie’s entire character softens just a bit hearing it, his shoulders relaxing to sit a little lower, like maybe, he was afraid Steve had come by to argue some more.
For a moment, they stare at each other until Eddie seems to realise he’s blocking the entrance. He jolts just a bit and side steps, beckoning Steve to come inside.
Good start. Steve steps forward and the subsequent rustle from behind his back reminds him of what’s in his hands. He pulls them out from their hiding spot and offers them out with only a marginally awkward cough. “Uh, first, these are for you.”
In his hands are blue hydrangeas, 3 of them, and the bag containing a mixtape and a multitude of Eddie’s favourite candies.
Eddie’s reaction isn’t… quite the usual. He doesn’t swoon or snap up the gifts out of Steve’s hands like Tilly and other girlfriends had. He doesn’t smile either, just eyes then silently. Steve feels a roll of worry tangle up his stomach.
After a moment, Eddie takes them. Steve follows him, taking the trailer stairs two at a time to keep watch on what Eddie will do. It’s a surprise then to watch them get placed to the side, flowers and gift bag dumped down on the Munson’s cluttered dining table. Eddie doesn’t even attempt a peek into the bag, which, well, for Eddie says a lot.
Moving his gaze from their discarded state to Eddie, Steve finds himself pinned down by Eddie’s waiting stare, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s waiting for Steve to speak. Right, it’s time to face the music.
Steve chances a quick glance down at the smudged bullet points on his palm. It suddenly feels too wooden for what Steve really wants to say, too constructed, too much what he thought Eddie wanted to hear.
And besides, Eddie hadn’t reacted as expected in the first instance, the forgotten gifts put to the side. Steve shoves his hand deep in his pocket and goes instead with exactly what he’s feeling.
“Okay, um. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. I- I know that was, I— my parents came home that night.”
None of it is coming out right, stammers on every word. Steve curses himself under his breath and wills himself to continue. Knows if it was Eddie apologising it would be poetic and sweet, all the right words in all the right order.
“I’m not— It’s not an excuse,” Steve shakes his head, tries to string together one single coherent fucking sentence. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t pick you up. And- and I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. Really, it’s- I don’t think that of you. I’m sorry if I made you think I did.”
Eddie nods, though his clenched jaw gives away he’s not entirely peachy just yet.
“Robin told me about your parents being home. And yeah, it wasn’t cool what you said.” He agrees and Steve’s stomach turns. “But I wasn’t exactly fair either, getting all up in your face about it, so I’m sorry for that.”
Steve blinks, surprised; an apology was the last thing he’d expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth.
“I’m still a bit hurt,” Eddie admits, arms folding across his chest in a defensive motion. Steve hates how he seems to be curling in on himself, so obviously hating to admit aloud that Steve’s words had cut so deep. “But y’know, I know now that you were wound up from your parents being home. So, you’re, like, forgiven I guess.”
...Huh, okay. Usually, forgiveness comes after the grovelling, Steve thinks. Not as easily granted as Eddie is seemingly giving him now.
“Okay, uh,” Steve says warily, not quite sure where to go from here. Eddie isn’t really moving, still standing a bit tense. Waiting for Steve to break the ice.
Steve’s eyes dart to the dining table — the resting hydrangeas and abandoned candy. Steve tries to put two and two together, sure, so sure he’s missing something. It’s never this easy.
Eddie hadn’t acknowledged the flowers, hadn’t wanted the gifts. Steve may be forgiven but he still hasn’t shown Eddie how sorry he is.
Steve steps closer and sinks to his knees.
Eddie’s eyes widen in an instant and he takes half a step back, his hands raising up. It doesn’t feel good to watch Eddie put distance between them. Something curls up in Steve’s stomach.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. His voice is a bit scratchy and he clears his throat, not moving closer but not moving further away.
Fine. He wants Steve to spell it out. Steve wishes Eddie would just let him apologise in the way he knows — he was hoping Eddie wouldn’t make him drag out his apologies like his father did. But Eddie did love his theatrics so it’s not all that surprising.
“I’m… still apologising?” It’s not meant to come out as a question but half way through the sentence, Steve clocks Eddie’s body language. It’s giving very different vibes than expected. Steve’s confused.
The confusion only hikes up when anger flares in Eddie’s eyes, his jaw tightening just a bit. “You’re—? This isn’t gonna make what you said hurt any less, Steve. Is that what the…”
Eddie trails off, his own gaze tracking over to the dining table. He seems even more ticked off then, fixing his gaze back on to Steve.
“Are you trying to— Did you think you buying me stuff and sucking my dick is some completely fucked way to fast-track an apology?”
Steve feels his own eyes widen, each word twisting his confusion up so tightly it hurts in his chest. Eddie sounds angry.
“No,” Steve insists weakly, because he knows that’s what Eddie wants to hear. Even if that sort of is what he was expecting. He shakes his head, tries to get a read on Eddie’s body language beyond his annoyance. What does he want? “No, I just…”
Eddie’s anger seems to wane a little, seeing the confusion shudder across Steve’s features. Steve suddenly feels incredibly stupid being on his knees— but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want him in this way right now.
“I was,” Steve starts, clearing his throat and willing away his flushed cheeks. “I’m proving it to you.” His voice is a little stronger now, more sure. “I want to prove that I’m sorry.”
Eddie stares at him for a long moment and just when Steve thinks he’ll concede and reach for his belt, he surprises Steve and sinks to his knees too. He sits atop his boots, now face to face with his boyfriend, and reaches out gingerly to place a hand on Steve’s knee.
Steve eyes it for a moment. Is this the come on?
“Steve,” Eddie says gently. It reminds Steve of the tone one might have with an easily spooked animal, all comforting and soothing. “Do you even… want this? To have sex right now?”
It’s a strange question, Steve thinks. He frowns. This blowjob isn’t about him. “I think I’m confused,” He admits, forcing a chuckle to make it a little more casual. Then repeats the sentiment from earlier again. “I want to apologise.”
Eddie nods, harsh enough a curl untucks itself from behind his ear. “Yeah, sweetheart, you already did that. You apologised and I forgave you.”
Eddie doesn’t mention that all these extra things, the gifts and flowers, made him question the genuineness in Steve’s apology at first. Something tells him to dig a little deeper. Steve isn’t smarmy or cocky, he’s not sure that’ll be forgiven, he’s… confused.
But Steve nods. He’s following Eddie’s words so far. Something glitters inside him that he’s already back to sweetheart so soon. He hesitantly lays his own hand atop of Eddie’s, resting them both on his knee. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even know what to say. 
“So, I guess what I’m asking is… what is this?” Eddie waves his hand over Steve’s kneeled form.
The way he says it is still so concerned, which is so far from the usual eagerness Steve has come to know from him normally in these types of situations. Suddenly, knowing Eddie’s definitely not in the mood makes the whole thing a lot more embarrassing now.
“Christ, I wish I had known you wouldn’t want that now,” Steve forces another laugh, quiet, as he ducks his head down. Eddie doesn’t join in, just waits patiently.
“I was— y’know,” Steve waves a hand, gesturing to nothing. “Proving I was sorry. Making it up to you. Guess sex was the wrong idea there, sorry.”
He grimaces a bit, squeezes Eddie’s hand. Steve wonders how he’ll end up making it up to Eddie, if not this way. It’s always been this way.
Eddie doesn’t say anything, just stares at Steve with a perturbed expression on his face. If Steve had to guess, he’d say he almost— almost looks a bit sad.
“Stevie,” Eddie says, nudging closer. Both their knees are touching now. “You already apologised. I forgave you.”
He’s repeating things Steve already knows, so Steve nods. Then repeats the thing he’s heard a hundred times over, “Yeah, I know and now I need to prove how sorry I am.”
Eddie’s face crumples a bit, the frown line between his brows deepening. He seems to have hit some understanding, shuffling even closer to Steve. Any annoyance from a minute ago has leaked out of his body. He’s all comfort now, every soft part that Steve adores so much.
“No, you don’t.” Eddie says simply, words strong and sure. “I know that you’re sorry. You said so. That’s proof enough for me, sweetheart.���
Oh. That’s all there is to it, apparently.
Steve’s acutely aware that the emotion streaking through his chest is relief — relief that he doesn’t have to jump through hoops to gain anything back. Doesn’t have to open his mouth or spread his legs just to earn back his partners affections for a heat of the moment mistake.
He said he was sorry and Eddie forgave him. That’s it. That’s all it took. Like an ill-weighted scale, all the relief slides down into a strange hot shame. Oh god, he’s just come in and then— and Eddie hadn’t even— and Steve had thought—
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, that must’ve—“ Steve reels back, the embarrassment from earlier rearing up inside him close to pure mortification. He pulls his hand from Eddie’s grip, all of it suddenly wrong, so so wrong. “I’m sorry, that was so weird of me to offer—“
“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s cutting in before Steve gets very far, firmly planting both hands onto Steve’s shoulders to keep him from receding any further. “Don’t apologise for that. That’s… Steve, will you look at me please?”
Nope, a small voice inside him answer, with a quiver. Looking at the trailer floor is so much easier than what Eddie’s asking.
There’s been many times where Steve has felt a bit dumb but this? This feels like a special kind of stupid. The word throbs in his chest painfully as he wonders how he’d got so turned around. He wants to apologise again.
“Stevie?” Eddie says his name again, a soft coo. One of the hands on Steve’s shoulders shifts, hesitating for a moment, before gingerly cradling his jaw. Steve lets Eddie tilt his face up, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to his boyfriend’s face.
Eddie is all sweetness, eyes soft and smile encouraging. It’s his tenderness that makes Steve exhale, a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and he can’t help the way he sags just a bit and leans into Eddie’s hold.
Eddie gives a quiet hum. “No more apologies, okay?”
Steve nods, the motion a bit slow. It sort of feels as though it’s a little harder to move against gravity, like the air is thick molasses. He’s tired. Why is he so tired? He wonders if it’s the mountainous relief that’s still trickling out his body.
“We- we’ll need to talk about that later,” Eddie nods along to his words, voice all tender. The way he says it lets Steve know it’s not a bad thing. “But for now I think I’d just rather hold you. Can I do that?”
How backwards. Steve had come here to apologise, to make it up to Eddie, and now he’s the one being comforted. And yet, his nod comes much easier this time. It’s probably a bit too eager but Steve’s just about drowned in his embarrassment tonight so what’s some more?
Eddie’s hands move and grip Steve’s hands in his lap, giving a comforting squeeze— then waits, doesn’t move until Steve gives another squeeze back.
Then Eddie’s rising, standing up and pulling Steve up with him. It’s quiet, Steve hiding the tiny shake in his hands by squeezing Eddie’s hand so tight he won’t notice — til Eddie’s knees crack, terribly loud in the silence, and he whispers a loud, “Ow, fuck.”
Steve can’t help it, he laughs, the sound bursting out of him. Fuck, his boyfriend is an old man sometimes.
Then Eddie laughs too, that glorious sound that Steve could bottle and get drunk on and then they’re both laughing — and Eddie is tugging Steve into his bedroom, both of them collapsing into the creaky bed. The springs whine under their weight but it goes unheard.
Eddie does his best to bundle Steve in his arms, accidentally sticking his elbow into Steve’s side but it doesn’t even matter. Eddie cuddles are a fuckin’ delicacy as far Steve’s concerned— when he’s happy with the way he’s wrapped himself around Steve, full Koala style, he squeeezes.
It forces a pathetic sounding wheeze out from Steve, quickly spiralling into another laugh because who has ever loved him this way? This well? Between the threads of relief that pluck on his heartstrings is white hot love.
Steve already knows what’s coming next, what is always the second step in Eddie cuddles. Instead of hiding his face away into Eddie’s chest, like he’s done a thousand times before, he sticks his face out. Chin jutted out, face exposed, and ready for kisses.
Eddie doesn’t deny him. It’s a wet smush of quick kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids — Eddie lets out little ‘mwahs’ as he goes, in a sickly sweet voice that Steve adores.
Faintly, inside his chest Steve’s heart sighs. Because no apology, no forgiveness, has ever been like this, this simple, this easy. Equal comfort — like Eddie was aware Steve had been suffering on the other end of the silent treatment, at regretting his own words.
Steve silently hopes it’ll always be this way, even though another part deeper down knows it’ll be. That arguments with Eddie might involve childish silent treatment, tongues poked out and boots stamped — but that apologies would never be a test. Never more than an honest admittance of regret in the form of words.
In the way Eddie presses a particularly slimy kiss against his cheek, hard enough it makes Steve’s cheek squish, he thinks he might not have to worry much at all.
tags: @disorganisedbee @estrellami-1 @moonshadows-13 @qubert18 @fxndom-hoe @nelotegreitic @justforthedead89 @avacrebs @yikes-a-bee @just-a-tiny-void @stevesbipanic @penny-lane-bitch @clarakeanen @weeennussy
2K notes · View notes
supernovafics · 5 months
Note
The I’ll be there for you series is ace! 🥵 I’d love a funny blurb about Steve walking in on reader and she’d just go out the shower! Steve would be so flustered. Kinda reminds me of when Chandler saw Rachel naked 😂
𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐓
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"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist
pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: 702 words
warnings: explicit language
summary: in which a very awkward moment occurs when you’re late for class 
author's note: thank you for the request!! i loved this idea lol
general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Fall 1985
You were already running late for your nine-thirty class, so you thought you might as well make your lateness worth it. 
You decided to actually put an effort into picking out an outfit for the day before taking a longer shower than usual because why not?
Twenty minutes later, you were pulling your towel from around you and starting to wipe the mirror to clear the steam from it, when the bathroom door abruptly opened.
Steve started walking in, gaze first meeting your immediate confused one. His eyes then glanced down for the briefest of moments before he quickly jumped back and slammed the door shut. “Oh. Fuck. Shit.”
“What the hell just happened?” Your bathroom door was now firmly closed, but you were still staring at it with wide eyes as you wrapped your towel back around you. 
“I’m sorry.” You heard Steve’s voice. “I thought you weren’t here because you’re usually gone and headed to your nine-thirty class by now. And I ran out of body wash, so I was coming in to steal yours. It’s nine-fifteen, why aren’t you at class right now?”
He was rambling and you didn’t have to actually see him to know that he looked so flustered right then. If you weren’t still completely thrown and in shock by the entire current situation, you might’ve laughed. 
“I woke up late and decided to just take my time instead of rushing,” You explained, making sure your voice was loud enough as you went back into the shower to grab something. “This professor is barely ever on time anyway.” 
“Oh, okay.” 
You opened the door and Steve immediately turned around. “Don’t worry, I have a towel on now.” He faced you again and you handed over your body wash. “I hope you enjoy smelling like lavender and vanilla for the day.”
“Thank you. I will,” He said, evading your eyes and keeping his gaze fixed on your bedroom floor. You could still see how red his cheeks were. “Once again, I’m sorry.” 
“It’s fine,” You told him. In that moment it didn’t necessarily feel fine— your best friend had just seen you fucking naked for goodness sake— but you knew that it would eventually feel fine, and you didn’t want to make things weirder than they were. So, you instead decided to make a joke. “I’ll just have to see your little Harrington one day to make things even.”
Somehow, Steve’s face turned an even brighter shade of red. 
“Steve, I’m kidding. Obviously,” You said as you readjusted your towel a bit, holding it firmly shut around you with just one hand so that you could use the other to poke your best friend standing in front of you. “Stop being weird and awkward about this. You saw me naked for a second, whatever, that’s okay.” You thought about your words for a second. “Okay, it’s not “okay,” but it will be. Let’s just forget this ever happened.”
He nodded after a second and you let out a happy sigh in relief, muttering out a quick, “Great.” You were about to turn around and go back into the bathroom but Steve started talking before you could. 
“Y’know, if seeing my… stuff is what it takes to restore balance between us, then we should do that,” He said and hearing the playful tilt in his voice made you smile. 
“I honestly think that if I saw your little Harrington right now it would just make things even more weird than they already are.”
“Okay, in that case, I’ll keep my pants on,” He told you and you laughed a bit. “It’s also not little, by the way.”
Now it was your turn for your cheeks to warm in awkwardness. You rolled your eyes as you finally turned away from him and started heading back into the bathroom. “Ew, oh God, please get out of my room. I didn’t need to know that, and you’re giving me way too many scarring visuals now.” 
When you closed the door behind you, you heard Steve say, “Oh, and we’re definitely taking this moment to the grave.”
You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Of course. I thought that was obvious.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
let me know ur thoughts<333
(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)
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pedgito · 2 years
Note
hi bestie, could i please request either steve or eddie, whoever you're feeling more, smoking weed with their good friend f!reader and learning that she gets a major oral fixation when she's high? love your writing the absolute most!
author's note: look, i couldn't choose so you get both. i also don't write steve often so if this is horrible i'm sorry lol
cw: 18+ (minors dni), established friendship, steve is a little clueless, smoking/getting high, threesomes, oral fixation (sorta, i lost focus pretty quick lol), oral (f & m receiving), mentions of steddie, lots of kissing and teasing each other, if i missed anything lmk!
word count: 5k
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Steve wasn’t supposed to be here—not that you cared, but it was a surprise when you walked through the door that night and he was settled on Eddie’s living room couch, shoes left by the door and his sock covered feet plopped up on the cushion that separated him and Eddie. You can’t even imagine the conversation you interrupted when they both stare at you wide-eyes, like Eddie forget to mention to Steve that you were coming over—or that possibly, he forgot about you coming over at all.
It wasn’t a weekly thing, but Eddie would pick a few random nights out of the month to smoke with you and watch a couple movies—you’d knew each other since grade school, when Eddie had much less of a mane than he did now and wasn’t nearly as intimidating to people. Not that he could ever seem that way to you, it was impossible.
“Oh, hey—” Eddie breathes, fingers tapping absently against the arm of the couch where his arm was slung over, knee tucked up under his forearm, his foot planted firmly against the cushion. He was dressed down, a plain black shirt and similarly colored sweatpants. Steve still had on his work uniform, pinned name tag stuck to his vest, “Steve’s here.”
You smile slightly, closing the door shut behind you and tossing the small bag on snacks on his cluttered kitchen counter. “I see that.” You nod, making eye contact with the culprit, Steve looked severely out of place, “Steve.”
“I should go, right?” Steve asks wearily, finger pointing toward the front door. “I feel like I’m interrupting something—“
“No, it’s fine.” You assure him, “I just—“ A small laugh bubbles from your chest, “since when does Steve Harrington smoke weed?”
“Hey—I’ve smoked before,” Steve defends, “I mean, my parents would kill me if they found out about it, but I have a few times.”
You glance over at Eddie, his face riddled with amusement.
“He’s a crowd smoker, isn’t he?”
“A what?”
“You only smoke around groups because everyone else is doing it—but to answer that question,” Eddie looks at you with a narrowed gaze, “he’s not.”
“Oh?”
You’re intrigued, you couldn’t help it—hanging out with Steve had never been on your agenda, but it wasn’t the worst possible scenario.
“We’ve smoked a few times before,” Eddie explains, “like, once or twice.”
“So, you’re cheating on me with Harrington?” You feign the shot to your ego, hand pressed against your chest as you leaned against the counter, still a large distance from the two boys.
They looked comfortable, at ease—despite your steady friendship with Eddie, you didn’t realize just how close him and Steve had become. You’ve only tagged alone to Family Video a few times with Eddie, figuring most of it was just polite small talk, but it all makes a lot more sense now.
“I could never,” Eddie smiles, reaching for the blunt tucked securely behind his ear, flipping it through his fingers, “anyways, are we gonna start a game of twenty one questions or—“
“Wayne’s gonna kill you if he finds out you smoked on his couch.” You remind him.
“Obviously—“ Eddie retorts, “that’s why we’re moving this to the bedroom.”
You grimace in subtle disgust, “God, why do you say it like that?”
“It’s a special place,” Eddie replies dramatically, “where all the magic happens.”
Steve looks up at you, eyes wide but soft, lips down-turned in a slight frown, “Is he always like this?”
“With me?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”
Not that you minded any of it, Eddie was probably the only person that could get away with talking to you in such a manor that didn’t make you immediately want to vomit.
Eddie always called it the Munson charm, whatever that was.
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Steve coughs through the first couple of drags, not allowing the smoke to reach his lungs properly. It was like watching a baby try to stand on it’s own for the first time and Steve was severely out of his element.
“Have you been letting him smoke like this?” You ask Eddie, eyes widened in shock. Eddie shrugs, pressing the joint to his lips. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I could shotgun him,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, “but I don’t need him falling in love with me.”
“Like, when you shotgun a beer?” Steve asks curiously, eyes watching your movements carefully, lips closing around the joint and breathing in deep, chest heaving at the action. His look lingers down the valley of your chest before quickly averting back to your eyes, “I’ve done that before.”
You and Eddie both share a similar laugh, glancing over at Steve with amusement, Eddie offers a soft, “Uh—close, but not really.”
“Not close at all.” You shake your head, looking at Eddie with bemusement. “Steve, have you actually been able to get high? I mean, do you ever feel anything?”
“Well, there was that one time—“ Steve doesn’t elaborate, eyes turned up toward the ceiling as he thought, head tilted slightly, “but that wasn’t weed.”
Your mouth hung open slightly, watching Steve chew at his bottom lip, “I’m not even gonna ask,” You respond, glancing over at Eddie, “—wanna demonstrate?”
Eddie smiles widely, “My pleasure, sweetheart.” Eddie rests his hand on the side of your face, joint shoved between his lips as he breathed in the smoke before carefully holding it off to the side, using the leverage he had on your face to squeeze your mouth open, blowing the smoke into your own mouth, laughing airily as his tongue grazed your own.
Steve couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes glazed over in astonishment as he watched the exchange, both of you pulling back with a satiated smile.
“How have we never done that before?” Eddie asks curiously, pulling back with a subtle pout.
“Because, you disgust me.” You smile, lying through your teeth. You couldn’t openly admit how quickly your mind drifted elsewhere when you got this high, how easily a simple touch could drive you crazy.
Eddie was handsy like this, always finding a reason to cuddle up against you or kiss you lazily—and you didn’t try to stop him, but it was very few and far between that you actually allowed it. You were good at burying it away, offering a small peck or closed-mouth kiss in return, but even that was maddening. If it went further, Eddie would call it out immediately—he had no problem teasing you about it.
“Here, do Harrington.” Eddie suggests with a snide smirk, watching as you rolled your eyes annoyance.
You turned to a curious Steve with a small, comforting smile and mirrored Eddie’s actions, pressing the joint to your lips and grabbing at Steve’s face, which he welcomed easily, tilting his neck slightly as your palm curved around the underside of his firm jaw. You could feel the prickle of stubble against your fingertips, something that sent a surge of excitement through your body despite how hard you tried to ignore it.
“Do I just—“ Steve stammers, quickly interrupted by a head shake from you, pressing your lips to his fully, blowing the smoke into his mouth, a small noise escaping his throat in response, tongue grazing against your top lip accidentally as he pulled away, “—fuck, sorry.”
Eddie can see it on your face when you pull away, swallowing hard as you watched Steve lick his chapped lips, blurting out a, “No fuckin’ way.”
“What?” Both you and Steve respond in unison.
“That’s why you don’t want me kissing you?” Eddie asks, a snide smirk pulling at his face.
“Eddie,” You warn, “shut up.”
Steve eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, watching the exchange between you two.
“Let’s do it again.” Eddie urges, knowing exactly the type of reaction he would get if you let him, “One more time.”
“No.” You grumble, ignoring the immediate interest your body has in the matter.
It wasn’t that you didn’t find Eddie attractive, that wasn’t the case at all—but you and Eddie had always been careful about crossing that line. However, Eddie wasn’t the one who wanted that, it was you. He’d pounce on you in a heartbeat if you allowed it, and frankly, your judgement was skewed at the moment.
“Just the one,” He begs, “and I’ll leave it alone.”
It was a dangerous move to make and you blamed your lack of hesitancy on the high that was creeping in, huffing out a long sigh before waving him forward.
“Fine.” You grumble, an eager Eddie already poised to lean forward. Steve doesn’t know where to look, feeling like he might be intruding, but he watches on anyways.
Eddie presses his lips against yours fully, with all the confidence he can muster, tongue dragging along yours slowly, smoke forgotten about as it seeps through the cracks, bellowing out of his nose as he initiates the kiss. You moan brokenly, eyes falling shut as you played into his game, unable to help yourself. It was just too good.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie says lovingly, pulling back for a brief moment, “you’ve been keeping secrets.”
“Am I missing something?” Steve asks, breaking through the tense silence that had developed between you and Eddie, your eyes glaring pensively into his own.
Eddie chuckles deeply, passing the joint to Steve, “I never really noticed until just now—“ He points at you sparingly, “It’s only ever when we smoke that she acts that way and I didn’t think anything of it until I watched you two. I assumed you were just playing it up to mess with me—“
“I like being kissed when I’m high,” You offer bluntly, “or just like—my mouth gets really sensitive, I can’t explain it.”
“I think you just did.” Eddie remarks, offering a sickeningly sweet smile your way.
“Is that bad?” Steve asks, still partially confused. “I don’t see how that’s a problem?”
Eddie makes a noise of triumph, “See, Steve gets it.”
“I get it.” Steve agrees, hands motioning toward himself.
“Great—you’re both geniuses. Now, can we move on?”
Eddie was resilient though—and apparently, so was Steve. They both share a look, similar to what you walked in on earlier. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, glancing between the two of them.
“Hey—no, what was that?” You ask, finger wagging back and forth between the two of them briefly. You’re almost embarrassed to ask, afraid you might be overthinking things. “Wait, are you both, like—“
“No!” Steve responds quickly, clearing his throat to better compose himself, “No, uh—we’ve kissed before but that’s it.”
Something tells you that's a lie.
“Steve was asking if I’ve ever had a threesome.” Eddie interrupts, “I told him no—unfortunately, Steve forced himself into a tricky predicament and now he’s completely in over his head, aren’t you pretty boy?”
“Was I supposed to say no?” Steve asks, like the idea seemed ridiculous. “Who says no to that?”
“Lots of people,” You tell him, “—you don’t need to feel obligated because it’s some, like, rite of fuckin’ passage. That’s all bullshit.”
“I mean, I wanted to.” Steve assures you, “I still want to.”
You press further, “But?”
“I might’ve played it up,” Steve admits, “They’ve both never done it before and I told them I had some experience with it.”
“Steve,” You groan, covering your face with your hands in frustration, “oh my god—you know what, it actually makes total sense.”
“What?” Eddie asks.
“Why you two are friends,” You tell him, holding up your fingers to emphasize your point, “Clueless, full of yourself, and way too horny.”
“So, we’re just drifting over your whole oral fixation thing?” Eddie laughs, “Like that wasn’t just a few minutes ago?”
You clench your jaw, snatching the joint from Steve’s hands angrily and taking a long, deep drag. You weren’t high enough to deal with this, not yet.
“Then what the fuck was that look?” You ask, “Or are we keeping secrets now, Eddie?”
And there’s nothing he hates more than his own words being used against him, a saccharine smile spreading across your face.
“I told Steve I’d be down to help him practice, but that we’d need to find another participant,” Eddie shrugs, “kinda defeats the purpose of a threesome if you can’t find a third.”
“I might’ve brought your name up earlier,” Steve admits shyly, “I was just joking initially—but you walked in right after that.”
It all makes sense then, the weird look and tension that lingered when you stepped foot inside Eddie’s trailer. You could feel it now, but less uncomfortable—and you almost, almost propositioned them yourself. But no, you weren’t nearly as bold as either of them. Plus, with the high kicking in, you couldn’t help yourself.
“I’m not having sex with either of you,” You tell them firmly, and Eddie has the courage to laugh, plucking the joint from your fingers and snuffing it out in the ashtray at his bedside, “not in a million fuckin’ years.”
“Hey, woah—woah,” Eddie chides, “slow your roll, sweetheart.”
Eddie was wounded, but he didn’t show it.
Steve blinks heavily and you can see it on his face, the switch in his demeanor as the weed settles in.
“I just wanted to—I don’t know, test it out?” Steve shrugs, “Some kissing and stuff.”
“Unless you’re afraid to watch us kiss,” Eddie presses, “is that it? Is it too much for you?”
He’s only teasing, but it’s enough to make you retort in annoyance.
“Oh, like when you nearly busted in your pants after I made out with Chrissy Cunningham in front of you at that party last year?” You ask with a snark to your tone, “I can handle myself a lot better than you can, Eddie.”
Steve eyes you wearily, still looking ridiculous in his work uniform, the vest bunching up around his stomach where his shirt had ridden up from him laying out on his side against Eddie’s bed.
“So, is that a yes?” Steve asks hopefully.
“On one condition,” You tell him, “we never speak of this again.”
“Deal.” They both respond in unison, far too eager.
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It feels like a fever dream, Steve leaning over you to reach for Eddie, meeting him in the middle of your lap. He’d finally took the vest off after some persuasion from you, striped cotton shirt riding up in his stomach, the few buttons it did have were completely unbuttoned and failing to hide that patch of chest hair hidden underneath. Eddie smiled into the kiss, the dimple in his cheek deepening at the emotion he showed, the familiar sense of giddiness spreading throughout his body.
You’re not sure what to do, where to look, until Eddie’s hand is squeezing at your thigh, over the material of your jeans, a reassuring pressure that reminded him that you were still a part of this—he wanted you to watch, as taboo as it was for you.
“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Eddie assures you, mouth still very much involved with Steve, both of there eyes shut in pure bliss as their mouths met at an unhurried pace, all tongue and sloppy cadence. “You can stare all you want.”
And you do it, falling back on your palms as Steve’s hands fell in front of himself, just between the space in your legs, your chest rising and falling with every slow breath you took, afraid to move, afraid to interrupt the moment—until Steve separates from Eddie without hesitation and pulls you to him, the heat of his palm spreading out across your cheek as he kissed you gently, less forced that with Eddie.
This was new to him, and you; he didn’t want to come on too strong and you appreciated that, but it wasn’t nearly what you were hoping for. You needed the intensity, all of it—if this was following you all to the grave, it was going to be worth it.
Eddie makes a noise, noting the frustration on your face.
He tuts, running his fingers gingerly through the back of Steve’s hair, “More, Harrington.”
You laugh softly against his lips, “Really, it’s okay—I don’t need you to hold back.”
“You sure?” Steve asks quietly, noses bumping together gently in the process, leaving slow, lingering kisses against your lips, the kind that had you chasing after him for another. “I can get a little, uh—“
“Intense?” You finish for him, “Even better.”
Steve chuckles at that, slipping his hands around your backside until they’re resting just underneath the curve of your ass, adjusting you gently until you’re laid out against the mattress, Eddie following along too as he sprawls out on his side, fingers drifting along the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt pulled up slightly in the process.
Steve follows through on his words, hand pulling at your thigh until it bracketed against his hip, tongue delving into your mouth without hesitation, alighting every nerve-ending possible, an audible moan slipping from your throat and into Steve’s mouth. He bucks his hips involuntarily through his movements, pulling at your hands until they’re locked above your head in his grip, freeing one of his hands to tip your chin up, kissing you until you can’t breathe, pulling away briefly to allow yourself the luxury, catching glimpse of Eddie’s relaxed state, palm rubbing at the front of his sweatpants lazily. Steve notices it too, glancing down with a soft laugh.
“You did say ‘and stuff’,” Eddie defends weakly, his idle hand still resting comfortably against the expanse of your stomach, a constant reminder of his presence—not that you could forget it, “don’t worry, I’ll keep it in my pants.”
“Don’t,” You tell him honestly, and Steve pulls back slightly, startled by your words, “—what? I said no sex, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy all the other stuff.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asks for reassurance.
You nod, “I mean, I would be doing the same thing to you, but uh—“ You looked up to your joined hands and back down at him, “there seems to be a problem.”
“O-oh,” Steve responds quickly, releases your hands gently. You smile devilishly, hands fisted into the front of Eddie’s shirt to pull him closer, “can I touch you?” Steve asks, neither pleading nor begging, rather just checking in.
“I’d be offended if you didn’t,” You say admittedly, shifting your legs until Steve can shove his knee in the apex, Eddie’s lips becoming curious as they latch into your neck, “—hey, no marks.”
Eddie makes a small noise of disapproval, the flurry of his hair near your face smelling of cheap weed and old spice, “Touch her, Steve.” Eddie instructs, his wandering hands following the line of your body until they reach the button on your jeans, deft fingers working away to pop it open.
Your hands feel empty, jittery with anticipation and the only thing you can think to do is busy them, rubbing your open palm over the front of Eddie’s sweats, a noise of approval leaving his throat as his lips latch onto your neck. He ruts slowly, savoring the friction as his hand finds its way toward Steve’s thigh and over the front of his own jeans—Eddie knows exactly what Steve’s packing, unbeknownst to you and the smug grin on his face is obvious as his hands search and squeeze gently, a rough, throaty chuckle leaving Steve’s mouth as he kisses you once more. It’s deep and needy, teeth dragging against your bottom lip as his hands move in time, slipping over the front of your underwear, his fingers rubbing over the soft patch of wetness.
Steve eyes connect with yours in a look of knowing, mumbling a soft, “Yeah?” at the obvious state of your arousal.
“I told you it was a problem,” You say through a weak laugh that quickly turns into a gasp as Steve moves the fabric to the side and runs a finger through your folds, gauging your response, “I really can’t help it.”
“And thank god for that,” Eddie remarks, shoving Steve out of the way gently to pull your mouth to his, kissing you hungrily, tongue darting out towards yours in a challenge, begging you to chase him, “right, Harrington?”
You roll your eyes in annoyance, looking up at an amused Steve, his fingers working slowly against your cunt, careful touches until your face scrunches up in pleasure, finding just the spot he was looking for, “He talks too much, doesn’t he?” Steve asks with a flippant tone, glancing over at his friend who can’t be bothered to care, mouth dragging against yours as you pull away to speak, a soft moan slipping from your lips.
“Absolutely.” You nod slowly, gripping the front of Eddie’s jeans a little tighter, his cock throbbing underneath your touch.
“I know something that’ll keep my mouth busy,” Eddie hints, earning a skeptical look from you.
But, lines were already being crossed and you couldn’t be bothered to stop him, offering another nod his way.
“Fuck—go ahead,” You breath and Eddie pulls away swiftly, you glance up at Steve, watching as he tried to process what was happening, his own cock straining behind the zipper of his jeans, “come here.”
Steve shifts hesitantly on his knees, your fingers slipping past his waistband, pulling him the rest of the way.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” Steve interrupts, your fingers trailing over the bulge in his jeans, “I don’t really—“
“Steve,” You drag out, “I want to.”
“Are you sure?” Steve asks.
It’s endearing, how often he tried to check in with you—and maybe it’s his own nervousness doing the talking, but it’s comforting knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling as if you were losing your mind.
“It’s either your mouth, your fingers, or your dick—” You list off, shifting slightly as Eddie pulled at your jeans, interjecting with a snide, “I know what I’d chose.” You smile up at Steve, “You heard him, Harrington.”
And to be fair, you had a sense of Steve’s size, but it’s much more intimidating when he yanks at his jeans, underwear following suit until his cock was standing stiff in front of your face—and suddenly you’re jealous that you’ve shit on Steve’s flirting tactics for so long, because the confidence was absolutely justified. Eddie’s fingers squeeze at your thighs, bring you back to reality and to the realization of your bare cunt positioned in front of Eddie’s face—all weird and awkward tension completely dismissed when he smiles up at you, offering a teasing, “Go easy on her, big boy.”
Steve is just as unfiltered as Eddie in his actions and words, but while Eddie is the type to offer you constant praise and sweet remarks, Steve is nothing but a mess in his own mind, murmuring out a soft, repetitive, “Fuck, fuck,” as you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue running along the slit to taste at the rivulet of precome resting there, the weight of his cock against your tongue driving you wild, a tinge of excitement running through your body as Eddie’s tongue flattens out over your sensitive clit, moaning from the over-stimulation.
You can’t help but stare up at Steve’s parted lips, plump and wet from how often he licked them, eyes solely focused on you as his hesitant hands came up to cup your face, fingers gliding into the hair at the base of your neck, giving him an unobstructed view as your cheeks hollowed out, mouth sinking down on him in languid strokes, leaning heavily on your elbow as you free hand reached up to cover what your mouth couldn’t reach. It only seems to spur Steve further, pleading eyes boring into his own—you’re not sure what you’re asking for, but Steve nods, using the leverage he had to push his cool deeper until your eyes water from the force of it, pulling back with a strained gasp, wiping at your spit covered lips.
“Fuck, I’ve never—“ Steve sighs, “People always say it’s too much,” He’s not sure what he’s trying to say, but he’s staring down with intrigue, the gears turning in his head, “can you take more?”
Eddie’s working you up quickly, tongue flicking over your clit in hurried movements, using his hands to keep your thighs spread to the point of strain, muscles protesting the stretch. Your hand leaves Steve’s cock briefly, burying into the curls at the top of Eddie’s head, hips bucking up into his face selfishly.
Eddie shakes his head slightly, pulling away in punishment.
“Answer him, sweetheart.” He orders, “Don’t let me distract you.”
You give him an incredulous look, filling with a sense of rage at his stubborn, only interrupted when Steve’s fingers tapping at the underside of your chin, urging you to look up at him.
His eyebrows raise in question, earning a jerky nod in return, letting him guide his cock against your lips, his own hand gripped firmly at his shaft like he’s struggling to stave off his own orgasm, a small pout forming in his lips as he watched his cock slowly disappearing into your mouth until it’s just as deep again. You breath through your nose, a slow, deep intake as he pushes even further and holds you there, his head falls back, “Fuck—that’s so,” Steve lingers on the words, interrupted by Eddie’s never-ending comments.
“She likes the praise, Steve.” Eddie supplies, “No reason to hold back now.”
Steve nods absently, groaning out a broken, “Good girl,” and you swallow around him at that, pulling an even needy groan from his chest, “Oh, good fuckin’ girl.”
He pulls back suddenly, allowing you some relief before slipping back in, his hips moving eagerly into your mouth, hands still gripped firmly at the back of your neck as he fucks into your mouth just as you hoped for, taking as much as him as you could—even if it still wasn’t enough.
You can feel the deep pit of pleasure in your belly, thighs struggling against Eddie’s hold as you tip over the edge unexpectedly, moaning against Steve’s cock—and he’s not expecting it either, gasping out a desperate, “Where? Where can I—“
Steve’s never gone so far to come inside someone’s mouth without asking, but you don’t need to hear it, urging him along with your mouth, lips closing around him tightly as you work him over until he’s coming with a rough groan, pulling gently at your hair from the sheer force that his orgasm hits him, hips thrusting slightly as he rides it out, coming down your throat in long, thick spurts. It’s an afterthought to swallow as he pulls his dick out slowly, resting back on his calves and closing his eyes in exhaustion, letting go of your hair to rest his palms against the mattress.
Eddie looks up with a satisfied grin, having witnessed the exchange with a heated gaze, mouth still shining with your wetness and making him look insane as he laughed, “She’s a keeper, right?” Eddie compliments.
Steve nods dumbly, taking a deep breath as he speaks, “I’ve never came in anyone’s mouth before—that was…”
“Really?” You ask with a lilt to your voice, “Never?”
Steve shakes his head, staring at you openly until Eddie’s forcing his way back up and connecting his mouth with yours sloppily, chuckling through the motions as he pulls Steve down clumsily—he can taste Steve on your tongue, the headiness of it and you can taste yourself just as well, an intense exchange as Eddie sighs into your mouth, “Wanna taste her?” He asks to Steve, tilting his head to the side as Steve hovered over, face just a few inches away from both of you. He smile slightly, connecting his lips to Eddie’s with practiced ease, allowing the dirty exchange of Eddie’s tongue licking into his mouth, pulling on the metalhead's hair in response that has Eddie groaning playfully, teeth showing through his grin.
“I might have to give up that other threesome.” Steve jokes, loose hair bouncing against his forehead as he pulls away, both you and Eddie looking up at him curiously.
“You heard the lady—it’s a one and done deal.” Eddie explains with a hint of sadness, playing up the emotion.
But, Eddie knows far too well, eyeing you until you finally give in with an exasperated sigh.
“We tell no one,” You emphasize, “got it?”
Steve nods eagerly.
“Told you,” Eddie teases, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth as he smiles, glaring up at Steve, “didn’t I?”
“Told him what?”
“Steve’s a little irresistible to the ladies and gents,” Eddie says knowingly, “even the stubbornest ones.”
You roll your eyes dramatically, “We can forget him next time.” You tell Steve, which he shrugs in response too, seemingly agreeing.
“Hey,” Eddie responds with offense, voice cracking slightly, “what—that’s not fair.”
“She’s the boss.” Steve defends, finding the time to pull his pants back up and shift to lay beside you on the bed.
“Oh wait,” The thought dawns on you suddenly, staring down at Eddie’s noticeably less prominent bulge, “—you didn’t—“
“I did,” Eddie laughs uncomfortably, shifting to reveal noticeable wet spot at the front of his sweats, “speaking of, I need to go change.”
“I’ll keep her company.” Steve grins devilishly, letting Eddie flick his vest back in his direction, the material hitting him directly in the chest as Eddie disappears down the hall.
Eddie’s only slightly offended when he returns to Steve pressing you down into the mattress again, teasing you with the slowest kisses possible. But you pull him in without question, letting him fall into a lazy rhythm of trading kisses—and maybe when the high wore of you’d regret all of it, but you can’t be bothered to care.
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eldritch-thrumming · 1 year
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imagine: it’s been years since Eddie and Steve have seen each other. Eddie still keeps in touch with the Party, with Robin and Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle, but for whatever reason, neither him nor Steve have made a massive effort to stay in touch. Eddie can’t help but feel like he maybe had missed out on something, that he’d been too quick to leave, too quick to write it off as unimportant, meaningless, a fleeting crush. It’s okay. It’s fine now.
Because Eddie has the life he’s always dreamed of. He travels the world, gets paid to play his guitar in front of crowds that scream his lyrics back at him, dates celebrities, and sees things he couldn’t have even imagined back in that Hawkins trailer park. He doesn’t regret much. He can’t, when everything has led him here.
He’s just released his third studio album and it’s been a commercial and critical success. He’d tried something a little different with this project, something a little outside his comfort zone. He’s never been known for his love songs, but he couldn’t help himself this time. He just had so much he’d never had the chance to say until now.
Eddie loves the Grammys. It’s a fun night, full of fellow musicians who care deeply about what they do. He’ll never get used to being in the same place as his idols, the voices he used to listen to when he’d dream of getting the hell out of small-time, small town Indiana.
He’s got a date on his arm this year, a handsome actor who’d just had a film premier in Venice. Eddie loves the attention, knows the fans are speculating about which songs on the new album are about Rob and their relationship. It’s not hard to act like they’re in love; Rob is beautiful, tanned and golden and smiling big for the cameras. It’s easy to fuel the rumors, to make eyes at each other like they think no one is looking. Eddie lives for this kind of thing, loves to put on a show. He kisses Rob right there on the red carpet, like he doesn’t care who’s watching them, like he just can’t help himself.
He’s up for a whole bunch of awards tonight. Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Best Metal Performance…. Eddie’s skin is buzzing, a dull thrum of excitement just under the surface.
Halfway through the ceremony, Eddie wins his first award for his performance in Las Vegas earlier in the year on tour promoting the new album. He doesn’t have a speech prepared, hadn’t wanted to jinx anything by over-preparing, and now he’s nervous he’ll forget someone and not have another chance to tell the world how he’s gotten here.
Eddie’s smiling big when he takes the stage. His face feels stretched, his cheeks hurting. He feels like his body can’t hold all his excitement inside him, all the feelings of love and amazement that threaten to burst through his skin.
He thanks Wayne and the Party first, clutching his trophy in his sweaty fist. They’re the ones that really got him here, the ones that made him believe he was worth saving. The ones that made all this possible.
Then he thanks his management. His agents and producers and tour managers, all the people that make the logistics of touring possible, that give him the ability to do what he loves.
There’s one last person to thank. His PR team had told both him and Rob to lean into the relationship, to embrace the spectacle, and there was nothing Eddie loved more than performing for a captive audience. He looks out into the crowd and finds Rob smiling up at him from his seat. He looks perfect, tan and beautiful, and it reminds Eddie of someone he used to know.
“And to the man who’s inspired every song on this album,” he feels his lips spread into another smile, sees the camera from the corner of his eye and imagines how goofy he must look on screen. He wonders who might be watching, if the person he’s been thinking about for the last ten years even knows he’s winning an award right now. “Stevie baby, thank you, darling.”
There are confused grumbles from the crowd and for just a second, Eddie doesn’t understand. But then he glances at where Rob sits in the crowd, his smile plastic and forced, and he realizes what he’s said. The wrong name. The name of a ghost. The name of a person who only exists for him in his memories.
Eddie’s legs feel numb. His chest starts to ache and his hands feel hollow. Horror spreads through him as he hears the music start to play. The presenters gently usher him backstage, push him toward the darkness, away from the cameras. He stands there out of sight for several moments, frozen, rooted to the spot he’s been left in, before a familiar figure steps into his eye-line.
“Eddie,” Rob says, sounding both surprised and irritated. “What the fuck?”
the question pounds my head, what’s a lifetime of achievement if i pushed you to the edge but you were too polite to leave me? do you miss the rogue that coaxed you into paradise and left you there? will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me but too old to care?
part one
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hairmetal666 · 8 months
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Read Part One here
cw: implied child abuse
Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.
They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.
They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.
After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.
What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.
But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.
The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.
Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.
"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.
"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"
Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."
"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.
He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.
"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"
"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."
Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"
"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."
Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.
He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.
"Steve?"
It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.
His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"
"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."
"I'm sorry--"
"--Steve, I--"
They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.
"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."
Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"
Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.
"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."
Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.
"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."
"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.
"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."
He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."
Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."
Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."
Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."
He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"
There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.
Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"
"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.
"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."
Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"
"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."
"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.
"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."
Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08
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evansbby · 1 year
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𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐲 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧-𝐨𝐟𝐟)
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𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: alpha!Bucky Barnes x naive omega!Reader, also featuring: dark alpha!Steve Rogers
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, dubcon, dark Steve, poyt!Steve (yes, he is a warning), mentions of smutt, 18+ minors dni.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s your first day at college and Bucky, a popular alpha, asks for your number. (This is a spin-off of my fic Preying on You Tonight, exploring what would have happened if Bucky had gotten to omega before Steve. You do not need to read that fic to understand this one).
𝐀/𝐍: It’s finally here! As the writer, all I sincerely ask is for you to read it till the end. I put a lot of hard work into this and it’s been a long time coming. I really hope you give this fic a chance, and I hope you enjoy! This is 16.8k words.
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It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay. You quietly chant under your breath as you make your way into the intimidatingly large lecture hall. World Politics. It’s a senior class, mostly males, majority alphas. But you’ve managed to get in – the only freshman who was accepted – and it makes your heart flutter with excitement. Maybe they’ll all be impressed, you think to yourself, clutching your bookbag tightly as you make your way inside.
Everyone’s already sat down or milling about in groups. You shoot a few smiles here and there, hoping someone might smile back – but everyone seems busy catching up with their own friends. You sigh – of course, you don’t expect to make friends right away. But you probably will soon.
There’s a pack of intimidating looking guys in the back of the room, they draw your attention because of how loud they’re being as they laugh and joke around. Football players, you think to yourself – they’re all wearing blue jerseys with the university emblem. And they’re all so big and broad. There’s a blond one who seems bigger and scarier than all of them, and there’s also a brunet – also big and intimidating but he looks slightly more laid back than the others.
You snap your head away as soon as he looks in your direction, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re confident you’ll make friends, but it probably won’t be anyone from the resident campus jock group. Not wasting any more time, you make your way to the front of the lecture hall and take a seat in the very first row. Hopefully, someone else would join you and you could strike up a conversation.
You’re arranging your pens in colour order when your phone vibrates.
Peter: Good luck, babe! I know first days can be hard, but you’re gonna smash it! See you tonight!
Smiling softly, you text your boyfriend a quick response before putting your phone away – the lecture is about to start and you don’t want to miss a single word.
A chorus of loud snickers makes you look back over your shoulder. It’s the group of jock alphas – they’re only a couple of rows behind you now, laughing over something while they look in your direction. You suddenly feel self-conscious, looking over your hoodie for any stains, eyes scanning around your vicinity for anything remotely funny.
You’ve just given up and gone back to opening your notebook when you feel a tap on your shoulder. It’s the brunet alpha, he’s standing next to your desk with a cocky smile on his face.
“Hey, newbie.”
You smile shyly, “Hi.”
“YOU’RE SUCH A DOG, BARNES!” One of the alpha jocks hoots from the back and all the rest of the pack guffaws too, some even making barking sounds. It causes the smile to freeze on your face.
The brunet laughs in his friends’ direction before turning back to you, “Ignore them. You a transfer student or something?”
“No. I’m a freshman. This is my first day.”
“Freshman, huh?” He licks his lips. He’s got nice lips; you think to yourself before inwardly shaking your head in alarm. You have a boyfriend, you remind yourself. But the brunet in front of you also has nice eyes, you can’t help but notice. Light blue and shining, along with scruffy brown hair and a smattering of facial hair. “What’s a little freshman like you doing here? You realise this is a senior class? Are you lost, newbie?”
“No, not lost, I’m meant to be here.” You tell him firmly, “I was interested in this class so I applied for it. I was the only freshman to be accepted.” You hope it doesn’t sound like you’re boasting, you can’t help but feel proud about it.
The brunet nods thoughtfully, “No kidding. You must be very smart.”
You shrug modestly.
“What’s your name, newbie?”
You tell him and he nods, repeating it to himself slowly as if he’s savouring the word.
“I’m James.” He says, “I mean, everyone calls me Bucky but you can call me James.”
You giggle nervously, “Wh-Why do I get to call you that?”
His smile is lop-sided and lazy, and you can’t help but stare. It brightens up his whole face, painting an image of mischief across his features. But he’s not intimidating, not like his friends who continue to hoot and yell behind him. You feel fire on your cheeks because he looks kind of… cute.
Wait. What?
“Pretty girls like you are allowed to call me James.”
The professor chooses that moment to clear his throat as he begins to start up the PowerPoint presentation.
“Well, anyways, newbie. I just came over to say hello. And while I’m here, I was wondering if I could borrow a pen. I forgot mine and you seem to have… a lot.” He gestures to your collection of pens – you have one in just about every colour of the rainbow.
You nod eagerly – you hadn’t expected an alpha jock to be the first one to speak to you at college, but you weren’t complaining.
“Sure! Take your pick,” You say enthusiastically “The blue one doesn’t work too well, but the rest are all good! If you prefer ink pens over ballpoint, I’ve got those too!”
“What about this pink one?”
“Oh,” Your response is less than enthusiastic, “I mean… I always use the pink one. But if you really want it–”
He laughs, reaching out and patting your hand softly. And the touch, despite being seemingly innocuous, sends thrills up and down your spine. You can’t help but think how much bigger his hand is than yours.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. You use the pink one. I’ll take this one instead.” He grabs a green pen, and that’s when you get a strong whiff of his scent. Smoky yet dewy – like a cosy fireplace on a winter morning. Fresh like snow mixing with the earth, like cold rain mingling with a special kind of musk.
Bucky seems to notice how you suddenly pause, your nose twitching as you repeatedly inhale his scent. He chuckles softly, waving a hand in front of your face, “Hey, you still there?”
You shake your head, giving yourself a moment to gather yourself before looking up at him, “Yeah, uh. Yeah, I’m here.”
“Good. Because the lecture’s about to start, and you look like someone who doesn’t want to miss a word.” He winks, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send shivers of excitement up and down your spine, “Well, thanks for the pen, newbie.”
And then he goes back to join his friends, leaving you with a lightness in your heart, a spark in your eyes and a smile on your lips. You’d always thought jocks were mean, but Bucky – James – had been nice. Maybe it was a sign, a sign that your first year of university perhaps wouldn’t be as daunting as you originally thought.
You risk a glance back at him. He’s sat a few rows behind you, next to his blond friend. The two couldn’t be more different – with Bucky sitting back, relaxed and laughing, the pen you gave him dangling out of his mouth like a cigarette. The blond sits up straight with rigid posture, and he looks sullen, a touch of a scowl on his face as he looks at Bucky. And then he turns, piercing blue eyes glaring right at you.
You turn back to look in front. That can’t be right. This blond jock doesn’t even know you. Sighing, you begin to take notes, the world of politics taking over as you excitably fill page after page.
You’re immensely satisfied when the class ends – it was everything you wanted it to be and more. With the risk of sounding like a nerd – and you are a nerd, you’ll happily admit it – you’d enjoyed every second of the lecture, soaking in every word like a sponge. If this is what all university classes were going to be like, you’d stay forever.
“You look happy, newbie.” It’s Bucky again; the rest of his group is milling around by the exit, and you can’t deny the thrill you feel at the fact that he hung back with you.
“I am happy, wasn’t that just the most fascinating lecture ever? I mean, I’d heard things about this professor, that he’s so mesmerising to listen to. And it’s true!” You sigh almost dreamily, hugging your fresh notes close to your chest, “I feel like I’ve learnt more in this past hour than I did in the entirety of my high school history class.”
Bucky just stares at you, a smile on his face that reaches all the way up, making the sides of his eyes crinkle.
“What?” You ask consciously when he continues to just… look at you.
“Nothing. You’re just very cute, all bright-eyed and enthusiastic. Not like us jaded seniors.”
“BUCKY, LET’S GO.” As if on cue, the blond alpha bellows across the lecture hall.
Bucky seems wholly unperturbed, even as you jump from the loudness of the blonde’s tone.
“Your friend’s calling you,” You shuffle from one foot to the other, unable to ignore how the blond alpha is glaring at the pair of you all the way from the doorway, “He seems really impatient.”
With a wave of his hand, Bucky dismisses this claim, “Oh, don’t mind Steve. He’s just pissy these days because his girlfriend’s being a bitch.”
Oh. You have no idea what to say to that, so you just continue to pack up your things.
“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I’m gonna head over to the library,” You answer excitedly, “I’ve heard it’s really, really big. One of the biggest in the country. I got a glimpse of it during orientation, but I’ve got the rest of the day free so today I’m gonna sit in there and catch up on some reading, and may–”
“Why don’t I walk you there?” The brunet offers. And it’s his quiet confidence that gets to you, the way he’s got this small smile on his face, as if he knows you won’t refuse him, “I have a class in that direction anyways. Steve does too. We could both walk you there.”
You glance once more at Steve, who – believe it or not – is still glaring at you. Or are you imagining it? You’re about to respond when a tall blonde girl in a cheerleading uniform skips up to him. They kiss, and then leave the lecture hall hand-in-hand. You turn back to Bucky, who shrugs.
“Well. Scratch that. I guess it’s just you and me then, newbie. C’mon. I’ll give you a campus tour.”
Talking with Bucky is surprisingly simple. He’s easy-going and laidback, completely cool in the way he makes conversation. Talking about himself but at the same time asking you questions about your life. You’ve always been shy but you find yourself at ease with him, you find yourself laughing at his jokes… You even catch yourself staring at him more than a few times, completely captured by his pretty eyes and lazy smile.
“I’m mostly friends with everyone on the football team, but Steve’s my best friend,” He nods at the blond alpha who’s walking a few paces ahead of you two, hand-in-hand with the cheerleader who you assume is his girlfriend. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. And then there’s Sam, but he’s hungover so he didn’t come in today.” Bucky’s eyes crinkle as he laughs, “Classic Sam.
The walk to the library is over a little too soon.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the next lecture. Thanks for walking with me.” You say, backing away but not wanting to completely leave just yet.
“Princess, wait.” He grabs your hand, yanking you back till you’re only a few inches away from him. And maybe it’s the shock due to the fact that he called you princess, but you just… let him do it. He grins down at you.
“You’re not gonna leave without giving me your number first, are you?”
You giggle nervously, and you’re surprised that you have to swallow down the words ‘yes, I’ll give you my number’ which are on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you shake your head slowly, “I, uh, I have a boyfriend.”
The alpha blinks, hand freezing midway through running through his hair. But then he relaxes, and that familiar lazy smile returns to his face. “So? Can’t friends save each other’s numbers? We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
You feel heat rising up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, “Oh. Of course. I guess we are. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed–”
“No worries, princess.” He takes your phone, quickly putting in his number and texting himself from yours before handing it back to you. “Your boyfriend’s a lucky guy, by the way. But I’m sure he won’t mind if I text you tonight, right?”
Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer, instead just winking at you before taking off. And you stand outside the steps of the library and watch him for a second. He catches up with Steve and gives him a hard thump on the back before falling into step next to him. Steve still has a scowl on his face but it slowly dissipates, and you watch for a moment as the two alphas talk animatedly. Even if Bucky hadn’t told you earlier, it was clear as day that the they were best friends.
It takes you a while to realise that you’re staring, and you quickly retreat into the library, the magical pull of books and knowledge sucking you in and making you forget about everything else.
***
“I’d say it was a good first day, as far as first days go.” You deduce, walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn in your hands. You hand it over to Peter, who’s scrolling through Netflix in search of the perfect movie. Which is an impossible task since the two of you had seen practically everything Netflix had to offer – you guys had more movie nights then you did date nights. Actually, you can’t remember the last time you and Peter had gone out on a date. The thought seemed weird… you were much more comfortable sitting on the couch and gorging on popcorn and talking the night away with him – like you were right now.
“That’s good. Did you make any friends?”
You think back to Bucky’s twinkling blue eyes and feel a jolt of electricity run through you. Bucky was your friend, right? He’d said so. But for reasons you don’t quite understand, you only clear your throat and shake your head. “No. I talked to a few people but that’s all. I mean, it’s only day one, right? Nobody makes friends on day one.”
“True.” Peter agrees, his mouth full of popcorn. “Okay, so, I’m thinking it’s a teen dystopian movie kind of night. Hunger Games or Divergent?”
Your brow furrows while you think, “I don’t like Divergent and I’ve seen The Hunger Games way too many times.”
“Okay, how about Catching Fire?”
“The ending of that one makes me sad.”
You bicker back and forth before settling down with Alice in Wonderland, and the popcorn is half finished by the time the beginning credits start rolling. And that’s when your phone vibrates.
James: Hey, princess. You busy?
A smile touches your lips before you cast a quick glance at Peter. He’s half laid down on the other end of the couch with his eyes locked on the screen. You swallow down the guilt – you know Bucky is just your friend but it still feels kind of wrong to be texting him when you’re meant to be watching a movie with Peter. But there’s a large part of you that wants to answer, and it doesn’t take long for that part of you to win the inner conflict inside your head. You quickly text back:
You: Hey! I’m currently watching a movie with my boyfriend.
Your text is truthful, but you hope Bucky doesn’t think you’re dismissing him. His reply is almost instantaneous:
James: Aw, how cute. What movie is it?
You: Alice in Wonderland. Have you seen it?
You mentally kick yourself after you press send. What a dumb question – of course he’s seen it! Who hasn’t seen one of the most recognisable Disney movies of the last decade?
James: I have. I didn’t know you were such a big fan of cartoons, princess.
You feel the ends of your mouth tugging into a smile before you give Peter another glance. He’s polishing off the last of the popcorn, engrossed in Alice as she tumbles down the rabbit hole. You grab the empty bowl and stand up. “I’ll go make some more popcorn.”
Peter nods, “You want me to pause it?”
“No, that’s alright.”
You float into the kitchen and put another bag of popcorn in the microwave before taking a deep breath and looking down at your phone again.
James: Maybe we could watch a movie sometime? I’ve got a flatscreen in my room ;)
You feel a shiver go down your spine when you read his text, and you let yourself imagine it for a split second. Watching a movie with Bucky. In his bedroom. On his bed? You’d never been to a boy’s room before – except Peter, but he’d been your best friend all through high-school. Sure, he was your boyfriend now but you always do the same things you guys did when you were friends – just with added kissing and sometimes touching.
“Babe, you done?” Peter calls for you as if on cue.
Once more awash with guilt, you quickly type out a text:
You: I’m sorry, I should get back to the movie. Good night :)
You switch your phone off for the rest of the night, trying to focus on Alice’s adventures in wonderland, but the thought of Bucky dwindles at the back of your mind as if it’s there to stay.
***
You plan on avoiding Bucky the next day but that proves to be an extremely flimsy plan. You’re sitting in the front row when him and Steve and another guy – you assume it’s Sam – walk in. You get a pleasant whiff of Bucky’s scent before it’s overpowered by something stronger – the smell of firewood and a hot summer day. They walk by you, with Bucky giving you a small smile and a wink and Steve sucking in a breath, his nostrils twitching as he walks past you. Strange. What was his problem?
You still feel guilty about the previous night. Peter was your first ever relationship so you might not be the biggest expert on these types of things, but you’re sure that getting giddy over another guy texting you is not good girlfriend behaviour. You need to put a swift stop to it, starting now. You spend the rest of the lecture taking notes diligently, stuffing the thought of Bucky to the back of your mind.
When the class ends, you try to scurry away to the library. But you don’t get too far down the corridor before a hand encloses around your wrist and tugs you back.
“Princess, wait up. Where are you hurrying off to?”
“I – uh – I need to go to the library to print something.”
Bucky raises an eyebrow, “I’ll walk you.”
“Oh no, that’s okay.”
He looks at you for a handful of seconds before sighing and taking a step back, “This is about last night, isn’t it? My texts scared you off?”
You bite your lip, “James, I have a boyfriend.”
“I know, I know.” He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, shifting from one foot to the other before those icy blue eyes settle on you again. “I’ll be honest, princess. You’re so pretty, I thought I’d shoot my shot anyways.”
Your jaw drops, “B-But I have a boyfriend.”
He shrugs, looking virile and handsome with his facial hair and lazy smile, “That’s never stopped me before. I mean, it’s not really a big thing with me and my friends. If we want a girl, we go after her, boyfriend or not, it doesn’t matter to us.”
“Oh.” You don’t know whether to stay or just leave, and you’re debating over just that when Bucky pipes up again.
“Look, princess. I like you. And I have a hunch that you like me too. And as I said before, I usually don’t care if the girl I like has a boyfriend. But you’re different, I want to do right by you.” He strokes the palm of your hand with his thumb and it’s like you’re mesmerised by the feeling. “I’d really like to take you out sometime. But I can give you time to break up with your boyfriend first.”
You gasp, pulling your hand out of his grasp, “James Barnes! That’s so wrong. You know how awful of a person that would make me? And I barely know you!”
“Just think about it. I really like you.” He says earnestly, blue eyes sparkling and locking with yours as he grabs your hand again, “And breaking up with him will spare this guy the embarrassment of being with a girl who’s no longer into him.”
Your jaw drops open at his audacity, “That’s not true–!”
“Bucky, we have practice.”
Steve rounds the corner, stopping short when he sees the two of you so close, his eyes narrowing as they zero in on your intertwined hands.
“Gimme a sec.” Bucky answers, not even sparing Steve a glance, eyes unblinking as they stare at you meaningfully.
For the second time, you snatch your hand out of his grip. “I-I – uh – I have to go!” You do the easiest thing you can think of, backing away and getting the hell out of there. Bucky’s just dropped a huge bomb on you and Steve’s intimidating as hell, so you deem it best to put some distance between you and the two alphas as you speed-walk away from the situation.
“Why are you talking to that trashy omega?” You hear Steve mutter as you turn your back on them, and the hurtful words make your heart jolt.
“Hey, don’t call her that.” Bucky answers, and that’s the last thing you hear before you round the corner and escape into the comforting clutches of the campus library.
***
So, Bucky liked you. He liked you. As in, he wanted to take you out on a date. This information has you feeling giddier than it should. You’ve never known anyone to like you like that (except Peter) and never so brazenly. You can’t help but feel all light inside. A popular, handsome senior liked you!
But then, the flowy lightness inside you is overtaken by wracks of guilt, showering down on your heart like hard, jagged rocks. You’re with Peter. You like Peter. You can’t get happy over Bucky liking you when you’re with Peter. That’s just a fact.
You lay low for a couple of weeks, avoiding Bucky like he’s the plague. But you know his eyes are on you, glued to the back of your head during every lecture, when you keep your face pointedly facing forward and never look back at him. You can’t. You’re in a relationship. You have to respect it.
But then, things take a different turn than you ever expected them to.
Peter scores an internship at Stark Industries, which means he has to move to New York immediately. And you’re so happy for him, it’s what he’s been working towards and dreaming of for as long as you’ve known him. His goal of tackling the tech world is similar to your own goal of being the first person in your family to earn a university degree. You’re thrilled for him. But sitting on his bed and wistfully watching him pack, it’s like you both know what this means.
The break-up is mutual. Peter says that he’ll be busy with work, and you agree that you’ll be busy with college assignments too. And after one last movie night and a tearful goodbye, you both agree to try to remain best friends. He promises to come see you when he’s got a free moment, and you tell him you’ll travel up to New York once you’ve saved enough money to be able to afford it.
And then he’s gone. Off chasing his dreams and you couldn’t be happier for him.
But now you’re single. And what does that mean for you?
***
Bucky approaches you after spring break, sporting a healthy tan and messier hair. You’d overheard him and his friends talking earlier, so you knew they’d all flown to Cancun for the past week. Lucky them. You’d spent the break studying in your room, making notes for the next set of lectures to make sure you were well-prepared for them.
“Hello, princess. You’re looking extra beautiful today.”
You look down at your old hoodie and ratty leggings and wonder if he’s joking with you. “Uh, thanks?”
“I’m serious. You’re glowing, which can only mean one thing. You broke up with him, didn’t you?” Bucky leans down over your table, giving you a strong whiff of his wintery scent. It’s like freshly powdered snow and warm fire logs, enveloping around you like a welcome hug after your lonely spring break.
You purse your lips together, focusing on your notes except the lecture hasn’t started yet so you have nothing to write down except the date. But you’re determined not to look at him, “Actually, it was mutual.”
Bucky’s grin only gets wider, and to your surprise, he plops down on the empty seat next to you. Your eyes widen, “Wh-What are you doing?”
“What? I can’t sit next to you? Is this seat taken?”
Well, of course it wasn’t. You usually sat alone. Nobody really spoke to you apart from Bucky, but that was okay. It’s not like anyone was ever horrible to you either. Except Steve with that one comment that he’d made the other day. But you must have overheard him wrong.
“So, what did you do over spring break?” He asks.
You shrug, “I read up on the next few chapters on our syllabus.”
Bucky nods, “A quiet week, huh? Well, I wish I’d stayed back too.” He chuckles when he sees your raised eyebrow, “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Cancun’s beautiful, but it gets tiresome after a while. All Steve and Sam ever did was hook up with different girls. Constantly. Me? I just didn’t feel like doing that this time around.”
You frown, casting a short glance at Steve, except you quickly look away because he happens to be staring right back at you. But why was Steve hooking up with other girls? Didn’t he have a girlfriend? You mull over it for a second before you register the other thing Bucky had said. “Y-You didn’t feel like hooking up with anyone?”
The brunet clasps his hand over yours and shoots you a sparkling smile, “Why would I? When my girl wasn’t there with me?”
Bucky takes you out the following weekend. And you don’t know why you agree, when it’s so soon after your breakup with Peter. But when he asks you out, it just feels right, and the word “yes” is flying out of your mouth before you have the chance to think about it. Peter’s probably seeing other people too, you think to yourself. And the thought doesn’t bother you at all, because why shouldn’t Peter have his fun? He was single. And so were you.
Bucky presents you with a bouquet of pink tulips at the start of your date, and sits on your bed with an amused expression on his face while you quickly tend to them. Trimming the stems and finding a vase before setting them on your windowsill. “You look beautiful, princess.” He comments, making your cheeks feel like they’re on fire before he grabs your hand and takes you out.
The diner he takes you to is casual and pretty, only a few minutes outside of campus. The evening sunlight spills down through the window while Bucky brazenly holds your hands in his over the table – even when the waitress is taking your order! It makes you squirm, but in a pleasant kind of way. And he tells you about himself while you eat, how he knows he’s from a privileged family but always felt different growing up.
He tells you about all the mischief he and Steve got up to when they were kids, and then teens, and now young adults. And you can’t really imagine Steve, all stoic and mean and preppy-looking, getting up to any kind of mischief but you smile and nod anyways, loving how Bucky tells his stories in such an easy-going and charming way.
You’re a bit more guarded when he asks you about your childhood, though. You keep it brief and simple, outright evading certain details because you don’t want to get into it right now. But Bucky seems to understand, squeezing your hands before grabbing a napkin and wiping a spot of sauce on the side of your mouth.
He takes you to a nearby park after that. He buys a small loaf of bread so the two of you can feed the ducks. And he never lets go of your hand, and you can feel him watching you as you focus on the ducks gobbling up the pieces of bread. And then he grabs your chin and gently turns your face to him and he kisses you. And it’s sweet. Sweeter than it is with Peter. And you kiss him back, because you like how light and fluffy and exciting it feels to kiss Bucky.
It feels like you’re on cloud nine.
The dates get more frequent after that. Bucky walks you to class every day, holding your hand and talking to you about anything and everything. Like the latest report your class has been assigned, or his football team winning another game, or any new books you’ve read. You find yourself giggling and opening up a lot more, every shy bone in your body relaxing when you’re talking to him.
The kissing and touching becomes more frequent too. Often, he comes to your dorm room and things get hot and heavy. And oh, it’s so exciting feeling Bucky’s hands on you, and his expert kisses leave you breathless! He really was an incredible kisser, taking control and moving his tongue so lazily and perfectly against yours. But something within you always stops him before he can go any further.
“Bucky, please. I just got out of a relationship and I don’t know if I’m ready for sex.” You tell him truthfully one evening while he’s got you pinned down on your bed in the middle of a particularly passionate make-out session.
Bucky lies back down beside you while you fix the buttons of your cardigan which he’d almost had undone. He reaches down to adjust his boner through his jeans, “Princess, you’re killing me here. I want you so bad.”
You swallow, “I’m sorry, James. I just don’t think I’m ready.”
Light blue eyes smile down at you as the alpha sits up and grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t apologise, princess. I understand.”
“I just feel bad, I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on.” You duck your head, but he grabs your chin and lifts it up again, making you look at him.
“I’ll be honest, I don’t think I’ve gone out this long with a girl without sleeping with her.” Bucky confesses, scratching his head with a sheepish look on his face. “I haven’t been a great boyfriend in the past, and my motives have usually been selfish.”
Your eyes grow wide, but you don’t say anything.
“I’m telling you this because I care about you, princess. I think you’re different.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and chucks you under your chin till you smile. “I like talking to you and spending time with you. You’re smart and beautiful and I know we haven’t been together long, but I really see a future for us.” He kisses you sweetly, and you’re too busy trying to tame the butterflies in your stomach to respond properly, but you try your best anyways.
“What I’m saying is, you can take all the time you need till you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere, and I’ll wait as long as I have to till you’re ready to have sex.” Bucky finishes earnestly, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his neck and plant a million kisses on his face. He’s saying all the right things, everything a girl wants to hear from her boyfriend.
“You really mean all that?” You ask him softly.
“Yes, princess, I mean it. You’re my girlfriend, and I’ll wait for you for as long as you need.” Bucky looks earnest and sweet, and you hug him hard. You feel a mix of thrill and nervous energy flutter through you. It’s something you’ve never felt before. But it’s a good feeling, and you welcome it with open arms as Bucky continues to leave tiny kisses all over your face. Till you’re giggling against his lips and hugging him close, feeling lighter than a feather.
***
Being the girlfriend of a popular senior was not something you’d envisioned happening to you at the start of university. But Bucky made it feel so natural, introducing you to all his friends, holding your hand all the time and including you in all his plans. His friends are nice enough: Sam was a bit cold at first but he warmed up after a while. Thor was loud and funny, Ransom acted overly smart and confident but seemed to have a sensitive side too. Curtis was mysterious and Andy was kind of dopey, and they were all friendly with you.
But then there was Steve.
The blonde alpha glowered at you any chance he got. Whenever you were in his presence, you could feel his steely blue eyes boring holes straight through your skin. You always kept out of his way so you were unsure why he seemed to hate you. Bucky just said not to take it personally, that Steve was just going through a rough patch with his girlfriend and he didn’t hate you at all.
One day, you’d gone over to Bucky’s house where he – unfortunately – lived with Steve and Sam too.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Steve had demanded when he’d opened the door and seen you standing there.
“Uh… James to-told me to meet him here after my morning classes.” You explain, feeling oddly nervous around the big alpha. You’re naturally shy but you’d come out of your shell quite a bit ever since you’d started dating Bucky. But Steve was just so intimidating, standing there in just a pair of grey sweats that are slung low over his hips. You avert your gaze to the ground in a bid not to stare at his bare chest.
Steve regards you suspiciously before stepping aside and letting you in. And you feel his heated gaze still on you as you brush past him to get inside. And that’s when you hear him inhale sharply, a low rumble coming from his chest before he stumbles. You whip around just in time to see him recover, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Are you okay?”
Steve scoffs, “Why the hell wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Uh… You kinda just tripped?” You point out hesitantly, and the blonde alpha’s pale face goes crimson before he clears his throat.
“I did not trip.” He glowers through gritted teeth.
Okay then. You decide not to question his rude and erratic behaviour. “Where is James’ room?”
Steve glances upstairs before leaning against the kitchen counter, his intense gaze locking on you as his frown relaxes into a smirk. “He’s taking a shower right now. You should wait for him down here.”
“Okay.” You sit down at the kitchen table. The house is big, spacious and minimalistic in the way it’s decorated. The kitchen is modern and it’s clear that there’s only boys living here, because you can see a ton of takeout containers and microwave meals strewn across the countertops.  Once you’re done observing your surroundings, you notice Steve still staring at you.
“So, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend now, huh?” He breaks the silence.
“Yes.”
“Strange. I never thought he’d go for someone like you.”
Your brows knit together into a frown as a pang of hurt echoes inside you, “Wh-What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugs, and you try not to focus on his broad, muscular shoulders. But it’s not easy to just look at his face either, because he’s so intimidating. He runs a hand through his light hair, “Nothing, omega. Don’t worry your little head over it.
Your jaw drops open, “Don’t call me that, please. I have a name.”
“As if I care.”
God! It was like talking to an eight-year-old. You had no idea that Steve was this immature and rude, and it makes your blood boil. You’re just about to get up and find Bucky’s bedroom yourself when you hear a pattering of light footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Steve, I have to go. But promise you’ll text me tonight?” It’s a girl. You recognise her from college – you’ve definitely seen her around campus somewhere. But she’s definitely not Sharon. She skips up to Steve and plants a kiss on his cheek, and the alpha only responds with a grunt. You get a weird feeling inside you as you watch this exchange, but try your best to shake it off.
The girl stops to shoot you a smile. “Hey, you’re Bucky’s girlfriend, aren’t you? Nice to meet you!”
She leaves before you have a chance to reply, and you’re left staring at the back of her head as she shuts the door behind her, getting an eyeful of her hair which you vaguely notice is the same shade as yours. And it’s only when she’s gone that you realise your mouth is open in shock, and you slowly turn to Steve who looks wholly unbothered.
“Aren’t you going out with Sharon?” You can’t help but blurt out.
Steve raises an eyebrow, but says nothing as he continues to just stare at you. You feel hot all over, and you don’t know whether it’s because of his eyes on you or because of the sudden anger you feel at the blatant display of cheating you’ve just witnessed.
“That’s not fair on your girlfriend, Steve.” You whisper.
And all Steve does is stare at you, to the point where you feel waves of heat on your face. And then suddenly you’re hit with this overwhelming scent of burning firewood. A freshly mown lawn with a strong sun beating down on it, and smoky wood on a hot summer’s day. Your eyes widen as the intimidating alpha walks over to you, leaning down at the table where you’re sitting.
“I don’t remember asking for some lowlife omega’s opinion on my private business.” He says softly, but there’s danger and threat embedded in his words and it makes your blood run cold. But your nose can’t stop twitching as it takes in his heady scent, and you feel your mind cloud over and your limbs grow weak like jelly and–
“I’d appreciate it if you’d put a shirt on in front of my girlfriend, Stevie.” Bucky chuckles, elbowing past Steve and making his way over to you. He helps you up and plants a firm kiss to your lips. You’re still rattled by the blonde alpha, though, and distractedly kiss your boyfriend back. You can still feel Steve’s eyes on you, and it’s unnerving to say the least.
“You ready to go, princess?” Bucky tugs at your hand and you nod, allowing him to pull you out of the house. It’s only when the fresh outside air whips against your face that you seem to snap out of whatever trance you’re in. You swallow and shake your head as Bucky leads you to his car, and you only speak once both of you are inside.
“Steve did something awful.” You breathe.
Bucky frowns before squeezing your arm, “What? Did he touch you?”
“N-No, he…” You shake your head, feeling a wave of anger overtake you momentarily, “He had a girl over, James. He was cheating on his girlfriend!”
“Oh.”
The silence is louder than ever as Bucky starts up the car and backs out of the driveway. He puts his arm over the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder, and it’s not until he’s on the main road that you huff:
“Is that all you have to say?”
Bucky grimaces, keeping his eyes glued to the road, “Look, Steve isn’t exactly in love with Sharon.”
“But she’s his girlfriend, Bucky. He shouldn’t be cheating on her either way!”
“I know, I know. What can I say?” He pauses, as if mulling over how to say his next words. “Look, princess. Steve’s young, he’s only in college. It’s what us guys do. Why have one piece of the pie when you can have the whole thing, you know? That sort of thing.”
It only takes Bucky about three seconds to realise the error in his words. You turn to stare at him in utter shock and horror. Was this really James? Your James? Who had said all the right things and been so sweet and gentlemanly all these weeks? Who had respected your boundaries and never questioned you or lashed out for wanting to wait?
“Is that why you’re so okay with us not having sex?” You say quietly. “Because you’re getting it from somewhere else?”
“What? No, sweetheart. No, that’s not it at all.”
Bucky turns into a random lane and stops the car before turning to you. You try to bat him off but he grabs both your hands in his, bringing them up to his lips and pressing kisses on your fingers and palms before yanking you into an embrace.
“I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing for me to say.” He mumbles into your hair, and you try to find solace in his scent but it’s not strong enough right now. He kisses the top of your head before drawing back to make eye contact. “Princess, I’m not seeing anyone else behind your back, that I can promise you.”
“But how can I believe you? When it was so easy for you to justify what Steve’s doing?” You sniffle.
Bucky sits back in his seat and sighs, but he doesn’t let go of your hands. “Look, it’s no secret that us alphas are all a bunch of assholes. We don’t really hide it, either. Steve’s cheating on his girl because, well, it’s almost normal for a lot of us to do that. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t slept with multiple girls without them knowing about each other in the past.”
You bow your head, not liking this at all. But Bucky grabs your chin gently, lifting it up so you look at him.
“But I’m past all of that now, okay? I really like being in a serious and committed relationship with you, princess. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in a girl, and I would never even think of being with anyone else.” He cups your face and strokes your cheek, and his eyes are so pretty and blue, and you can feel your heart melting already as he gives you a peck. “I guess I just wasn’t surprised by what Steve did because I’m so used to it.”
You nuzzle your face into his palm, “Can’t you tell him that it’s wrong? That you’ve grown out of doing stuff like that, and that he should too?”
Bucky chuckles, pressing your cheeks and nose with more soft kisses, “I could. But Steve is extremely stubborn and bossy, in case you haven’t noticed.” He pauses, smiling fondly at you when you giggle softly in agreement, twining a piece of your hair around his finger. “The way I see it, we should just focus on our relationship, and let Steve do whatever it is he’s doing since it’s got nothing to do with us. It took meeting the right girl for me to recognise the error of my ways. Maybe soon, he’ll find someone that he’ll want to be better for too, right?”
You nod, despite that weird feeling surfacing inside you once more. But you shove it back down and give Bucky a smile as he pulls you in for another long kiss.
“Well, let’s get to that movie, shall we? We’ve probably missed the opening credits and I’m gonna have to cut the line to get us our snacks, but I think we can still make it.”
You spend the rest of the evening at the drive-in movie theatre with Bucky. He reclines his seat and makes you climb over the console to sit in his lap while the two of you watch Gone with the Wind on the big screen with a bag of sweet and salty popcorn and a bar of chocolate to share. Once the snacks finish, you sleepily rest your head on his chest and let him stroke your back through your hoodie. And you almost fall asleep like that, Scarlett O’Hara’s indignant dialogues lulling you into a peaceful slumber until your nostrils are unceremoniously invaded with the scent of burning firewood and a hot summer’s day.
Opening your eyes slowly, you peak out the window to see another car pull up beside Bucky’s. And your heart sinks down to the depths of your chest when you see who’s inside. Steve. And Sharon. She’s talking to him animatedly, but he seems sullen and unresponsive as always. That is, until they start making out, and you have to forcibly look away when Steve’s eyes meet yours and you feel this burning feeling in your chest.
You swallow harshly before cuddling up to Bucky even more.
“James, I’m sleepy,” you say softly.
“Yeah? You wanna go home, princess?”
“Yes, please. If that’s okay?”
“Sure, princess.” He lifts you up and places you back on the passenger seat before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Close your eyes and rest. I’ll tuck you into bed once we get back to your dorm.”
And he does just that, carrying you all the way back into your dorm room and helping you change before putting you to bed. And you can’t describe whatever it is you’re feeling but all you can do is clutch at his shirt when he goes to leave, pulling him into bed with you. And he rains your face with a billion kisses before you both fall asleep in each other’s arms.
***
Life at college continues. You’re still in contact with Peter, despite the two of you being so busy. But he sends you updates about his internship and all the cool technology he’s being exposed to. You tell him about your classes and all the interesting things you’re learning. You also, very tentatively, tell him about Bucky. Surprisingly, Peter seems supportive, and the conversation between the two of you grows easy once more.
The romance between you and Bucky seems to blossom with every passing day. He carries your books to class and takes you out on cute dates that make your heart flutter. Picnics, scenic walks, movies, restaurants – he takes you everywhere you’ve ever dreamed of being taken. And how your heart had skipped a beat when you’d seen he’d had a bouquet of yellow roses delivered to your dorm room! There was no note or tag attached, but you knew they were from Bucky. Who else could they be from? And they were the prettiest flowers you’d ever received, and the butterflies in your tummy fluttered at his perfect choice.
It was also in the little things he did, like kiss you on the forehead reassuringly or squeeze your hand when you’re feeling nervous. And slowly, you feel yourself coming out of your shell more and more. You find yourself laughing out loud and voicing your opinions that usually you would’ve kept silent.
Being Bucky’s girlfriend meant hanging out with his group of friends, too. And it thrills you that you’re able to hold conversations with some of them, and have them be genuinely interested in what you have to say and not just write you off as a “dumb omega”.
One day, you find yourself sitting on Bucky’s lap in the campus courtyard between classes, a number of his friends surrounding you. You still feel nervous around this many people (especially intimidating seniors) but with Bucky squeezing your hand reassuringly, you find the task less daunting than you normally would, as you grow to feel more comfortable with them.
Well, most of them.
“…and then I told her to fuck off, because who knows what kind of diseases she was carrying. I mean, she’s fucked half the football team after all.” Steve says cockily, taking a drag from his cigarette while the alphas around him all laugh as if he’s cracked the funniest joke of the century. Even Bucky chuckles before you shoot him a look and he stops, a sheepish look on his face.
“I mean sure, she’s got a great ass, but there’s nothing attractive about a slut who spreads her legs for any man who looks her way.” The blond alpha continues, and it irritates you how all his friends seem to hang on to his every word, looking up to him like he’s some sort of God.
Having been with Bucky long enough, you had somewhat cracked the hierarchy of his friend group. And Steve was definitely the leader, the one they all flocked to and tried to impress. Well, not Bucky – he and Sam were the only ones who would keep Steve in check. But the blonde alpha’s ego was through the roof, as were his misogynistic ideals and derogatory views towards omegas and women in general.
And you hated how shy you were, especially around him. You felt sickened by Steve’s gross statements but you could never say anything against him. A part of you just wanted to be liked and accepted by Bucky’s best friend, but Steve only alternated between glaring at you or pretending you didn’t exist.
“HI, BABY!”
A high-pitched squeal knocks you out of your reverie, and you watch as Sharon jogs up to Steve in her pretty blue cheerleading outfit. Together, they look like the perfect couple. Head cheerleader and the captain of the football team. Perfect. You feel that weird feeling bubbling up inside you again but do your best to keep it at bay.
Steve rolls his eyes before Sharon launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting her lips on his. Steve, however, remains stoic.
“Gosh, baby, could you please put that cigarette out?” Sharon says, pushing a wayward lock of Steve’s blonde hair off his forehead.
“No.”
She giggles, shaking her head before turning to you. “Men, huh? Stubborn as ever. I’ve asked him to stop smoking about a bajillion times, but he never listens.”
You smile and nod, feeling stupid and awkward as ever because Sharon is pretty and popular and you don’t know how to act.
“I like your pin.” Sharon points at the World Politics Society pin on your bookbag, “I couldn’t even dream of getting into that class. You must be really smart.”
Steve snorts but everyone ignores him.
“Thank you, I find the subject really interesting,” you reply.
You watch Sharon as she talks to everyone in the group. She’s kind, confident and beautiful – everything you wish you were. But that weird, indescribable feeling keeps surfacing inside you every time she locks hands with Steve, or brushes his hair back, or smooths the wrinkles on his sweater.
“And Mister Barnes, how come I’ve never met your girlfriend before now? When she’s practically my sister-in-law?” Sharon hits Bucky lightly on the arm before shooting you another bright smile. “We should organise a double-date. Me and Steve and you both. That sounds fun, doesn’t it?”
Steve scoffs but everyone ignores him.
“Epically fun, Miss Carter.” Bucky gives her a charming smile before tugging you close to his chest. “We could go bowling or something. If His Highness is up for it.”
Steve takes another drag of his cigarette, saying nothing. In fact, he’s barely said a word since his girlfriend joined the conversation, and you find that to be weirdly peculiar. Why was he even with her if all he did was cheat on her and ignore her every time she spoke?
“Looking forward to it!” Sharon smiles before checking her phone, “Okay, I gotta go now or else I’ll be late for practice. I’ll see you tonight, baby?” She gives Steve a peck on the lips, which he also doesn’t return.
“Sure.” Steve answers, finally seeming to snap out of it as his hand meanders down to squeeze her ass. You feel your own hand clench into a fist but you quickly relax it and hope no one saw. What the heck was that? Why had you reacted that way?
“What a fuckin’ bitch.” Steve resumes once Sharon is out of earshot. “As I was saying, I told this other whore who was all over me the other day that I just wasn’t interested in sluts like her, and she said–”
“Could you stop being such a misogynistic jerk?!”
You can’t believe the words have left your mouth, and your hands start shaking immediately once you realise they have. Never before have you raised your voice at someone like this, let alone a formidable alpha who’s about twice your size.
Steve’s cold blue eyes rest their steely gaze on you, when up until this point he’d been content on pretending you weren’t there. You dare peak up at him and see his jaw tick, and a vein protrude from the side of his forehead.
“What did you just say to me?” He asks softly.
“Hey, leave her alone.” Bucky says warningly, but you sit up straight.
“I’m… I’m sorry, but I just don’t like how you talk about women.” You say, hating how your voice shakes and how you can’t look Steve in the eye.
“And I don’t like the tone you’re taking with me right now.” Steve’s intense gaze bores holes straight through you before he looks at Bucky, “Haven’t you taught her not to speak to her superiors like that?”
Your jaw drops open in pure shock, “H-How dare you–”
“Okay, let’s go.” Bucky hoists you to your feet while your whole body seems to shake with shock, anger, and a tiny bit of fear. The brunet alpha holds you tightly by the arm before evenly glancing back at his best friend. “Steve, don’t speak to my girl like that. In fact, if you’re going to be rude, then don’t speak to her at all.”
You and Bucky don’t stick around to hear Steve’s retort, and it’s only when you round a corner and are hidden from the rest of the group by a brick wall, that you burst into tears.
“He’s – so – awful!” You cry, your heart pitter-pattering in a mix of fear and hurt. You hated being spoken to like that, like you were beneath him. Bucky holds you close and you sob into his chest, hugging him as hard as you can. His solidness and wintery scent is a source of comfort to you, and so is his hand which rubs your back soothingly.
“He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, princess. I’ll make sure to speak to him about it later.” Bucky promises you, pressing soft kisses to your hairline while you cry, leaving splotchy tear-stains on his shirt.
“Why is he even with Sharon when he doesn’t seem happy with her at all?!” You burst out, desperately wiping at your teary eyes except it doesn’t stop you from crying even more. “He’s just…I just… Oh, I hate him, James! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!”
“I know, sweetheart. I know. I’ll talk to him, don’t you worry.”
Looking into his earnest eyes, you can tell Bucky’s intentions are good. And you don’t know if he talks to Steve or not, but you do receive another delivery of yellow roses to your dorm room that very night. This time, there’s a note attached too. “I’m sorry” is all it says, and you can’t help but smile as you hold the roses up to your nose and take in their delicate scent. Bucky was obviously feeling bad about the whole situation – and it wasn’t even his fault!
But clearly, your boyfriend knows you well, because the flowers do lift your mood up a little bit. You place the second bouquet of yellow roses caringly next to the first one. They look expensive and beautiful, and have your entire room smelling heavenly and sweet. It makes you smile and clasp your hands together, and you’re just about to call Bucky when you hear a rustling from outside your window, followed by a series of heavy footsteps.
Strange. Who would be out at this time? And in the bushes outside your dorm room, no less? You decide you’ve probably imagined it, but you close your window and draw your curtains anyways before calling Bucky.
“You’re the best, you know that?” You tell him, a huge smile plastered on your face as you take one last whiff of the roses before flopping down on your bed on top of all your pillows and stuffies.
“I do know that, sweetheart, but it’s nice to hear you say it.” Bucky laughs from the other end of the phone. “It’s also nice to hear you sound so happy.”
You grab your stuffed rabbit and tug his ears mindlessly, “Yeah, I know I acted like a huge cry-baby earlier today.”
“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it, princess? Anyways, I spoke to Steve.”
Your heart skips a beat, “You did?”
“Yes. Look, he’s set in his traditional ways and he’s stubborn as hell. But he did look like he regretted speaking to you that way, and I don’t think he’ll do it again.”
You breathe a sigh of relief, “Well, that’s all I want. Thank you for speaking to him, James.” There’s a pause, and then you pipe up hesitantly: “And what about Sharon? Is he still going to stay with her?”
“Uh, yeah. Why wouldn’t he?”
BECAUSE SHE’S NOT RIGHT FOR HIM! The omega inside you screeches, and the sheer vitriol you feel makes you sit up straight, eyes wide and hands shaking. What the heck? Where had that outburst even come from?
“Hello? Princess? You still with me?”
You clear your throat and physically shake your head to rid yourself of that weird feeling that seems to be bubbling inside you so often now. But never before had it manifested into your inner thoughts screaming at you like how they just had. You feel hot all over, and quickly place your palm on your forehead to check if you have a fever before remembering Bucky is still on the phone.
“I’m here. Sorry, I just…” What can you even say to him? Without sounding crazy? You take a deep breath. “Thank you for talking to him, James. I’m just glad he won’t be mean anymore. Everything else isn’t really any of my business.”
“That’s good to hear, sweetheart.”
***
True to Bucky’s word, slowly but surely, Steve becomes a lot more bearable to be around. He’s still awful in his misogyny but at least he no longer glares at you or makes you feel unwelcome and uncomfortable when you’re with Bucky and his friends. You still catch him staring at you sometimes, but you must be imagining it because you know he hates you. You try not to care though, and only focus on Bucky.
“I want you to meet my parents, princess.” Bucky says to you one day. The two of you are in your dorm room where you’d just completed an intense study session. Well, you’d been studying while Bucky grew distracted after about ten seconds of staring at his textbook, and proceeded to kiss and touch you while you laughed and batted him off. “And I would like to meet your parents too.”
The smile drops from your face almost instantaneously, and you nervously grab your stuffed rabbit and pull its ears. “Oh, I… Uh…”
“I mean, we’ve been seriously dating for a while now, haven’t we? It’s only right that I get to meet the parents of the girl who captured my heart.”
You smile uneasily, heart feeling like it’s about to beat out of your chest. “What are your parents like?” You blurt out, trying to deflect.
Bucky lies back on your bed, “They’re great. My dad’s a lawyer so he’s always working. My mom is usually at home, though. She makes a great apple pie and she’s also great for when I need advice.”
You smile softly, “She must really love you.”
He blinks. “Of course, she does. All parents love their children.”
He goes on to tell you about how his dad used to take him golfing at the country club when he was younger, and how much he hated it. But he’d always get treated to ice cream afterwards, which was why he agreed to go every time. He tells you about how his mother values family over everything, which was why he went home every other Friday to have dinner with his family, and how he’d love for you to join him on one of those dinners soon.
You nod and agree, but you feel like crying on the inside. There’s a sense of yearning inside you that you can’t seem to get rid of no matter how hard you cuddle into Bucky or how much he kisses you.
His hands slowly slip down to your hips, squeezing gently before meandering up under your hoodie. His touch is tentative yet confident, and usually it excites you. But you always stop him before he goes too far, hoping and praying he doesn’t get mad at you. Which he never does. Instead, the two of you lazily make out on your bed until you fall asleep in each other’s arms. And then the nightmares commence, but when you wake up, you can’t remember them at all.
***
“Ooh, look at the pink bowling balls! And the powder blue ones. Aren’t they cute, Steve?” Sharon clutches Steve’s muscular bicep, her perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly against his pale skin. Steve only grunts in response before shaking her off as him and Bucky go up to the counter to pay for one session of bowling for all of you.
Through Sharon’s pure will and determination, the four of you find yourselves on a double date at the bowling alley. She seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that Steve hated you, or that you didn’t particularly like Steve either, and had practically begged Bucky to organise the date. Bucky had said you didn’t have to do it, but what harm could one night of bowling actually do? Especially since Steve hadn’t really been mean to you for a while now.
“Do I seriously have to wear these ugly bowling shoes?” Sharon complains, gingerly holding up the dirty shoes and making a face.
“Don’t wear them. Let’s see what happens.” Steve pipes up.
Bucky laughs, “Unless you want a broken toe, you better put them on.”
It’s Steve and Sharon against you and Bucky. You’ve bowled a few times, so you’re not embarrassingly bad or anything. Bucky is fairly good too. Surprisingly, Sharon turns out to be extremely skilled at bowling, getting a strike on her first try.
And then there’s Steve.
“Another gutter ball, Rogers!” Bucky doubles over in glee, practically in tears. You try to hide your amused smile and even Sharon can’t help but laugh.
“Shut up!” Steve seethes, looking redder than a tomato as he jams his hands in his pockets and walks back to the bench you’re all sitting on. He casts a quick glance in your direction, his nose twitching. “There’s too many distractions here.”
“What distractions, bro? You’re just a bad player.” Bucky mocks, jabbing his elbow into his friend’s ribs and laughing even harder when the blond gives him an absolutely murderous look.
Bucky gets up and stretches, “I think I need a beer. You want one, Steve?”
Steve flips him off.
“I’ll take that as a yes. You girls want anything?”
“Maybe a strawberry milkshake? Or iced tea sounds good. And I think we should also get some food for Steve before he implodes. Maybe nachos? Or curly fries. I’ll go with you, since that’s a lot to remember.” Sharon gets up.
Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, “Think you can hold down fort and keep us in the lead until I get back, princess?” He whispers.
You giggle, “I think so. I just need to get a minimum of one pin.”
They leave, and you get up to do your turn. Making your way over to the contraption where they keep all the bowling balls, you can feel Steve’s eyes on you. God, without Bucky and Sharon here, you felt all shy and nervous. Not to mention his scent, which was so overpowering as it settled into your nostrils. Just ignore him, you think to yourself before absentmindedly selecting a bowling ball.
You’ve taken one step towards the bowling lane when the ball slips from your sweaty palms. It’s a lot heavier than you anticipated, and you can’t take the weight as you watch it fall down almost in slow motion. There’s a flurry of movement, Steve moving quick as lightning and batting the ball sideways before it completely crushes your foot. It ends up bouncing on the tip of your toe with a loud thud before rolling away under the table.
“What the fuck inspired you to choose the heaviest ball available? You could have really hurt yourself!” Steve shakes you angrily by the shoulder as you remain frozen in place, still registering what just happened.
“I…I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” You stammer before suddenly becoming aware of your toe throbbing from where the bowling ball had fallen. Most of its weight had been absorbed by your shoe, but your toe still hurts. And you hate being such a baby, but your lower lip can’t help but quiver, and you feel your eyes well up with tears.
You don’t really register it as Steve’s fingers encircle around your wrist, and he tugs you back to the bench, forcing you down before crouching in front of you.
“Did you hurt yourself? See, this is why little omegas like you shouldn’t be carrying heavy things. I told Bucky bowling was a bad idea.” At the mention of his best friend’s name, Steve instinctively whips his head towards the snack counter, and you do too. Bucky and Sharon are still in line, and with their backs turned and so many people around, you doubt they can see you.
You sniffle, “I didn’t think it would be that heavy.”
“Of course, you didn’t. You’re just a baby omega, and sometimes you don’t think about things like that. Here, let me see.” Before you realise what’s happening, he grabs your ankle with one big, warm hand; and uses the other to unstrap your shoe. You gape at him, the scent of smoky firewood and a freshly mown lawn making you swallow harshly and freeze in place, letting him slip your shoe off.
But it only a takes handful of seconds for you to come back to your senses, and you shake your head and cringe backwards.
“Uh, th-that’s okay, Steve. It stopped hurting now, I think I’ll be fine.”
But his grip on your ankle doesn’t loosen, your shoe falling to the ground and his blue eyes zeroing in on your foot which is covered by just your lacy white ankle sock. The air feels thick around you both, and you feel your breathing start to get laboured as you watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows.
Slowly, tentatively almost, he strokes your foot with his other hand. And a part of you is so acutely aware of how weird this is. You boyfriend’s best friend tending to your injury in the middle of a crowded bowling alley – while Bucky and Sharon were in the same vicinity!
“You’ll be alright.” Steve says gently (the gentlest you’ve ever heard him speak), as he continues to stroke your throbbing toe, “You just need to be more careful, okay?”
You find yourself nodding, your entire body buzzing with some sort of strange energy that you’ve never felt before. “I guess I just got distracted.”
Steve’s hand remains rubbing your toe, but his eyes look up to meet yours. And you almost forget how to breathe, feeling like there’s a bubble encasing the two of you, and everyone else is far, far away. All you can feel is his burning gaze and his hand touching you.
He clears his throat, “Yeah, I’ve been distracted all night too.” And you can’t help but notice how long and dark his lashes are, how they contrast so deeply from his pale hair and skin, how they fan against his cheekbones as he blinks up at you almost earnestly. “Maybe I should drive you home.”
That knocks you out of whatever reverie he’s pulled you into. Drive you home? While his girlfriend and your boyfriend stayed here? Was he insane?
You forcibly tug your foot out of his grasp, quickly putting your shoe back on before he can grab it again. And Steve stays in his crouched position in front of you, almost as if frozen in place. He’s staring at his hand, the one that was holding your ankle, before he looks up at you. There’s a fiery look in his eyes, one you can’t fully explain. You also can’t fully explain why your heart is beating like mad, and there’s a warm feeling spreading through your chest.
“I’m fine, Steve. Really. Thank you for uh… Just… Thanks.” You mumble.
Steve blinks, opening his mouth to speak before he shuts it again when he looks beyond your shoulder. He coughs, standing up to his full height and moving away from you suddenly. And you watch him whip his phone out, pretend he’s texting someone, and all the while your heart just won’t calm down. And then you feel a tap on your shoulder.
“We’ve got snacks!” Sharon announces, skipping over to Steve and handing him a bunch of things, “Here you go, babe. These cheesy fries are literally to die for. Me and Bucky picked at them on the way back here. Oh, and here’s your beer.”
You watch as Sharon simpers at her boyfriend, grabbing his hand and leading him to a nearby bench. Feeding him fries while he bats her hand away, instead grabbing his beer and taking a long swig. His face is still red, and his eyes are still bright, and–
“You okay, princess?” Bucky sits down beside you and puts his arm around you, giving you a tight squeeze. “You look troubled.”
You force a smile, “I’m fine, James.”
“Did Steve say something to you? Do you need me to talk to him again?”
Rapidly, you shake your head. Subconsciously, you’ve already made the decision not to tell Bucky about the weirdness that has just transpired. And the guilt is already eating you up from the inside out, despite the fact you hadn’t done anything. Or hadn’t you? Why had you not pulled away sooner? And why was Steve acting this way? Why was he so gentle, so tender? When every other instance between the two of you has been either him ignoring you, or being rude towards you?
Suddenly, your head hurts.
Bucky seems to understand that something is off with you, because he tells Sharon and Steve that he’s tired and wants to cut the night short. You hug Sharon goodbye, feeling like you want the ground to eat you up whole, before your boyfriend leads you out of the bowling alley.
“Princess, please tell me what’s bothering you.” He says moments later when the two of you are in his car.
You force a smile, “Nothing!”
His light blue eyes, so piercing in the darkness of the car, stare at you as if they can see right through you. But all he does is draw you in for a hug, and you feel your body sag into his. Bucky feels so cosy and safe, so dependable and good. All your worries and concerns dissipate for a moment as you hug him back almost fiercely.
“Well, why don’t we go get some ice cream?” He asks kindly.
You bury your face in his chest, not quite done hugging him yet. Maybe you were just overthinking whatever had happened back there with Steve. Maybe the blond alpha was just trying to turn a new leaf and be kind for once. Maybe his actions had been innocuous after all. You sniffle before looking up at your boyfriend and pressing a long kiss to his lips.
“Okay. Let’s do that.”
Bucky gets a double mint chocolate chip cone and you get a vanilla strawberry swirl. He licks the ice cream that you accidentally smear on the side of your mouth as you dig in, and then you both kiss some more. Sweet kisses and sweet touches laced with giggles. And then he takes you on a drive, and you roll the windows down and let the breeze hit your face as if you’re the main character in an indie film, allowing the cool night air to wash away any remnants of guilt. Bucky’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other one holding steadily onto yours, squeezing every few seconds and shooting you lovesick smiles that you return.
He parks outside of your dorm building and pulls you over the console and into his lap. And you let him kiss you and touch you and try to lose yourself in it. Try not to think of a hot summer’s day and freshly mown grass. You don’t even stop him when he pushes his hand down your leggings and past your panties, and you gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers brush against your hot core.
“Are you sure about this, princess?” Bucky breathes against your lips, and you want to cry at how sweet he is. How patient and kind. You don’t deserve him at all. You nod your head to indicate that yes, you are sure. You kiss him doubly hard, trying to drown out the feel of wanting to cry. Because actually no, you’re not sure about this. You don’t know if you’re ready. But you feel so bad, so bad for what happened with Steve.
You didn’t even do anything! The rational part of your brain screams. So then why did it feel like you had?
Bucky moves his fingers expertly inside you, his thumb rubbing your bundle of nerves in a way that does make you momentarily forget about anything else except for his touch. You mewl his name, clutching the fabric of his shirt and rutting against him. His large hands rub up and down your back, his lips warm against your ear as he coaxes you, “That’s right, princess. Let go for me, I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
You come hard, body shaking and spasming on top of him as he holds you close to his chest. Praises you for being so good for him, for being so beautiful and perfect. And it’s crazy, because you feel anything but those things right now. But you sob out his name softly, and let him stroke your hair back as he continues to talk you through your orgasm, “That’s it, princess. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl. Thank you for letting me in, sweetheart. Thank you for being so perfect.”
He lets you recover, all the while kissing you. And then he walks you to your room and bids you goodnight. He tells you he’d have stayed the night, but he has to drive home to pick up an important document for his father. You manage a weak smile, and return his kisses before waving goodbye.
And then you shut the door and burst into tears.
And you don’t even know why, because nothing had happened between you and Steve! Nothing at all. But you cry for all the confusion within you, the unresolved feelings of guilt that you can’t understand for the life of you, and how you can’t seem to shake this yearning sadness inside you. Oh, why did Steve have to be so different tonight? Why had his eyes reflected such tenderness? Why had he held your ankle like that? Why hadn’t he let go?
Why did you care so much?
You take a long shower and change into clean, comfortable clothes before trying to distract yourself with Netflix. And that’s when you hear a knock on your door.
It’s another bouquet of yellow roses. You smile at the delivery man – you recognise his face at this point, since he’s been to your dorm room three times now. You marvel at Bucky’s quickness, because he’d only dropped you home about an hour ago. He must have paid for express delivery or something. And this time, the bouquet is accompanied by not only a note, but also a small package.
I really enjoyed our date tonight, baby.
You smile softly at the short but sweet message, before your eyes shift to the package. It’s brown and unsuspecting, with a yellow ribbon holding it together. You gently rip it open.
Coal black eyes stare up at you. A furry little face. Tan coloured fur and a light blue bow-tie. It’s a teddy bear! You can’t help but crack a smile, heart feeling lighter than it has all day. Oh, it was so cute! Like a furry little baby. You hug it close to your chest, the butterflies fluttering happily around in your tummy. You don’t receive gifts too often, and this was a total surprise. And definitely one that was helping lift your lousy mood.
You fall asleep with the teddy in your arms, and no nightmares come. Instead, you dream of warm sunlight splashing down on your skin, and green grass so fresh you can almost smell it. And the silhouette of a shadowy figure who holds you close and promises to keep you safe. And the yearning feel goes away. And you feel content.
***
“Okay, do you want the good news first or the bad news?”
“Uh oh.” You bite your lip, immediately assuming the worst as your hand freezes in the middle of tossing a folded shirt into your overnight bag. Today was the day you and Bucky were driving down to Bucky’s family house, where you were finally going to meet his parents and stay for the weekend. “They don’t like me, do they?”
Bucky snickers over the phone, “Wrong, sweetheart. My parents love you. Well, they love the pictures of you that I showed them from my phone. That’s the good news, actually. They seem genuinely excited to meet you. My mom’s planning a whole five course dinner.”
You resume packing, putting in your pyjama bottoms, an extra hoodie, your plastic bag of toiletries, as well as your new favourite stuffed teddy bear. You force out a chuckle, hoping he can’t detect your anxiety and nervousness over the phone, “That’s good. I really hope I don’t let them down.”
“Let them down? How?”
You chew on your lip and whisper, “By not being good enough…”
“Princess, you’re the prettiest, kindest, sweetest and smartest girl I’ve ever dated. I don’t want you putting yourself down like that, okay?”
“O-Okay.” He was right – it wasn’t healthy to keep thinking of yourself in such a negative light. And it wasn’t like you enjoyed feeling sorry for yourself or drowning in self-pity, you just sometimes let the doubts you had about yourself creep in and take over your mind. Despite the fact that since day one, Bucky had been reassuring you about how perfect you were.
But would a perfect girlfriend be feeling as guilty as you were?
“What’s the bad news?” You ask, trying to push your thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on the conversation with your boyfriend.
Bucky sighs, “So, I had to actually stop by my dad’s office to sort out some paperwork. He only trusts me to do it, and since I’ll be working at his firm once I graduate, I figured it would be a good chance for me to show him that I’m actually competent with stuff like that.”
You nod, “That makes sense.”
“But that means I’ll be tied up all morning, so I won’t be able to drive you back to my house in Brooklyn.”
“Oh.” You let the words sink in. “That’s alright, James. I can just take the train.”
“Uh, I don’t think so, princess. But listen, Steve is going home for the weekend too, and his parents are practically neighbours with mine. He offered to give you a lift.”
You feel your whole body begin to shake as soon as his name is mentioned. It’s been a few days since the double date, and since what you’ve dubbed in your head as “the ankle incident.” Even now, your heart flutters at the memory, and you can still feel his warm fingers brushing over your foot as he’d held it in his hands and stroked you so softly. And when you close your eyes, you can see that earnest look on his face, and–
“Bucky, I really don’t mind taking the train.”
“Sweetheart, I know you don’t mind. But I mind, I don’t want my girl taking the train when you could easily just drive there.” There’s a pause as Bucky inhales deeply, “Look, I know you and Steve aren’t exactly the best of friends. But I really think he’s trying to turn a new leaf and be a nicer person. I mean, he actually volunteered to drive you, which is progress. And if I’m being honest, it would really give me peace of mind if I knew you were in the car with one of my friends instead of alone on a crowded, dingy train.”
“James, I really don’t think–”
“Please, sweetheart? For me?”
You exhale slowly, clasping your hands together to stop them from shaking. If Bucky had so much faith in Steve, then maybe it was you who was overthinking everything. Maybe Steve genuinely was turning a new leaf, and who were you to deny someone when they were doing you a favour? The drive down to Brooklyn would be long, but not too long. And Steve hadn’t been mean to you for many weeks now, so maybe it would all be okay?
“Okay, Bucky. If that’s what you want.” You agree softly.
“Great! Steve told me to tell you that he’ll pick you up at 3.”
***
Steve arrives outside your dorm at 2:55pm. Actually, you see his car pull up at around 2:45, and then you watch him park it and sit there drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. And then he gets out of the car and paces around for a while before finally making his way over to your door and knocking on it rather loudly. You give him a quiet hello and he gives you a grunt in return, the exchange giving you a sick feeling in your tummy – would it be this quiet and awkward for the whole journey? Before you can worry some more, Steve takes your overnight bag from your hands and leads you to his car.
“Put your seatbelt on.” He orders you the moment you sit down in the passenger seat.
“I was just about to.” You respond, a tad defensive because he hadn’t even given you a chance to breathe before he’d started ordering you around.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.”
He doesn’t start the car until your seatbelt is firmly in place, and then you sit there twiddling your thumbs in silence because Steve doesn’t even have the radio on. You wonder if you should start a conversation, but you feel too shy. Which is crazy, since you’d really been starting to come out of your shell these past few months. But not with Steve. He was way too intimidating and scary and just… intense.
“How’s your toe?” He asks you gruffly out of the blue about ten minutes into the journey.
“It’s all good, thank you for asking.” Your response is cordial, and you wonder if you sound bitchy or clipped. It certainly isn’t your intention, but you’ve definitely got your guard up and you don’t really know how to speak to him.
Steve sighs, and there’s another fifteen minutes of silence before he pulls into a traffic jam, and that’s when he turns to face you.
“I broke up with Sharon.”
Your eyes widen and you feel your heart skip a beat, “Oh…uh…Oh.”
He nods, “Yeah. I took your advice.”
That makes you snap out of whatever momentary shock his sudden revelation had put you in. “My advice? Wh-What do you mean?”
The car starts moving again, and Steve takes his time to reply, and you wonder whether he can hear your heart pitter-pattering loudly in your chest as you anticipate his response.
“I’ve heard you, you know. All those times you complained to Bucky, asking him why I was with Sharon if I clearly didn’t care about her. And you were right, so I took your advice and I dumped her.”
You clear your throat, nervously tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I didn’t mean… Well… She deserves better, Steve.” You inhale deeply and turn to look out the window – either out of awkwardness or because you can’t seem to meet his gaze. But he’s got a weird pull about him, practically reeling you back in and you can’t help but look back at him once he starts speaking again.
“I told her I wasn’t interested in her anymore. That I was in love with somebody else.” Steve takes a turn off the highway, and you sit there frozen in shock as he takes quick left and right turns, eventually driving into a small, deserted street, where he parks the car. You swallow, but there’s a huge lump in your throat that you can’t seem to get rid of.
“Wh-Why are we stopping here, Steve?”
“I like how my name sounds when you say it.” His hand creeps over the console in a bid to grab yours, and you quickly move back. Your back slams against the door as you cringe away from him, eyes wide and heart racing.
“Wh-What are you doing? Stop!”
Steve scoffs, “Please. Don’t play dumb, I know you like me too. And the sooner you stop denying it, the easier all of this will be for you.”
You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, it’s almost like your own ears are playing tricks on you. As if you’re Alice falling down some weird rabbit hole into a dimension where nothing makes sense. Was this a joke? Was he pulling some sort of prank? But he’s got that same earnest, honest look in his eyes, the look he’d had at the bowling alley. But you swallow and shake your head rapidly.
“Steve, no, I’m with James. He’s my boyfriend, I don’t like you like that –”
“DON’T LIE!” Steve bursts out, and the sudden explosion of anger makes you jump out of your seat, and the panic that ensues in your heart has you grabbing the door handle in a desperate bid to get out of the car and away from him. But of course, the door remains locked, and now you can really feel the cold terror and dread as it overtakes your body.
Steve exhales slowly, running a hand through his blonde hair, “Don’t. Lie.” He repeats, reaching over to forcibly grab your wrist. And his touch alone sense goosebumps up and down your arm. “I knew we had a connection from the moment I saw you. And then at the bowling alley on our date, I knew you felt it too.”
“Y-You mean our double date,” you say slowly, incredulity dripping from your tone, “where you were with your girlfriend and I was with my boyfriend.”
Steve shakes his head, his grip on your wrist tightening, “You were the only one I could focus on that night.” And then, as you watch in horror, he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it as his eyes flutter shut, almost like he’s savouring kissing your skin for the first time. And you feel every cell in your body, from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes, flutter as he does it. He locks eyes with you, “And I saw how you reacted that night when you opened my gift, that’s how I knew you liked me too.”
His gift? The terror in your veins seems to triple in less than a second, and you feel like you might throw up. You think back to all those bouquets of yellow roses with no name on the notes that accompanied them. And your favourite stuffed teddy with the coal black eyes and blue bow tie. No. No, it couldn’t be. And he’d watched you open them? How?
“N-No, those were from James!” You bat at him, trying to get him to let go of your hand. You suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. “Those flowers were from James!”
“Sure.” Steve snorts, “Is that why you never even mentioned them to him? You knew deep down they weren’t from him, omega. You knew.”
“No, no, no–”
“And how could they be from him? He doesn’t understand you. Not like I do.” He tries to cup your cheek with his warm hand but you dodge him, shaken down to your very core by all the revelations hurtling towards you at top speed. Steve narrows his eyes at you for a second, before grabbing your hand again. “You think he doesn’t tell me everything, omega? You think I don’t know that you haven’t even let him fuck you yet?”
You feel you’ve just been doused with a bucket of ice-cold water, and all you can do is gape helplessly at Steve, any words you may have had on the tip of your tongue now firmly lodged in the back of your throat.
Steve smirks, “That’s right. He told me you haven’t let him fuck you, and it’s been what, three months since you guys started going out?”
“I wanted to wait till I was ready.” You whisper.
“You keep telling yourself that.” Steve laughs bitterly, “But you and I both know the truth, which is that you’ll never be ready. Not for him. Because you don’t want him to fuck you, you don’t want that intimacy with him.” He yanks you closer with the hold he has on your wrist, till your foreheads are almost touching and you’re frozen in place by not only your fear but something else too. Something warm and inviting.
“If you were my girlfriend, you’d already be three months pregnant.”
Your jaw drops open, only a tiny squeak making its way out past your lips. It’s as if he’s stolen all the air from your lungs, and all the thoughts from your brain. You feel hot all over, but also numb. You feel nothing yet everything all at once, and you can’t believe what he’s saying.
“But that’s okay, we still have plenty of time for that.” Steve nods determinedly, his eyes clouding over with an almost wistful, faraway look. “Baby, I have a plan for us. I’m graduating soon, and I want you by my side as the mother of my children. You’re perfect for me, and I’ll give you the family you crave.”
It’s like he’s lit a candle inside you. A tiny, almost minuscule candle of hope fuelled by the picture his words paint, but it flames fiercely nevertheless. Until you forcibly snuff it out and shake your head once more, and deliver more futile pushes to get him to let you go.
“Y-You’re crazy! I don’t want that, Steve! I don’t want any of that!”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t!”
“Yes. You do.” Steve sneers, twisting your arm when you grow more desperate, your movements ceasing as you stare up at him helplessly. But his face remains stoic, and a wild piece of blonde hair flops down over his forehead. “I told you; Bucky tells me everything. How you never really fully open up to him, how you get closed off and distant and sad sometimes and he can’t figure out why because you never tell him.”
“Th-That’s between me and him–”
“Don’t you get it?” He grabs you by the shoulders, shaking you as if he’s had an epiphany and wants you to have it too. “I’m the one who knows you, omega. Not him.” His hand reaches up to cup the wide of your face again, and this time he succeeds because you’re frozen in place. His voice softens, “I know you feel like your mother doesn’t care about you. I know you feel lonely despite being in a relationship with Bucky. I know you felt like this even in your previous relationship before Bucky. And I know you don’t have a dad, and I know it hurts–”
“No, no, no, no!” The tears are welling up in your eyes now, and you feel like you can’t breathe. Like you’re hyperventilating and there’s no escape and you can’t run away because this stupid car is locked and you’re in the middle of nowhere and you’ve never told anyone about your dad! You never talk about that with anyone. You don’t even think about it! How did he know?!
“Hey, hey, calm down.” Steve rubs his wrists over your face, and the tranquil effect of a hot midsummer afternoon warms you from the inside out. You feel your heartbeat go back to normal, and you’re able to breathe again. You look up to see Steve’s face inches away from yours, and all you can feel are the pads of his thumbs slowly stroking your cheekbones, and for the life of you, you can’t explain why you just let him do it.
“Do you ever get that yearning feeling, baby?” He asks you softly, so softly that you almost don’t hear it. His blue eyes sparkle with determination and earnesty, and he holds your face so carefully in his hands. “Tell me, do you ever get that feeling? Of wanting something so bad but you can’t seem to figure out what it is?”
“Yes.” You whisper hushedly, dropping your head in shame. Your heart throbs with the same guilt that you’ve been feeling for days now. Horrific, unforgiving guilt that washes through your body in taunting waves.
Steve kisses you then. And it feels like everything around you seems to stand still. Every particle, every atom, every hair, every speck of dust freezes in place. You close your eyes, and it’s like the sun itself descends down to the earth, making everything bask in its addicting glow. Fireworks and explosions behind your eyes and all around you, his warmth enveloping you like a hug. An embrace of delicious heat that feels like you’re home. Really home, and it’s something you’ve never felt before.
And then you start crying.
“I can’t do this to him.” You pull away, and the panic you feel is almost immediate. “Steve, I… We can’t do this to Bucky. He’s so good to me, he doesn’t deserve this! We can’t, we can’t–”
“He’ll understand.” Steve says firmly, keeping a tight hold on you. “It’ll be hard for him, but once he sees that we’re in love, he’ll understand. And it’s good for him too, because this way he can find a mate who is better suited for him.”
Through the haze of Steve’s smoky firewood and hot summer day scent, you think back to Bucky and his crinkled smile. How he’d been the first one to speak to you on your first day, how he’d walked you to the library and how at ease you’d felt with him. How his lopsided smile, sparkling eyes and effortless charm had reeled you in. All the nights spent cuddling or watching TV or just talking and talking and talking. How respectful he’d been of your boundaries; how sweet and patient and intuitive he’d been any time you felt uncomfortable or upset.
How he’d complimented you every chance he got, building up your self-esteem through his love and adoration. How his easy-going nature made you feel so comfortable… But yet not comfortable enough to let him in. And that’s when the guilt seems to attack every cell of your body, killing you from the inside out. Why? Why couldn’t you just let Bucky in? Why couldn’t you just love him? Why, why, why?
Why did it have to turn out this way?
“No.” You shake your head, trying to shake away the thick haze of Steve’s scent which seems to be corrupting your every sense. And when you next speak, your voice is firmer, and you wipe the tears from your face, and you sit up straight, and you shrug his hands off of you. “No, Steve. We can’t do this. I need to get out, I need to–”
Steve’s eyes narrow once more, “Omega, listen to me–”
“Let me out of this car! Just let me out, okay! I’m not doing this to him! You’re wrong, Steve! You’re wrong, wrong, wrong! I don’t like you like that!” You rattle the door handle desperately, but of course it doesn’t budge. “Let me out, Steve! I can’t think in here, I need to get out! I need to speak to Bucky, I need to… I need to…”
You feel yourself going lax in his arms, your limbs turning to jelly as he places his hand on your mating gland, fingers pressing down. It sends thrills and shivers up and down your body as he draws you back to him, closer and closer till he’s embracing you.
“I’m your alpha.” Steve whispers in your ear, and the possessiveness in his tone rocks you to your very core. “You’re my omega, all mine. It’s like you were made for me. And that’s all that matters.”
You’re about to protest once more, and then you feel his teeth graze against your mating gland. It feels peculiar, thrilling, dangerous all at the same time. But the threat of his action doesn’t register immediately, and it takes you a second too long to realise, and then–
“No, Steve, don’t! Don’t!”
A blood-curdling scream leaves your mouth. Steve’s teeth are sharp and unforgiving as they clamp down on your mating gland. And his bite if so painful, like he’s chipping and tearing away at any traces of autonomy left in your body. The sensitive skin of your neck breaks and tears along with the last remnants of your independence.
Everything stills around you. Everything but Steve. He’s all you can feel now. His heartbeat, loud and wild. Or is that your heartbeat? Everything feels different, nothing is the same. It’s all Steve. All of your senses are Steve. All of your feelings are Steve.
“I’m never gonna let you go.” Steve whispers against the fresh wound on your neck, licking at his handiwork which will soon turn into a mark that brands you as his forever.
His presence around you is infinite. The intense heat of his aura mixed with his addictive scent, hitting you from all angles like a tidal wave.
And, like a bittersweet film coming to an end, it washes away the memory of Bucky before you even have the chance to say goodbye.
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SDKGKSLAG OKAY.
So.... did I just present y’all with a Steve x omega fic disguised as Bucky fic?? Despite hyping the Bucky fic for MONTHS? Well... *dodges tomatoes* Yes. Yes I did. I’M SORRY BUCKY GIRLIES. STOMEGA FOREVER. This was the plan from the start, because it doesn’t matter if Bucky asked for omega’s number first - she would always end up with Steve. In any AU. In every AU. ANYWAYS. GUYS. I hope you liked it and I hope you’re not mad! I really really really would love to know what yall thought! Like genuinely, I jsut NEED to know what you guys thought of this bc honestly... I am not so sure AHHHHH. okay i’ll shut up now. Bye.
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espinosaurusrexex · 7 months
Text
Happy Little Accidents
Veteran!BuckyBarnes x Female!ArtTeacher!Reader
summary: In a world after the war, Bucky tries to get pieces of his old self back by joining an art class. He meets you and instantly falls head over heels. Now he just has to work up the courage to ask you out.
a/n: wrote most of this on my lunch break after finally feeling the creativity spark again. I hope you all get a cozy fall feeling.
word count: 3.3k
warnings: adapting to life after war, frustration, a little angst, love-dazed Bucky, just so much fluff and wholesomeness 💕
・゚✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 。✭・゚
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↑ the face of a man too whipped to listen - this is the Bucky vibe today
Steve Rogers was an artist. A lot of people knew about it. Hell, the Smithsonian even had a gallery full of sketches from a notebook of Steve’s he had lost back in ‘45. But Steve never needed people to recognize his work. Just like he never needed all the fame that came with his shield or all the honors he got for doing what he thought normal human decency implied - stopping bullies.
But what not many people knew was that Steve loved his art so much, he even held little sketch workshops in the camps on the western front. He drew each member of the howling commandos with impeccable accuracy. He loved drawing portraits and he loved to help.
Which was why, sooner or later, Bucky had been talked into trying his first sketches back in the day as well. Back when he was still left-handed, back when he found joy in little things such as drawing with his best friend. Back when he was not who he was now.
Yeah, he was bitter about it...
Bucky wasn’t too shabby of an artist per se. He was rather quick with his sketches always able to find the right spot for his next line and even though they weren’t perfect, one could always see what his pictures were meant to present.
Yes, they were crooked and not nearly as good as Steve’s but he had fun with it. Sketching had been an escape for his soul while bombs were exploding only miles away from his camp. It had reminded him of his best friend when they were apart, and most importantly, it taught him patience.
God, so much patience. 
Bucky had never been good with it. Always fast, always right away. But the amount of times Steve made him erase carefully constructed lines and shapes had him feel scolded like a kid.
Later, he was grateful for it.
Now? He hated just touching a pencil. Every time he was reminded of his recovery, of months of frustration and anger, of grief and sadness. All because he’d lost his arm, and with it, all that had brought him joy in life.
When he had to learn to write with his right hand, he screamed at the papers before him, the crooked and shaky lines mocking him with vigor.
You’ll never be the same, they said, You’ll never have true joy back.
He felt like a child. Unable to do the most mundane of tasks, whilst fully aware of what had to be done to get it right.
But he missed it. The way drawing would clear his mind and the ease he felt when thinking of nothing but the next step in the process.
So after a particularly frustrating session with his therapist, Bucky had walked through a gallery on his way home. Beautiful pieces, each more impressive than the next hung on bright white walls until he reached a small corner with sketches and photographs. They weren’t less good than the rest, but other than the huge paintings, they seemed approachable - and they reminded him of times far gone.
“Hello, would you be interested in signing up for a sketching class?” An angelic voice had asked after holding a leaflet into his line of sight. And when he followed the hand up to your face, his breath hitched in his throat.
“I- I don’t think I’d be any good…” he had said with a pitiful smile as his left arm raised next to his head, the sleek silver of his hand shining in the showroom light.
“Oh don’t be silly. Everyone can be an artist.”
And that was all it took.
Now he was here. Sitting in a room with about eight other people, listening to you talk. Though Bucky didn’t pay much attention to your words. He was distracted by the way your lips curved when you spoke, and how your hands looked in the light when you flailed them in the air. He wanted to draw you, only you. But he knew he could never do you justice. And that frustrated him a little.
His first task was easy. A series of connected squiggles and shapes. The second was harder - finding and highlighting familiar motives in his work. But when he tried to connect his shapes, his hand began to tremble and the line on his paper got dented, he huffed in surrender.
A look to the front to you talking with another woman and he was getting off his chair.
This was useless. He should have never come here. 
But when he moved to gather his things, your voice stopped him once again. 
“Oh that’s interesting,” you said with a tilted head, your eyes following the little dent in his drawing. 
“Yeah, I messed it up.” He shook his head and added a careful, much more quiet ‘I always do”.
“You see, it’s only a mistake if you make it one.” You turned to him and smiled and his heart began racing now that all your attention was on him. Bucky looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the other participants were all focused on their work. “I’m not going to tell you that this line isn’t supposed to be the way it is. You alone can decide that.”
You stepped closer as he eyed his paper again. “So, Bucky,” holy crap you remembered his name. And it sounded so good coming from your lips. “Are you gonna make it a mistake or not?”
❁ ❁ ❁
That was a month ago. And Bucky had come to your class every Sunday night since then. But now his crush had only intensified. 
Every time you stepped behind him to watch him work, his hand began to sweat. Every time you gave him a suggestion, his eyes were so drawn to your lips, he barely heard what you were saying. Just yesterday this had caused him to get into a particularly awkward situation. He hadn’t listened, of course - those stupid mesmerizing lips of yours were at fault for it. And when Bucky finally came back from his daydream of imagining what they would feel like on his lips, he knocked over a jar of water as he noticed you had moved next to him. And to make matters even worse, you had caught him talking to himself as he cleaned up the mess. 
Bucky was beyond embarrassed. He wasn’t normally that clumsy, all his moves were calculated. No limb out of control, but when you were around, he seemed to have lost that trait of his - which was actually kind of nice... 
He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to handle it. 
He was contemplating never going back to your class. He would probably end up ruining somebody’s work and - besides - it wasn’t like he could ever work up the courage to ask you out. It was just all too scary. 
“Bucky, is that you?” Bucky froze as he studied the coffee menu above the barista. He was going to order black anyway. But the voice that called out his name almost made him want to pretend he was still studying the sign.
“Bucky.” Your voice came closer and when you were standing next to him, he finally looked at you. And there you were, with a bright smile and a scarf shielding you from the cool fall breeze outside. 
“Oh, hey.” He paused, treading, not knowing what to do with his hands or pretty much any part of his body. At least, in your workshop, he had something to do. “...hey.”
“It’s nice to see you, how’s your homework going?” You rubbed your hands together to warm them and at the sight of your delicate fingers, he felt his cheeks heating up when he imagined holding them. 
“It’s... well, it’s going...” He sighed and watched his feet as they shuffled on the tiled floor. “It’s not going well if I’m being honest.” And with a shy smile, he rubbed the back of his neck, watching as you nodded in understanding. 
“I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes it really helps to just get started without thinking about it too much.”
He chuckled. That was exactly his problem. Because every time he wanted to start, he wondered what you would think about it. And then his thoughts drifted to you entirely and how your neck would bend when you watched him draw over his shoulder, or how your fingers swayed over his artwork to point out the parts you were talking about. God, he loved when you did that. 
“-only if you want, of course.” Your nose crinkled when Bucky’s mind brought him back to the coffee shop again. You were staring at him expectantly, your smile growing nervous with every second he took to register that you had just asked him a question.
Bucky had no idea what you had just said. He had been too lost in his daydream yet again and now he made you look stupid in the middle of this coffee shop. There wasn’t much time to decide what his response would be, but under no circumstance did he want to admit just how scattered he was around you. So without thinking, he just nodded with a tight-lipped smile and willed his knees to stay strong when your eyes brightened.
“Awesome! When are you free?” Free? Did you just ask him out and he hadn’t even paid attention?
“Uh, Sunday?” Bucky stammered as his heart began to pound in his chest. This has got to be a prank. 
You laughed, and Bucky got weak in the knees. “Sunday is workshop, silly.”
Stupid, stupid, Bucky. “Right, uh... Friday then.” The rapid beat in his chest took his breath away.
“Okay, great. Here give me your phone so I can give you my number.”
“You’re–“ Bucky choked as his hands scrambled to fish his phone out of his pocket. “Yes, yeah sure, cool.” Cool? Oh god. 
You took it from him, entered your contact with a little paintbrush emoji, called yourself, and handed it back to his sweaty hand. 
“I’ll text you my address.” You stepped forward to pay and retrieve your coffee, gifting the barista a smile that made him blush - apparently, you were a regular because Bucky did not remember you ordering - but then again - he didn’t really pay attention apparently. “Oh, and bring your art supplies!” 
And then you were out the door, letting crisp air into the cozy coffee shop, and Bucky standing dazed and confused as to what had just happened. 
❁ ❁ ❁
Bucky stared at his phone for the fifth time now, making sure he was in front of the right door before ringing the bell. He was nervous, to say the least. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was on a date, not to mention the last time he felt this nervous about being on one. He was a strong believer in facts but you asking him out had to be a sign from the universe. One he would only get once and he could not screw it up. 
His hands smoothed over his black button-up one last time before adjusting his leather jacket again. Then he rang the bell and not even a minute later, you greeted him with a warm smile and urged him to give you his jacket to hang up. 
“I just made tea, do you want some?” Bucky followed you to the kitchen where the faint but homey scent of pumpkin spice filled the air. He watches as you scrambled to find your oven its and then retrieve something delicious smelling from the oven. “Cookies?” 
“I’m good with tea for now.” He chuckled in awe at how nice your home felt. Once he could tear his eyes away from you, he peered over the kitchen island into your living room, where many different artworks and photographs were displayed on the walls. Every pillow on your sofa had a different color and the blankets sprawled on it and the chair were too inviting for him not to picture the both of you cuddled up beneath them. 
“Alright then, suit yourself. But just know these are my specialty.” You snatched one from the tray before almost dropping it again. “Ouch, hot.”
Bucky felt drawn to the room. With all its warm light and fall-scented candles, hints of read books and discarded crocheting, with a crackling fireplace and soft carpeting. He also felt awfully intimate at the glimpse he got into your life by being here, but he had already declared this place his favorite in his mind. 
“Are you ready?” Bucky turned to you and watched as you padded your hands on your jeans, leaving faint flour prints on the dark denim.
“Ready for what?” He smiled again, he seemed to be unable to stop around you. But he was just so happy to be here, to be close to you, and to finally spend more time with you.
You chuckled and set two cups of tea on the table. “For your sketches. That’s the whole reason you came here for, remember?”
You settled on the ground and padded the sofa for Bucky. But he could just stand there and stare at you while trying to ignore the lump that began to build in his throat. He clenched the bag with his art supplies in his hand and watched as the soft material wrinkled in his grasp.
Of, course. He took a breath. How could he have been so naive? Then stepped towards the sofa. The whole thing had been a mistake. And finally sat down with a heavy smile. 
The sadness was filling him so fast, it threatened to spill right out of him, but Bucky wouldn’t let this little  big  dent in the road be shown in front of you. Instead, he focused on your hands when they pulled his sketch pad from his bag. And your eager smile when you flipped through his failed attempts on the paper. 
The whole atmosphere was wearing a thin layer of sorrow all of a sudden, and Bucky felt his heartache when you leaned over to him to point out the parts you liked the most. Your perfume seemed just that much sweeter as if it were mocking him all of a sudden. 
He didn’t listen. He just watched you with the same longing he’s had ever since he met you. Back to square one. Back to the distance he had with you before he foolishly thought you had asked him out. Except now he’d lost all the confidence left in him to take the next step. 
Bucky let the evening wash over him. Trying to concentrate on your tips and examples, tasting the tea you had offered to him with the sweetest smile. And before he knew it, he was standing in front of your apartment building again - with a box of those pumpkin cookies in hand and a heart that felt heavier than the bricks he was staring at. 
He sighed and began his walk back home.
❁ ❁ ❁
On Sunday he decided that he wouldn’t give up. Bucky didn't know what changed his mind. He just knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and him on that incredibly comfortable sofa of yours and the scent of your cedar and cinnamon candle which seemed to linger on his skin for days after his visit. He wanted to play the sketching games he had half-heartedly endured last time and he wanted to become a better artist. 
Bucky had left your cookie box at home as an excuse to meet up with you again. And even though he was sweating ferociously when he approached you after class, you had agreed to meet with him again. 
He’d left the gallery with a bright smile that evening. Excited for the next time he’d see you again and eager with daydreams on the subway home.
You and Bucky met up every week. Every time, spending a little longer not just drawing and it filled his heart with warmth and happiness. You shared laughter, and, in Bucky’s eyes, a growing connection with every passing meeting. 
He learned about your dreams and aspirations and told you about his past, his interests, and his most treasured fantasies.
As weeks turned into months, Bucky found himself drawn to you in more ways than the warmth radiating from your smile he’d noticed the first day he met you, or your talent of calmly helping him in every way possible. He admired your passion for art, your kindness, and your enchanting presence. The fear and the shyness that had gripped him at first, slowly faded away - replaced by a sense of comfort when he was with you. 
And soon he realized that there was nothing he didn’t love about you. This was how he got the courage to, on one calm evening spent on your sofa, between the colorful pillows he had been thinking about falling asleep on for weeks, place his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers with his. 
“I got something for you,” he whispered between dialogues of the Halloween movie playing on TV, watching as your eyes aimed up at him with curiosity. 
With reluctance, he peeled himself out of the warm blanket you shared and trudged to the sketchbook hidden in his bag. The initial idea had been dipped in silly confidence. But it was too late to back out now. He’d already told you about it. 
So despite his nervous heartbeat, Bucky came back to the sofa and handed you the book. 
“Open it,” he nudged when you carefully inspected the black leather binding, unaware of the confession hidden beneath. 
And when you did, he felt he could read every expression on your face like a poem. 
The book was filled with sketches of you. The first pages were scattered in hasty pencil drawings, misplaced lines, and unintentional dents. Then followed the section in which he had tried to pay attention to detail. The curve of your nose or the arch of your fingers when they pointed at his artwork. He could see them now, hovering over the sketches himself, and when you turned to the last page of the section, he could see the striking resemblance between them. And so did you. On the next turn, you revealed the latest portraits he’d added to the book - finally confident enough to attempt doing what he saw you as justice, to finally look past his mistakes - or happy little accidents as you called them - and just try it. 
Bucky had discovered that your weekly sketch sessions had done him good. And that you had secretly given him back what he had mourned after for so long.
“I couldn’t keep my eyes off you from the moment we met.” He whispered still, too afraid to break the moment you’d just created. “Thought it was time for me to tell you.”
Your eyes were glassy when you tore them from the pages in your hand, a shaky laugh escaping your lips when Bucky beamed down at you. “You did all of this for me-”
“Because of you,” he corrected and wiped a lonely tear from your cheek. “I never thought I could get the joy of drawing back until you showed me how.”
Bucky leaned in closer until your noses touched. “How to be less critical of myself.” He closed his eyes and let his hand linger on your skin. “And how to welcome a mistake by making it an accident-” 
And before he could finish that sentence, he felt your lips press to his and your warm hands wrap around his neck to pull him into your body. Bucky shivered in excitement, letting his hands trail down your back and falling into the soft cushions of your sofa while he pressed you to his chest protectively.
He sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart burn with excitement. 
Fascinating, how fast a mistake can turn into a happy little accident. 
I love you Bob Ross <3
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hoe4flo · 1 month
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Standing at Death's Doorstep
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Yelena Belova x Reader
Trigger Warnings: main character death, R death, betrayal from Avenger, graphic violence involving guns and physical violence, graphic description of injuries, cursing. Additionally, R does have electricity manipulation and is an expert hacker.
Word Count: ?
Synopsis:
A heavily influenced fics by the songs Fourth of July by Sufjan Stevens, You're Gonna Go Far by Noah Kahan, and when the party's over by Billie Eilish. Additionally, I listened to this playlist while writing: click link here. A fic in which a mission failure alters the lives of the Avengers as they lose one of their own unexpectedly.
A/N: I'm going back to my roots with this one. I love writing angst. I hope you enjoy gut-wrenching fics bc that is coming your way.
я тебя люблю - I love you.
Requests are open. | Consider following my main and other side accounts.
It all started as a reconnaissance mission until it turned into a death wish.
Steven, Natasha, Yelena, and (Y/n) stood on the other side of a building. Moments before they relocated, they had been ambushed outside a separate warehouse. Their informant led them there where they found evidence they were led astray, that they were at the wrong building. While they were able to pinpoint the right building, they were unfortunately caught in a small skirmish that ended in them barely escaping. It was beginning to be obvious that somewhere within the Avengers there had to be a spy, but they weren't able to focus on that right now. Right now, the only thing they could focus on was their next move. So, they looked to their leader for instructions.
"Here's what's going to happen," Steve instructed, looking around to make sure his group wasn't followed. Whatever action they performed next would be crucial to their newfound mission. "(Y/n), I'm sending you into the building with me. We will each be on two opposite sides so we have a greater chance of getting the information we need. Yelena, I need you to be ready with the helicopter for a quick exit. Finally, Natasha, I need you to be our lookout. If there is any sign of trouble, I can count on you to try to be our distraction. Backup has been called, but no one has gotten back to us yet."
There was an air of tension around them as Yelena wiped the blood off of (Y/n)'s lips. They were still trying to recuperate while Steve was giving orders. But that was life as an Avenger. There were rarely any breaks when it came to missions. (Y/n) glanced over to Yelena, but her hazel eyes were trained on anything but her. It was obvious that Yelena was worried but neither of them could admit that. They knew they needed to focus on the mission and do what they were asked. It was all for the greater good, right? Steve gave (Y/n) a moment, walking towards the building. This moment allowed (Y/n) to kiss Yelena,
"I'll see you at the helicopter," (Y/n) confirmed with her girlfriend, earning a stiff nod from Yelena, It was obvious that she didn't want to be stuck as the getaway driver. She hated leaving (Y/n) alone on missions that they were put on together. It was why they weren't typically put together. Everyone would remind Yelena that (Y/n) had powers and that she would be fine. However, she wasn't always so convinced. "It's going to be okay, Yelena. After our mission, we're going to go back home and take a long nap like we always do. I'll see you soon, baby. I love you."
This caused a small smile to fall onto her lips as she kissed (Y/n) again. "Okay, detka. я тебя люблю." (Y/n) took ahold of Yelena's hand, giving it a soft squeeze before walking away with Steve. There was a nervousness brewing in her stomach as Steve reminded everyone to turn on their communication devices.
(Y/n) entered first from her side of the building as Steve circled to make sure the building was clear before entering on the opposite side of the building. Where Yelena stood, she kept her observant eye on what was happening, despite Natasha's current and prime position at the building. She wished Steve had chosen her to enter that building with him because she knew that whatever was coming was going to be a death match.
(Y/n) crept into the building, hearing a crackle in her ear. "(Y/n)," Steve called through the earpiece, his voice a whisper. (Y/n) checked her surroundings as she listened for what Steve needed. She was a sitting duck, and she didn't even know it yet. "I found the room with the information, no one is here. Are you in a safe position to meet me where I am?" Steve inquired. (Y/n) held up her wrist, her watch exposing a holographic map with four dots. The blue one was Steve. She was surprised to see how close they were.
There was a nervous feeling that engulfed her body as she looked around, checking in two other rooms before swallowing thickly. Why was this building so empty? "Yes, I can," (Y/n) confirmed, unaware of what she was getting herself into. She did what Steve said, meeting him in a room with a cabinet that had a password lock. It looked electronic. Steve glanced at her, and it was obvious what she wanted him to do. "It's weird, right? This building is so empty, This just seems too easy after what happened at the warehouse." (Y/n) spoke, working to crack the code. It took only a minute before there was a click and the lock opened, exposing files.
There was one with her name on it, which was known. After all, she had been saved by Steve and Bucky from HYDRA a long time ago. However, when she saw the one that read 'Agent Steve Rogers,' her eyes widened and her mouth grew dry. "I don't think it's that strange," Steve said, taking the file from the cabinet, he made eye contact with her as he pulled out a lighter. Pieces began to click in place for (Y/n) as she watched him set the file on fire as he slowly walked toward her. "You can't tell me you're surprised. I think a part of you knew I was the spy since the very beginning." Steve spoke, two men walking into the room.
Both men had guns. They were big and burly, and (Y/n) grew terrified. She wasn't scared of them, per se. She was scared of Steve. (Y/n) swallowed thickly as she stared at him with a deadpanned look. He was right, after all. She did suspect it was him. Not wanting to upset anyone, he kept quiet, She should've spoken up, but she didn't. She flinched as Steve approached her, taking the earpiece from her ear and crushing it between his fingers.
"I think I understand now. This whole mission was always supposed to be deadly. You knew that you would be killing someone today. You knew it would be me. You brought me here to hack into the cabinet in an old office to erase your file. However, now that I know who you are, you're going to try to kill me." (Y/n) stated, causing Steve to smirk down at her. The usual kind smile and soft blue eyes were gone. She felt betrayed and hurt as she looked at the man whose eyes were now hard and deadly. "Why would you go through all that work of adopting me a few years ago if you were just going to kill me? Did you only see me as a pig for slaughter?"
Steve hummed, grabbing her face in his hand and squishing her cheeks. She gripped his arm at the sudden pain he was causing. "I thought I could turn you into me. You're too much like Bucky, though. As for the pig for slaughter… I'll always see you that, even when you're six feet un-" A scream of pain ripped through his chest as (Y/n) electrocuted him, burning off a layer of his blue-sleeved suit. As he let go, and (Y/n) went to electrocute the other two men, they opened fire.
A blazing pain ripped through her shoulder, and she assumed that was her only injury as adrenaline pumped through her body. She electrocuted the men, watching them fall to the ground before taking off. She had to run before Steve recovered. Unfortunately, that wasn't soon enough as she was thrown onto the wall. She couldn't allow herself to fall to him despite his hand on her throat. Remembering her training, she calmed her body as she kicked, her foot making contact with his stomach. She successfully knocked the wind out of him, causing him to let her go. (Y/n) fell but didn't allow any of the pain to stop her. She punched him in the face, using her electricity to make the pain double.
She looked back as she ran, watching him grip his face in pain. As she made it down the stairs, Natasha was waiting, her widow's bite drawn until she saw (Y/n). "Natasha, we have to go. We have to go right now. Steve's the spy." Natasha's face hardened as she took hold of (Y/n) trying to help her out. (Y/n)'s breathing grew labored as she grew nauseous. Her hand fell to her stomach, feeling warm liquid. "Natasha… I think- I think I'm bleeding." She knew she was shot in the shoulder but she didn't know they hit her in the stomach.
Natasha chose to keep quiet as she moved to contact Yelena, However, she watched as a helicopter landed in front of her, the door swinging open. There was a frantic look on Yelena's face as she helped Natasha get (Y/n) into the helicopter. "What happened?" She questioned as Natasha took control of the helicopter. "Where's Steve?" She added, him being an afterthought. He just wasn't as important to her as the well-being of her girlfriend.
"This whole… This whole mission was a fake out. Steve is an agent. He pulled his old files and burned them." (Y/n) sucked in a breath, tears falling down her face. Automatically, Yelena grabbed her hand, drawing up their location on her watch. With the speed they were going, it was going to be an hour that they didn't have. Immediately, she grabbed a tourniquet, trying to slow the bleeding on her shoulder before adding pressure to (Y/n)'s shoulder. "Yelena, I don't want to die. Please, please, I don't want to die…"
Yelena had to swallow a sob as Natasha tried her best to fly faster. "You're not going to die, Malishka. You just need to breathe, I'm right here with you, okay?" Yelena questioned, kissing her girlfriend's clammy forehead. She refused to acknowledge how scared she truly was. She didn't want to cause any more fear for (Y/n). "What movie should we watch tonight when we take our nap? I'm thinking of the Godfather." Yelena turned the subject into something they would do. She was hoping that this would provide some kind of comfort. Relief filled her when she heard a small laugh escape (Y/n) as her tired eyes met Yelena's hazel.
"Yel… Yelena, we can't keep watching the s- the same movie over and over again." There was a playfulness that glittered in her darkening eyes. Yelena let out a fake gasp, pretending to be offended, This earned a weak nudge from (Y/n) as she smiled slightly, her eyes fluttering close for a moment. "I want to take my nap now. Yelena, I'm so, so tired."
Twenty minutes. She just needed twenty minutes and they would be there and Dr. Helen Cho would meet them there and save her. She looked back at Natasha, who nodded as she called for the Avengers Tower to be ready. "We're almost there, Malishka. Stay awake for me. Let's talk about our future. I picked out a few new baby names that I need you to hear and approve of. I was thinking of Anastasia or Natalia. What do you think?" She questioned in a fervent attempt to keep (Y/n) awake. It was becoming more important as they grew closer. They were too close for Yelena to lose her.
(Y/n) turned her head, her brows furrowing. She knew she had to stay awake. She needed Wanda to look in her mind and to confirm everything. Not everyone was going to believe her. (Y/n) was a realist, she knew she wasn't going to survive, but if she could just hang on a little longer, then she was going to try her best. She tried to keep her eyes open. She tried to focus on Yelena's beautiful eyes that were tainted with worry along her face. There was a bigger part of (Y/n) that didn't want to just hang on for Wanda to confirm what she went through. She wanted to hang on for the future that she promised to Yelena.
They were supposed to move out of the Avengers Tower, eventually. They were going to get married. Natasha was going to be Yelena's maid of honor and Kate was going to be (Y/n)'s. They chose Peter to be the ring bearer, for jokes, and Morgan was going to be the flower girl. They were going to have kids of their own. But now, visions of their future seemed to be fading away with every struggling breath that escaped (Y/n), no matter how hard she tried to hang on to life. She wasn't ready to die, she was terrified, even though she was trying to accept her fate. She wanted her future with Yelena more than anything, but she knew she was never going to have that. Her time clock was just ticking away, and she was growing more aware of how close to the end she was.
There was a thud, causing her to wince, sucking in a deep breath. "We're here," Natasha called out. Before they could escape the helicopter, they were met with a few of the Avengers doctors, including Helen Cho, and a stretcher. They tried their best to move (Y/n) without making anything worse, and (Y/n) clutched Yelena's hand. Admittedly, she was fearful as she tried to keep her eyes open. It was hard given how fast everything was going and the pain she was in. She felt borderline dizziness taking over her senses. Maybe that was just the loss of blood though. "You're going to be okay," Natasha said, catching up with the stretcher. (Y/n) wasn't completely sure if that message was for her or Yelena, though.
"I need you… I need you two to get Wanda." She spoke through gritted teeth, tears cascading down her dirty and bloody cheeks. The sisters glanced at each other, wondering why they needed Wanda. It was obvious to (Y/n) that they were hesitating. "Please. Not e- everyone is going to believe us. She… She could get into my mind and… and she could confirm everything. We need her."
Natasha nodded towards Yelena before parting ways as she went to find Wanda. "You can't go past this point, Belova. I need to help her. We'll give her clearance when Wanda gets here, but for now, I need to focus." Helen stated, causing Yelena to open her mouth in protest before she saw (Y/n) weakly shake her head. Yelena bit her trembling lip, terrified that this was the end.
"я тебя люблю, Solnishko." She whispered, causing (Y/n) to smile tiredly. "I love you too, little moon."
Yelena paced for a long time, feeling jealous when Wanda was able to enter the procedure room. Natasha eventually got Yelena to sit down, holding her sister as she cried. When the time came for Helen and Wanda to exit, both women looked grim. Helen looked stressed and exhausted. Wanda had tears brimming in her eyes as she stood there with a sorrowful look. Natasha and Yelena stood, ready to hear what they had to say. However, it was obvious by the looks on their faces that it wasn't good.
"(Y/n) hung on for just enough time for Wanda to find out exactly what happened. Once the information had been received, she flatlined. I tried to save her, but we couldn't get her back." Helen swallowed thickly, not being able to meet Yelena's eyes. She never thought she was going to have to say goodbye to any of the Avengers she had worked so diligently to keep healthy. "(Y/n) didn't make it. Steve Rogers was her killer."
There was a long pause, a ringing filling Yelena's ears as she let the information sink in. She had never expected to lose the love of her life, but here she stood, feeling hollow. She felt dizzy, stumbling back to sit down. Natasha quickly pulled Yelena into her arms and ripped through the air. Yelena hadn't felt like this since she was ripped away from her family all those years ago before the Red Room. She wanted someone to tell her it was all a lie, that (Y/n) was okay. But that moment never came to fruition.
Wanda placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, clearing her throat in order to clear the crying she was trying to hide. "Yelena, before we lost her, I was talking to her in her mind… She said that she loves you, and she wants you to know that you are the reason that she died happy. She knew you loved her and she said, if it was her time to go, that was all she needed to know. I can… I can show you later if you want or need." Wanda said, pursing her lips to stop herself from crying. A part of Wanda felt guilty for being the last one to communicate with (Y/n).
Yelena smiled a bit, still able to hear (Y/n) voice in her mind. Looking over to Wanda, she gave her a soft hug. Hidden deep inside Yelena, she felt angry that she even trusted Steve. She knew that there was something off about just him and (Y/n) going into the building, but she let them go. (Y/n) was the greatest thing that the Avengers lost, and it was all because of Steve Rogers. As she pulled away from Wanda, she journeyed to her room.
She refused to let (Y/n)'s memory die without killing the man who took her life. She knew that she was going to have to do this alone, but she felt revenge tingling at the tips of her fingers. She wasn't sure if (Y/n) would have wanted that, but she couldn't ask either. So, this wasn't going to be about just (Y/n) anymore. It was about taking down Steve Rogers and anyone that stood in her path. Natasha put a hand on Yelena's shoulder, a knowing look in her eyes.
"Don't think you're going without us." Behind her were Wanda and Kate, ready for anything that came their way.
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hardboiledleggs · 9 months
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Hawkins High Prom, 1985
Howdy gang, it's been a minute. This is a quick little oneshot I whipped up for the lovely @imnotokayhru based on this post of theirs. TW for a tiny bit of internalized homophobia and bad teenage dancing lol
The Munson Doctrine does not allow for attending high school prom, especially without a date. Jeff had just begged so hard, and Eddie Munson was, at his core, a weak man. Secretly, he’d been hoping to see what prom was like, and it turned out that it sucked hard. So now he was here, surrounded by crepe paper and sweaty teenagers, and listening to Cyndi Lauper and Blondie.
Jeff’s date, a quiet girl from his biology class, had dragged him onto the dance floor almost an hour ago. Gareth had been too young to go to prom, and Grant had flat-out refused, so now Eddie was stuck here by himself watching the teenage population of Hawkins try to moonwalk. Hello, therapy.
A third glare from the chaperoning Mrs. Click forced Eddie to move from his hiding place near the wrestling mat. He had been slowly revolving around the room, doing his best to keep away from Higgins, but apparently his tactic of standing completely still and looking bored was suspicious to the teachers for some reason.
Just then, Mr. Mundy abandoned his post by the door to the boys’ locker room, yelling “Hands, Hagan! Let me see your hands!” as he went.
Spotting his chance, Eddie dodged a decidedly drunk Tammy Thompson and hurried into the locker room. He breathed out a sigh of relief as the door shut behind him and muffled the DJ.
He checked his watch. Still too early for the damn thing to be over. He debated trying to escape through the vents briefly before realizing that he wouldn’t know which direction to crawl in and might die up there. It would be really funny if his corpse fell out of the ceiling during O’Donnell’s class, though.
Eddie gazed at the lockers for another moment before inspiration struck. Hadn’t he sold to all these asshole jocks one hundred times? Surely, at least one of them kept their stash in their gym locker.
He hurried over to the first locker and pinched his nose, anticipating the smell of sweaty jock straps and unwashed ass to assault him. His senses were pleasantly surprised when the locker betrayed only a faint floral scent that vaguely reminded him of his mom.
Eddie rifled through the contents. Extra socks, a basketball uniform, and a pair of Adidas sat at the bottom. The top shelf had deodorant, hair gel, a tin of moisturizer, and a can of Farrah Fawcett hair spray. Eddie snorted. No weed, just the sports paraphernalia of a very fussy member of the basketball team.
“Uh, hey. That’s my locker you’re stealing from.”
Eddie swore loudly and straightened up, smacking his head against the shelf of the locker. Tears sprang to his eyes and he staggered backward, clutching the top of his head. His would-be thievery victim started to apologize, and that was when Eddie looked up and recognized the very famous head of hair.
“Is it still stealing if I was doing my civic duty and just planning on removing any illegal substances I found during my snooping?” Eddie muttered as he rubbed the spot where a bruise was already forming.
“Unless you became a cop and didn’t tell anyone, I’m pretty sure theft is still theft,” Harrington snorted.
“I’m no pig, Steve-O. Just a guy looking for weed.”
“In that case, let’s try Hagan’s locker,” Harrington said as he crossed to the other side of the locker room. He let out a little “Aha!” of triumph and tossed a bag across the room that Eddie caught with one hand.
He slumped down with his back against Harrington’s locker and stuck his feet out in front of him, trying to ignore the way the tiles looked. Harrington crossed the room, hesitating for only a second before he flopped down next to Eddie, not quite touching, but sitting close enough that it would be easy to pass the joint Eddie was carefully rolling between the two of them.
“I’m assuming you’re planning on sharing?” Harrington quirked an eyebrow at him. He didn’t seem to notice that his very nice black suit was in contact with the biohazard that was the Hawkins High boys’ locker room floor.
“Of course, my liege. I always share the spoils of war with my fellow countrymen,” Eddie quipped. He passed the joint to Steve for the first hit, digging in his pocket for his lighter.
His companion took a deep breath, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before breathing out and passing the joint to Eddie. Eddie tried not to notice the way the wisps of smoke curled from between his lips and took a drag.
“Would’ve thought you would have your own weed for this thing, Munson. Isn’t this kinda your territory?”
Eddie scoffed. “I may be repeating my senior year but I’m not an idiot. Higgins would lose his mind if he caught me dealing at prom.”
Steve threw his head back and laughed. His already-nice face was so much nicer when he laughed. It made him look younger, much less like the haggard boy who sometimes showed up to their shared history class with dark circles under his eyes.
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, swapping the joint back and forth. Eddie picked at a hole in the leg of the dress pants Wayne had lent him, wondering why Harrington was being so nice to him and if he could push his luck.
“So, Farrah Fawcett, huh?” he said with a wry grin. Steve’s cheeks flamed with color.
“Hey, I’m swearing you to secrecy here. All of this-” he gestured at his ridiculous poofy hair, “-is only achieved with a very specific routine, okay? This stuff is the real deal.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” Eddie grinned. “Speaking of secrets, why are you hiding in the locker room when you should be out there, in your element?”
Steve frowned. He actually looked uncomfortable.
“Well, my date started dancing with Hargrove when I went to piss, so…” he trailed off. “Guess I figured I’d wait out the dance in here while she had fun. This really isn’t my element anymore, anyway.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows. “How did you pick a girl stupid enough to ditch you, Harrington? Did you ask your cousin or something?”
Steve pressed his lips together, suppressing a smile.
“No, jackass. I think she just thought it would make her look cooler to come with a date and I was available. Whatever, it’s fine, I didn’t even like her that much. She wore this ridiculous dress that pushes her boobs together so hard it looks like they’re going to pop out.”
Eddie cackled at that. He could already feel the contented stupor from the weed seeping into his system.
“If it makes you feel better, I came alone. Or, I guess I came as the third wheel who can’t dance so he got left by the snack table,” he shrugged.
Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.
“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” he asked. “Everyone can dance. You just have to sway around in a circle with your arms around somebody. Have you never slow-danced at a school dance before?”
Eddie shook his head. “C’mon, Harrington. Nobody wants to dance with the freak.”
Steve slapped his knee and stood up abruptly. He held his hand out to Eddie, who stared up at him from the ground.
“Would you like to dance with me?”
Eddie gaped up at him. Harrington actually looked nervous.
“Be serious. You don’t want to dance with me. What, is Hagan hiding in the showers, ready to punch me for agreeing to this like some queer?” Eddie snapped.
Steve’s face fell a bit, but he still grabbed Eddie’s hand and hauled him to his feet.
“I’m not even friends with Tommy Hagan anymore, Munson. Come on, I like this song.”
The intro to George Michael’s Careless Whisper filters through the door to the locker room. Eddie hesitantly wraps his hands around Steve’s neck and shivers when a large pair of hands settle at his waist.
They swayed together slowly. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to look Steve in the eyes, so he busied himself with counting the moles on his neck. George Michael crooned about his guilty feet as they revolved around the locker room.
“See. This isn’t so bad, is it?” Steve whispered into his hair. They had drifted unconsciously closer as they danced, and now they were only a few inches apart.
He pulled back a bit to force Eddie to make eye contact with him. Eddie forced the blush that was fighting to rise to his cheeks back down and smiled.
“I would say it’s the best dance I’ve ever had, but I don’t have anything to compare it to,” he admitted.
“Well, I do, and I agree,” Steve said. “Don’t sell yourself short, you’re a very good dancer.”
Eddie grinned.
“Don’t let me get too cocky, Stevie. I might think you actually like me.”
“And if I said I did?” Steve asked seriously.
“I-I’d tell you that you probably don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eddie stammered.
Their eyes met again. Steve had a worried little crease between his eyebrows that Eddie registered as very cute in the back of his mind. They continued to sway even as Eddie’s hands began to sweat. Steve’s expression cleared suddenly, as if he had made up his mind about something.
“Stop me if this is, I mean, if I’m doing the wrong thing, okay?” he murmured.
He lifted the hand that had been on Eddie’s waist and cupped his cheek. Eddie felt his heart fall out of his chest and settle somewhere near his stomach. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and he started to lean forward.
Tonight the music seems so loud, I wish that we could lose this crowd.
Eddie’s lips parted in a hastily stifled gasp as Steve Harrington kissed him. His own eyes slid shut as their lips met. Everything melted away: the smell of the locker room, the harshness of the fluorescent overhead lights behind his eyelids, even his own nerves squirming in his stomach. There was nothing but the press of Steve’s soft lips against his own and the pressure of his hand against Eddie’s face.
Far too quickly, Steve pulled back. Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed with shock.
“That was okay, right? That I did that?” Steve asked softly.
“Uh, um, yes yeah definitely. Definitely okay.”
Steve grinned at him. It was so infectious that Eddie couldn’t help smiling back. He was still cradling Eddie’s face gently in his warm hand.
“Then would it be weird if I asked you if you wanted to sneak out of here with me and drive around for a bit? I don’t really feel like going back to prom,” Steve said.
“I’m all yours, big boy,” Eddie replied breathlessly.
Steve twined their fingers together and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Then he tugged Eddie toward the door, laughing. It was the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.
~~~
They're so cute I love them so much. After this they drove around Hawkins for hours, singing along to the radio and holding hands and other sappy things. Anywhosies as always let me know if you want to be added to (or removed from) my permanent Steddie tag list where I bother you anytime I write anything about these two boys <3
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thefreakandthehair · 3 months
Text
a collapsing star with tunnel vision.
@steddielovemonth prompt, day one: love is stealing an RV together (@shares-a-vest)
rating: t | wc: 650 | cw: smoking weed | tags: getting together, love confessions, idiots in love, come hell or high water I will make them stargaze, title from a fob song
Smoke curls out of the joint they share as Steve and Eddie lay in the grass just beyond Steve's pool. It's chilly, the cool breeze that takes the smoke into its wispy fingers and pulls it up towards the sky a harbinger of pending autumn. Summer has been fun, but Steve's grateful for the change of seasons.
A new season means more time between them and Vecna, between them and angry mobs, and hospital visits, and physical therapy.
Just a few months ago, he'd thought that his time was up so while summer used to be Steve's favorite season, he's thankful now to watch time pass. Especially when it crawls like this, slow and syrupy as the night blankets he and Eddie.
His friendship with Eddie had been a surprise, but all the more surprising is how it's easily its evolved from friendship to something more. Or, it has at least on Steve's end. Eddie is naturally touchy, always bouncing into Steve's personal space, poking him, calling him things like big boy or sweetheart. It's hard to tell with him if it's just how Eddie is, or if it means something.
Steve wants it to mean something. Probably has since the first time Eddie leaned in, close enough for Steve to feel his breath against his skin, and called him big boy back in the RV.
The RV that they stole. That Steve watched as Eddie deftly hot-wired, berating himself for knowing how to all the while. But for Steve, stealing that RV together told him a lot about Eddie, things that he still hasn't forgotten. Like how Eddie has hopes of being something more, how Eddie's known how to steal cars for years and only pulled it out of his arsenal when it was for good, how Eddie could've been picking locks and torturing those who've tortured him but he decides not to. Well before actual evil, Eddie had looked some of the worst the world has to offer directly in the eyes and didn't let it make a monster of him.
Stealing the RV together, oddly enough, lands Steve knee-deep in love with the man laying beside him, one hand on his stomach and the other point towards the sky, tracing imaginary constellations.
"... kinda like an evil mouse, right? You see that?"
Steve grins and stubs out the joint, saving the rest for later as he turns slightly to gaze at Eddie, not whatever weird evil mouse he thinks he sees among the stars.
"Yeah, definitely. Totally an evil mouse."
Eddie's head rolls to the side, cheek pressed against the grass, and furrows his brows. "You're not even looking."
"Eh, there's more important stuff to look at down here."
"Shut up." He watches as a pink hue colors Eddie's neck and cheeks, a blush creeping up from his collarbones. It's rare that Steve stuns Eddie these days, but when he does, it's his favorite thing in the whole world.
Maybe it's the joint, maybe it's the promise of a new season, or maybe it's just the safety he feels under the cover of night, but Steve scoots closer.
"Can I tell you a secret?" Steve asks, voice barely above a whisper. It doesn't need to be any louder, not with his mouth now so close to Eddie's.
Eddie nods, rolling over to his side to quick to be smooth.
Bravery is a term used loosely these days, but Steve feels brave in this moment. Feels untouchable.
"I think I kinda love you."
Silence rests loudly on the grass between them for one, two, three seconds before Eddie closes the distance, responding without words. Every nerve ending in Steve's broken but healing body lights up, electrical as the concept of new beginnings shivers down his spine.
The wind blows again as they kiss, reminding Steve of the seasons changing in his life, this time, in more ways than one.
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