#BUT YAY STEVE IS PINING TOO!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruisedboys · 1 year

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dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend. his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lip so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

#★ mal writes!#(mal pushes herself past her limit)#ღ stevie #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader fluff #stevesmixtape!

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luna-writes-stuff · 5 months

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Bliss, Robin Buckley

Song link

Fanfic, fem! reader

Mutual pining, fluff

Word count: 1720

Tw: SAPPHICS. Steve is a wingman. One (1) mention of being drugged (Robin S3). Literally, that’s it. Maybe slight homophobia because it’s the 80s, yay!

Summary: You are a regular customer at the movie rental store where Steve and Robin work, but you’ve shown an increasing interest in Robin. Both of you are too oblivious to make a move. Thankfully, Steve is there to fix it.

Buy me a coffee/force me to write more

“Everything about you is how I'd wanna be.

Your freedom comes naturally.”

You were infuriating.

Every little thing about you seemed so perfect. Even those things that could be considered inconvenient or annoying - you were fucking perfect. You were so frustrating. How could she ever focus during work when you were right there? Did you really have to keep visiting the store every two days? Did you really have to keep making conversations with her about literally anything? God, it was starting to get her worked up for no reason.

She would ramble, and it would usually cause people to start losing interest. But you embraced it. You laughed at her and indulged her in whatever she was talking about. You’d nod and add your own quips that weren’t your usual polite ‘oh yeah’ and ‘mhm’. No - you were actually listening to what she was saying. It was terrible.

Whenever you’d walk in, her heart would skip a beat and she’d head to the back, doing a stupid jump and trying to contain her gigantic smile. She’d have to ignore Steve’s stupid teasing looks. She’d have to try to not lean over the counter and just force you into her embrace. She’d have to pretend as if your gentle touch on her shoulders wasn’t the most invigorating thing ever.

“Everything about you resonates happiness.

Now I won't settle for less.

Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.”

And there you stood again. That same stupid smile on your face as you placed the used tape on the counter. She had to force her breathing down to seem like a normal person as she tried to do her job professionally.

“Was it a good movie?” She asked as she took the tape, running it through the system before checking it out under your name. “I loved it.” You answered, watching her work, her eyes shooting from the screen to your figure continuously. A nervous chuckle came from Robin as she looked at the title: “I saw this one in the theatres. When it just came out.” “Really?” You gasped. “Yup,” she laughed. “Can’t remember much of it because I was so drugged.”

Her smile immediately dropped as she spoke the words without thinking about them. Her hands stopped working as she turned to face you, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” You dismissed, offering her that comforting smile. It didn’t make you uncomfortable. Something about the way she spoke made it impossible to grow uncomfortable with her.

“Like,” she tried to continue. “I was drugged on glee, you know? Because the movie was so good. And Jennifer Parker was like so hot-“ Again, she stopped her sentence, recovering much quicker than she even realised: “I mean, she was so good! A great character, and she wasn’t even in the movie so much, but I would have loved to know more about her. About her character.”

A second nervous chuckle left her as she turned back to the screen stiffly. From where you were standing, you could see her head shake lightly, and you couldn’t suppress the keen grin growing on your face at the adorable sight of it.

“Everything about you, pains my envying.

Your soul can't hate anything.”

“She was cool.” You agreed absentmindedly. “Yeah,” Robin mumbled. “But Marty was attractive too.”

You frowned at her words, a gesture that went unnoticed by her, but not by Steve. Nor were the subtle words following your look.

“Not exactly my type.”

“No?” Robin mused, placing the tape in an empty basket before turning back to you. Her face seemed to light up slightly, and that familiar giddy feeling made it’s way back into the pit of your stomach. “I mean, I get it. He isn’t really mine either.” She rambled, scrambling for the receipt before handing it to you. “Uhm, here you go.”

You couldn’t stand the silence that followed. You liked hearing her talk. And you had no places to be just yet. “Any movies you can recommend?” “Uhm,” The girl hesitated, scanning the store with a quick view. Steve noticed his friend freezing. She wasn’t looking at anything - she was trying to come up with a good answer. But he wasn’t going to let this whole debacle go as quickly as Robin might have.

“Everything about you is so easy to love.

They're watching you from above.”

“Looking for a movie with people who are good on the eye? I know a bunch of handsome fellows.” He began to hint, wiggling his eyebrows in a manner that made you internally cringe at the secondhand embarrassment. You pushed the feeling down, offering him a polite smile.

You knew Steve. You actually came for Robin every so often, but she’d be busy at times and Steve tried to take over. He was really sweet and kind, but would sometimes make some comments that made you hesitant to reply. It was difficult to judge his character.

“No, thank you,” you dismissed. “Not really my thing.” “Not?” Steve returned with a smile. “What about Phoebe Cates?” Then, he pointed towards a display at the beginning of the store, decorated with Christmas bells. “Got Gremlins right there.” He then leaned over the counter, nodding as if to emphasise his point: “She’s very good on the eye.”

“Ignore him, please.” Robin interrupted, shoving her co-worker to the side. “Return To Oz?” She offered, spotting the little ad on one of the televisions in the far corner of the room. Your face lit up at her suggestion. “Oh, good choice!” “You know, if you like this one, I’ve heard a lot of good things about this new movie in town. Labyrinth, I think it was called.” She ranted. “It has David Bowie.” “Oh, I love Bowie!” “Me too!” She shared enthusiastically. “That’s so funny. I was talking with Steve about it, but he doesn’t want to see it. I think he’s threatened by Bowie.”

“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.

I want the peace and joy in your mind.

Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”

This was your chance for a first move. Steve was difficult to place, but Robin wasn’t. Be that as it may, you were still cautious. There were plenty of people out there who’d have a lot of colourful words to exchange with you. You really liked Robin, but the last thing you wanted to do was scare her off.

But friends went to the movies all the time, right? You could always justify it in one way or the other.

“We could go together.” You spoke, no longer giving yourself more time to doubt. “Yeah,” Robin laughed, not having really understood you. When you didn’t laugh with her, her eyes widened: “Wait, really?” “Why not?” You shrugged, feigning confidence. “You’ve given me so many great recommendations. And I like our talks.”

“Yes,” she answered quickly. “I mean yes. If you want to, I’d go.” “She could go now.�� Steve smirked. “Her shift’s ending.” “Really?” “No,” Robin denied, but then she saw Steve’s face. He rolled his eyes to the back, giving her a subtle nod. “Yes,” she changed. “Yes, my shift is ending soon. Will you give me five minutes?” “Sure, yes, of course!” You nodded eagerly. “I’ll wait right here.” “Great!” She called. “I’ll be right back.”

And with that, she had disappeared to the back of the store.

“Everything about you resonates happiness.

Now I won't settle for less.”

An awkward silence came as Steve stared at you, something unknown glinting in his eyes. “Phoebe Cates, huh?” He voiced. You nodded once: “You’re a big Cates fan?” “Well, she’s really hot.” He deadpanned. Without even thinking, you mumbled a brief ‘that’s true’ under your breath. You didn’t think he’d caught it. But he did.

“So, like, what’s your type?” He continued. “I’m sorry,” you chuckled uncomfortably. “I’m sure you’re really nice-“ “No, not like that,” he interrupted, wildly shaking his head before pointing to himself. “I’m seeing someone right now.” Then, he waltzed back up to the counter. “I’m not asking for me.”

You had no reason to properly answer him. You didn’t even know him that well. You just knew his name and the fact he worked with Robin. But if you were to make a move, now was the perfect moment: “Someone funny.” “Robin’s funny.” He added almost immediately.

“Yes,” you sighed, not oblivious to his innuendos. If he was making them, surely he wouldn’t mind. And something in this moment seemed to spark confidence and trust in you. Thus, you resumed: “But I don’t think a lot of people would be happy with that.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his smile only widening: “So, you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“Give me all the peace and joy in your mind.

I want the peace and joy in your mind.”

That’s it. You shouldn’t have told him. This was an awful idea. How could you have been so stupid?

“Listen, just between the two of us, you’d be cute together. Don’t tell Robin I said that.” And just like that, your train of thoughts ended. He didn’t just say what you thought he said. “She likes banana shakes. If you’re going to the cinema, get her one. She would kill for them.”

Flabbergasted, you blinked rapidly, looking at his relieved figure. “I thought you two were a thing.” You muttered. “Oh, no. No, don’t get me wrong, Robin’s cute but no,” he laughed. “No, I think you’re more her type.” You were at total loss for words when you heard his words, your mouth hanging half open as you tried to process everything. “Get her that shake and talk about something other than movies for once.” Then, he turned around, announcing Robin’s figure leaving from the back: “There she is! You two have fun!”

You awkwardly made your way out of the store, waiting for Robin to follow you. She looked at you with an unreadable expression. Somewhere between worry and sorrow. “What did he tell you?” You decided to not tell her just yet. Well, not the whole truth. “Something about you and banana shakes.” “Oh,” she sighed.

“I love banana shakes.”

“Give me the peace and joy in your mind.”

#November writings 2023 #stranger things #Robin Buckley #maya hawke #robin x reader #robin buckley x reader

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 months

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To wait for you is all I can do

AN: It’s another Tower fic, yay!!!

Doesn’t have to be read as related to my other tower fic, but could be seen as a prequel if you wanted. And yes, the title is taken from Against All Odds.

Beta’d by the lovey @drabbles-mc

Likes are loved, reblogs are golden

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by me

Bingo fills: @buckybarnesbingo U4 - Tower

@stuckybingo I1 - Drinking Games

@steverogersbingo E5 - Suck and Blow Game

Join my tag list here

Master list | BBB Master list | Stucky Bingo Master List | SRB Master list

Relationships: Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 2.5k

CW: Alcohol consumption, Asgardian Mead, Teasing, Flirting, Avengers as Family, Drinking games, Pining, Angst, Second First Kiss, Getting back together.

“Ho, my brothers…and sister… I am here and the festivities can begin!”

Saturday night in the Avengers Tower, and Thor had just arrived for one of his sporadic visits.

Tony met him, arms wide and a grin plastered to his face, and the Asgardian Prince caught him in a bear hug, lifting off the floor.

“You’re here, Point Break. I thought you were going to disappoint us.”

“Never, my friend. I was just delayed trying to find some of this.”

With a flourish he pulled a bottle from his shoulder bag, eliciting a cheer from everyone except Steve, who groaned, and Bucky who looked confused.

“What is that?” Bucky asked. Thor walked over and clapped him on the shoulder before passing him the bottle.

“This, James, is a bottle of the finest Asgardian Mead. It is stronger than your Midgardian drinks and with it, we’ve previously managed to get the good Captain to 'cut loose'.”

Bucky snorted. “Stevie, drunk? I haven’t seen that since 1943. You think it will work on me too?”

“Assuredly,” Thor confirmed. “I have no doubt that you will feel the effects as much as the good Captain.”

Steve walked over, a serious look to his face. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Buck. No-one has to drink.”

Bucky pulled the stopper from the top of the bottle with a pop and gave the amber liquid a sniff. “Woah! And I know that, Steve. But I do want to. It’ll be fun.” With that, Bucky took a swig, shuddering as the alcohol heated him from the inside. He turned to Thor. “That is good shit. Let’s round up the others. We should play some games.”

Steve watched him walk off across the room with Thor and couldn’t help the small twinge of jealousy at how close the two were standing together. Bucky’s recovery was going well. Excellent in fact. But he still had some gaps in his memory and they’d been told they could come back at any time or never. A brain injury such as what Bucky had sustained was unprecedented and the doctors and specialists were uncertain about what could happen. All they knew was that they couldn’t push it. All of which meant that Steve felt as though he was in purgatory.

Because it appeared that Bucky had no memories of them. Together. Of them curled up in bed during a Brooklyn winter finding ways to keep warm. Of the furtive moments together in the forests of Europe. Steve remembered every stolen moment, every quiet intimacy and held them protected in his heart, hoping every day that Bucky would remember them too. He was happy that Bucky was free. Happy that he was recovering and making friends and adapting to life in a new century - and, he thought, doing that much better than he had - but he was sad too. Sad that their relationship was more like that of brothers. Like the best friends the history books painted them as. But there was nothing he could do to change that. Either Bucky would remember and they’d have the chance to pick up where they left off, or he wouldn’t and Steve would just have to live with being the best friend he could be.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted across the room, pulling Steve out of his head. “Get your ass over here. Sam’s got a game for us to play.”

Steve squashed the urge to roll his eyes. This was no doubt going to descend into complete chaos, and he didn’t know if he was in quite the right mood for it. But he felt he owed it to Bucky to at least try. Joining the circle of his friends, some sitting on sofas and some on beanbags, Steve found himself a place next to Bucky. Bucky gave him a warm smile and Steve was struck with the bittersweet urge to kiss him knowing that he couldn’t.

“So, as our fossils and our out of towner here,” said Sam, gesticulating to Bucky, Steve and Thor, “never got to have the college experience, or play pretend at the college experience,” he nodded at Nat, “we’re gonna have some good old drinking games. First up is ‘Never have I ever. The rules are simple. We all take it in turns to say something that we’ve never done, but if someone else has done that thing, they have to take a drink. I’ll start. Never have I ever destroyed three city blocks.”

Tony and Bruce groaned and both took a swig of the beers they were holding. Nat was next.

“Never have I ever purposefully trolled someone by shouting ‘On my left.’” She smiled slyly.

“Hey, that was one time,” grumbled Sam before taking a mouthful of his drink. “And someone pass Steve the mead.”

Thor obliged, passing the bottle and Steve took it warily, putting it to his lips and having the smallest sip he thought he could get away with.

“Okay,” Tony announced. “My turn. Never have I ever stolen something.” He took a big drink of his beer and Bucky furrowed his brows.

“I thought we were supposed to say something we hadn’t done.”

“Only if you don’t want to drink, Buckaroo,” Tony replied with a wink. “And now I think everyone here needs to drink, because not one of you, not even Cap, is as pure as the driven snow.”

“It’s called borrowing Tony,” Steve snarked back.

“Only if you actually return it. Drink. You too, Legolas. I don’t think there’s enough booze in this place to account for you and Romanoff.” Everyone took their drinks, Steve, Thor and Bucky passing the Asgardian liquor and Clint and Nat clinking their bottles together before they did so.

The game continued around the circle with some general statements - Never have I ever failed a maths test, Clint, Sam and Thor drinking - and some more pointed statements - Never have I ever almost ended the world by creating a robotic child, which Steve was very proud of - and the mood was mellow. Steve was even starting to relax and enjoy himself. And then Thor happened.

“Never have I ever had a crush on a comrade in arms.” Tony, Bruce and Sam knocked back their drinks straight away, and Steve… Well, Steve could have lied. He could have sat there innocently, except he faltered. He started to reach for the mead but then stopped, drawing everyone’s attention to him. Bucky looked at him, head cocked and Nat just raised one defined eyebrow. With nothing else for it, Steve resumed his move towards the only alcohol that could affect him and poured himself a healthy measure.

“Aaawww, Capsicle,” Tony drawled, “I didn’t know you cared.” Steve just glared at him and the billionaire just chuckled. “But really, who hasn’t had a little crush on Nat at some point or another. You’re only human.”

Steve could feel the blood rushing to his face, but there was also no way he was going to correct Tony’s assumption. Nat continued to observe him for a heartbeat more and he gave her a wan smile.

“Okay guys,” she said. “Time for a new game. I need a pack of cards, or rather just one from a pack. It’s time to Suck and Blow.”

Tony started to laugh raucously before standing up and going over to one of the many sideboards and rifling through the drawers. “This is going to be so good.”

Steve was confused, and a glance at Bucky showed he was the same, but luckily it was Thor or voiced the question.

“Pray tell, Lady Widow. What is this game of sucking and blowing? I do not believe it can possibly be what it sounds like.”

At the moment, Tony returned to the group and passed a card - the Joker, or course - to Nat.

“So,” she explained, “I will put the card to my lips and suck it to hold it in place. I then move towards the person next to me and when the card touches their lips they suck and I blow to transfer it. They then pass it along to the next person. If you let it drop you both drink. Easy. Like this…”

Nat put the Joker to her lips and held it there with suction, leaning towards Clint and passing it over as if it were nothing. Clint passed it to Sam, who giggled a bit before managing to take it and Clint high-fived Nat.

“Do I have to?” Bruce questioned and the card fell from Sam’s mouth as he ran out of breath.

“Dude!” Sam exclaimed. “What the hell?” and he took a drink. Bruce followed, looking chagrined, and then Sam put the card to his lips again and passed it over. Bruce turned and that’s when he realised he was facing Tony, who had a mischievous glint in his eye. Bruce tried to pass him the card, but it was obvious that Tony ‘forgot’ to suck. The card fell down between them and Tony cupped Bruce’s face, planting an over the top kiss on the scientist’s lips. Clint spat out his drink, Thor laughed out loud and even Bucky’s lips twitched in amusement.

Tony drew back, peering at Bruce as if he were an experiment gone awry. “Hhmm, no Hulk. I’d thought for sure he’d have wanted a piece of that action. Oh well.” He shrugged and took a drink.

Bruce glared as he tipped back his bottle, but he then put the card to his lips and effortlessly passed it to Thor, who passed it onto Bucky with an amused glint in his eye. The Bucky turned towards Steve and Steve? Steve couldn’t breathe. All he could see was Bucky’s blue-grey eyes getting closer and closer. The card touched his lips, Bucky blew and Steve forgot to suck.

The card fell away and their lips brushed together.

Steve felt as though he was in one of those cheesy romance movies Tony had made him watch, where the main couple kiss and there’s fireworks and bird singing, because Bucky’s lips felt the same as they always had, and his heart was thudding in his chest, and - oh shit! - he should pull away, he’s not supposed to keep kissing Bucky who doesn’t remember them, and…

Suddenly Bucky was gone. He ripped his lips from Steve’s, stood and bolted from the communal room. Steve knew the others were staring, wondering what on earth had just happened, but he didn’t care about them, Bucky was his priority.

He scrambled to his feet. “Buck! Wait!” he called and then followed Bucky out of the room.

“Well,” said Tony. “That was unexpected.”

Nat turned and cocked her head. “Was it?”

“Buck, please can I come in? I’m sorry.”

Steve rested his head against the door to Bucky’s room, feeling like the worst friend in the world. He’d violated Bucky’s trust at best, and disgusted and scared him at worst.

He hadn’t been surprised to find the door to Bucky’s room, inside their shared apartment, shut. Steve didn’t know if it was locked or not, but he wasn’t going to step in uninvited. However, he couldn’t walk away either, so with his heart beating harshly in his chest and his breath ragged in his lungs, Steve turned and slid down the closed door, head in his hands as he tried to work out what to do - how to make this right.

Steve had no idea how long he sat there, mumbling to himself as he tried to work through the answer in his head. But he was so caught up in his thoughts he was oblivious to movement from within Bucky’s room, until he was falling backwards, staring up at Bucky’s upside down face. He blushed.

“Umm, hey there, Buck.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, which Steve took as a good sign. “Get up, punk.”

“Uh, yeah.” Steve pushed himself up, with far less elegance than he was capable of, and faced Bucky properly. Without a word Bucky walked back into his room, but he left the door open, so Steve followed him in.

Bucky was standing with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall and Steve stopped a few paces away, feeling awkward and full of anxiety. Bucky stared at him.

“Bucky, I…”

“Shh.”

Steve’s mouth snapped shut as Bucky’s command, and he began to twist his hands together. Bucky continued to observe him and when he pushed away from the wall and started to walk around him, Steve started to feel like a bug pinned to a board. He felt as though there was an electrical current running through him, making him vibrate with fear. Or was it need? Bucky was so close to him right now, his eyes hooded and dark as he just looked at Steve.

“We used to do that all the time, didn’t we?”

“Huh?” Bucky’s question caught him off-guard.

“Kiss. We used to kiss all the time. Back, before. When you were small. But also when you were big, like this.” Bucky stopped in front of Steve, close, but still guarded.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve croaked. “We did.”

“And more than kissing too.” A statement, not a question.

Steve coughed, nervously. “Yeah, that too.”

“But we haven’t done since I came here. Since you found me. Why?”

Steve shuffled and shook his arms out, unsure what to do with his hands.

“Well, because you couldn’t remember it. It wouldn’t have been right. And I thought you might not want to, you know. You’re different now. I’m different now. We’ve both been through a lot and it would be understandable if feelings changed. And I didn’t want to put you under any pressure, because you mean a lot to me…”

“Steve…” Bucky interrupted his rambling. “Shut up.”

In the next second Bucky closed the distance between them, his mismatched hands coming up to cup Steve’s face, and then pressed their lips together. Instinctively, Steve’s hands came up to grip the front of Bucky’s shirt, leaning into a kiss that was altogether more purposeful than their accidental brushing of lips earlier. When Bucky ended it, all too soon for Steve’s liking, his smokey eyes were alight with amusement.

“I don’t remember it all, but I do remember the face you’re making now. It’s like you’re drunk, and I have to say, it’s still pretty cute.”

Heat flooded Steve’s face once more. “Jerk,” he muttered under his breath.

“I still wanna take things slow,” Bucky added, “but I think I might still like kissing you, Stevie.”

Steve nodded vigorously. “Absolutely, Buck. Happy to be led by you. And it’s okay if you wanna change your mind…”

Bucky interrupted him once again. “Shut up and kiss me again, punk.”

With a request like that, how could Steve refuse?

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @crayongirl-linz, @mrs-illyrian-baby, @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky

#stucky #stucky fanfiction #steve rogers x bucky #buckybarnesbingo2023 #stucky bingo #stever rogers bingo

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Best Part of the Day

Prompt Day 17: Platonic Stobin | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: S4, Platonic Stobin, Ride to School, Pre-Steddie

Steve honks the horn, and sips from his mug of coffee. It won't fit in his cup holder, so he has to rest it on his thigh. He honks again, and a minute later Robin rushes out of the front door of her house, towards his waiting car.

Arms flailing, she screams, "Hold on, I'm coming!"

It makes Steve chuckle. She's the one about to be late to school, not him. He's graduated. Family Video doesn't open for another two plus hours. He's got plenty of time to kill this morning, but he knows she doesn't want the tardy. He knows her like the back of his hand. The front of his hand?

His whole hand. For sure.

Robin fumbles with the trunk, and he watches as she unlocks it. It was just easier to give her the damn spare key instead of him having to get out every morning and unlock it.

She finally piles into the front seat, with a huff, "What are we waiting for? You're gonna make me late, dingus!"

He rolls his eyes.

"Good morning to you, too," he says, handing her his mug of coffee. He might as well. She's gonna take it from him, sooner or later. She always does. He opens the console, and hands her the bagel that he's wrapped in a paper towel, before leaning to look back over his shoulder, reversing them back onto the street.

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, and she's alternating between drinking coffee, and eating the bagel. Getting sesame seeds all over the floor mat. He'll have to stop by the car wash and vacuum it after he drops her off.

"There's an away game tonight," she says, done with the bagel, and now holding his coffee in one hand, putting her mascara on with the other. He watches, not sure how she's doing it one-handed.

"Yeah, the kids have told me a thousand times, like I've somehow suddenly forgotten how a basketball schedule works since graduating," Steve says, annoyed.

"I have to ride the activity bus to the game, but if you can forge me a note again, I'll ride home with you. Dibs on the front seat," she says.

Steve laughs. He's been roped into taking Dustin, Mike and Max, and Dustin's gonna hate that she's called dibs, but fair is fair. Dustin can have the front seat on the way to Hartford City.

They head down the highway, and Robin tells him about her morning. He nods, listens, and analyzes more about Vickie than he ever imagined possible. It's a ritual at this point. She pines. He gives advice she won't take.

They argue. They banter.

Rinse, repeat.

Day after day, morning after morning.

But it's often the best part of his day.

He's trying to explain exactly why she should just go for it, when Steve catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and realizes they're about to be broadsided by a van, that as far as Steve can tell, has no driver.

Steve slams on the brakes, stopping short as the van whips onto the highway from a side road, cutting him off. The driver's head just barely popping into view, mere seconds before he needed to make the turn.

"Watch it, asshole!" Steve screams, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

"Uh, Steve?" Robin says, and he turns to look at her, and she's wearing the coffee. Brown splotches staining her white blouse, running all over his leather seats.

"Are you hurt? Did you get burned?" he asks, patting her arm down, like that'll help.

"Well, it doesn't feel great! But I think I'll live," she says. "But I don't have time to go back home and change, I'm going to be so late. Detention for me, yay," she says sarcastically.

"Take off your shirt," Steve says, and she cuts him a look, "Not like that, Jesus, Robin. I don't want to see your boobies."

He snaps his fingers, and gives her the hurry up motion.

So, she does, and he takes off his shirt, too, and stretches his hand out to offer it to her. She takes it, and slips it over her head. It's too big, but she says she doesn't care, because that's the style, apparently.

"Thanks, dingus," she says, and he slides his arms back through the holes of his vest. No shirt underneath. He looks ridiculous.

At the school, they both get out, and Robin digs out her notepad, and turns around. Steve lays the notebook on her back, and writes the note, forging Mrs. Buckley's signature to get Robin off the activity bus on the way home.

"There, done," he says, swatting her on the back with the notebook, and she takes it and rushes towards the building, turning back towards him.

"Thanks, Steve! See you tonight!" she yells and then she turns and runs away from the parking lot faster.

"Yeah, yeah," he mutters, but he smiles as she goes.

"Nice fashion statement, Harrington," Eddie Munson interrupts, as he climbs out of the same goddamn van that caused this whole problem in the first place. He should have known Eddie "The Freak" Munson was involved.

Steve looks down at his bare chest.

"Well, I had a shirt until you cut us off and Robin spilled coffee all over herself," Steve snaps.

"I don't know what you're talking about, that doesn't sound like me at all. I'm a great driver," Eddie says, digging around and coming up with a black, metal lunchbox.

His drugs. Steve knows all about Eddie, and his dealing business.

"Yeah, sure you are," Steve snips, turning to get into the driver's seat. He has no interest in engaging with Eddie Munson at ten 'til eight in the morning. No goddamn way.

"Nice to see you, King Steve," Eddie snarks, walking awfully slowly towards the school for someone that nearly ran them off the road to get here today.

What a dickhead.

Notes: Eddie definitely saw Steve in that no-shirt/vest combo and when presented with the opportunity to see it again in the Upside Down, and in his own vest no less, he took it, lol.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #platonic stobin #stobin ficlet #steve and robin #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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BUT IM A CHEERLEADER. + ROBIN BUCKLEY ᵒⁿᵉ

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? [ ❥ ] synopsis. Robin is having a hard time managing her emotions as she hides her unclear sexual orientation and harbors a crush on a girl who also happens to have an eye for Robin's obnoxious coworkerSteve Harrington. author's note. purely inspired by this song right here, i need to see more wlw fanfic for Robin man she deserves the best!

[ ❥ ] pairing. robin buckley x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 5.9k

[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. wlw, afab reader, cheerleader!reader, friends to lovers, one sided pining, homophobia, homophobic slurs, coming out, lesbians YAY!, heavy angst, Robin panicking, brotp, slow burn, not show canon, drunk confessions, kissing, insecurities, hurt/comfort, self doubt, mentions of religion, slight steve x reader, grammarly as my beta reader

part one | part two | part three

The strange friendship between you and Robin emerged before everyone's eyes, much like a black mole cuddling inside the wallpaper of wooden walls.

When your preppy friends questioned you about the annoying redhead who followed you around like a lost puppy, you would always respond, "I don't know, she's just really chill," as if Robin had just magically appeared in your life.

Being on the cheer team did make you a majorly more popular person in comparison to Robin.

At Hawkins High School, being on the cheer team elevated your popularity significantly compared to Robin, whose involvement in the school band placed her at the bottom of the popularity scale.

Everyone in your class knew you and loved your perfect energetic and caring personality, or at least knew of you and still loved how you weren't as stuck up as the other girls on the cheer team acted.

Robin, on the other hand, didn't really bother to speak to anyone she didn't need to and had about as many friends as she could count on her fingers.

What Robin loved the most was how few people in the school could even recall her name. Her laid-back and approachable demeanor demonstrated how much she cherished her solitude, but it also occasionally caused issues when she wanted to speak with you in class.

Robin thought it was just out of sympathy when you would occasionally just hang out with her out of the blue.

At least that's what she heard your friends whispering to you about, how they thought it was so odd seeing you pair together. It was almost like God gave Robin a blessing on the day you sprained your ankle during practice.

Sure, she felt really bad that you had to hobble around with your foot in a cast all day, but it meant more time that you two spent together after school.

Robin didn't have to worry about you ducking away from conversations just because the cheer team was trying to burn a hole in the back of her head, or guys that would shoulder slam her away in the halls just so they could slide in next to you and make conversation.

The cycle of misery went on forever, but there you both were.

You sat in the gymnasium of the school, next to your best friend Robin, watching the pep rally unfold in front of you, trying to look as interested as you could.

You had to admit that it was strange to be on the opposite side of the gym from the routine you had worked so hard to perfect while not wearing your uniform.

Your chin was resting on the palm of your hand, and your lips were pursed.

You learned that, from the other side, the assemblies were always the same dull tactics used by staff and students to coax you into displaying school spirit, no matter how fancy or exciting they tried to make them.

You secretly also showed no interest in getting everyone pumped up in the morning to announce the senior's final basketball game of the season because your doctor had strictly instructed you not to put any strain on your foot until the end of the season.

You tried not to pout too much considering that most of your friends were still perfectly mobil on the team. Your eyes were glued to the current team captain, Steve Harrington, whom you had found was easy on the eyes.

Robin scoffed from beside you, jolting you out of the trance you'd fallen into as you stared in confusion at your best friend.

"Could you possibly gawk at him any harder?" How could you forget that Steve Harrington was practically another one of Robin's many archenemies, or at least according to your understanding, the two have grown a little closer after initially being unaware of one another and now occasionally quarreling in the hallways.

The moment the boy was employed to work at her job for the start of the summer, Chips-Ahoy, Robin would rant to you on break about how insufferable it was to work alongside the himbo.

Not that you were complaining much, going to the ice cream shop as often as you could with your usual group of friends just to say hello to the tall brunette.

If there was one good thing about Steve working at Chips-Ahoy, it was that he would seem to flirt with any remotely attractive girl that walked through the doors of the ice cream parlor (much to Robin's dismay, but she found joy in marking it every time he would take a swing and miss).

Sure, he'd admittedly become a little shallow since his break-up with Nancy, but that didn't stop you from drooling over the male on the other side of the store.

Much to Robin's annoyance, she was convinced that you would come by more often just to flirt with him than talk to her.

"Yes I could, but for the consideration of the people around me, I'd prefer to be more classy." As you replied with a fake posh accent, Robin made a noise of disgust.

The pep rally ended as everyone stood up from the bleachers, hurriedly exiting the gym to go to their next hour's classes.

You two followed suit, Robin’s arm swinging over your shoulder, not thinking much of the gesture since it was normal for you two to be pretty touchy, having been best friends for a handful of years.

"If they’re all douchebags, why are they all so fucking hot?" You muttered towards your friend, your attention too strung up on watching the male basketball team strut back to the locker rooms on the other side of the gym to notice Robin's scowl of annoyance.

She hated it when you would go on your boy-crazed rants, wanting to do anything else but talk about boys with you.

Just the mere thought of you dating someone made her stomach drop. "Oh shit, he’s actually fucking coming over here. Act natural."

You don't think much of shrugging Robin's arm away from your shoulder, Robin’s face contorting into an annoyed grimace as Steve indeed strides towards you both.

His empty-headed smile beamed at you two as his natural charm worked well on you and it immediately reflected off of Robin.

"What do you want, Harrington?" Robin sneered at him, crossing her arms against her chest as you turned to tilt your head, giving your friend a pointed look before turning your head and giving a more apologetic one to Steve.

"Woah, Woah, no need for the hostile Robin, I come in peace," Steve teased, even laughing at his own joke as his hands were raised in the air in a gesture of defeat.

You giggled like you actually found it funny yourself. Robin watched the entire encounter unfold as it seemed like she was the only one that had known the truth.

Robin tried not to cringe as Steve dragged you into a rather mediocre conversation mixed with a bit of corny flirting. When you spoke, Robin tried not to cringe as his eyes were trailing up your body when you spoke.

Robin was convinced by the way you twirled the one curl that stuck out by your ear.

Robin hopes that one day everything will stop hurting. The ache in her chest saw you throw yourself so openly at Steve.

The unrequited feelings that left her clenching her pencil at the end of the day just to hold back her tears, not wanting to let you hear her cry as you sat unaware on the other line of the phone call, continuing to ramble unbothered about your many boy crushes.

It all just hurt so fucking much. Robin blamed no one else but herself for making everything just so complicated. "Hey Harrington," the redhead interrupted, delaying her greeting on purpose.

Whatever joke Steve was making you fake giggle about, your attention came with a knowing glare as you tilted your head.

Robin would tell you with her entire chest that she was jealous, and would even scream it out at the top of her lungs if it meant never seeing you smile at Steve ever again.

"Hi, Robin?" Steven hesitated before glancing back at you, making a face as he continued to have a full blown conversation, her anger bubbling to the brim as Robin crossed her arms and groaned.

Getting tired of watching you converse, the redhead opted to want to do literally anything else but watch your poor excuse of flirting, side stepping just a few steps away just as Steven linked his hand over Robin’s shoulder, pulling her back by the shoulder of her jacket, parting from the conversation as someone from his team called out for him.

Leaving you and Robin alone once again, you turned to face her, a goofy smile curling at your lips.

Robin, recognizing the doped look, already knew what the next words that were bound to come from your mouth were: you were about to say something about Steve.

"God, he’s just so—ugh! You know? " The excitement in your tone and the stretch of your gestures made Robin roll her eyes, turning promptly on her heels and walking away from you as you tailed right behind her.

"Oh, come on, Robin, can't you just be happy for me?" You acknowledge your kind of confusing stance in the social pyramid of school, not really being liked enough by the girls that were labeled as popular enough to consider yourself up there with them all.

But you were known enough for being on the cheer team. A naturally liked person, that's what you were, who never failed to make even the grumpiest of people laugh on the roughest of days.

"Steve Harrington and the other jerks on the basketball team don't actually care. People like him would toy with any girl if it meant getting whatever they want." Robin answered promptly, but her tone soured as she shoved her way through the halls.

"Well, Billy Hargrove actually went out of his way to talk to me once," you informed, making Robin halt her steps, almost smacking against her back as she comes to a halt, turning around to sort of scan you before shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"How... fun," she murmured, and you couldn't help but laugh because you loved keeping her guessing.

"I mean, yeah, it was pretty fun, considering we kind of hooked up afterward." The moment that the words slipped from your tongue, Robin grimaced.

Her fingers clenched into a tight fist in her pockets, her eyes glancing up at the ceiling. She had prayed that whatever God was listening to her pleads, would just strike every douchebag you had ever even taken an interest in dead right where they had stood.

Robin detested how emotionally dependent she was on you. How could she be affected by your words in such a way and in such a short amount of time that she would be left crumbling to her feet, it hurt her so fucking bad.

"How stellar." She replied with a breath, hardly even wanting to look at you. She avoided the embarrassment of continuing the conversation just as Robin was about to flee by waiting until the school bell rang.

"Robin?" you called out to her. "My place later?" Robin sighed as she masked her discomfort with the passing situation. Robin gave you a tight smile.

"Maybe next time, I got an early shift today." Robin didn't need to turn back to know you were watching her walk away. Your features were riddled with confusion, knowing Robin was never the type to pass up the opportunity to hang with you.

She was also not the type to pick up any shifts that she didn't want to. You knew something was wrong with her, just not being able to figure out what was going on in her head.

As the summer progressed to the last weeks of school, your ever growing crush on Steve Harrington still grew. Robin hated that you two seemed to actually be getting along so well, spending time with each other without her presence.

You honestly tried to get rid of the feelings you had for Steve, accepting the many time's other boys from your school would ask you to, loving the free food and attention they would give you.

For the betterment of her mental health, Robin tried to ignore Steven to the best of her abilities.

Being her coworker in all, she would make it her daily task to one up him everywhere that she possibly could, even keeping score of his defeat and seeing his embarrassment written in expo marker.

Robin even admitted to making do with her emotions, smothering the heart shattering, painful, reaction she would get watching you fall victim to another date in the corner of the ice cream shop.

Always bringing the sad, boring guys wrapped around your finger to the business after whatever date activity they had asked you on in hopes that seeing Steve’s face and getting free ice cream would help the growing disappointment of being on a date with guys who had the same personalities as a doorknob.

"Did you like the movie at least?" The guy was some geek with a face covered in freckles and big bold brown glasses that you had agreed to watch some sci-fi movie with in favor of him helping you raise your grade in math to a comfortable passing grade.

You had completely forgotten his name and tried throughout the entire date to coax him into reminding you, but the mission hated failed as you came near the end of the evening.

Spooning his cup of ice cream as you tried to look just a little bit interested in whatever he was saying, your eyes not being able to help themselves from glancing over at Robin making faces at you from behind the counter.

"Uh yeah, I loved it when that one guy did that one thing with the sword." No one guy was holding a sword; you didn't want to admit that you had fallen asleep during most of the film.

The freckled kid was too busy sweating over your hand accidentally resting on his lap to even notice that your eyes were closed for most of it.

Eating the rest of your ice cream in a very awkward silence. You could tell he wanted to talk at some point, his mouth opening just to close straight after. You pretended to not take notice of it, reaching to scratch behind your ear.

Robin took it as an escape signal, taking notice that it was a nervous tick that you would do whenever you felt uncomfortable on a date.

A thing that Robin had made a habit of catching since the day she caught some jerk trying to grope you under the table on one of your many pity dates.

She was leaning against the counter when she saw you do the signal and immediately shot straight up. As she advances directly toward you while grinning at her unanticipated new victim, she slams her hands against the table.

Robin was a pro at this point at masking her jealousy with anger saracism, making the kid jump as his eyes widened as you tried to cover your smile with your ice cream.

"Dude, how much of a freak do you have to be to take a chick to see a boring robot movie?" Her insults were already rolling off her tongue as if they were second nature.

If most of the comments weren't so genuine, you would commend your friend for being so witty.

You would agree to the part where she would save you, but I would never agree to the part where she would criticize every guy you had ever dated, almost giving the impression that you needed her approval for the "perfect boyfriend."

"What were you expecting to swap spit or pretend to not touch yourself until the end credits?" Robin leaned into the kid's personal space, all in his face as the question made him turn a light shade of pink, words that he couldn't quite string together, fumbling from his mouth.

"Robin!" You chided, and the redhead snorted a laugh as he ducked his head in shame.

The boy, shooting up from his chair and rushing out of the shop, murmuring something about how much of a bitch you were, Robin, took his seat swiftly and even finished his leftover ice cream with a sly grin.

"You could have gone a little easier on him, Rod." You offered to give your friend a stern look.

"Oh come on, his parents have probably said worse. I kneel to no man." Robin winked, licking the ice cream from her lips and leaning her elbows on top of the table.

"You would think after having to be saved from so many sleazebags, you would thank me and just stop dating all together." Robin scoffed, pointing her spoon directly in your face and swatting the plastic away with a dramatic sigh.

"You would think after being single for so many years, you would finally get tired of hating other people's happiness." You replied, rolling your eyes.

"I’m happy when you're happy." Her honest answer caught you a bit off guard, a moment of silence splitting in between you two. Robin’s face is hard to read.

Shoving the rest of the ice cream down her throat before slamming the paper cup on the table with a thud and a big childlike smile.

"Fine, then what’s your type?"

"My…type?" Robin asked at a loss, "Why does that even matter?" She was now more amused than confused, chirping with interest in the direction your question was heading.

"You said you’re happy when I’m happy, so, one day you're gonna grow up and get tired of the whole ‘boys are gross’ bullshit," you asked more cautiously, biting down on what was left of your ice cream cone. "And I'm gonna be there to set you up with someone that could actually tolerate your potty mouth."

"Oh, you love my mouth!" Robin snorted a little louder than you were comfortable with in public, glancing around to make sure no one was eyeing you weirdly before lightly smacking her arm.

"I'm serious, Robin—" She groaned louder, shaking her head and slouching her shoulders, the conversation deadening.

"Jesus Christ, fine if you care so freaking much. My type is dense cheerleaders that I’ve been friends with for years and don't even like me back."

"Oh, and one more thing that just puts the fucking cherry on the cake. She has to pin after literally the one guy that I despise with my entire being as if liking her isn't as complicated as it can get." She added harshly.

You weren't that inept piecing everything together as Robin stormed away from the table, frozen. Did Robin really just confess and come out to you in the same breath?

It was an awkward weekend spent away from Robin, settled in your house, occasionally finding yourself ready to dial her number into your phone.

only to convince yourself that it would be better to give her time to simmer whatever argument you had left unresolved, hoping that everything would be resolved before the start of the school day.

Your worries were answered the following school day when Robin dodged every opportunity that came your way.

It didn’t help that the one time you were finally able to corner her in the cafeteria was the time that Steve pulled you into a conversation, and Robin seized the window of opportunity to run away without a word being spoken.

The current circumstance reveals that Robin's rambling confession was not the result of some sick joke concocted in her cryptic, disorganized mind but rather came from her heart.

In order to maintain your composure, you avoided thinking about it much. All you wanted was for your best friend to come back.

It was a weird week of Robin avoiding you, realizing that most of your free time that you spent together was a huge chunk of your life inside and outside of school.

Having to pretend that you hadn’t seen her get on the bus, being embarrassed to keep waving in hopes that she would stop the whole silent treatment front and finally speak to you.

You never realized how big of a part Robin had played in your life. The ginger always found some way to wiggle her way into your daily routine.

It was odd having to replace her big personality with someone like Steve Harrington.

You felt even more guilty seeing her eye the boy whenever he made his way toward you.

Like now, had the girl chosen to sit just a table away from you, slouching as she sat down, slamming her textbooks against the table.

You never would have imagined Robin actually studying; it was strange to catch a glimpse of her bent over the desk, intently concentrating on her work.

She would always need to be reminded to stay on course, or you would have to bribe her in order to get her to stay still for 30 minutes.

You also hadn’t expected to see the fluffy-haired Harrington stride his way into the library, his eyes glancing around the room like it was the first time he had ever been inside of the library.

The moment his eyes latched onto yours, it was like a snap of actions took place. Watching Steve being grabbed away from one of his friends, you gave him a kind wave.

"Hey, shit for brains." The familiar sarcastic, scratchy tone made your brows raise. Robin was standing directly in front of you, blocking you from seeing Steve from where you had sat.

"Oh hey, Rod, what’s up?" You didn’t know what to expect the next words to come from your mouth, your finger used as a bookmark as you straighten your posture, suddenly nervous under the girl's boring stare.

"Can you help me with this assignment? Ms. King is really trying to kill me with the amount of work that she expects me to do in just a day." She asked, her pink lips slanting in a sly nervous smile.

Then you noticed Steve, the teenager waiting by the door for your conversation to end. When you caught his attention, he waved his hand in your direction.

"Uh, I mean, I wish I could, Rod, but I’m kinda supposed to help Steve with his." You remember, gesturing to the boy behind her.

Your smile faded the moment you noticed Steve leaving the library without looking back, his arm swung around Tommy Thompson.

"Maybe we could study together after all? that sounds fun, huh?" Robin didn’t bother to turn her head. Judging by your mood, she knew Steve wasn’t going to walk over anytime soon.

The redhead silently thanked whatever dingus-headed Harrington had done to fumble his chances so quickly. Her eyes only glanced down at the table before staring back at you with a small genuine smile.

"Sounds absolutely perfect." You thought that would settle it all; the agreement would get rid of the awkward position your friendship had wedged itself in. "Steve wouldn't be much help anyway. Doesn't he have that super important basketball thingy coming up that I could care less about but the whole school is talking about?"

"Yeah, he's been pretty stressed about it lately." you admitted, reaching to check over her essay, checking to see the work that she had already completed, and flicking through the answers in your textbook.

"It's kind of hard to hold a conversation when all he talks about is balls." The joke was enough to ride away from any other tension that was resting around you two, coaxing a bubbling laugh from Robin’s lips loud enough to get the librarian to stand from her desk and shoo you two.

"So...are you like, okay?" She asked after a bit of silence, making you glance up at her from your worksheet with your brows lifted, the question sort of coming out of nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you practically fucked your ankle and can’t do the whole pom-pom and miniskirt thing and now Steve is probably chasing after one of your friends." One quality of Robin's personality that you liked was that she didn't like to mince words.

She most certainly wasn't like the other cheerleaders, who would lie right in your face before turning around and whispering something else.

"You're not like... disappointed or envious?" Although you appreciated that Robin would always be honest with you, sometimes it still hurts. You cowered your head and twisted your pencil between your fingers as your lips formed a thin line and pressed together.

Sincerely, you really did miss cheer. You could feel the strain of spending so much time during practice sitting on the benches. It was strange not being able to admit that being an athlete was something that came to you almost naturally.

You honestly replied, "No, not really. Do I need to be?" When you had to juggle so many things at once, you had no idea what was going through your mind.

Should you be disappointed that the only thing that made you happy made you throw up? Do you even have the right to be upset with Steve for talking to other girls? Even so, did everyone think that you two were dating?

Robin watched you puzzled. She stared as if she couldn't quite crack what was brewing inside of your mess of a mind either. "Okay, well if you ever need to vent or like, cry about anything, you know I'm always here—only if you want to talk about it though."

"Oh please, we both know that if anyone started crying within the radius of you, you would jump fences just to get away from them." You teased before returning to your sheet. "Rod, please tell me you know the difference between a verb and an adjective."

"...Yes?" With a wince, she replied. She then looked back at her work, reading the paper as though it were written in a foreign tongue. "At least I think I do."

You sighed and said, "No problem." Stretching your arms upward, you lean back against the chair and rest your elbows on the table. Flipping through your textbooks until you found the page you were looking for, your eyes narrowed at Robin as your face turned into a focused glare.

"Alright, I'm kind of bad at explaining things, so you’re gonna have to bear with me on some of this so we can both hopefully pass." It was a nice but stressful way to bond back with Robin.

The redhead did not make an implied want to bring up her confession, so you respected the elephant in the room, forcing yourself to not bring it up ever again as you thought it was what Robin would have wanted.

Until Robin asked you out on a date, well, it wasn’t really a date, but that way that your friends teased you about it during practice made you feel like it was, "Gonna go scissor with your dyke girlfriend Y/N?" The comment prompted a permanent scowl on your face.

You hurriedly stuffed your clothes into your bag as you hurried out of the locker room since you could no longer take the taunting as amusing as the other girls found it to be.

Robin hadn’t shown any signs of your trip to the small music shop being a date. which only made you more nervous. You saw her cling onto you like she normally did, but for some reason, it just made you feel weirder.

You didn't want to go out and ask if she had thought of it as a date. What if she had said no and you just ended up ruining the moment?

It seemed like Robin could sense your withdrawal, her smile dimming slowly and slowly throughout the day until she could finally sit down with you at the cafe across from the shop, setting her wrapped new cassette player aside as she slid into the booth. You followed suit, glancing out of the window.

"Hey Rod?" you asked, wanting to finally get it off of your chest. "Is this a date?" watching her face turn to a flushed pink, almost blushing the same hue as her red hair. "Uh, I wasn't really planning on it to be unless…"

"...unless?"

"Let's make a bet," Robin had a confident tone to her voice while asking the question, the type of tone that made you want to hold eye contact with her as she continued.

"if this date turns out better than every single one you’ve been on combined, then you have to stop playing matchmaker and let me be single and miserable for as long as I please, and in return, if I lose—which is highly unlikely—than I’ll go on a date with whatever pure smuck you force into liking me."

The bet was agreed to, the afternoon picking up and becoming more eventful as the day continued.

It was a shame you had to admit that you did have a lot of fun hanging out with Robin, and watching her see how many milkshakes it took her until she could get a brain freeze was more entertaining than having some jock grope you in his parent's car.

Since both of you were far from getting your license, walking all the way to the mall for free ice cream was out of the question. Plus, for Robin, it meant having to see Steve, so you both opted for a more local ice cream place.

It was weird to see Robin replaced with some poor guy that you would never really click with at the end of the day. You half expected a Robin clone to appear from behind the counter and walk up to the bench where you two had sat.

Robin’s eyes followed yours, taking a glance inside of the shop, almost like she could read your mind, before turning to you and asking with a giggly tone. "See? Isn't this just so much better when I don't have to swoop in like your knight in shining armor to save you from some guy who just wants to stick their tongue down your throat?"

You sighed. "I never asked you to save me," she reminded him. Your gaze shifted to the cup of ice cream in your hand, mixing it around as it turned into a thick soup texture.

"You didn't," she agreed, kicking her feet under the bench. "But I do it anyway because I know that deep down you truly just want me to.

You know I used to wonder why you would say yes, whether you got enjoyment from just having fun or what you see in them that you…I don't know, it just confused me because I wanted to know why."

"Well, I guess now you know." You answered promptly. "You know what it's all like, and now you can stop with the whole... this thing."

"This?" She repeated her frowned brows and grimaced in confusion as she turned to look at you.

You hesitated to meet her glance, your attention so interested in the cup of melted ice cream. "This...this, gay, thing that you’re going through, maybe it's just because you’ve never been on a date with a guy or romantically interested in one, so you see me go on dates, you can't help but to be curious about what it's all like."

"Wait…what the fuck?" She interrupted, shooting from the bench, dropping her ice cream to the ground, forgotten. You looked up at her with a frightened look. "Rod, you know I—"

"No, just stop—me being...me liking you has nothing to do with literally anything." Her voice was shaky as she spoke.

Robin was straining so hard not to scream at you that her voice was breaking.

She tucked her fist into her sweater's pockets, and you could see the bottom half of the pockets scrunch up as a result of her grasping onto the fabric as if it were preventing an outburst.

“Robin, I didn't mean it like that—”

"Fucking Christ, it's like you're more afraid of admiating that I'm gay than I’m afraid of coming out."

"Well, come on Robin, you can’t be...You’re just confused with everything happening. "

"So you're telling me that my feelings for you, for any girl that I’ve ever liked, have been just this mess of confusion since I was a kid?"

"I…I don't know." You answered honestly, suddenly feeling insecure under Robin’s glare.

"Of course, you have no fucking idea," she scoffed. "Because they're not your fucking emotions, Y/N, you can't just tell me that what I'm doing and feeling is just some weird jealousy thing you're trying to force on me."

The harsh reality of Robin's truth struck you like a ton of bricks. You berated yourself for failing to notice her plight sooner.

The one person in whom you had complete trust was terrified to confide in you the most important secret affecting her life, and yet here you were humiliating her for it all. "Robin—"

"And to think that I thought that hanging out with you would make you realize that—that I'm just in love with you for some reason. I can't explain it all, but I thought that out of everyone, at least you would understand me." You could only watch as the tears streamed down her face, Robing using the sleeve to quickly wipe them away.

"I just wanted one person in my life to genuinely attempt to not make me feel so left out, and when I told you that I liked you, I thought that maybe just a small part of you would at least make an effort to understand and not turn around and act like I'm some fucking hopeless little freak with a disease.”

Robin shouts no longer caring about her volume in the public setting. “God, it's like all you care about is your perfect little life with Steve Harrington and your perfect little friend group. Well, I'm not perfect Y/N, I'm so sorry."

The only thing you could say to defend yourself was, "This isn't about Steve. You are truly at a loss for words as you've never argued with Robin in your life, nor did you anticipate doing so. It is also unusual for you to be yelled at by someone other than an adult authority figure.

She inhaled and winced when she heard Steve's name. "Just stop thinking that you always have to fix everything and do me a huge freaking favor. Some people can never really be fixed." Before you could even process the advice to respond, she charges away from you.

You didn't even realize you were crying until your tears started to cloud your vision, wiping them with the sleeve of your sweater. You didn't fully understand the effort of your words and how much you had hurt Robin.

Since Hawkins was a haven for primarily generic cookie-cutter townies who credited any sense of change to "god's will," so you didn't know much about homosexuality.

Robin reasoned that at least you would stand out from the crowd and were the only person in town she trusted who didn't belong to that ignorant hive mind.

And yet, there you sat with tears streaming down your face, feeling guilty for what you had said to your friend.

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goldustwomun · 2 years

Text

another love (e.m.)

pairing: eddie munson x best friend! fwb! reader

summary: sleeping with your best friend was never a good idea, and though he’s confessed his feelings to you, they were feelings he felt for an entirely different girl.

warnings: about the same warnings as part one; lotsa swearing, some spiciness but not anything explicit; mutual pining; angst angst angst

wc: 3.0k+

note: okay, this was going in a completely different direction but i think i’ve found a middle ground i’m quite happy with. there will be a part three because i have an ending in mind that i couldn’t quite make it to in this part!!! so yay for more eddie <3 hope you all enjoy <3

read part one - part three

It was a kick in the teeth when you realised the rumours were true. Hawkins really was as boring as they all said it was. No wonder, come September, so many of the previous year’s graduating class would hop onto the first bus out of town and never look back.

You’d grown up in Hawkins, it was all you really knew. Sure, it wasn’t the most diverse, open-minded town, but you liked to think that the people you surrounded yourself with were the best of the best. Were worth sticking it out between mall-fires and broken hearts.

But without the familiar company of your friend, your best friend, really, you were starting to question whether you should get onto that same bus, and say goodbye to Hawkins forever. There wasn’t much left for you here anyway.

“Come on! It’ll be a blast, you know it will!”

Nancy had been after you all week to join her and the gang, at least the older half of it, anyway. Steve was having a party that night – booze, pizza, good music and company – the whole shabang. You weren’t sure why, something about finally finding a girl that would ‘stick’ and wanting to show her off to the rest of the town and his friends. You thought he was a dopey idiot, but an idiot you loved, nevertheless.

“For old time’s sake,” Nancy whined once more, breaking past your disgruntled inner monologue to whine in your ear.

You were sick of hearing that. Why would you want to relive the ‘old times’ anyway? When you were too busy pining after a certain someone and he had his heart set on just about anyone but you – the one person he screwed any chance he could. It bugged you to think about it now, months after the two of you had last spoken.

Because you felt stupid – utterly, completely stupid. Like a fool, in fact — that’s what you were, for ever having thought it could have been something more. For ever thinking you could have convinced him to love you like you loved him.

You were stupid, and a fool.

That was the conclusion you’d come to after going over whatever relationship you had with him.

“He won’t be there,” Nancy added, a cheeky grin plastered to her face. You stopped at that, glared at her, hard, but it could have been the sun directly behind her head, as well, that had you squinting so intensely. “I told Steve. He said ‘Munson’s busy anyway’, so he won’t be there.”

You scoffed in reply, dropping to sit and sulk on a bench just outside her house. The two of you were meant to spend the afternoon studying. You’d help Nancy get ready, and then return home to the comfort of your favourite book (it was The Bell Jar, at the moment) and your walkman.

“That’s not why I don’t want to go, Nance,” you relented, arms crossed over your chest as you pouted up at her tiny yet defiant frame. She was determined to convince you, and you’d been on the other end of Nancy’s ‘persuasive suggestions’ (orders, essentially) enough times to know how it’d end. You’d go to that party, probably enjoy yourself, even. But that didn’t mean you weren’t going to make her sweat a little, really feel guilty for forcing you to enjoy yourself.

“I just– It’s like–” you struggled with your words. That was another part of why you felt so completely dimwitted. Ever since you’d given him up, you’d lost the ability to speak your feelings. You knew what you felt, what you wanted to say, and usually you could articulate them with no problems. But it’s like the emotions had escaped you, ran off in search of your heart that you were certain was still in the pocket of the curly-haired metalhead that you’d been avoiding relentlessly.

You sighed. Buried your face in your hands before you eventually got out, “I hate feeling this way, you’ve got to know that. This isn’t me, I’m not this kind of girl. I’m better than this, and I feel like such a weak, naive, damsel-in-distress even thinking about him. I should be over it by now, right?”

Now it was Nancy’s turn to frown. She sat on the bench beside you, resting her hand reassuringly over your own. “You should’ve told me you were still feeling this way, sweets. You know I would’ve helped. And even if I couldn’t do anything, I would’ve listened.”

She shook her head, tugging your hands into her lap so you’d look at her instead of the miscellaneous stain on the concrete beneath your feet. “You’re way too good for him, you’ve got to know that. You’re not naive, or weak, I swear. It’s all him. It has to be, because what idiot would pass on loving you?”

You gave her a watery smile and a quiet sniffle, hugging her tight before standing up with a renewed sense of purpose. It wasn’t gone, the hurt and heartache, but you were determined to not let it get the best of you. Not anymore.

Your days had been devastatingly boring, monotonous – filled with a routine you had reluctantly adopted. You’d avoided your family, friends, even the things you’d loved, because in every situation you put yourself in, you were reminded of how you’d once done it with him. Though you were starting to understand how all of those seniors felt, fleeing from Hawkins the first chance they had, you still had a few more memories to make in the small town you called home.

But you felt a muted twang, somewhere deep in your chest. One you hid from Nancy and the others. It was because those memories you yearned for would be nothing without him — the only person that would make them worth having in the first place.

Steve was shouting something at you, lips moving around unintelligible words as he swung a bottle comically in one hand, while his other was occupied with holding a cute girl’s. You hadn’t missed the way Nancy had rolled her eyes at everything the (admittedly shallow) blonde had said. Robin had been cackling behind her fist when she’d first noticed the exchange before nudging you in the shoulder so you, too, could relish in your friend’s quiet misery.

Steve, however, was having the time of his life.

It wasn’t that he was drunk, but rather, the music was so fucking loud that you couldn’t hear a word he, or anyone else for the matter, was saying. He might have been talking about something to do with the beaming girl next to him, or his hair – he spoke of it often enough for it to be an appropriate guess.

All you knew was that he was talking so animatedly that he probably hadn’t noticed just how little attention you were paying him. Instead, you’d been busy making accidental eye contact with one of the basketball players for the past twenty minutes.

He was attractive enough, in a conventional, Star-Athlete kinda way. He’d noticed you before, and you him – it was hard not to with his broad shoulders and goofy grin that even you’d admit had your heart tripping over itself.

But you’d always pegged him as someone who’d end up married to a cheerleader, living in a sensible townhouse with trimmed hedges and a white picket fence. It wasn’t that you weren’t opposed to picket fences, quite appreciated their daintiness and all that, but you were no prim and perfect cheerleader, and you doubted he’d want to get it on with the school poet.

(Anyway, you’d much rather live your life out in a broken-down trailer than a house with a white picket fence, but that was something you kept to yourself.)

No one really knew it was you who wrote short verses for the paper when Nancy needed something to fill a page. Only Nancy, of course, Steve, Robin, and…

Eddie. Oh, fuck.

He had crept in, unnoticed by the dozens of drunken teens around him, and was stood in between you and Mr Star-Athlete.

The look on his face resembled something between amusement and pain. Though you could have spent longer pinpointing the exact emotion, had done so millions of times prior, you’d already dropped your drink all over yours and your friends’ shoes, eyes wide in fear and looking a lot like a deer (or trembling large rodent) caught in the headlights of a speeding car.

The speeding car in question pushed his way through the thrumming crowd to reach you, but you’d already started backing away from him the moment your cup had hit the floor.

Nancy, confused by your sudden change in mood, followed your line of sight. Her features mimicked your own – shocked, surprised, fully aware she’d never hear the end of it from you. She followed you in your attempted escape towards the stairs that lead to the rest of Steve’s (parent’s) house, shoving you up the first few steps. “Go! Go! Go!”

“I’m fucking going, Nance!”

Jumping over the scattered limbs of couples and wallflowers to make it to the upstairs landing, all the while you could feel his eyes on you, could feel them through six feet of concrete if you really focused, and the thought of him so close after so long only motivated you to move faster. It was only when you found an unoccupied toilet and locked the door shut did you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe.

“Fuck!”

You swore quietly at your reflection, hands gripping the sink tight enough to turn your knuckles white.

But you needed something to ground yourself because you were worried you’d float away if you let go for even a second, not stopping until you hit deep space or burned in the sun. Twisting the tap, you splashed the streaming water onto your face, feeling the burning of your cheeks lessen minutely.

Of course he was here. Of course he’d seen you. Of course you were now trembling in a locked bathroom to escape the truth laid out so blatantly in front of you.

Weeks of progress had been lost in mere seconds, and that same burn of unrequited love – the one you’d convinced yourself had healed over – began to sting once more.

A pounding on the door had torn your stare away from the porcelain of the sink. It’d only been 20 minutes and you reasoned if he had followed you upstairs, he would have knocked earlier.

So you shouted, “Give me a minute!”, gave yourself a quick glance-over in the mirror, and twisted the door handle open.

Only to slam it shut immediately in the face of one Eddie Munson.

He was, as expected, faster than you and shoved the toe of his shoes to jam the door open. You had no choice but to stare at his insistent expression through the crack in the door.

“What the fuck, Eddie!” you scolded, and you weren’t sure who you were more mad at: him, or yourself. He wasn’t a complete idiot, unlike what he let the whole town think – he must’ve known you’d open the door eventually. You’d fallen into his trap easily.

“I just want to talk, please.” There was something about his voice that had you pausing momentarily. You knew the many faces, voices, expressions of Eddie Munson – knew them like the veins on the back of your hand, and his, as well. But this was new – he’d never seemed so ragged, so defeated.

The second of hesitation was all he needed to push his way through the opening, slamming the door shut behind him and locking the door.

It was then that you realised that you had no choice but to listen, because Eddie was about as stubborn as you were and if he wanted you to stay, you’d just have to deal with it.

“Please, hear me out,” he pleaded, eyes searching your face for any sign of reciprocation. He stood a respectful distance away, not wanting to push his luck. He was impressed with himself for even having gotten this far into his plan so he didn’t want to waste the opportunity on whatever lustful urges were lurking in the back of his mind.

“What’s there to talk about, Eddie? We haven’t spoken in weeks, in months, even. We said what we had to bef–”

“You said what you had to, actually. I didn’t get a single word in that day. You know it. You never stayed to listen to what I had to say, how I felt,” he argued, hands waving in suppressed frustration. He was frowning so intensely, you were worried his mouth would get stuck in that downturned position.

And holy shit, you needed to stop staring at his mouth.

“I fucked up, bad. I know I did. I must need glasses or something because you were right there, right in front of me, and I couldn’t see it. You have to know, I wanted you so bad, and I was so fucking afraid that if I let you know it – let you know how I felt, you’d get tired of me.” He took a steadying breath. “Now my lightbulbs are fucked, I’m failing Spanish, again, and I can’t sleep at night because I have the image of you crying— of you crying because of me, on repeat, over and over again.”

He was breathing hard, and you knew, because you knew Eddie, just how difficult it was for him to say what he had. He was never good with words, having always preferred a more hands-on approach to life.

“And I know it’s too late for apologies, but I need you to hear it from me before I leave. I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so—”

“Leave? What do you– where are you going?” you pushed, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t explain right now. I will– don’t give me that look, I will,” he implored. “I just need you to hear this first.”

Your heart couldn’t help but tug at his confession, and you knew if you stayed any longer, you’d give in. Let him mould you into whatever shape his heart desired until you were consumed by Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

But he had to know – you’d been hurting so bad, the scars of your heartache weren’t completely gone. Their rough ridges and bumps were still scattered haphazardly across your body, across your heart, and you knew that letting him back in so quickly would only be a disservice to yourself.

It took everything for Eddie to finally tell you how he felt, but hadn’t you given him just as much, if not more, months earlier?

“I don’t want you to just want me, Eddie. I deserve more than that. You owe me more than that.” The sharp edges of your admission, the truth of it all, cut into him.

He gave in to his urges and stepped closer, invading your space and air and

God, you were going to kiss him.

The rough calluses across his palms brushed against your cheeks as he cradled your face, tipping your chin up so you’d look him in the eye. “I don’t just want you, I need you – I need you so fucking much, it hurts to breathe,” he said, voice hoarse from fear, pushing his forehead against your own so his urgent whispers left imprints against your skin. “I swear it, if you gave me another chance, if you let me in – I’d be everything you deserved. I’d do my best, I swear I would.”

It was exactly what you wanted to hear, so much so that even your dreams – the ones you’d kept secret from everyone come morning – couldn’t live up to this moment.

Your lack of response had left Eddie antsy, he gripped you tighter, closer, harder, brushed his chapped lips against yours once, twice, before slotting his mouth against your own. You melted, completely, wholly. It felt achingly natural to shove your hands into his hair, have him shove his leg between your thighs – the two of you fell into each other with the ease of reciting the alphabet.

It didn’t last long. All the good things in your life seemed to have a time stamp imprinted on them, and you were always a second too late. Eddie broke away from your mouth, the very action seemed to hurt him as he clumsily untangled his hands from you and your hair, and took a cautious step back. “I need to go,” he sighed, sounding both determined yet reluctant.

There was still so much you wanted to say and so much you needed to know. How could he just leave?

“Where are you going? Eddie?”

“I can’t explain, sweetheart, I just need you to trust me.”

“What do you mean ‘trust you’! You’re running off again– how can I fucking trust you?” you questioned, temper rising. It hit you then, a plausible answer and the reason the two of you were even in this situation. “Are you going back to Chrissy? Is that it?”

“What? Fuck– No! No!” He surged forward, grasping your hands in his. He wouldn’t stop glancing at the door, like he expected someone to break through and tackle him to the ground, but he pulled you close to him so you’d hear his words exactly.

“We’re nothing. Chrissy and I are nothing. She only ever spoke to me because she wanted to get high, it was never anything more. I was blinded by fear– I never loved her, sweetheart, you have to know. It’s only ever been you.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as a chill swept across your body. You nodded in understanding. It wasn’t as if you were some perfect paragon of a person. You’d made your fair share of mistakes, and it was always Eddie who had stood by you in the aftermath of it all.

“Okay, I believe you,” you acknowledged, giving his hands a quick, hard squeeze. Eddie leaned down, intending to kiss you one last time, but you dodged his lips at the last second. “I believe you, Ed, but I can’t forgive you – not yet.”

It was his turn to nod. Instead of kissing you where he wanted, where he craved, he pressed his lips to your cheeks and turned towards the door.

“You’re okay, right? You’d tell me if you were in trouble?” There was something oddly final about him; in the way he was speaking and behaving and holding you close. You had no reason to worry, but there was still that impression of a feeling that had you second-guessing what this really was.

“Trouble? Me? You know I’d never, sweetheart,” he teased, offering one of his blinding grins before slipping past the door, leaving you in the silence of the bathroom.

There was a reason for his existential behaviour -- there always was.

What Eddie had failed to mention, and what you and the others would only learn later, was that not only had Chrissy gone to his trailer for a fix that night, but she’d died there, as well, in a crooked, mangled heap.

And Eddie Munson was, for obvious reasons, the police’s number one suspect.

I hope you all enjoyed this next part! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated <3

tag list, as promised:

@julehack @zucchinimalfoy @tomhollandisabae @fujiihime

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x female reader #false god #another love #my writing

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iam93percentstardust · 1 year

Note

It's your birthday month, yay!! Can I ask for stevetony + mutual pining and accidental love confession? <3

Of course you can!!! Ta-da!!

“Look,” Tony says irritably, and Steve stops in his tracks before he turns the corner. He doesn’t know why Tony is so irritable this morning, but he doesn’t like it when Tony sounds like that. It means that he’s upset about something, and he should never be upset. He should only ever be happy.

Steve could make him happy.

“Look,” Tony says again, “all I’m saying is that I think you should stop setting Steve up.”

Steve is suddenly glad he’s still hiding behind the wall. It means that Tony can’t spot him and know that Steve knows he’s talking about him. Which would be a bad thing. Because then Tony would feel awkward. And then he would hide in his workshop. And Steve won’t be able to see him again for another week at the earliest. And that’s a bad thing, because he needs his daily fix of Tony, he really does.

“Oh, I should, should I?” Natasha asks. Steve winces. She sounds amused, which means she knows something that Tony doesn’t—probably that Steve is hiding behind the wall and eavesdropping on their conversation. “And why should I do that?”

Tony splutters. Clearly he had thought that Natasha would just take his word for it, that she wouldn’t push back on this, which Steve could have told him was never going to work. Natasha didn’t do anything unless there was a good reason for it. Still, it’s nice that—

“He’s not happy.”

What?

“What?” Natasha asks.

“He’s not—come on, Nat, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. You? One of the super sneaky spy twins? He never comes home smiling from those dates. He never sets up a second one. He doesn’t even bring any of them home for the night. He’s not happy, so don’t you think you should stop setting him up?”

All of which is true. Steve does hate going on all those dates, and he does wish that Natasha would stop setting him up. For all her talent at reading people, she must be bad at reading him because she keeps setting him up with people that are the exact opposite of what he wants. And sure, what he wants is Tony, but even if Tony hadn’t been in the picture, she would still be landing nowhere near his type. The closest she’s gotten is Sharon, and that had been a quick no after realizing she’s Peggy niece. There’s been more than a couple dates over the last six months that he’s wound up leaving halfway through or calling Tony for backup, and he’s often wished that she would just admit defeat. He just hadn’t realized that Tony had realized that.

The realization sends a small thrill shooting through him. Tony noticed he wasn’t happy. No one else noticed—not even the person who’s doing all this supposedly in the name of making him happy—but Tony did.

Maybe there’s hope for them, after all.

There have been instances—moments, really—ever since Steve’s return to New York where he’s thought that maybe Tony has the same interest in him that he has in Tony. Soft smiles when Steve stops by the workshop with lunch, Steve’s drawings proudly displayed by the bots’ charging stations, late night snacks when neither of them can sleep. And just last week, when Tony was leaning across him to try to steal some of Steve’s popcorn during movie night, there’d been a brief second when Steve though he was going to kiss him, but then Tony had overbalanced and toppled into a sleeping Bruce instead, and then they’d been too busy with a startled Hulk on their hands to think about whatever had just happened.

“Tony,” Natasha says gently. “Don’t you think if Steve was unhappy, he’d tell me about it? This is Steve, we’re talking about. He literally told a Fox News reporter to fuck off on live television. He doesn’t keep quiet about anything he doesn’t like. I’m not forcing him to go on these dates.”

No, Steve concedes, she doesn’t, but back when he was still living in DC, he used to tell her why he didn’t want to go out with someone, and she kept coming up with more people. Eventually, he realized she was doing it because she cares about him and she’s worried that he’s lonely, and he’d sighed and given in. But that doesn’t mean that he’s happy about it.

“What’s this really about?” Natasha continues. “You seem more upset than you’d usually be, and I notice you’re not saying anything about the dates I’ve been setting up for Thor.”

“Because Thor actually likes those. He calls it Midgardian Culture 101, which I think is his way of fucking with us.” Tony lets out a bitter chuckle. “Can’t get a trick past you, huh. When’d you figure it out?”

What? What did she figure out? Steve feels like he’s missing something, something big.

“Not long after we got back. Pepper warned me you’d hide out in your workshop. We’d probably never see you, she said. But there you were, joining us for dinners and brunches and movie nights. It wasn’t hard to figure out there had to be a reason.”

Tony huffs. “And here I thought I was being so good about it, keeping it quiet.”

“If it helps, I don’t think anyone else has figured it out. I’m just trained to look for that.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t help at all, but thanks for trying.” He huffs again, and Steve can just picture him running his hands through his fluffy hair. Steve could do that for him. Steve wants to do that for him, wants to spend hours with Tony’s head in his lap, just carding his fingers through his silky hair over and over and over again. He bet Tony would like that.

“Yeah, I’m in love with him,” Tony says eventually, and Steve freezes. Tony. In love. With someone who isn’t—hang on. They had been talking about Steve originally, and now they were talking about Tony being in love with someone, and if those topics are interrelated, then—

“Steve’s great, Nat, you know? He’s—he’s kind, and he’s a little shit, and yeah, I’d like him to get arrested a little less, but he wouldn’t be Steve if he wasn’t out there joining every protest he runs across. He brings me food and makes sure I sleep, and he’s gorgeous, Nat. Those All-American good looks? I—can you blame me for falling in love with him?”

“Tony—”

“I love you too.”

It takes Steve a second to realize those blurted-out words came from him. It apparently takes Tony and Natasha a second too because the silence seems to stretch on forever before Tony carefully asks, “Steve?”

Well, looks like the gig is up. He comes out from behind the corner, smiling sheepishly. Natasha is looking between the two of them with a delighted look on her face. Tony, on the other hand, looks like a mix of ecstatic and terrified, which mostly just makes him look constipated. They’re standing on opposite sides of the room, and the distance has never before felt like such an impassible gulf. Steve wants to take him in his arms, kiss him senseless, carry him out of the tower and all the way to the closest restaurant where he can prove to him just how perfectly they fit together.

“I think my job here is done,” Natasha declares and strolls away, ignoring Tony’s shouted, “But you didn’t do anything!”

They both stare after her for a minute and then Tony shakes himself and says, “I have no idea how she snuck under the radar at SI for so long. She’s completely useless.” He glances back at Steve, something shy and soft in his eyes. “Did you mean it?”

“Did you?” Steve counters, suddenly nervous.

“Yes,” Tony says immediately before chuckling nervously. “Wow, that sounded really eager if you didn’t actually mean it, and—”

Steve crosses the room in two short strides and kisses him quiet, lingering for several weightless minutes. When he finally pulls away, Tony is staring up at him with dark eyes and parted lips. Steve wants to kiss him again, but he wants to get these words out more.

“I meant it,” he says. A slow smile spreads across Tony’s face.

“Well, then,” Tony says, grinning too hard to kiss him again but managing it anyway. “What do you say about dinner tonight, big guy?”

“I think dinner sounds just about perfect.”

#alle writes #alle answers #stevetony

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joekeeryswife · 2 years

Note

Hello my love!!

No smut but would you mind writing a request with Joe where him and the reader get a little bit drunk at a wrap party and get all touchy feely dancing together and almost kissing and stuff and everyone is like “about time you two!”

Wrap party - J.K

this is such a cute request i can’t! my imagines are so short recently so i am sorry about that but i hope this is okay <3

outfit ^

you had finished filming season 4 of Stranger Things and to say you weren’t proud was an understatement. you had achieved so much in such a small amount of time and you’d achieved everything you’d wanted. you were at the season 4 wrap party, it was filled with people who worked on the series and some other famous people who you had been dying to meet since you started to peruse your acting career. you had grown a bond with every single one of the cast members and by this point you would consider them family. you were extremely close with Maya and Joe. you were casted as Steve’s love interest who he was pining over throughout the whole of season four and that’s how you all became so close.

they were definitely your favourite people on set. you were sat at the bar, drinking cocktails with Joseph, someone else who you were super close with. you were both talking how mad it was how one show could throw you into fame and because it was both your first ‘big’ show, you understood each other a lot. Joseph was also the only one to know that you had a massive crush on Joe. he was the one who made your feelings obvious. you denied it but he knew you too well so you had to tell him. “isn’t it crazy that we just filmed an entire series and now we’re properly famous” you said, the alcohol starting to set in. Joseph nodded his head and spoke up. “it’s weird but it was nice that we became friends, i wouldn’t have anyone to make fun of” he said, you laughed and pushed his shoulder. “have you spoken to Joe yet?” he questioned. you had promised him that you would say something but you didn’t know how.

you shook your head ‘no’ and he sighed. “you need to

tell him. it’s bad keep it in” he said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “i can’t tell him because he doesn’t feel the same way” you said, standing up, walking away to find Maya. you were embarrassed by the situation. you didn’t want to be rejected by him and by staying friends meant you wouldn’t lose him fully. you found Maya sat down, talking to Grace and you sat down next to her. you all were drinking and talking about the new season and family life before you saw Joe walk up to Joseph who was still at the bar.

your heart dropped. you were praying that Joseph wasn’t telling Joe about your feelings. you really wanted to tell him but you were scared. “should we go dance? this is my favourite song” Maya said, sliding out of the booth. you both nodded and followed her to the dance floor. “y/n!” you heard someone shout. you thought you were hallucinating, you turned to where you thought you heard your voice and saw Joe, walking briskly to you. you smiled at him and walked to meet him half way. “Joey, i missed you” you said, pulling him for a hug. this was the first time you’d seen him in three days and you felt at ease in his arms.

“oh i missed you more, you look beautiful” he said, hugging you back. you were both definitely drunk and when you get drunk, things you regret happen. “thank you Joey, you don’t look to bad yourself. wanna come dance with me?” you said, pulling your head out of his chest to look into his eyes. he nodded and took hold of your hand and pulled you to the dance floor. you both danced together and by the way you were dancing, people were most defiantly thinking you were a couple. Joe’s hands were around your waist and your arms were wrapped around his neck. you felt Joe plant a few kisses over your cheeks and forehead before he put his head in your neck, leaving small kisses there as well.

“oh yay! you guys finally told each other” you heard Maya say as she gushed over you two. Joseph came over as well and spoke up. “about time you two!” he shouted, putting a hand on Joe’s back. Joe looked up from your neck, eyes glossed over. you had no idea what they were talking about. it was just two friends, dancing at a wrap party. “what are you guys talking about ‘told each other’. we haven’t told each other anything” Joe said, turning to Maya, a hand still around your waist. “wait you guys haven’t talked about your feelings?” Maya said, eyes wide. you shook your head and turned to Joe. a bright red blush covered your cheeks. the two of them ran away, leaving you and Joe, alone. “well, that’s not how it was supposed to go” Joe said, taking your hand, leading you to the night club entrance.

you both walked outside, a confused expression on your face. “this is not the way i wanted my feelings to come out but i guess it’s too late. i really really like you y/n and i want to be your boyfriend” Joe said, putting both hands on your cheeks. you were shocked. the boy you loved was expressing his feelings to you. “oh Joe. i like you too” you said, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. you’d finally got the boy you’d been dreaming of thanks to your two best friends who didn’t know when to keep their mouths shut, but nevertheless, you were also grateful for them. if it wasn’t for them you wouldn’t be with Joe right now.

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billyharringson · 8 months

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🌟Writer Appreciation🌟

When you get this show off five of your favorite fics and five fics you like from other writers then send this to at least one other person (if you want).

Oh yay I'm gonna talk about a different 5 fics again this time (plus side of being obsessed enough to have written nearly 80 fics). I'm gonna go in no particular order again and this time in going to do a different pairing for each one.

1. Harringrove - my OG pairing and the thing that got me into this fandom. I've written a lot of Harringrove so this is hard but I'm going to go with 'Rules for survival' because I love me some mean Dom Steve and desperate Billy.

2. Mungrove - one of my favourite Mungrove fics and one I'm definitely planning on writing more of is 'it means 'to lie beneath' because adding a little fantasy/supernatural flair is always fun

3. Byergrove - whilst I've written a good deal of Byergrove I feel like I've got to go with 'take a picture, it'll last longer' because I get to emotionally destroy myself and everyone else with each new chapter

4. Harringroveson - okay so anything in the 'babygirlification of Billy Hargrove' series is something that I love but I'm really enjoying writing 'a blue eyed cat and a brown eyed boy' so we're going with that one here

5. Argilly - I've actually only written one straight up Argilly fic and that is 'a list of firsts' but I want to write more of them because they're cute

Now for the bit I'm really excited about because I get to shout out my faves by other. Also again in no particular order here we go:

1. If I swallow anything evil by sure sure on AO3. You have no idea how feral I am for this fic. Sub/Dom universe with secret sub Billy? Mutual pining? Good Dom Steve and poor self deprecating Billy? Yes please to all of this

2. 'a taste of the sun' by deathinasmalltown on AO3. Post starcourt Harringrove in the middle of summer where the boys get too hot and finally give into their desires.

3. 'King of Diamonds' by @shieldofiron was my first introduction into mean Dom Steve and I love, love, love it! The little check-ins, Billy being so desperate and also so scared of how much he wants it. So much yum

4. 'like magnets' by @pondermoniums is like the cutest, softest, sweetest thing ever and also @wrecked-fuse art that goes with it is like *screams*

5. 'To Rich for my Blood' by neveractuallyseenit is like THE Mungrove vampire fic for me. God I can't wait for the next chapter, I am chewing on drywall this thing is so good.

As you can see I'm totally normal about these fics.

#billy hargrove #stranger things #fanfic #steve harrington #harringrove #eddie munson #mungrove

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ashes-writing · 2 years

Text

the power of love pt five | stranger things ; s.harrington

A/N ; This chapter is brought to you by my undying need to insert even more sexual tension into a situation, a fuckload of cherry coke and just me, wanting to write some friendly flirting because I haven't really played with it a whole lot intentionally before. So if you pick up on those vibes when you're reading this, yay! I've done what I set out to do. For the next chapter, I am going to get Dustin in there with these two, I swear it. I just.. I need him to have time with Steve and his sister.

also, v.v bad idea to put 8675309 on your 80's / ST designated playlist because it's a brain worm and whew, does it ever invade...

Anyway, to everyone who takes the time to read this, leaves feedback in any form and esp the comments and tags I've gotten lately. You guys are seriously making my little heart so so so happy and you don't know how much it means / how much it all motivates me to keep at these. Thank you, thank you, thank you and I love you all.

-Ashes

Pairing ; Steve Harrington x Henderson!Fem reader

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; Set in season 2 minus the upside down and it's unholy terrors and all the deaths / other assorted fuckery. If you like stories with heavy sexual tension and friends to lovers dynamic, that is this. This is more of a slice of life fic than the show it's based on bc no otherworldly stuffs. Anyway.. No deaths here. No russians / demothings / upside down.

Tag List ; @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @krys-orion @musichealsscars @hcloangcls @scoobiessnacks @heyaitsklaudia are the only people on my Stranger Things tag list. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger Things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; mentions of the devils lettuce, heaaavy sexual tension, lotsa touching, friendly flirting, a little mutual pining and one real awkward "sex bad don't do it" lecture in the gym before a big high school dance as per the time period.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open -> send me things. Pls. I beg. I'm doing headcanons and fluff or filth alphabet letters. No wrestling though.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

“There is not enough coffee in the world to make me stay awake through this.” your muffled statement has Steve glancing up at the back of your head. Since there was a big formal dance coming up, the school board apparently saw fit to cram all of the juniors and seniors together in the gymnasium for a little impromptu sex ed course. Based solely on why they should abstain, of course.

Steve snickers to himself when your next grumbled remark is along the lines of, “How am I supposed to take any of this shit seriously when you can’t even say vagina or clit without flinching, though? Jesus.. We didn’t need this. This is just plain awkward. Literally no one asked for this."

You rub your temples for a third time and Steve leans forward to whisper against the shell of your ear in concern. “You okay?”

“I slept for shit last night, Harrington. Not to mention, I haven’t seen my reading glasses in weeks now because last time me n’ Val had a midnight smoke sesh, I put ‘em somewhere and now I can’t remember where.” you turn to face him, giving a sheepish little shrug.

Steve bit back a laugh while shaking his head. "You kind of need your glasses, woman, damn it... “Wait. You smoke too?” he asks as it sinks in what you've said about how you lost them in the first place.

You laugh quietly. “Yeah, on occasion. To relax.”

He can see the pain in your eyes when you start to rub your temples again. “Jesus. I wish I’d slowed down enough this morning to take something for this.”

He remembers the little massage you gave him. How they always seem to help him feel better.

And maybe he just wants to make you feel better. Deep down, he knows it’s a lot more than just wanting to make you feel better, but making you feel better is the more important reason he chooses to do what he does next.

“Okay, that’s not just a little migraine. Lay your head in my lap…” Steve coaxes, patting his thigh as he looks at you.

“Steve, no.” you're blushing a little, you can feel it when your cheeks burn hot. "I'll be fine. Just need to nap at some point or something."

“C’mon, the coach isn’t even looking back here, it’ll be fine. Look, “ he flashes you the megawatt grin that you used to swear had absolutely zero effect on you and that you now know that train of thought to be a lie and you sigh. Steve continues, “At least let me try, alright? You look like you’re really in pain.”

“Okay, fiiiine. We better not get in trouble, Harrington.” you mumble as you stretch yourself out on the wooden bleacher, your head resting against Steve Harrington’s thick jean clad thigh. His fingers are rough and clumsy and you wince when he puts entirely too much pressure on the most painful area, he apologizes immediately and you bite your lip, reassuring him you’re okay in a whisper.

He gazes down at you in concern but you coax him to keep going. “Seriously, my migraines are so bad that what I do for you when you get one while we’re studying doesn’t help.. But if you wanna try, by all means..” you settle back down against his leg.

Steve flexes his hands and cracks his knuckles. And just so the teacher and the coach giving this stupid pointless class don’t get suspicious and call attention to what’s going on, Steve does his best to look like he’s paying attention and really listening. You start to relax when Steve’s fingers start to rub gentle circles against your temples. More carefully, this time. As he does it, you can feel yourself starting to get sleepy a little bit and this probably has everything to do with the way Steve starts to alternate massaging your forehead with dragging thick fingers slowly through your hair and over your scalp.

“Mr. Harrington. Ms. Henderson. If what I’m seeing is anything to go by, maybe you two should pay attention.” the elderly English teacher looks absolutely scandalized when she glances in the back row to find your head on Steve’s thigh with Steve mindlessly rubbing your temples and playing with your hair.

And down in the middle section of the bleachers, Nancy happens to glance up and back to see what the teacher was talking about. And when she catches the way Steve is looking down at you while you have your eyes closed, she smiles to herself a little.

Maybe this time is different. Maybe he really will be okay. Maybe her original statement earlier in the week after hearing the rumor that you and Steve were hanging out a lot more lately, maybe it was wrong.. Maybe just because she didn’t see it working, maybe that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

Barb nudges her and laughs softly. “See? I told you there wasn’t any sense to stay together when you both wanted different things.” and Nancy nods. “I know, just… it was so hard to do it and I know I hurt him.”

“It’ll be okay.” Barb insists. “Just trust me.”

She faces the front again, both you and Steve completely unaware.

The teacher clears her throat impatiently. Your quiet snores have Steve snickering to himself. “Okay, alright. We’re listenin.”

When the teacher is satisfied that she’s scolded him -and he’s charmed her with that megawatt grin he’s known for to make her move on to other students, Steve leans down and mutters quietly, “You kinda fell asleep on me.”

You sit up and stretch, yawning.

Steve snickers quietly. “Have a good nap?”

“Bite me, Harrington. It’s that stupid essay the ball breaker wants us to have a rough draft of just two days after she assigned it.” you grumble, leaning against him just a little before you can stop yourself. The pain has eased up just a little and you giggle about that. “Huh.. the massage thing never works on my migraines.”

The bell to end the whole awkward attempt at a lecture on sexual safety finally rang and you stood up, yawning.

“That was the single most awkward and unnecessary thing they’ve ever done.” you muse as the two of you are walking out of the gymnasium. Steve chuckles and nods in agreement. “Kinda worth it to watch the coach literally cringe every time he had to use the clinical name for basic human anatomy though.” he admits, laughing. You nod. “And that old hag, ugh… Just because you were giving me a temple massage, what the hell? I mean, yeah, my head was on your thigh but it’s not like…” you go quiet and you laugh at yourself, cheeks burning hot. Steve can tell you’re flustered and somehow, knowing what you were about to say doesn’t really help the situation he’s managed to create for himself by offering the massage in the first place. He’s just glad you didn’t feel it somehow.

“Yeah.” he laughs. “Exactly that.”

When you blurt out what you do next, you honestly want to crawl in a hole and die. And you instantly get the feeling that if he thought he was getting laid, he’ll be done now. Totally distant. Because he’ll move on to someone with any sort of actual experience.

“I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t know what to do with it if it smacked me right in the face. Kind of still a virgin.” you shrug it off. “Not like it’s a big deal or anything.” you insist as soon as you realize what you’ve just said and you regain the common sense enough to be properly flustered by it. Steve nearly chokes on air and takes a deep breath. Chuckling quietly. “You are, huh?”

“Mhm.” you’ve stopped at your locker and you’re switching out your books. Steve leans on the locker beside yours and all he can do is replay what you’ve just said over in his head a thousand times. And stare at you while you’re coating your lips with chapstick or something that smells like bananas.

You lock eyes in the reflection of your mirror and just to ease any tension your stupid little confession just a second ago might have created, you stick out your tongue at him and he does it back. “It’s not a bad thing, ya know…If you were like.. Ashamed when you admitted it.” Steve doesn’t want you to feel bad about it, he wants to reassure you that it’s okay. You turn around to face him just as he’s stepped closer and this puts you body to body. At which point, you place your hand against his chest and give a cheeky grin. “Oh, I’m well aware of that. And I’m not ashamed. I just.. Ya know… Never really slow down enough to consider… Doing that?” you twist hair around your finger as you gaze up at him thoughtfully. “Too busy nearly getting myself in over my head, let’s be honest.”

“I mean, you have almost died on me three times in a month.” Steve sticks out his tongue at you as he says it.

“I have not! I have not almost died!” you pout a little, laughing.

“Woman, having you in any kind of crowd or out in traffic or a parking lot makes my anxiety level shoot through the roof.” Steve’s teasing, he’s laughing at you, but it’s done in care.

When you realize you’ve stepped so close to him that there is no space left between you both, you gulp. And your brain goes into immediate shutdown mode, all over again because the contrast of muscle against your softness is enough to send you into overload.

And you want to kick yourself for it.

But you manage to somehow outdo yourself for the overwhelming urge to touch the guy even though you know you shouldn’t and before you know it, you have a hand on his bicep as you lick your lips and look up at him. “Yeah, this lipgloss shit is tasty. I remember why I stopped wearing it now.” you mumble, mostly to break up the tension. Steve clears his throat and tries to make his brain focus. “It is, huh?”

“Mhm. Tastes like bananas.” you mutter, trying not to watch as he licks his lips but failing miserably. And you hear your own words to Valerie way back at the beginning of the month coming back to you.

Breathe. He’s literally just a normal guy.

“We’re still on for later, right?” Steve asks. You nod. “Yeah. You better have food in your house this time, Harrington. How the hell you sustain life on Spaghettio is totally astounding. Better yet, be ready when I come over, alright?”

Steve chuckles. “Bossy today, huh?”

“Please?” you give him this cute little pleading look and he nods. Clears his throat because apparently this little pleading look you’ve just pulled out of your hat to use on him is yet another thing about you that’s going to make his brain go brr.

And he’s telling himself not to, but he can’t help falling a little more.

“Where are we going, hm?” he asks quietly.

“I’m taking you to an actual grocery store, alright? With real food.”

He chuckles. “Oh you are, huh?” “Yes. Yes, I am. Because all that processed shit can’t be good for you, sir.” you do it again, reach up to fluff his hair before walking away down the hall to your class.

Steve leans heavily against the locker and lets his head fall back against it. “Fuck.” he mumbles, mostly to himself.

“Flustered you again, huh?” Tommy’s laughing beside him. Wordlessly, he reaches out and gives Tommy Hagan the slightest friendly shove. “Shut up.”

“It’s true, though.. Right?”

“Maybe a little. If she had one tenth of a clue, man.”

“But maybe her not havin a clue is a good thing. If she was aware, man.. She’s an antagonist. She’d probably use it to drive you crazy, buddy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Ha fuck you ha.” Steve scowls at Tommy.

“I’m not rushing into anything. Besides… I still think you and Hargrove are fucking stupid and totally wrong. She’s not into me.”

“Why? Just because she’s not throwing her panties in your face like other girls always did?”

“Well, that’s one reason. Look, this is all throwing me for a loop. And there’s the shit with Nance, still getting my head together.”

“Yeah, yeah.. In other words, you’re being a little bitch.”

“Am not.”

“You are, man. You really are.” Tommy shrugs, ducking the lazy punch Steve sends to his bicep.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader #steve harrington x fem reader imagine #steve harrington x henderson!fem reader imagine

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spicysix · 9 months

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🔀 and Rockie!!!! 💜💜

(can you tell I've been obsessed with Vickie lately because I HAVE BEEN, I love her so much 😭😭)

YAY thank you for sending, friend! i shuffled and got Movement by Hozier (the god of sapphics is looking out for us 🙏)

so the song talks about movement right so i'm thinking something related to dance?? but like i bet robin can't dance to save her life she's like a duckling in flip-flops SO

maybe robin, steve and nancy opened a club - steve with the money, robin works in administration and nancy was a dancer herself so she's in charge of that whole part. and the club is going great it has a good amount of dancers and their routines, a good bunch of patrons etc. one day one of the other dancers (yes i'm thinking chrissy) comes up to robin and nancy and says that an old colleague of her who was working abroad has come back and chrissy thinks she'd fit right in with the rest of the crew, and oh my god she's so talented you have no idea!!

robin and nancy agree to have her audition so vickie comes in, does her routine, and robin is immediatly in love. she has such an unique dance style, she's sensual without being too slow, she's fun and light-hearted without losing the seriousness, she's complex without being complicated

robin has a vote on it, all of them do, but nancy's in charge so robin looks at her with the most pathetic pleading eyes but well! it works, vickie is the new hired dancer! everyone's happy, yay!

there isn't an explicit rule about romance being prohibited but robin is vickie's boss in a way and it feels weird, so she doesn't do anything about her infatuation (and also because she thinks if she tries flirting with vickie she's just gonna pass out from all the nerves or something). but she comes out of her office to watch every single one of vickie's presentations. and if vickie notices that, if she blushes under robin's attention, if she watches robin's reactions to her movements and it makes her burn with pride and the need for more, if she starts working on routines about longing and pining and looks into robin's eyes throughout the whole dance well that's for them to figure it out

send me a 🔀 and a pairing, and i’ll shuffle my playlist and make an au based on the first song that comes up

#lui answers #charlie 💜#rockie #lui writes

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pizzaqueen · 1 year

Note

Buckingham movies for the wip tag!! I don't think we've talked about that one 🤔

And @faequeentitania

Yay, thank you both for asking about this one! It's another one I don't really have anything written for (I’ve got quite a bit planned out and some snippets but they’re really rough) but it's basically five times Robin pined for Chrissy during movie night and one time she didn't have to

And it tracks their relationship from tentative friends to more over the course of about a year through 6 different movies they watch together. (And there's background Steddie, of course!)

I'm thinking of naming each part after a quote from the movie they're watching that kind of fits the vibe of the chapter. So far I've got:

"That's the way it crumbles, cookie-wise" from The Apartment

"You should always wear my clothes" from Roman Holiday

I'm trying not to get too swept up in the movie side of it, though, because I don't want it to get too niche I guess XD but I'm still having fun picking movies!

Actually, you know what, here’s a snippet I just wrote! It’s from what will be chapter two when I finally start writing this properly:

There’s a puddle forming at Chrissy’s feet and she’s shivering so hard Robin thinks she’s going to vibrate right out of her skin. Ugh. That’s a disturbing thought.

“Sorry for coming over like this,” Chrissy says, “but I didn’t want to be at home.”

“That’s okay,” Robin says and, then, “Towels!”

Chrissy blinks.

“You’re wet. I should get towels.” Before she can say anything else stupid, Robin dashes out of the room, barreling into her mom.

“Where’s the fire?”

“I need towels!” Robin yells, already halfway down the hall. She comes racing back with her arms full of more towels than one person would need, past her mom who’s still standing quietly baffled a few steps from Robin’s door, and back into her room. She slams the door behind her, breathless and wondering if maybe she’d dreamed Chrissy knocking at her window but, no, Chrissy’s still standing there. Beautiful and soaking wet.

“Here,” Robin says, handing Chrissy the ridiculous number of towels.

“Thanks.” Chrissy’s lips twitch as she takes them. She pulls one out, looking around for somewhere to set the others down, and Robin takes them back from her. “I would’ve gone to Eddie’s,” Chrissy says, wringing out her hair, “but it’s Tuesday so he’s playing with his band.”

“Yeah, I know. Steve’s gone to see them,” Robin says, hugging the towels to her chest and trying not to be disappointed she was Chrissy’s second choice.

#Buckingham #robin x Chrissy #Chrissy x robin #bandcheer #bandqueen #pizzaqueenwrites #pizzaqueenanswers #buckingham fic

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aelaer · 1 year

Note

Alright, let’s take that follow up ask 😂

18. What are some tropes that others love, but you just tend to avoid?

Or something along those lines. Things you like/dislike. What marks the difference between a “good” and a “great” fic for you?

Whelp I lost my draft as I started this. I figured that's as good a sign as any to save this as a draft and review it a few times to make sure I'm critical of the *genre and trope* and not the individual writing it. And yes I think they're two *very* distinct things. And I'd like to piss off as few people (who aren't blocked) as possible while still remaining true to myself. We'll see how successful it is.

Cut cuz it got long and if folks click it thinking they might get mad, and then get mad, well, you can't say I didn't warn you. I don't like quite a few popular tropes in a lot of stories you see Stephen in. And I'll not hide my own opinions on my own blog. 😜 What's the terminology? Don't like, don't read? Yeah, if (general) you don't like strong opinions that might go against yours, don't read on. You've been warned!

Let's start with some of the most popular AO3 tropes, taken from the 2016 Fanfic Survey from Fansplaining. Here's the top 20 tropes across the survey and if I dislike it, I have bolded it and have a comment beside it. Otherwise I'm indifferent to it or I like the trope.

Friends to Lovers

Canon-divergent Alternate Universes

Slow Burn

Rescue Missions/Saving Each Other

Bed Sharing (aka One Hotel Room Left) Honestly I find this trope really stupid in most circumstances. It just makes me roll my eyes. This isn't to say that fics with this trope are badly written, I just... think the situation's really contrived. There's better ways to explore pining.

Teamwork

Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Huddling for Warmth I only dislike it if it's adding unnecessary sexual tension. Like if you're in a perilous situation you don't need to talk about how omg touching him makes you feel things. It's like - dude you're gonna lose fingers otherwise. Characters, you need to shut the fuck up, this is not the right time. You guys can be romantic later. Hell this even counts for established relationships; characters getting aroused when they're in actual perilous situations is one of my biggest pet peeves in romance. It's dumb. (Note- this doesn't count if they're joking about it, joking is a great coping mechanism. I mean legit horniness as they're half-dead or something. What the fuck. Exception if the author explicitly lists being in legit perilous situations as a fetish in which case, good for author for that creativity.)

Mutual Pining

Established Relationship

Fix-it Fic

Isolated or Trapped (e.g. in a cave, a Canadian shack, etc.)

Missing scenes or fill-in fic

Everyone Knows They're In Love

Unresolved Sexual Tension

Fake Relationship (incl. Married for a Case and Marriage of Convenience)

Pining

Worldbuilding

Only 2 out of the top 20, not bad! Most are "take it or leave it" but some I like so yay.

Okay now for the next part.

On my Doctor Strange AO3 filtered page that I have up in perpetuity on my phone, I have the following filters applied to exclude (which takes off about 20% of all fics in the category from sight). Ordered from least likely to offend to most likely to offend others:

Non-English fics

Peter Parker/Stephen Strange

Stephen Strange/Reader

Not Civil War Team Captain America Friendly & Not Steve Rogers Friendly

An honorable spicy mention that isn't easily filtered so I don't filter it but I get into it below. It involves Peter.

Not English fics: With as picky a reader as I am, auto Google Translate simply doesn't work well for me. Trust me, I've tried and I was very sad when translate proved to be less than great. I wish I could speak/read all languages.

Peter/Stephen: I had to block this one because it was just coming up too much after NWH, but America/Stephen falls here as well (it's just significantly rarer and I can easily skip those fics). No hard feelings to those who write/ship it because they're, you know, fictional, but I'm definitely not a fan of the trope. Underage with two minors already skeeves me out, underage with a middle aged man and a minor is a big no-go unless the adult is framed as a villain in the narrative (and with luck gets justice served to him). But in the shipping sense this isn't usually the case in the story, and while some authors do a great job in showing it's not right/good, this isn't my flavor of Stephen at all. Even villain Stephen.

In the case the minors are aged up to be legal, I still dislike it. I find it incredibly creepy IRL when a person goes for someone who is young enough to be their child, and I can't separate that feeling in the fiction I read for the most part. The exception to this rule is when the person is like over 35 - by that age you know if you want to be with a 55 year old, and you have all that life experience. But there's so much growing done in the 20s and a lot of life experience that nothing but time can provide.

Finally, I find men in their 40s who are looking for someone (especially a girl) 24 or younger incredibly immature and, frankly put, the absolute opposite of dignified and sexy. There are exceptions of course, but my good guy!Stephen doesn't fall into that category. He's interested in brains, personality, and life experience, with looks being like, the 4th factor, haha, so no need for such a large age gap. Again, just skeeves me out.

Stephen Strange/Reader: I wouldn't have blocked it if it wasn't so prevalent, but it's literally Stephen's second-most popular ship. All respect to anyone who enjoys reader-insert fics, but I just... don't. The handful of times I've tried it I couldn't see myself as the supposed character because they were so different from who I am as a person. "Choose your own adventure" books that I read in my youth worked for me because I had choices in steering the story; that's not the case in reader fics so I'm left seeing "myself" doing things that I'd never do in a million years. That contradiction just makes me unable to appreciate them myself.

Big reason I don't have that problem with OCs is because they're not me, and so I don't have that weird contradictory feeling while reading the fic. They're another person so I can appreciate them as another character, especially if Stephen manages to stay in character within the story. But as romance isn't a genre I actively look for, I don't tend to look out for OC fics either as they're usually super romance-heavy as opposed to the romance being a side plot (which is how I get through canon char romances - if it's a side plot in the very long story I'll get through it for juicy plot).

Not Civil War Team Captain America Friendly & Not Steve Rogers Friendly: Blocking these two covers the majority of the stories that are not other-character friendly, and it blocks almost all Civil War Team Iron Man fics, so these two tags cover basically the entire gauntlet of that type of MCU fic. Ever since AO3 canonicalized those tags my blood pressure has lowered significantly and it's made browsing AO3 so much less stressful.

I'll say it up front: I don't think a fic can be good writing if it's written to be Not Team Cap Friendly. That's not to say that the writer themselves is incapable of writing quality works because that's usually not the case. But for works with that specific trope, I do not think that work can be good. A significant factor of what I consider good fanfic writing/bad fanfic writing is characterization, and the characterization is usually butchered in this genre of fic.

If an author chooses only to write this trope POV, all the more power to them. However, I think they are limiting their capabilities in choosing to ignore the grey storytelling the MCU brought to the story and are definitely limiting their visions by choosing to view these grey characters and their grey choices as black and white/good and bad with all the nuances erased. And because those choices are made, I don't think that the fic that comes out with those limitations can be considered good writing. And here are the reasons why, largely centering around characterization:

The only way these fics work is by making Steve completely OOC. I've seen writers erase all his leadership capabilities established in the first 3 films he was in, his ability to think fast on his feet, any sign of intelligence that is firmly established in the first three films he was in, and make him callous in a way that he hasn't ever shown in canon. I've seen writers make Steve unaware of email, I've seen them say that he never led men in WW2 (and isn't an actual captain), and most ridiculously, I've seen them say he was trying to kill Tony in Siberia and left him for dead there and completely ignore all his training in that if he wanted to kill Tony, he very well could have. (And ignore that T'Challa was there as well ffs - that's another rant.) But yes - this is all OOC to Steve's character. If someone wants to know why saying Steve trying to kill Tony in Siberia is OOC and thus not Steve friendly, send me a separate ask as I have a write up on Discord that I can bring here if folks want clarification on that front.

If you have to make other characters OOC to make your best boy shine better, I don't trust you to write best boy well. And usually he isn't. Tony is a terribly flawed character which is why he's so so so interesting, but Not Team Cap friendly fics are determined to erase all of Tony's flaws and everything that makes him interesting. For instance, I've seen Tony suddenly become an expert negotiator and politician, ignoring both IM2 and his lack of finesse with Ross in CW (this isn't him delegating the work to lawyers/PR people - this is in fics where he's the figurehead behind this because he's suddenly an expert political negotiator). Then in some fics Tony's suddenly a socialist, ignoring the fact that he's made his fortune and still makes money from his corporation and there's nothing in canon that suggests that he ain't still benefiting from the capitalist institution. He's *generous*, absolutely, and I headcanon he put in hundreds of millions into rebuilding Sokovia - but he's not suddenly a socialist. He's a rich white man with rich white man privileges and while he's doing his best to make good in the world, he has benefits that the rest of the world just doesn't. And Tony's still arrogant and it can still be hard to work with him and erasing all those flaws makes him just... not Tony. He's just this bland vanilla OOC caricature.

In a lot of "not team cap friendly" fics I see a tag along the lines of "actions have consequences". If that's the case, why the hell wasn't Tony prosecuted for making Ultron? Wanda didn't force him to make anything - she amplified his fears, absolutely, but he made the robot. In secret. And that robot killed a city. Tony in CW is rightfully really regretful about it - but if actions actually had consequences and Tony tried to get Team Cap like, jailed or forcefully retired (like he or his friends do in some fics), Nat should strike back and tell everyone that he was behind Ultron. IT'S LIKE EVERY CHARACTER MAKES MISTAKES OR SOMETHING AND THAT NONE OF THEM ARE PERFECT. WHAT A THOUGHT. And that's why that tag is not very well thought out. The tag ignores the stark (hah) fact that all Avengers have made mistakes, some of them major - and Tony's absolutely not exempt from that. And his mistake-making didn't stop after he became Iron Man.

All of Tony's friends ignore that Tony recruited a 15 year old to Germany and guess what? Pepper and Rhodey aren't Tony boot-lickers. They'd give him the appropriate "What the fuck were you thinking" language because yeah, that was fucked up! Ignoring that happened is another big item in these type of fics.

Stephen's personality is typically bland and he often has no life beyond Tony's in these type of fics. He definitely has no opinions on the Avengers that *differ* from Tony because him having his own opinions, or taking the time to form his own opinions from his own interactions, would be showing more nuance and depth than these fics want to get into.

Stephen's often petty and violent, especially towards Steve - and again completely ignores all of Tony's mistakes because Tony doesn't make horrific mistakes, oh no! I'd argue the petty violence is OOC, but fucking DS2 and fucking Waldron Jossed that. So if you want that petty violence, it's technically seen on screen, but that's a *Waldron* idea so... yeah. I don't know any big Stephen fan who is particularly fond of Waldron and what he brought to Stephen's character. But this whole essay is about OOC characterization so I can't argue that this is OOC anymore. Fucking Waldron.

Like Stephen, Rhodey and Pepper also lose their personalities and ability to argue with Tony because Tony is always right. Rhodey forgets that Tony is a billionaire and can easily go use a lab in Stark Industries buildings across the country, or go to one of his many homes that all billionaires have because they're *billionaires*, if he *has* to avoid Steve for some reason. Rhodey also forgets that Tony could handle this with the best therapist money can by if he can't physically handle being in a room with someone he dislikes. If Steve actually tried to kill him in a fic, please go back to the first bullet point on this list. An IC Steve wouldn't so there wouldn't be that fear of more physical retaliation because Steve wouldn't be trying to stop Tony from killing Bucky, so again, unless Tony tries to kill Bucky once more, the situation won't escalate to violence. But yes, in these fics, Rhodey would prefer that the civil rights breaking Accords that allow indefinite imprisonment with no promise of trial stand. He'd rather the rest of the Avengers remain fugitives with no home because he forgets his friend is a billionaire with virtually unlimited resources to go wherever he wants and to get the help he needs. The growth we see in his stance that came with IW after he saw the Accords' rollout just poofs away.

Pepper tends to be turned into a secretary again just there to help with Tony's emotional needs instead of a powerful CEO whose really fucking busy running a company.

So with an OOC Steve, it usually leads to an OOC Tony, OOC Rhodey, OOC Pepper, and OOC Stephen. And that is why I consider these fics bad.

There may be exceptions to this, but when I was still attempting the tag in 2019, I never found a fic under the tag that was an exception. I stopped trying the last 3 or so years. And unless you're an author who's written in that tag and you want me to read your story and want to try to change my mind (because you're a masochist? why would you want to do this to yourself?), don't send me those fics. 99% I'm going to find them bad.

I'm not gonna subject those authors to the above opinion because they enjoy the black/white world and they have a huge readership who loves that crack. And good for them! That doesn't change my opinion that I think it's lousy writing because characterization is 70% of my opinion of a fic. If you have all this OOC characterization in a non-crack/parody fic, I just won't have a high opinion. And I'll say it in my own space under a cut, but I'm not going to search you out anymore - I haven't since 2019 (early 2020 was the cut off). Writers have the right to write what's popular - and I can dislike that popular content. But it's a lucrative readership and if that black and white world brings you joy, then all the more power to you.

Important: Not character-friendly fics are different from Dark!character fics. Dark character fics acknowledge that in canon, the characters are written as protagonists and heroes, and the author is purposefully changing this. In not character friendly fics, the author is usually inventing something stupid or terrible (and often enough ooc) for the character to have done/not done to strengthen the position of their chosen protagonist, or is ignoring canon traits of the character to, again, strengthen the position of their chosen protagonist. This is especially seen with Steve.

Honorable mention: I dislike the majority of fics (no idea of percentage but very likely over 50%) labeled Supreme Family, *strictly* due to how Peter is treated. Let me explain.

Peter is an incredibly independent teenager living in NYC with his own friends and his own brains and solo superheroing the majority of the time. These fics have a tendency to erase all of this, making him overly reliant on Tony, making him act as if he's aged between 8 to 12 rather than 15 to 18, and erasing his connection to May, Ned, and MJ. His whole life is made secondary to be part of the Tony Stark fanclub and it's *weird*. Peter is so much more than his connection to Tony and fans of this trope sometimes forget this.

I'll give a real world example. There's a large age gap between my sister and myself, so I got to see her in her teenage years while I was an adult. She's smart, fiercely independent, and had good friends and extra curricular activities throughout high school just like Peter did. We had family dinner together on occasion but she wanted to be doing her own thing as much as possible. She'd text my parents for the "Hey I'm alive" check ins but otherwise? She was AWOL as much as she could get away with.

Peter may be less so, especially if May insists on dinner together at least a couple times a week with his form of extracurricular activities, but I cannot emphasize enough how Peter having his own life is so important to his character and him being around Tony most of his free time outside of school and Spider-Man is *weird*. Even if he likes him!

This is just one teenager in my example, but a staple of teenagers is finding their independence as they grow into adulthood. Clinging to other adult figures does not tend to be the trend with those who have a big independence streak.

Peter in canon is all about establishing his independence - and you could see this especially throughout all of Homecoming. His independence is integral to his character. And if Tony was his adopted dad in the fic, I'd say him always hanging out with him is doubly weird because, again, independence. It's a major part of most teenagers and it's very well established in Peter's personality.

So yeah. Fic writers please stop writing him like a 10 year old unless he's actually 10 in the fic. Let him live his own life in the Supreme Family trope. Let him go out with friends and do after school clubs and not go to Tony's lab after school every day of the week because it's just not him and his movies established that very well. Let him get annoyed at the tracking and let him yell at his parental figures because conflict is normal. Let him be a teenager.

(And as someone who loves Found Family, I can't emphasize enough how much that theme falls short if the characters within the family forget their independence and lives outside of the family. It's just no fun.)

So yeah. Have all these spicy hot takes!

#meta #so many spicy takes #if you get easily offended by strong opinions don't click the read more #the rest of the tagging is for my own internal sorting rather than tumblr algorithm #so apologies if some mcu fans who don't know me come across this #this post may not be for you because i do have some minority opinions in the space #ask #answered #mckiwi #fanfic #tropes #tony stark #anti fics #steve rogers #stephen strange #peter parker #strong opinions

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evansbby · 3 months

Note

My notes as I’m reading WG 3 (spoiler alert)

Buckle up, babes, it’s a doozy, I mean, not a 21k word doozy, but nonetheless. And I hope at least someone felt the same way

- ugh, not Curtis being better to Wanda than either Ari or Steve has been. He was lowkey a creep tho??

- Yay, Ari came to find her #teamAri

- Lol at Ari calling Steve a slimeball (he really is one. I’m calling it now)

- Props for not folding during the spanking. You go girl. Call him out on not making you his gf

- Not Ari catching himself almost saying ILY Oop

- Period. You do deserve better than late night dates

- *gasp* he’s not gonna fight for her??

- Crying at the slammed door

- Not Wanda dating Curtis and him acting like he doesn’t know anything 🙄

- I REFUSE to believe Sharon was so blind to Ari cheating on her but why’s she being so nice about the dress? Is Ari that good to her?

- Lol at Ari calling Steve volatile but I bet he lowkey is

- Ari calling Steve bad news? It’s gotta be true. I know it

- Lol at Wanda calling her not Curtis’s type

- Oh Steve. What are you doing at practice??? You’re a filthy liar. NOT a gentleman

- Steve out here being a little TOO forward and Sharon’s so nice but SO blind. What does she mean Ari’s not possessive?? Why is he even with her? What on earth could be tethering the two????

- Lol at the stare-down over ‘lame boy stuff’

- I know Steve is unhinged but him calling Curtis a “Bald fuck” is hilarious

- *omg. Half of these are about name-calling. Do I have the humor of a 12-year-old boy?*

- Lol at Jensen the little announcer. What a cutie

- 🥺poor Jensen lost his glasses

- *GASP* it hit her in the face

- Ari to the rescue

- Ari praise in the bathroom? Yes please.

- ARI APOLOGIZED!!! (But sadly not for everything) THE KISS!!! Sharon better not walk in with the ice…

- ARI PLS JUST TELL HER WHAT STEVE DID

- LOL Sharon, you’re too kind with the ice haha

- Not Steve threatening her on the date. Isn’t he dating her to make Ari jealous tho?? Even just a little bit?

- Ofc she’s smiling at the thought of her ‘date’ with Ari. Idk where this date is going with Steve but I’m scared

- Lol you’re so British for specifying still water. I love it

- Not Kira being scared of Steve. That’s a bad sign

- Omg why did Kira drop out? Is Steve implying it has to do with Ari??

- Steve, you slimeball trying to seduce her before the date. Is it all a ruse????

- IT WAS A RUSE. AND WHY DOESNT HE UNDERSTAND SHE WANTS TO GO HOME??

- Steve, give the girl a shirt that isn’t ripped and send her home.

- Not Steve punching the wall 🤦🏻‍♀️typical frat bro behavior

- “Stop struggling for one second”??????? STEVE!!! YOURE INSANE. I CALLED IT!!!

- Oh Kira, you girl boss. Way to step in. Perfectly timed

- *GASP* ARI BROKE UP WITH SHARON. SOUND THE ALARMS. What do you mean you don’t care????

- Obviously Ari recognizes the hoodie. Something def happened with Kira

- Bestie, Ari’s not acting. Let him care for you

Questions:

1. TEAM ARI BISH. I KNEW IT THE WHOLE TIME AND I TOLD Y’ALL

2. Steve is so unhinged and definitely has some issues he has to work through. MY question is how was Kira able to snap him out of it so easily??

3. Wanda is an ok friend. She’s just a little selfish but obvi doesn’t know what really happened with Curtis and Ari. Can’t really blame her for that even tho she’s a little insensitive

4. Like I said, something def happened between Ari and Kira, but that still doesn’t explain why Ari says Steve is bad news. What was the extent of Steve’s dark past???

I love you for making this but I think I have more questions than when I started. Hopefully Ari will keep pining after her and wait outside her door. Lord knows this girl needs mental support but idk if it’s best to come from Ari. Who could possibly help her truly heal? Does she just need a little time? And what difference would that make then if Ari is a senior and she’s a freshman? What’s supposed to happen when he graduates and if he goes pro??? And also, what on earth was making Ari hold onto Sharon for so long?

Omg I love this sm! I love that you gave a play by play commentary of notes as you read the fic! Thank you sooo much for this, I love it so much! 🥹🥹🥹🩷

Yasss you caught Ari almost dropping the L bomb!!! I love doing that in my fics hehehe it happened in poyt too!!

AND OMG yes thank you for noticing “bald fuck” bc that made me giggle bahahaha. Unhinged!Steve has some funny insults in him I can’t lie!

AND OMFG DO ONLY BRITISH PEOPLE SPECIFY STILL WATER??? Help I thought everyone did that! Bc how are you supposed to differentiate it from sparkling water??? If he’s giving her a bottle of water and he’s rich so he deffo has both still and sparkling in his fridge so he’s gonna ask her which one right??? AM I CRAZY JSNXJSJSJS

Oh and bestie Kira is not afraid of Steve! She was just anxious bc someone she didn’t know was in the house! She’s not good with people she doesn’t know! Bc if you reread the scene, Kira literally comes into the kitchen looking for Steve! And she’s the one who is able to stop him when he’s going insane at the end… so she is definitely definitely not afraid of Steve!!! That’s her big bro 🥹🥹

BESTIEEEEE thank you so much for reviewing!!! This was a pleasure to read! I love how enthusiastically you are on team Ari! 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

#anon #wg ask #wg 3 spoiler

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trashywormeateroffics · 2 years

Text

The right universe.

Summary: After Y/N's life turns upside down, she's full of grief. Somehow, one day, she manages to travel to the MCU, where she meets her favorite characters, including a certain god who seems willing to establish a friendship with her. Suddenly she's enwrapped in this new world, where everything she loved in a screen is now reality. How will she react? Will she be able to deal with the ghosts that haunt her? Or will she let them consume her? Will she be open to accept the love she is offered? Read to find out!

Read this on AO3!

Category: F/M.

Relationships: Loki/reader.

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Sam Wilson (Marvel), James "Bucky" Barnes, Vision (Marvel), Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Thor (Marvel), Clint Barton, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, other minor appearances of other characters but these are the main ones, Pepper Potts, Loki (Marvel).

Additional tags: Loki/reader - Freeform, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluffyfest, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Pining a lot because we love to suffer, Domestic Avengers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is a parental figure, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Everyone is a good bro, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, y/n, After Infinity War but no one died and the purple bitch was defeated, Missions, Y/N is a universe traveller, Grief, Therapy, Protective Loki (Marvel), Loki in love.

MASTERLIST OF THE STORY

Chapter 19: Swiftie night.

“Okay Frosty, you are getting bathed. Yay!” Y/N told the cat while taking him out of his cage and handing him to the veterinarian. “I'll be back in half an hour to pick him up!” She said, bidding goodbye to the lady and turning to the door, but stopping when she bumped into someone.

“Oh god, I'm so sorry!” She said, frantically picking up the papers that the stranger dropped.

“Y/N?” She looked up and saw Sarah. “Seems like we are meant to bump into each other, quite literally.” She said, chuckling, and Y/N did too.

“Sorry again.”

“It's okay, don't worry.” She paused. “Are you doing anything now?”

“I was actually gonna get a coffee, to wait for Frosty to get bathed. Would you like to join me?”

“I'd love to!”

They ended up in a cafe, two blocks from the vet. They sat at a table next to a window.

“So, tell me. What do you do?”

“Oh, not much. Just a boring office job.” Y/N responded, she couldn't tell her that she was an avenger, or close to becoming one. “What about you?”

“I work with the doctor in the office next to your veterinarian.”

“Wow! That's cool.”

“Nah,” she said, disregarding the comment with a movement of her hand. “I'm just a helper now, but one day, if I ever finish the career, I'll be something different.”

“So, you are studying medicine?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Cool.” She said, smiling and Sarah smiled back. “So, do you listen to Taylor Swift?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Are you kidding me? I love her!”

“Really? Me too!” She said, excited.

“What's your favorite album of hers?” They both eyed each other and at the same time said: Reputation! And started laughing.

“But I also love every other album in her discography.” Y/N told her.

“You know, there is a club not that far from here that has “Swiftie Nights” where they play only Taylor Swift songs. We should totally go! Actually, if I'm not mistaken, tonight is Swiftie Night!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, would you like to go?”

“Yes, I'd love to! Can I tell another friend that loves her too?”

“Yes, of course. The more the merrier!”

---------------------------

“Y/N, we are going to be late!” Wanda called out to her.

“One second I'm just-” She came out of the elevator. “Fixing my hair.”

“Y/N! You look amazing!” Sam told her and everyone agreed.

She was wearing a multicolored pastel short dress, with shiny ribbons everywhere and bright pink thigh high boots.

“Thanks guys! I'm Lover, the album.”

“And I am Folklore.” The Scarlet Witch said, wearing jeans and a shirt with a creamed coloured cardigan, accompanied by a braid.

“You both look insanely cool!” Peter said and Y/N shimmied her hips to make the ribbons move in every direction.

“Thank you everyone.” Wanda said. “Now come on, we are going to be late. Pietro are you coming?”

“A Taylor Swift dedicated night? Of course.” He said, running like a flash next to his sister.

“Loki?” Y/N said as she got closer to him.

“No, but thank you for the invitation.” She pouted and he smirked. “But you look ravishing darling.” He said, getting closer to her ear, while everyone else was laughing at Pietro with a long blonde wig. She felt her face grow hot and smiled shyly at him.

“T-Thank you.” He nodded and Wanda interrupted them.

“Alright, it's just the three of us, let's go.”

“Bye Loki,” she said, turning around.

“What was that? You are as red as a strawberry.” The witch asked her in the elevator.

“What? Nothing.”

“Uh huh,” she hummed.

“Come on guys!” Pietro said and forced Wanda to drop the subject.

------------------------

Y/N came out of the elevator bidding goodbye to the twins and entered the kitchen to grab a glass of water before she went to her room. As she was grabbing it she felt someone behind her and turned around.

“Were you going to sneak up on me?” She asked, jokingly.

“I don't think I can anymore mortal, you've grown too aware of my presence.”

“That I have.” They looked at eachother, the tension in the kitchen could be cut with a knife. It was something about the way he had complimented her earlier, in a way that he had never done before.

“Did you have fun?”

“I did! Though I would've had more fun if you had been there.” She said in a moment of bravery.

“Is that so?” He said, getting closer to her.

“Yeah,” she answered, looking up at him. She was trapped between him and the counter. “I always have more fun when you are there.”

Hearing that, he felt the strongest impulse he had ever felt in his entire life, and instead of pondering on it for a bit, he smashed his lips onto hers. Her eyes went wide before shutting closed, and her hands went to tangle in his hair and she pulled, earning a small moan from him. He slid his hands from her waist to her hips and lifted her onto the counter, about to open her legs and get in between them, but when she moved to give him space, the glass that Y/N had grabbed fell into the sink, snapping both of them out of their daze. They pulled away, panting.

“I- I apologize.” He said.

“Loki,” she began but he quickly disappeared into a green shimmer. She wasn't sure he heard her. Sighing, she got off the counter and made her way to her room, where she collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Had Loki just kissed her?

~taglist~ @mischief2sarawr @midnights-ramblings @mealoncholy-hill

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