#College!Steve
Text
Dancing in the Kitchen
summary: After the worst night imaginable, your best friend helps you when you need him most. What you don't realize is just how much you've always needed him.
or: Tony Dumps you. Steve picks you up and puts you back together.
parings: protective!best friend!Steve Rogers x best friend!f!Reader
word count: 4.9k
warnings: fluff, angst, self-doubt and insecurity, verbally abusive relationship elements, insults + language/name calling, reader cusses and so does Steve bc he can, no smut!, wearing Steve's clothes (very little to no description about reader's body so do with that what you will), intense feelings, confessions, crying, anxiety, best friends to lovers, intimate touch, VERY SLIGHT possessiveness, protectiveness, not Tony Stark friendly, cap quartet mention
a/n: these characters are out of college! It's set in their early-mid 20s following graduating and I thought it'd be a little more relatable (also since I'm not in college anymore I wanted this specific fic concept to be more relatable. self-indulgence and stuff). the cap quartet rent a house together. there might be more shenanigans in the future involving them. maybe. who knows? enjoy <3
If I've missed any tags, please let me know!
gif by @annislittleshopofhorrors | dividers by @saradika-graphics | warning banner by me ♥
my ao3 | my masterlist
Read this fic HERE on ao3!
♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥
Everything was cold.
Everything was ruined.
Everything was a fucking nightmare.
Dark clouds shrouded the night sky, hiding helpful moonlight. Rain pelted at you from above, mixing with fresh tears, drenching you to the bone as cold water collected on your skin and soaked through your dress. Your hands morphed into balled fists at your sides as you shook with rage, heartbreak, and the innate need to punch something.
You couldn’t wrap your pounding head around the events of the night; everything blurred together after ten o’clock. It was like a cruel joke, one where you waited an eternity for the punchline, begging for it not to be real no matter how hard you screwed your eyes shut and prayed.
You didn’t want to believe it, yet there you were.
It sure as hell wasn’t the first time you found yourself standing at the backdoor of Steve Roger’s house on the cusp of a breakdown– and a breakup– warring with your own body to simply knock on the fucking door. Hell, Steve was already expecting you. He knew something was wrong the second you called; there wasn’t a warning text, just you, asking in a choked-up whisper if he was home. His response spilled out in a rushed ‘yes’ before you could explain further. A ‘no questions asked’ request, something not uncommon in your friendship. Steve, since day one, was one of your main sources of comfort within a thousand mile radius.
Now, he was your only source of comfort within a thousand mile radius.
Remnants of the phone call from Tony only minutes earlier echoed in your eardrums like a bad case of tinnitus. Annoying, repetitive. His hoarse, drunken slurry of vicious words clawed at the inside of your skull. Another fight. Another screaming match. Another forgotten birthday– this time, it included meeting your family. You’d planned it for months prior, making sure Tony knew not to forget it.
Your insides were twisting in knots as you waited at the restaurant awkwardly with your parents, brother, and an empty seat next to you. After an hour, eight failed calls and fifteen texts later, Tony finally picked up. Delight revived the few butterflies left in your stomach, only to be crushed, turning them into weighted dread as loud club music obliterated your ear drum as he shouted at you.
“You bitch!” he spat. “Why the ever-loving f-fuck are y’blowin’ up my phone for?!”
You didn’t have time to process what he was saying before he’d already reloaded and shot you with more.
“What the hell is sooooo important? Huh? Y-you stupid bitch! You fuckin’ knew I’m busy t’night!”
You tore the phone away. Even at arm’s length, you, and the rest of your family, could hear every single thing he spewed at you. A couple from the table next to yours stopped mid-bite to turn and throw rude looks at you and your family.
“Tony, please, I–”
“‘Tony please’– just shut up!” he mocked. “Just shut the fuck up! I don’t fuckin’ care what you gotta– what you have t’say! I can’t f–fuckin’ stand you anymore!”
Hurt and hunger morphed into churning waves of anxiety and embarrassment. Your throat was closing. Tears began stinging your eyes. You looked between your parents in shame, meeting their stunned looks filled with pity and disappointment. Your brother refused to look anywhere but the spot on his plate where he played with his food, sadness and second-hand embarrassment plaguing his face.
Yelling, jeering, and chanting echoed out of your phone. Tony didn’t stop.
“Y’know what? I’m not doin’ this anymore,” he slurred, gulping some unknown liquid down, swallowing, gagging. More cheering. “We– we’re fuckin’ done. You’re out. I’m done.”
The other line fumbled. You winced as you heard Tony wet his lips, preparing the final blow. His breathing became heavy, ragged, hard enough you could smell the liquor through the phone.
“Fuckin’ cunt.”
Click.
You loathed yourself for tolerating him; the endless cycle of poisoning you, providing the antidote, and taking it away when it seemed to get better. The whiplash from his unpredictable moods and personal attacks on you hurt as bad as it felt when he’d come around with endless apologies– accompanied by flowers, cuddles, and kisses– to heal each wound he was responsible for.
This time, though, the stab was fatal. This time, you bled out; it’d been akin to getting gutted and hung helplessly in front of your fucking family.
A sob snuck its way up your throat. You choked it down, willing your fist to reach up and knock on the door. You didn’t understand why this was next to impossible. Steve was your best friend. It wasn’t like he was a stranger. It wasn’t like he’d chastise you or yell at you or tell you to fuck off. Yet, there was a fear, deep down, feeding on the anxiety and self-doubt in the pit of your stomach, telling you the opposite; it whispered to you, telling you to run back to your car, scream into the steering wheel, and speed off to disappear from everything and everyone for just a little longer. It’d only be until you got your head on straight, until you figured out what to do with the apartment and your classes and your stuff and–
Knock. knock. knock.
In the blur of a million thoughts racing through your mind, you automatically reached up and weakly knocked, body tensing every muscle as you waited.
The door swung open, revealing one extremely concerned Steve Rogers.
Steve panted, a result from sprinting down the stairs from his upstairs bedroom in an attempt to open the back door by your first knock. Acutely aware of his jaw hanging from its hinges, Steve’s soft baby blues bore into you, scanning you up and down, stunned at you and your dress and how desperate you looked.
Time stopped the second you saw him; it was difficult to describe, but everything magnetizing between the two of you was different. You felt different– different in the way he was familiar and somehow new at the same time. Steve felt different– different in the way you were single for the first time in two years and he was single since… forever ago.
This time was unlike the million other times.
You both stared. Your lips quivered, his parted in disbelief. Both your minds instantly went blank, unable to think of anything to say, to do. So, the sky thought for you. It opened its floodgates, releasing a torrential downpour as you stood inches from warmth, from comfort.
“Steve,” you croaked, reaching for him.
It was then, everything came crashing down.
You crumbled to the ground in a heap, knees buckling while your hand and arms braced for impact with the ground. Steve quickly abandoned his tight grip on the doorframe, catching you, helping you inside. Lungs gasped for air as heavy sobs poured from your chest and tears flowed steadily down your face. You pawed at Steve’s arm hooked around you as he stumbled back into the house, kicking the door closed and collapsing onto the kitchen floor with you in tow. He immediately pulled you closer and hugged you tightly against his chest. You heaved, crying out from the painful pit in your heart, digging your fingers into his flesh, hard enough to bruise. You buried your face into his t-shirt and bawled.
All of it– the rage, the hurt, the mess of balled-up emotions from the last two fucking years– came unraveled. Hands twisted into Steve’s t-shirt, balling the fabric and pulling it taut enough to rip.
Steve didn’t shout. He didn’t complain. He didn’t utter a single word as he leaned against the kitchen cabinets, rocking you gently, squeezing you harder as his chest rose and fell rhythmically against your pounding skull, silently coaxing you to follow his breathing. Blubbering in his lap, stringing words together became futile as thoughts became unrecognizable. Another wave of panic and anxiety crashed over you. Steve’s mumbled shushes softened you; the deep timbre and honeyed bass of his voice and vibrations in his chest grounded you, welcoming you to safety. To home.
“Shh… don’t worry, I got you. I have you. You’re okay,” he muttered, running a hand gently up and down your back.
“I–he–bu–” you fumbled, lip quivering as another sob overtook you. Rage clawed at the walls in the chasm of your chest. You screamed. Guttural, pained. Again. And again.
“Shh… it’s okay, let it out. You’re okay. You’re safe here,” he soothed, rocking you, adding in a lowered octave, “I’m here.”
“T–Tony,” you hiccuped, fists twisting more of Steve’s t-shirt. “He–he–”
“What, angel? What about Tony?”
“He–he c–called me n–names a–and,” you shook your head violently, “he b-broke up with me. For real, this time.”
Steve cupped your cheek, softly wiping away fresh tears with calloused fingertips. While you continued to cry in his arms, his focus turned to the back door you tumbled through. Inside, he seethed; his rage nearly boiled over at the thought of anyone doing this to you, let alone Tony fucking Stark. Out of all the things you’d told him over the last couple years– all the threats, the cruel jokes and abandonment and insults– tonight was the ultimate cherry on top. It validated every time Tony’s actions made Steve think vengeful thoughts on what he’d do if he ever got five minutes with the douchebag. Just five minutes. Alone.
He shook the thought away, looking back down to you. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him upset, let alone remotely think you were the cause of it. He’d promised himself that the first time you met.
Tony was going to fucking pay for what he’d done to you every single second for the last two years. And on your birthday, for chrissake.
“What–” Steve swallowed the excess rage in his chest. “What kind of names, sweetie?”
You softened, sniffling, refusing to look at him. “He called me a b–bitch, a–and,” you bit your tongue, “a… cunt.”
The moment the word left your lips, Steve fought every last nerve in him not to put you to bed, get in his car, and go teach Tony a lesson on some fucking manners. Hell, even the idea of taking Bucky and Sam crossed his mind.
He pushed the thought away, focusing back on you. You needed him. You came to him for help. No one else but him.
Steve slid his hand off your back and placed it under your chin, thumb and forefinger gently coaxing you to look at him. Big blue eyes swam with concern and worry. In the dark of the kitchen, they seemed brighter than ever– a beacon guiding you back from the hurricane in your head.
In an instant, everything in your head went quiet. No more muffled echoes from the phone call. No more sobs readying to burst out your chest. No more caring about how swollen and puffy your eyes were, or the drying combination of mascara and tear stains running down your cheeks and neck. Your sopping wet dress that drenched the floor, and Steve, was pushed to the back of your brain, the cold no longer leaking into your bones as he brought you back down from the ledge.
All you saw was Steve. All you smelled, all you could feel, was Steve.
Steve swallowed. His jaw slacked, tongue jutting out to wet his lips, slowly drinking you in for as long as he was able.
And honestly? You couldn’t care enough to stop him. It’d been so long since someone looked at you the way Steve did.
Had he always looked at you like that?
“Listen to me. You are none of those things. Not even close,” he whispered, hoping you believed him.
You nodded lightly. “I–I know, but it hurts,” your voice cracked again, eyes drifting away from him.
“Hey, look at me,” he tugged at your chin, “you will never be anything like he says you are. Ever. Okay?”
You stared at him. A small smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you placed a hand on his, taking it from your chin to your chest. Warmth bloomed as it rested against your damp skin.
“‘Kay.” Barely a whisper. Enough for only him to hear.
He paused, gaze holding steady on you, lips twitching at the corners.
“Let’s get you up ‘n out of that thing, yeah?” He nodded to your dress. “You gotta be freezing.”
Gently, he lifted you off his lap, rising from the kitchen floor and pulling you up on your feet. Your legs felt like a wobbly blend of jelly and nerves that forced you to lean onto Steve for support. He anticipated this, catching you and gripping your shoulders. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you clung to him as he guided you through the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. You passed by Sam and Bucky’s rooms, both empty for the night, just like Natasha’s downstairs.
As Steve rifled through his drawers and closet, your focus wandered to his messy desk: the lamp cast a soft, warm glow across the room, sitting next to history books and sketchbooks stacked high on top of one another; pencils and dirtied paint brushes littered the surface, products of his latest art assignment. His bed was half-made, dark green covers on one side neatly tucked in while the opposite was thrown aside, exposing gray pinstripe sheets. The walls were covered with scattered art– some his, others his favorite artists’– posters and pictures of family, friends, and some local bands. You bit back a smile. Memories of the shows you both went to over the last few years played like a highlight reel in your mind. You never regretted it; you never passed up a single invite, even after the time Tony locked you out for a whole weekend.
“Here, these are clean,” he handed you a neatly folded pile of his clothes before adding, “I promise.”
A fuller smile broke across your face. The first of the entire night.
“Uh huh, sure, I believe you,” you joked sarcastically. He feigned hurt, scoffing at your false accusation.
“I did the sniff test, if that makes you feel any better.”
You giggled, taking the clothes from him and turning to head to the bathroom.
“I’ll be down in the kitchen,” he called after you. “You, um, you want something to drink?”
You paused, turning to look at him from the bathroom doorway halfway down the hall. From where he stood, the saturated pink creeping up his neck and reaching his face was more visible than the light on his desk. You couldn’t help but hold in a snicker and flash him a relieved smile, thankful.
“Coffee would be a godsend, right now.”
Steve smiled, saluting you. “Coming right up.”
You headed into the bathroom, tossing the clothes onto the counter, slumping against the door the second you shut and locked it. Finally relaxing, you realized how much tension was pent up in your tired shoulders– which, in turn, prompted the realization you were holding your breath the entire time in Steve’s room.
Brushing the self-induced lightheadedness, you slipped the ruined dress off your body and hung it up on the shower rod. You hated the color, the texture, but wore it anyway. For Tony. On your birthday.
You cursed yourself, pulling your bra off next– a pushup that held your rib cage hostage the entire night. Just how Tony likes it.
Or, liked it.
You silently prayed Steve included some Bailey’s in your coffee.
Pulling on Steve’s sweatshirt, the scent of him enveloped you instantly. You couldn’t help but nuzzle into the neck of it, filling your lungs with the familiarity of Steve. He was a quiet, sunny Sunday morning and freshly brewed coffee. He was a nice night in watching your favorite movies and playing cards.
Your head was swimming, swirling, caught up in the entirety of your best friend. He was yours just as much as you were his. Through Tony, through other guys you’d subjected yourself to the last few years, none of them compared to Steve.
You tugged the sweatpants on, catching sight of yourself in the mirror and realizing the runny makeup staining your face. You snorted at how fucking ridiculous you looked, remembering the caked-on layers you’d put on for the evening. Again, just for Tony. The snort turned into a giggle, utterly grateful for Steve not making fun of how you looked and for ignoring the mascara stains on his poor t-shirt from earlier.
But, again, it was Steve. He’d never make fun of you. Ever.
Butterflies– the ones you’d thought were long gone months prior– stuttered suddenly, alive and fluttering in your stomach.
You instantly recognized the feeling: it was the same you had the day you met Steve.
The same feeling you’d get on roller coasters, or reading an exceptionally good romance novel. Giddiness, dizziness. It was as if you were spinning while the room stood still. Your head felt light, high on helium. Your skin burned. Meeting your own gaze in the mirror, you scanned yourself, the question ‘is this happening right now?’ running on a loop at the forefront of your mind.
Bzzt.
You jumped at the buzz of a text. With the trance broken, you took into account your shaking hands and the bumping tempo of your heart. Turning on the sink, you made sure the water was as cold as possible before cupping some in your hands and splashing your face. Refreshing. Needed. You rubbed the rest of the runny wakeup off your skin, stuffing your face into the fluffy hand towel and silently promising to get the boys a new one. Picking up your phone, teeth chewed on cheek to hold in your smile at the sight of Steve’s name on the screen.
⍟ Steve: You doing OK? Coffees ready
You looked at yourself in the mirror.
“You got this,” you told your reflection. “He’s only your best friend.”
The butterflies continued to multiply, bumping against one another, fluttering and escaping out into your chest and your limbs.
“Fuck.”
You opened the door.
⋆˙ઇଓ⋆⭒˚｡⋆
“I was beginning to think you climbed out the window up there,” Steve quipped upon seeing you round the corner into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the stupid grin spreading across his face when he saw you in his clothes. You looked more relaxed, more comfortable.
More like you.
You noticed he changed, too, donning a heather-gray t-shirt that clung to his torso in all the right ways– ways you hadn’t noticed before.
You mentally scolded yourself.
“A–Almost. But I’d never pass up a cup of world-famous Rogers Roast.”
“Wow, world-famous? I would’ve preferred universally-renowned, but I’ll take it.” He held a mug out to you, one faded with a ‘I ❤ New York’ logo– the one you’d gotten for him during your senior-year college internship. “Made it just how you like it.”
He paused as you took a sip. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you, biting his lip in anticipation as you drank. The coffee tasted like liquid gold, warm and comforting and all-around delicious. You didn’t care if you burnt your tongue. This was what you needed.
He was what you needed.
Was he?
You looked back up at Steve. His cheeks flushed as he pressed his lips together, entranced with the mug in your hands, eyes ever-so-slightly flitting from it to your lips and back again.
“Thank you, Stevie.”
“You’re welcome, angel.”
You pinched yourself, then took another sip.
Silence fell, comfortable and calm, as you both nursed your drinks, checking your phones and letting time pass. You didn’t care to check the clock.
Steve cleared his throat and set his phone down.
“So, um,” he began. “What else did you have planned for your birthday?”
His voice was low, tender, careful with the question so as not to upset you. He was curious, however, and determined to see exactly how much Tony fucked up your night.
And your life.
“Oh,” you swallowed, chewing your lip in an attempt to remember what you’d originally planned.
“He was, ah, gonna take me dancing. After dinner, after he,” you took an unsteady breath, “after he met my family. It was the one thing he told me he'd let me do after dinner.” You shook your head, adding under your breath, “besides him.”
Tension seeped into the space between you both. You didn’t want to meet Steve’s stare; it was the one you’d always see whenever you told him about Tony, one filled with anger so palpable it made his arms flex subconsciously, one he thought he hid well enough so you never saw, but you always did. Without looking up, you already knew his jaw was clenched and his shoulders were stiff and his eyes bored a hole into the wall behind you. Butterflies started to somersault, crashing into the waves of worry and anxiety.
“Why?”
You looked up. Blue eyes. Stormy, swirling, stubborn.
“What?”
“Why did you stay with him?” Steve asked steadily, voice barely above a whisper. His Adam’s apple bobbed.
You paused. “Because he wouldn’t let me leave.”
“I could’ve helped you. We could’ve helped you,” he gestured vaguely to the rest of the house.
Your teeth tore into your bottom lip. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“I–” Steve sighed and carded a hand through his dirty blond hair, frustrated, trying to keep his promise while also appealing to you and balancing the fragile tightrope you two stood on. “I care about you, angel. I care about you so fuckin’ much. I just wanna know why. Why he was– why you were–”
“I–” Don’t fucking cry. “I was trapped. Every time I tried to leave, he’d tie me down more. It… it wasn’t as easy as you fucking think, Steve. Rose-colored glasses, wool over my eyes, wolf in sheep's clothing, that sorta thing, ya know? These last couple years, I… I don’t know why tonight was it, and I don’t know how I was able to get out, and I just… I don’t fucking know. I don’t. I–”
You felt tears again.
“I– Angel, I wasn’t trying to–”
“No, I know,” you cut him off, setting down your mug to rub your face in your hands. “I know. But I need you to understand that I– God, my fucking brain feels so scrambled. I just feel so confused, I feel like I’m going insane right now. Fuck!”
You tried to calm down, taking deep breaths to feed your strained lungs, holding on to each before exhaling. In, hold, out, repeat.
The room was spinning again, whirling around like a sick carnival ride as your center of gravity began to give.
As you braced the counter, strong hands and warm, muscular arms engulfed you, lifting you back from the countertop and guiding you into the middle of the kitchen. Steve pressed into you until you relented, reaching your arms around him and pulling him closer. The tension in your shoulders melted, migrating to your chest where your heart surged the moment he touched you, where it pounded against your sternum, threatening to break out of its marrow cage. You inhaled him, savoring him, feeling him all around you.
Slowly, delicately, Steve unwrapped from you. He was careful with every touch, as if he would shatter you– even though he had no problem with putting you back together again. He’d done it a million times before, and he’d do it a million times again.
He’d do it all again for you.
Steve carefully slid your hands from around his center, placing one onto his shoulder, then– nervously and ever-so-slowly– he held your other hand out, sliding down your forearm and entwining his fingers into yours. His free hand fell softly onto your waist, fingers absently and lightly kneading the fabric and skin underneath his palm.
“May I have this dance?” he whispered.
You looked up from the floor to Steve, speechless. You nodded.
Then, he started to sway. He guided you both, rocking side to side to an unheard rhythm and subtly spinning in unison under the soft glow of the kitchen light.
He smiled softly, boyish and genuine, with admiration and tenderness in his eyes. Something gentle and kind, something about the feeling and the familiarity of it– of him– sank into you the longer you looked at him. Your focus shifted around the features of his chiseled face. You recognized the light freckles stippled across his nose and cheeks leftover from the summer; the scar on his earlobe from the night Natasha drunkenly dared you to pierce his ear and failed; the faint worry lines sculpted into his forehead he inherited from his father; the soft, full pink of his lips that innocently parted when you caught him staring at you.
It was the feeling that felt foreign to you; the one missing from your life after the last two years. But, it wasn’t missing. It had been right in front of you the entire time stealing glances, accidental touches, and irreplaceable memories.
Steve had been there.
Steve had been the one looking at you like that for the last two years.
He wasn’t missing. He was just waiting his turn.
And, judging by the realization that washed over your face, his waiting was over.
Steve's smile widened as he squeezed your waist, wordlessly confirming the thoughts running rampant in your head. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the ghost of a cry, blinking away tears forming in the corners of his vision.
Your lips trembled as you smiled back. Slowly, you snaked your hand from his shoulder to his cheek and cupped his face. He leaned into your touch instantly, stubble and skin rubbed against your palm as he kissed it lightly. The press of his lips sent a spark coursing through your veins, electrifying your body and the air around you. The two of you continued to sway while the kitchen spun faster, a blurred whirlwind while you both remained in focus.
“When?” you asked, voice barely audible.
“Since the day I met you.”
“Why didn’t you–”
Steve shrugged. “I wanted to get to know you first. Didn’t wanna be some random dude who just wanted you for your number. You seemed too special to rush into something. Still are,” he sighed. “I wanted to be your friend first, but before I could muster up some courage, Tony swept you out from under me.”
Guilt crawled up your throat. “I– I’m sorry, Stevie.”
He stepped away from you, twirling you, then dragged you back to him. You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.
“No, baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I promise. I–” his voice broke. “I wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy. I just– I wish I did more for you. I should’ve done more for you.”
He tilted his head to the ceiling trying to stop his tears from falling, but you pulled him right back down to you.
“Steve,” you started, keeping on his baby blues while your own voice struggled to remain steady, “you’ve done more for me than anyone else in the entire world. Hell, in my entire life. I just lost the last two years of my life suffering with someone I thought I loved. Who I thought loved me.”
You brought your other hand to his face. “You did all you could. I just… I thought it was gonna get better, you know? I thought, I hoped– God, I even fucking prayed– that he’d get better, but he didn’t. Nothing did. And I couldn’t find a way out. It’s like he conditioned me to believe he was the only one I had, like, he was the only one who’d ever save me.”
Steve frowned, but nodded in understanding.
“I’m glad you came to me. Not just tonight, but every night. It was like reassuring me that I didn’t totally lose you, or like I never totally lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me, Stevie.”
His face, red-hot underneath your touch, moved closer to yours. You couldn’t tell if you were pulling or he was pushing. His hands gripped your waist the tighter you held his face, the two of you crashing into one another in slow-motion. The light above you grew brighter, the humming of the appliances was getting louder, the room spun at an infinitely unfathomable speed.
You crashed together.
Soft lips– softer than either of you could’ve ever pictured feeling– fit together like the perfect puzzle pieces. Neither of you moved, staying locked together until your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him closer and smashing his nose into your cheek. His grip became bruising as his fingers kneaded into your waist, steadying himself with your hips. You felt another surge of electricity as his tongue jutted out, parting your lips and swiping along the bottom before retreating back behind his.
He tipped you backwards on your heel, smirking against your lips as you flinched and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.
Setting you upright, he pulled away from the kiss and whispered, “I’ll never let you go.”
“Never?”
“Ever.”
You kissed him again, and the butterflies went wild.
#dancing in the kitchen#jen writes#fluff#angst#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x f!reader#captain america x reader#college!au#modern!au#college!steve#modern!steve#modern!steve rogers#steve rogers fluff#captain america x f!reader#curvy!reader#best friend!steve rogers#best friend! reader#cap quartet au#chris evans#chris evans characters#steve rogers fic#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers onshot#steve rogers imagine#protective!steve rogers#slightly posessive!steve rogers
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hold me please?
Summary: You are sick and supposed to go out with your best friends.
College!AU, friends to lovers
Pairing: Stucky (platonic. or is it???) Stucky x reader (platonic. who are we kidding here?)
word count: 1304
warnings: fluff, flirty!Steve, flirty!Bucky kissing, sickness, talk of being drunk, pining lol
Not beta read or anything. All mistakes are my own, english is not my first or everyday use language so if things seem wonky - thats why!
You huffed and wrapped the duvet tighter around you. You felt like shit. The feeling of guilt and sadness washed over you when you thought about having to cancel tonight. You, Bucky and Steve was supposed to go see a movie and eat together. It was a monthly ritual to you, three best friends just enjoying each other’s company. You felt sick to your stomach when you opened up the texting app on your phone.
Y/N:
Hey guys <3 so sorry but I’ve gotten sick so imma need a raincheck… but please go without me! Wouldn’t wanna ruin your evening… <3
You tossed your phone away as you felt tears stinging in your eyes. For the last couple of months you had felt something more than friendship blooming. The butterflies in your stomach having a freaking mosh pit whenever you hung out with Bucky and Steve. And the fact that you felt the same for both of them honestly freaked you out a little bit. “Am I that greedy?” you thought to yourself.
You also knew that the boys didn’t look at you like that. You were their doll, blossom, sweetheart and baby – but nothing more than platonic. The first time you met then had been so embarrassing. You close your eyes and the memory pops up into your mind, like it has so many times before.
First day of college and you had managed to fall face first onto the floor. Books and papers flying everywhere and the sound of laughter surrounds you. You feel your face flush and the tinge of embarrassment make you feel sweaty and gross. Then suddenly you’re pulled to your feet, large hands on both sides hoisting you up. On your right side, a tall blonde. Icy blue eyes meet yours and a faint smile is playing on his lips.
“Careful, sweetheart. Are you ok?” he asks with real concern. You blush even more and try to rip loose.
“hey, take it easy, doll! Wouldn’t wanna faceplant again would you?” a teasing voice say to your left. You turn, and see a tall brunette on your left. You huff a little, steadying on your feet now.
“Im fine, thank you.” You duck your head and rip out of their grip, collecting all your belongings. Not without both boys helping, handing you all the stuff that you spread out on the floor. Finally you have all your stuff and sit down on the nearest vacant chair. The boys flop down beside you.
“Hi, I’m Steve” the blonde on your right says.
“And I’m Bucky” the brunette on your left chime in.
“I’m Y/N” you say as you duck your head again, the shyness really kicking in.
Both boys hum, and the class begins.
After that day, it has been the three of you. Like peas in a pod. The sound of your phone dragged you out of the memory.
Stevie:
Oh, baby <3 so sad to hear that, feel better soon! ILY <3
Ugh, why did he have to be so cute. You bit your lip while you replied.
Y/N:
Love you too, Stevie <3
Tossing you phone away once again you huffed loudly. You felt like shit, and you smelled like… well not good. Dragging yourself to the shower felt like running a marathon – but you did it.
Fresh out of the shower and feeling a bit less shitty you find some food and go sit on your bed again. You are looking for a movie to watch when your phone chimes again. You snort when you see the ID.
Bucky, the handsomest fella ever:
My poor blossom <3 feel better! ILY <3
Bucky had changed his name in your contacts when you were drunk and discussing handsome guys.
“No, doll. I AM A LOT MORE HANDSOME THAN THAT DOUCHE!” he yelled while holding your phone away from your reach. You had been texting with a boy in your literature class, Thor Odinson. You laughed loudly at Bucky’s antics.
“What, Barnes? Jealous much?” you smirked.
Bucky stared at you, his face inches from yours. “Maybe I am… Doll” the last word came out more like a whisper. You gasped and looked down at his lips.
Steve swayed into the room, with too much snacks in his hands.
“We need to eat! All the snacks!” he slurred out, trying to sound like he gave an order. He didn’t realize the situation he came barging into, and he made no effort to do so either. He simply planted one big wet kiss on each of your cheeks. Buckys first, then you.
“KISSES FOR EVERYONE” he yelled and ripped open a bag of chips. You and Bucky looked at each other for another second, before bursting out in laughter and both of you peppering Steve in kisses.
Smiling at the fond memory you reply to Bucky’s text.
Y/N:
Love you too, Buck <3
After that, you finally found a movie to watch. It wasn’t good at all, causing you to fall asleep. Sometime after you woke from the doorbell. Frustrated you mumbled to yourself about pesky neighbors as you walked to answer the door.
Ripping the door open and huffing out an irritated “what?!” a smile appear on your lips when you see who’s standing there. Steve and Bucky both look at you with big smiles, hands full of bags with snacks and drinks.
“Hi, doll. Hope we can enjoy our movie here? With our best friend?” Bucky tipped his head as he asked, looking all kinds of handsome. You merely laughed and looked at Steve. But his eyes was not meeting yours, they were preoccupied eyeing your bare legs up and down. Glancing down at your outfit you suddenly remember that you’re only wearing a big t-shirt, panties and fluffy socks. Clearing your throat, you look at Steve with amusement in your eyes.
“See something you like, Rogers?” you hear Bucky huff out a laugh as a blush creeps up Steve’s neck.
Straightening his back, Steve looks you square in the eye, smirks and says;
“Sure, do sweetheart”
The butterflies are definitely doing their thing by now and you step aside to let them in.
“Well then. Come in handsome” you smirk at Steve. He eyes you up and down as he walk in. Bucky on the other hand looks very amused.
“Doll” he whispers as he kisses your cheek, a little too close to your lips to be friendly. The he just strolls in like he owns the place.
The flirting is soon forgotten, with all three of you on your bed. Arguing over what movie to watch and stealing each other’s snacks. The boys are discussing the gearing on the car in the movie.
“Steve, there is no way that the racecar has like 18 gears! 18 gears, that’s just ridiculous!” Bucky is so enthusiastic about it, making you and Steve laugh.
Both men turn to you and the fondness in their eyes make your heart beat faster. Suddenly feeling fatigued again you shudder.
“Hold me please?” you say in a small voice. Soon two arms wrap around you. Bucky and Steve caging you between them and you hum with content. You relax in their touch, closing your eyes. Soon lips are pressing to your cheek. Then your neck. Both boys peppering you in kisses, your heart is ready to jump out of your chest at this point.
“Boys…” you mumble, to content to really care that this feels like a lot more than friendly.
“Shh, relax blossom.” Bucky’s gruff voice send shivers down your spine.
“Sleep now, baby” Steve says, planting a final kiss right in the corner of your lips.
As you relax again and drift off, you can see two hands intertwining over your stomach. One flesh, one metal. You hum softly and fall asleep.
#tonje writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#Steve Rogers x reader#Steve Rogers x y/n#Stucky#Stucky x reader#Stucky x y/n#fluff#college!Bucky#College!Steve
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On Your Knees. Steve Harrington x Reader
On Your Knees.
I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT
REQUEST/SUMMARY: I’ll send you an ask my love 💓Steve coming home early to find you already there, except you’re supposed to be in class. And to make matters worse, you’ve been drinking. How might Steve react to this little incident? Let your imagination run wild babe 💓🤭 Xoxoxoxoxo
18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.
AN: not as heavy/sexual as I was going to make it but I left it open ended for a part two if you guys want it (for my baby angel @rollergirlworld for requesting this, I made sure to include his slutty little watch)
Warnings: fem!reader, dom!steve, dare I say college!Steve? Punishments? soap in mouth, use of fem nicknames? stoplight system? (Is that what it’s called? I can’t remember) If there is anything else I missed let me know.
Word count: 1849
Steve was never home before you, so you figured coming home early and skipping class would be a breeze but of course the universe had other plans.
It was three o'clock when you decided to walk home instead of heading to class. It was Friday, the sun was out, and you were fucking exhausted. You felt like you hadn't had any time to yourself, or any time with Steve. It was either both of you had assignments, or he was picking up an extra shift at family video, and by the time the two of you got into bed you were barely awake enough to even say goodnight to each other. You couldn't remember the last time Steve properly kissed you and Steve couldn't remember either.
It was eating away at the two of you, and you both had become a bit irritable over the past couple of days leading to both of you to barely even talk to each other, not wanting to turn something silly into an argument.
You had plans for your extra time today, you were going to work on an overdue assignment you had been keeping secret from Steve, afraid to disappoint him knowing how much time and effort he put into helping you study, and if he knew you were already behind again you would feel miserable. Not to mention the punishment your ass would be sure to endure; although you do enjoy it, you knew Steve would be actually disappointed, not just in the fun domineering way. Genuine disappointment and you just didn't know if you couldn't handle that.
To be fair when you sat down on the couch, books and notebooks splayed out on the table in front of you, some gross pink wine cooler in hand you figured you'd get it all done- And you did try to do at least some of it, but by your fourth drink you were buzzed enough that you had fallen asleep on the couch, tucked up against the arm rest with a textbook laying loosely across your lap.
You didn't wake when Steve came in through the door humming some song and twirling his keys around his index finger before hanging them up on one of the mismatched hooks next to the door. Dropping his bag on the floor by the counter in the kitchen, toeing off his shoes and kicking them haphazardly towards the door. He didn't notice your presence until he had turned to the sink, a glass in hand to fill it up with water.
He looked over at you and was instantly concerned. Why were you home so early? He thought, double checking the time on the watch on his wrist. You looked exhausted even in your sleep, the textbook that once sat on your lap had fallen out of your limp hand and onto the floor, surely the noise would have woken you up but obviously it didn't. Were you sick? he thought, wandering over to you, and then he saw the bottles and frowned. "I knew I shouldn't have let robin keep those in our fridge" He mumbled to himself, reaching to collect the bottles, two in each hand as he brought them back into the kitchen to rinse them before putting them into the small recycling bin you kept in the cabinet under the sink.
Steve came over to your workspace, picking up the textbook off the floor and placing it on the coffee table. Crouched on the balls of his feet in front of you his hand smoothed up and down your arm, his fingers tracing light patterns on your up facing palm while he waited for you to quietly stir. You hummed slightly, brows furrowing for only a second until your eyes fluttered open, glassy and red. It took a minute for your eyes to properly register that Steve was in front of you. You smiled lazily, your limp hand on your lap wrapping around Steves hand, trailing up to his wrist to clutch at the leather band wrapped around it. "Stevie" You said quietly, voice laced with sleep.
Steve gave you a soft smile, trying to pretend he couldn't smell the alcohol on your breath. "How come you're home so early?" He asked.
You licked your lips, sitting up straight and stretching your arms above your head. "I didn't think you'd be home early" you said honestly. "I just, I just needed to leave" with a sigh, your shoulders slumped lightly.
"What happened? We were working so hard on that class?" Steves warm hand on your thigh felt like a taunt.
You rubbed your hands over your face before speaking. "I just felt like my brain stopped working, and I was going to finish it today I swear" You said giving him a pleading look. "B-but, I guess I fell asleep" Looking down at your hands in your lap, shyness creeping up on you under Steves gaze. "And the alcohol?"
You just shrugged at that one, unsure of what to tell him because you weren't even sure yourself why you thought drinking was going to do anything. His warm chocolate brown eyes that always looked so inviting. He nodded thoughtfully before standing up, hand still in yours he tugged lightly, instructing you up with him. He led you into the small bathroom you shared and turned you to face him.
"Kneel" He said quietly- And you did, quickly dropping to your knees, butt perched onto the heels of your feet watching Steve intently as he rummaged through the cabinet under the sink. Your eyes fixed on him until he stood back up and looked at you. Dropping your chin to your chest knowing you should have kept your eyes down the whole time and cringed when you heard Steve tut at you. "Eyes" He said and you raised your head slowly to meet his. One of his hands coming to rest lightly on your cheek, warm and inviting you leaned into it with a hum. His thumb coming to slide over your bottom lip, your mouth falling open slightly on its own, moving out of habit.
"Such a pretty mouth" He cooed. "Too bad it's been lying to me hmm?" He asked and your cheeks flushed under his hand, and you were sure he could feel the heat from it mix with his. "And the drinking" He said tilting his head to the side.
"I'm sorry" You said earning a light slap on your cheek. You blinked in surprise.
"I didn't give you permission to speak?" Steve asked and then added. "Color?" with a softer tone, knowing an unexpected slap to anyone would startle them.
"Green" you said quickly with a nod.
"Good girl, now open your mouth" You did as he instructed, sticking out your tongue when he shook his head. "Keep your tongue in, tilt your head back a bit"
Brows furrowed you tilted your head and put your tongue back in your mouth feeling slightly annoyed at yourself, like you couldn't follow a simple instruction from Steve but it was because he had other plans, something you were less familiar with, so you didn't see it coming. Steve pulled a bottle of dish soap out from behind him, pushing the cap up and off of it with his thumb. One had still placed against your cheek, fingers keeping your chin open as he tilted the bottle until the blue liquid began to drizzle into your mouth.
You could feel your mouth fill with saliva, attempting to protect your mouth from whatever foul liquid your brain knew was entering it. Steve continued to silently pour the soap into your mouth while you struggled beneath him, staring at his watch that fit snug on his wrist. Holding the bottle level with his growing erection, making you feel even more humiliated from being in this position.
When Steve was satisfied with the amount of soap in your mouth he stopped, placing the bottle on the counter and pushing your chin until you closed your mouth. Trying to keep the liquid at the front of your mouth, hoping to keep the taste off of your tastebuds as best as you could.
"Do you deserve this?" Steve asked, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging.
You whimpered looking down, because you knew you did deserve this, but the alcohol in your system making you a little brave.
"Eyes on me pretty girl" Steve said and you quickly brought your eyes back to his. "Do you deserve this?" he asked again. Head tilted to the side as he watched you.
You nodded yes, giving Steve your best puppy dog eyes. Your body instinctively trying to make you swallow but you coughed through your nose, leaning forward with one hand on Steves thigh as you controlled your breathing, eyes watering slightly when you looked back up.
"Done?" he asked softly and you nodded eagerly. "Come on then" he said holding his hands out to help you up.
You quickly opened your mouth over the sink, pushing out as much of the soap as you could. Spit and soap mixed together as it dripped down your chin. Steve ran the water, filling the glass up next to the tap and handing it to you. You mumbled an awkward thank you, still trying to keep your tongue from actually tasting the soap. Taking a large mouthful of water you rinsed your mouth, cheeks puffing up quickly with foam, and you gagged with the bubbles tickled the back of your throat; water spilling out roughly into the sink. Steves hands quickly coming to pull your hair away from your face.
"You okay?" He asked while rubbing your back.
You nodded. "I don't think I wanna do this one again" you said honestly, spitting more soap out into the sink, and cringing when you caught a taste of it.
"Alright, we'll take this one off the list yeah? Did so good for me baby girl" he cooed into your ear, dropping his Dom persona for a second to reassure you while you continued to rinse out your mouth, until every single bit of soap was gone, and all that was left was a minty fresh mouth after a few rounds of brushing.
"M'sorry for skipping class" You said quietly, following Steve into your shared bedroom. "I didn't want you to be disappointed"
"I know pretty girl" He said turning to you, warm hands on either sides of your face. "I have a few ways you can make it up to me though" Hands soothing down to your shoulders, thumbs resting just at the base of your throat. Your hands coming up to hold at his wrists lightly, fingers tracing over the leather band of his watch once more.
"Do I get a reward for being good?" You asked tentatively, looking up at him through your lashes.
"'Course baby, gotta make you work for it first though, so come on" he said standing back away from the bed, fiddling with his belt before his eyes went dark again. "On your knees"
#hellfiremunsonn#Steve Harrington#Steve Harrington fluff#Stranger Things#Stranger Things fic#Stranger Things fluff#Steve Harrington fic#Steve Harrington smut#Stranger Things smut#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x you#Steve Harrington x (y/n)#Steve Harrington x fem!reader#Steve Harrington x fem reader#college!Steve Harrington#college!steve#college Steve Harrington#Steve Harrington AU#Stranger Things AU#Steve Harrington fan fiction#Stranger Things fan fiction
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hi! it's me again for the sleepover! 💘 + steve harrington + in this alternative universe, steve went to college
hi sweets!! thank you so much for sending this in🥺🫶🏻 sorry it’s taken me a bit<3
i think he would only go to uni with you because he’s wealthy and his parents want him to and you’re gonna be there so why not please his parents for a little while longer and have fun with his girl? he definitely majors in like business/finance or something because that’s what his dad wants, so he can take over the family biz yanno? but as one semester goes by he realizes holy shit there’s a lot of math to do here and it’s not just like regular algebra, it’s hard. (his grades prove that.) so he starts trying to figure out something else to do. over winter break, y’all are back home hanging out with the kids a lot. taking them to the arcade, to the drive-in, you guys even end up taking them on a trip to a science museum like a town over and you notice when you’re there how steve’s talking to el and he’s actually like teaching her about all of the stuff that most kids have been taught since grade school, about different types of rocks and whatnot, and if she has any questions he’s right there helping her figure it out if he doesn’t already know the answer and watching them the lightbulb goes off in your head. so the next time you two are alone you bring it up “hey stevie, i saw you and el at the museum” and he just stares at you like yeah and ?? “you were really teaching her a lot she couldn’t stop talking about how you actually made sure she understood, what’d you think about doing that for her?” and it was as if you could see the lightbulb in his head too. when you guys get back from break he very quickly changes his major to education, and that is how Mr.H decided he wanted to be a teacher. 🥺
join the festivities !!!
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I was thinking about my college fic and had the little image of Steve and the reader’s kid getting into Bucky’s lap and asking if he wanted to share the cereal and she won’t take no for an answer she makes him take at least one bite saying her mama says breakfast is the most important meal of the day and he needs to get strong and grow up to be a big boy like her daddy 😂 he ends up tickling her, and she’s wiggling and giggling and turns and wraps her arms around him and telling him “I love you Uncle Buck.”
Fic will prob be a mess bc either reader or Bucky are still in love with the other or perhaps both? There’s a bit of some tension there bc of why Bucky broke up with her in the first place.
Perhaps he lost his arm in a car accident bc he grabbed her with his right arm leaving his left free to get ran over by the tire of the vehicle that hit them, he lost his dream of playing football and he doesn’t know what to do with his life. He doesn’t want to have to live his life doing a “job” that he has to do just to make money to survive, living his life unhappy and miserable.
Steve knows how Bucky’s feeling and even though he was one of the stars of the college football team, he didn’t pursue going any higher after graduation, he once dreamt of playing with the NFL but he didn’t want to see his best friend upset seeing him getting to do that. So he looked for something that could be a job but something he knew he would also enjoy. He becomes a Veterinary Assistant and helps his friend run an animal rescue. He gets Bucky to help with the animal rescue and Bucky seems a little happy there, especially when he becomes close with the little white kitten that nobody else could even get to come close to them.
The rescue gives him Alpine, and in a way sets him down the path of him figuring out what he needs to do so he can continue living the rest of his life. The first thing being, tell Steve he loves him and all of that sneaking around was more than just sex. Second, he feels he needs to tell the reader about he and Steve and then figure out a career he can do and also enjoy. I’m trying to stay away from firefighter cause I imagined him having to get Alpine out of a tree silly girl 🤣 I’m trying to think outside of the box … something different … but not cheesy (which lets me check my first idea of romance novelist off of the list 🤣) what are some ideas? I was thinking that the more time that he spent with their kid that the more he realizes he’s good with kids and he thinks about daycare, preschool or kindergarten or like 1st-2nd grade teacher?
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Steve's pinning his polaroids up on his wall when his new roommate walks in.
Steve's immediate thought is oh, I'm gonna hate this guy.
Shaggy hair, leather jacket, rings glinting off his fingers, electric guitar slung over his back. Hot as hell, but compared to Steve's polos and perfectly coiffed hair, they could not be more different.
The guy looks like he had the same thought. His shoulders slump as he takes in Steve's appearance.
A man comes in behind his roommate, toting a suitcase full of clothes. "Oh, are you Eddie's roommate?" he says to Steve, who shakes himself out of his thoughts.
"Yes, I am." he says politely. "I'm Steve Harrington."
The man sets down the suitcase. "Wayne Munson." he offers, shaking Steve's hand. "I'm Eddie's uncle."
He nudges Eddie forward, who lets out an almost inaudible groan. "Eddie." he says snippily, shaking Steve's hand.
This'll be a fun year, Steve thinks.
They don't talk. Steve didn't think he was going to be best friends with whoever he got saddled with, but he thought they could at least be civil to each other. Their room is split down the middle. Eddie's half is absolutely covered in posters and music and cutouts of magazines. Steve's is...almost as blank as his room back home.
He misses the shitheads.
No one can ever tell them that. They'll get even more insufferable.
Once or twice, when Steve comes back from a class, he'll catch Eddie peering at Steve's pictures, but he’ll jump away before Steve can call him out on it. It's awful. Steve misses Robin.
It takes him a horribly long amount of time to stop flinching awake at every little sound. He'd stored his nailbat under his bed, out of sight of Eddie, but every time someone yells in the hallway or shouts in the room next door, Steve startles awake, already grabbing his bat. Luckily, Eddie sleeps like the dead, because Steve's not sure he'd be able to explain the weapon without breaking his NDA.
It's three A.M., early November, when there's a knock on their door. Steve isn't asleep yet, so he stands and answers it.
Eight people pile in, talking in hushed whispers. They slam into him, knocking him over.
In the middle of the hug, Steve counts his kids. It's Dustin, nestled against his side, then Lucas, El, and Will under his arm, Max draped over his back, Erica leaning into his shoulder, and Mike on the very outskirts of the group. He pulls them all in tighter, and they all yelp and squawk at him.
"Let us go, Steve!" Erica says, annoyed.
"Nope." Steve says. "You came to find me at three in the morning, you can tolerate a hug."
"Shoo, move." another voice says, and all the kids part like the sea. Robin pushes her way through the group and hugs him tightly. "I don't know how you do it." she says to Steve. "Driving all these nerds around, it's exhausting."
He buries his face in her hair. "Missed you, Robbie." he mumbles.
She leans her head against his. "Missed you too, dingus."
Steve pulls back. "You got your license!"
"I did!" Robin jingles her keys happily.
Eddie sits up, and everyone in the room freezes. "Wha's happenin'?" he slurs sleepily. Then he registers all the people in the room. "Whoa, what the fuck?"
Steve stands up, brushing himself off. "I'm sorry, man, I didn't know they were coming." He shoots a glare at the group, who looks appropriately cowed. Minus Dustin. Steve can now see whose idea this was.
Eddie swings out of bed. "No, it's- wait, are these the kids from your polaroids?"
"Yeah," Steve says. "Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, El, Max, Erica, and this is my best friend Robin."
"Awww, you have polaroids of us?" Max teases over his shoulder. "That's sweet."
Steve reaches behind him and tussles her hair, shoving her gently. "Shut up, shithead."
"Your room is cool." Mike says. "Not Steve's side. But this part is cool!"
Steve glares at Mike, but Eddie grins big. "Thanks! I'm Eddie Munson." He shakes Mike's hand.
"Is that a DnD poster?" Will says. "That's amazing!"
"It certainly is!" Eddie says. "I used to DM back in high school. Played a bit too."
The nerdier section of the group reacts appropriately, oohing and ahhing, while Max and Erica just roll their eyes and nudge each other.
Steve hesitates. “I know these guys don’t really do anything on Saturday afternoons, and I think they’ve been wanting to start another campaign. Would you mind if they come up, maybe every weekend, and you can…” he doesn’t know enough about DnD “…run a game for them?”
Eddie looks amused. “You mean DM a campaign?”
“Yeah, that.” It’s an olive branch that Steve’s offering.
Eddie takes it. “Well, how can I turn that down? Sheepies of the Harrington flock, how would you like to join a new campaign?”
“I’ll keep the rest of you occupied,” Steve mutters as the guys (and El) start talking excitedly. “Max, Rob, you guys wanna find the closest arcade and set some new high scores?”
“Only one person will be setting high scores.” Max says, gesturing to herself, but she looks excited at the prospect.
Steve lets Eddie and the kids talk for a couple more minutes, then claps his hands. “Okay, it is three in the morning and I have a nine A.M. class tomorrow SO! I have enough blankets for all of you to sleep on the floor if Eddie doesn’t mind-“ Eddie shrugs. “Or Rob can drive you back home.”
Steve looks around and Robin is already in his bed, cuddled up like the blanket hog she is. “Okay, well, sleepover here it is then.”
He whisks out his ungodly amount of throw blankets (courtesy of Joyce’s knitting spree) and the kids get together in their usual movie-night-at-Steve’s cuddle position.
Will’s got his head on Mike’s shoulder, Lucas next to Mike, Max leaning on Lucas, El’s head in Max’s lap and her legs thrown over Dustin’s lap, and Erica with her back against Dustin’s shoulder. Sometimes Robin and Steve are wedged into the pile somewhere, but just as often they’re tangled up under six different blankets across the room, which is why Steve whispers “Scoot over, dumbass,” as he climbs into bed next to Robin.
Eddie watches them assume their positions with an expression of what could be awe on his face. “When I saw those pictures,” he whispered, “I thought they were like your siblings? Or maybe old pictures of your friends. I didn’t think you were a soccer mom.”
Steve glares at him, but unlike earlier in the year, there’s no heat behind it. “Hope you like coparenting then, because these guys need to be watched 24/7 or they’ll run off and start the apocalypse.”
Eddie laughs like it’s a joke. To him it is. He hops back into bed. “Goodnight, weird little family.”
The kids murmur a collective sleepy goodnight, and Steve shuts his eyes.
It’s the most relaxed he’s felt since he moved in.
part two!
#based on the running joke between me and my roommate that my robotics kids are gonna break into my dorm room#one of them just got his license and im now even more worried#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#college au#pre relationship
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Eddie post a Tiktok of an old home video. In the video, he’s twenty-one, messy haired, laying on his side in bed facing the camera, and he looks like shit. His eyes are glassy, his nose is rubbed red, and his voice is thick the way it always is when he’s sick.
“This is a message for future Eddie,” Eddie tells the camera. “If you decide to spend the rest of your life with a man that spends all his free time babysitting - and I know you, you do want to spend your life with him - get used to catching every virus in town.”
In the video, Steve pops up behind Eddie and wraps himself around him, looking just as sick. His eyes never open as he cuddles closer, resting his head in the curve of Eddie’s neck and his hand on his chest over his heart. Steve sounds like he’s already falling back to sleep when he asks, “Who’re you talking to?”
Eddie looks into the camera like, “Myself.”
“Say hi for me.”
#This is before Steve decided he wanted to go to college for teaching#CC is on the cusp of fame at this point so Eddie’s gone more than he’s there#so he’s funny convinced that Steve gave him whatever bug the kid he was babysitting had#instead of being like ‘maybe I shouldn’t lick beer off the counter at a biker bar’#Eddie is solely posting this video because he is currently sick#eddie munson tiktok saga#steve harrington#eddie munson
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for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*
Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.
And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.
And a few of them were also hot.
But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!
He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.
“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”
Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.
The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.
Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.
Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.
Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.
But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.
So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.
Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.
He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.
He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.
“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.
“Oh. Thanks.”
Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.
A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.
“What?” He hissed out.
“Do you understand this?”
“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”
Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.
“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.
“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”
“Yeah, probably.”
Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.
Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.
“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”
“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.
“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”
Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.
“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”
Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.
“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.
“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”
“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”
Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”
“So you aren’t a natural at French?”
Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”
“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.
“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.
Eddie kinda liked that.
“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”
Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.
“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”
Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.
By Steve Harrington.
“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”
Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.
“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”
Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.
Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required
When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.
Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.
Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.
Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉
Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.
Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.
And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.
He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.
Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#ficlet#the team names are ridiculous on purpose#and I put this in college instead of high school because I felt like it#if anyone wants to continue please do#I’m so sleepy and can’t possibly
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Falling for you like the leaves do
This is my fic for @jadedvibes cute falling in love writing challenge! Hope you like it!
pairing: college!Stucky x college!reader (platonic.... for now)
Summary: The thermostat in your flat is dead. Will the boys come to your rescue?
Word count: 924
warnings: fluff, cuddling, intoxication, pining, friends to lovers, flirting, they are all idiots in love, shirtless boys.
Autumn was definitely here. Fallen leaves crunching under the sole of your boots, knitted sweaters and hot drinks in front of a lit fireplace. Your favourite time of the year. Being done with the few classes you had to attend today, you’re walking back to your flat. The autumn wind making the tip of your nose rosy and hands cold.
Locking yourself into your apartment, you hum at the temperature inside. Why is it so cold here? What is going on? You look around the flat, checking for open windows. Then you glance at the thermostat. The display is pitch black. You try pressing a few buttons, groaning when you get no response whatsoever. You try calling the janitor, but you’re sent directly to voicemail. You sigh loudly as you flop down on your couch. It really is freezing, goosebumps appearing on your skin. You take out your phone and open the text app.
Y/N:
Hey, Stevie. You and Bucky home? The thermostat in my flat is fucked and its so cold here. Mind if I come over?
You get an answer right away.
Stevie:
hey! Sure, sweetheart. Come over. But bring snacks <3
You chuckle. Snacks it is. You pack a few things in your bag, and head to the store. You buy the boys’ favourite snacks and head over to their flat.
You ring the doorbell and wait. Quickly smoothing down your hair and glancing over your own outfit before the door opens. The sight that meets you make you gasp.
“My sweetest Blossom” a tipsy, shirtless Bucky greets you. Now you get why you had to bring snacks. Bucky and Steve are hungry drunks.
Bucky pulls you in to the flat and hugs you. The smell of cologne and something that is just Bucky makes your heart flutter. He holds you tightly, and ends the hug with a kiss on the corner of your mouth. You are pretty sure he was aiming for your cheek, but hey, he’s drunk as a skunk.
“Bucky, you flirt” you shove him playfully.
“And don’t you love it, doll” Bucky says, winking at you.
Steve comes from the kitchen, a pack of beers in his hand.
“Heeeey, baby! You’re here!” He runs towards you, lifting you up and embracing you in a big hug.
Giggling, you snuggle against him and wrap your legs around his torso.
“I’ve missed youuuu, you smell so goooood” Steve slurs, rubbing his nose on the side of your neck. You very ticklish so by now you are laughing wholeheartedly.
Steve finally puts you down, and his hands come up to cup your face. He moves closer, the tips of your noses touching. He stares into your eyes, but your eyes flicker down to his mouth. He’s not gonna kiss you, is he? The timbre of his voice pulls you back to reality.
“Baby…. You brought the snacks right?” You actually feel disappointed when he pulls back.
Clearing your throat, you point to the bag by the door. You dropped it there when Bucky dragged you in.
“yaaay, snacks!! Thank youuuuuu, I looove you” Steve is peppering your face with kisses, one of them right on your mouth. You gasp, but Steve doesn’t even notice. He’s already pulling out the snacks from the bag.
“Wanna watch a movie, doll?” Bucky throws his arm over your shoulder. “You can choose?” his ocean blue eyes meet yours. “Please?” He puts on a puppy dog pout.
You laugh. “Of course, pretty boy” you put your finger under his chin and smirk at him. His eyes flicker down to your lips and a blush creeps up his neck.
“Well after you then, blossom” he kisses your cheek, leading you towards the couch.
All three of you plop down on the couch, and you scroll until you find a gory horror movie. Nothing screams cozy autumn like a horror movie. Drinking beer and eating snacks soon gives you nice buzz.
The boys are still shirtless, it’s so hot in the flat. Your boots and knitted sweater discharged long ago. You sit comfortably, tucked into Bucky’s side, his right arm holding you close. Feet in Steve’s lap.
Steve runs his hand up and down your leg, almost absent-minded while you watch the movie.
You can’t focus on the movie tho. The butterflies in your stomach being very busy having a mosh pit. Bucky can feel you tensing up.
“Scary, doll?” he whispers in your ear, tugging you closer to lay your head on his chest. You simply hum, the intimate action making you swoon.
You start to feel sleepy, the comfort of Bucky’s chest calming you down. You start to nod off, when Steve crawls into Bucky’s lap as well, laying his head beside yours. Bucky plant kisses on both your heads and you fall asleep as Steve’s arm wrap around you.
You wake up. Not remembering where you are, you tense up. Then the warmth and light snores brings you back to the present. Bucky and Steve looks beautiful. You glance down and your breath hitches when you see their fingers intertwined, holding you close.
You tip your head up, kissing Bucky – a feather light kiss ghosting over the corner of his mouth. Then you lean down and do the same to Steve, the intimacy making your heart race in your chest.
Laying down on Bucky’s chest again, you whisper
“I’m falling in love with you… both of you.” Snuggling closer you drift into sleep again, warm and content.
#fallinginlovewritingchallenge#tonje writes#stucky x reader#college!bucky#college!steve#college!Stucky#steve x bucky x reader#steve x bucky#fluff#idiots in love#pining
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IM BACK AND BACK ON THE STEDDIE GRIND 💪💪 Drawing these two after SO so long is legitimately so therapeutic—
I wanted to draw them in outfits based on this “create an outfit” trend going around Twitter! I had so much fun dressing them up LMAO
#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie#stranger things#steddie fanart#also sorry for being so inactive college sucks#BUT IM ON BREAK WOO
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Cooking Youtuber Steve; who has series where he makes good family friendly meals, dishes for picky eaters, tips for everyday cooking. As well as series where he tries to make historical dishes, food and drinks from games and TV.
DnD Youtuber Eddie; who has a long actual play series, videos about his characters and the world he's built. Videos about tips for your role-playing, getting immersed. A series where he tries other TTRPG's and board games.
Dustin persuades Steve to make videos about medieval inspired, DnD friendly meals. And because it does actually seem like a fun challenge, he does it. Dustin looks horrifically smug about it when the videos are a hit, the bastard. (Steve will make him eat something gross as payback. Its fine. Gotta keep him humble.)
And because obviously, Eddie sees the videos. He's always on the search for good DnD shit. But the guy is so fucking hot Eddie doesn't quite know what to do with himself. Except daydream about those eyes, and that hair, and those hands.
So Eddie records himself trying (and only sort of failing) to recreate the food. It comes out sort of ugly but actually nice tasting, so Eddie calls it a win. References the Hot Chef Steve in his video, adds a link to his channel, and tries not to feel his heart beating out of his chest when he sends @'s him with a link to the video. His channel is way bigger than Eddie's, he probably won't see it, Eddie's fine.
Except the Hot Chef does see it, and Eddie sort of loses his mind when he gets a comment or a message from him, thanking Eddie for giving his recipe a go, and giving him credit for the recipe. Eddie's not fine at all, this guy is way out of his league, and Eddie can feel the crush bubbling up under his ribcage, and Oh Fuck he's messaging Eddie.
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#steve x eddie#modern au#youtuber au#chef steve harrington#momo.txt#im watching so many cooking based YouTube videos lately and not making any dishes#don't come for me#but yeah!#i like chef steve#i think he'd like that it's something he can physically see and touch and interact with#can share it and use it to connect with people#he's also fucking good at it#eddie is not mega famous in this#he has a niche weird channel#corroded coffin plays in college bars and sings songs about dragons
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By the grace of Robin Buckley, Steve gets into college.
She's his first real friend and it's because he knows her, loves her, learned to be a better person from her, that he's able to smile politely and take the hand of his new roommate. His long-haired, tattooed, dressed in all black roommate, who has already put up dark and menacing posters of bands Steve has never heard of and a bedsheet banner with the words "Corroded Coffin" painted on the fabric.
"Eddie Munson," his roommate says.
"Steve Harrington."
"Good to meet you, roomie." Eddie smiles so big it makes dimples pop. It's a good look. "Parents on the way with the rest of your stuff?"
"Oh, er--just me, actually."
Eddie's smile doesn't waiver. "Need some help?"
Normally, Steve would say no, but he just spent the last hour unloading Robin's stuff. "That would be great, thanks."
So, they work together to get Steve moved in, and as they work, he learns more about his roommate. He is a weirdo, an oddball, fundamentally strange, but Steve can't help but be charmed.
Eddie puts on music, something aggressive with loud guitars and drums, and Steve unpacks. He pulls out a picture of himself with the kids during one of their game nights, displaying it carefully on his desk.
"Wait," his new roommate says. "You? And the dnd children?"
Steve laughs. "They're the kids I babysit. You play that nerd game?"
Eddie's nose wrinkles. Something in the back of Steve's mind notes that it's cute. "Nerd game? Dnd is So. Much. More. It's--it's storytelling and strategy and--" Eddie stops, blinking at Steve. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"
"Little bit," Steve smiles.
"I can't believe you know dnd. That you babysit nerds. You look like such a jock," Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.
"I am a jock," Steve agrees. "And I love those dorky little shitheads. I tolerate the game."
"Steve Harrington. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"
"Guess so." The smiles they share are wide and sweet, bringing out Eddie's dimples in way that makes Steve long to touch.
After that, they're inseparable. Robin and Eddie and Steve. They study, eat, go to parties, hangout; anything, as long as they're together.
---
Three weeks into the semester, as Steve gets dressed after swim practice, he pulls a shirt out of his bag that doesn't belong to him. It's a black tee, Metallica logo front and center. He chuckles, puts it on. It's soft from wear and smells of laundry detergent and Eddie--cigarettes and leather and some kind of sweet musk. The scent puts him at immediate ease.
He meets Robin and Eddie for lunch. They were early, already have their food and seats, so he walks over to drop off his backpack. Eddie gives him a bright, dimpled smile, but within seconds his mouth is falling open a little, the tips of his ears turning bright red.
"You alright, man?" Steve asks.
Eddie startles, grabs his cup, jamming the straw into his mouth to chew at the plastic."You're--my shirt?" he says.
"Oh, shit. Sorry. Grabbed it by accident. I'll wash it for you."
His roommate flushes pink. "N--no, you don't have to worry about it."
He wants to question Eddie further--he's being so weird--but Robin interrupts. "Dingus! Go get food. Hurry up!"
He does as he's told, but when he comes back, Eddie is even redder than before, and Robin has a wide smirk across her face.
"What is going on with you two?" He asks as he puts his tray down.
Neither of them answer, andEddie launches into a passionate re-telling of some music student drama, so Steve let's himself be distracted.
---
It's mid-October and Steve's coming home from the gym, the one place that Robin and Eddie refuse to accompany him. As he nears his room, he hears music. It's not heavy metal, but something soft and slow and acoustic.
He tries to be quiet as he unlocks the door and enters, doesn't want to disturb Eddie, doesn't want him to stop playing. He never practices when Steve is home, says he doesn't want to be a bother with the noise.
Eddie's sitting on his bed, guitar in hand. There's a battered notebook open next to him, a pencil held between his teeth. He hums a bit, pauses to jot something down, and goes back to playing.
He looks beautiful, Steve thinks, bent over his guitar.
Steve is just about to announce himself when Eddie stops playing again. He writes something in the notebook before resting his head in his head. "Pathetic, Munson. Get it together," he mutters.
"Hi!" Steve says. It startles Eddie, who jumps and almost drops the guitar.
"Stevie!" Eddie stumbles to his feet. "I--uh--you're home!" His face is crimson.
"You're really good, man," Steve says. "I'd love to hear more sometime."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Eddie nods his head, grabbing for the notebook and slamming it closed. "Sure thing." He stuffs his feet into his Reeboks. "I gotta--I gotta go. Back soon."
Eddie stumbles out their door, notebook clenched firmly in hand.
He is so weird.
---
In mid-November, Robin gets invited to a party by a cute girl. They all go.
Steve isn't trying to hook up. He hasn't slept with anyone since they started school, too caught up with Robin and Eddie. But there's a girl, wavy brown curls and wide green eyes (he has the fleeting thought that they should be deep brown, that it's wrong that they aren't), and she's smiling at him.
Flirting with her is easy.
He doesn't know what breaks his concentration, but he turns to face the rest of the room, eyes falling on Eddie. Eddie who is watching him, his deep brown eyes swimming with hurt, with anger.
It sends a shock of pure panic up his spine. "Eddie!"
Eddie turns on his heel, disappearing in the crowd. Steve follows, but by the time he navigates through the partygoers, his roommate is nowhere to be found. He hurries back to their dorm, heart pounding in his ears, mouth dry.
It's dark in the room, though, and for a second he thinks Eddie isn't home, after all. But he turns on the light, illuminates the rigid lump under Eddie's quilt.
"Eddie?" Steve says, voice soft.
He doesn't respond, though Steve can tell he's awake. He tries again, but Eddie curls deeper under his covers.
Steve spends the night wondering what he did to hurt Eddie so bad.
---
They're back to normal after Thanksgiving. Steve is so relieved he doesn't even ask.
They stay up all night every night studying for finals. By the time Steve's last test rolls around, he's giddy and frantic. He grabs his textbook, shoves a notebook into his backpack, gets to the English building with just enough time to take a last look at his notes.
Only, he flips the notebook open and it's not his English notes. It's song lyrics.
Steve should close it. Put it back in his backpack. It's private. But he's already reading the lyrics written there. They're sexy. The song's about a guy, one Eddie seems to be totally gone for.
A line catches his eye, "need you on every surface in our room." He reads it again and again until the only thing he can see is the phrase, "our room." His whole body is warm, heat pooling, and he's chubbing up in his jeans in the middle of his English class.
Steve flips the pages, anything to get his mind off of that song, and that's when it hits him like a ton of bricks. All those weird moments--the t-shirt, the song, Steve flirting with a girl-- Eddie likes him.
Steve wants to rush to the dorm, wants to confess everything, even starts to stand, but--he has a final to take.
He makes himself close the notebook, but catches sight of another song as he does. It's a love song. It's plaintive and yearning and wanting. And every lyric is for him, about him, about things they did together. It's also unfinished, breaking off mid-way through the second verse.
He doesn't know how he missed it before, but as the professor hands out the test paper, Eddie is all he can think of.
---
When he finally gets back to the room, he finds Eddie's frantic, hair frizzed around his skull. All his bedding is on the floor, the drawers of his wardrobe pulled open.
"Eddie?" Steve asks.
"Have you seen my notebook?"
"What?" Steve's heart drops.
"The black one? It's kind of beaten up?"
"I--uh, yeah. Sorry, Eds. Accidentally grabbed it on my way to class." He pulls his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it.
"Did you--did you read it?" Eddie's voice shakes, his face painfully red.
Steve doesn't know what to say, what to do. He wants Eddie. Has for a long time, just hadn't been able to put it together. And he doesn't know how to fix what's spiraling out between them.
"Eddie," he says. Can think of nothing else, hopes his desperation is clear in his voice. "Please." He closes the distance between them, slowly, carefully. Cups Eddie's chin in his hand.
They stare at each other, Eddie's eyes wide with shock. Steve can feel the other man's breath on his face, smell the tobacco and sweet musk scent of him.
"Every surface of our room, huh?" Steve asks.
Eddie's cheeks flush. He turns away, bashful. "Something like that."
"And if I want it too?" Steve whispers.
The words hang between them for several beats, before they both move to close the lingering distance between them. Their mouths slip together, like it's nothing, like they do this all the time. Steve grasps at Eddie's curls, fists a hand into his t-shirt, totally lost to the rhythm of the kiss, the easy slip of Eddie's tongue in his mouth.
Eventually, the come up for air, both pink cheeked and panting.
"You're full of surprises, Steve Harrington." Eddie breathes.
"Just wait," Steve smirks, moves in to nip at Eddie's bottom lip. "We have so many surfaces."
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#ficlet#oneshot#college au#best friends to lovers#fluff#eddie has a terrible crush#steve is oblivious#platonic stobin#a little angst#misunderstanding#they're all besties#eddie writes songs about steve#secret crush#and they were roommates
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crush (college!steve harrington x fem!reader)
summary: academic distraction comes in the form of one tall, handsome brunet named steve.
uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.
✶ the scholar stud masterlist
✶ main masterlist
tags: college!steve, college!reader, fluff, a little cringe sometimes, steve's a cocky douche, smut!! silly ending because i just wanted to finish it.
a/n: why, yes. the notorious college steve has returned for this one day. i hope you enjoy his rebirth.
somewhere in indiana, october 1988. tillman university.
"And that concludes today's class. Folks, don't forget the exam tomorrow, bright and early eight a.m—"
The shuffle of notebooks and folders being swept from plastic desks drowned out the bellow of Professor Brown's instructions as the class scurried to leave. Everyone knew the pub just on the edge of campus was hosting 'Beer Olympics' tonight, and most of your classmates couldn't risk losing out on even one moment in that sticky, wood-paneled bar.
Including the handsome, silky-haired Steve Harrington, who sat in front of you and chewed on his pen for the entire hour of English 231: British Literature. At first, the incessant clicking of teeth against plastic and ink drove you insane.
But once, he whirled around when the cap went flying and landed on your desk, and the smile he passed you seemed sweet and bashful. The rosiness on his cheeks pretty, the hazel of his eyes against the fluorescents dreamy. He started murmuring to you during class discussions, begging for explanations on 'what the hell that Shakespeare guy was talking about.'
Steve Harrington might've shared a love for the stupid and the insane like the rest of the population on Tillman's campus, but he had the good grace to display it such a wonderful way that you didn't even mind.
You shuffled back to your dorm, bundled in a scarf and wool-lined coat, prepared to settle cozily into bed and study for tomorrow's test—your roommate, however, had other ideas.
"I need you to come with me," she whined as you removed your layers and tossed them on the bed. "This is my one chance for James to see how hot I am."
A cackle shot from your mouth, though you softened to pity as your roommate's shoulders drooped. James was her very own Steve: handsome, a year or two her senior, and a complete academic distraction. Her attempts to get his attention have lengthened weeks now, but all to no avail.
"I don't know...I have an exam tomorrow—"
"Oh, God, please," she groaned, falling back on her bed across the room. The springs yipped. "Chaucer is more important than the state of my love life?"
"What is the state of your love life?"
"Dead!"
You bit back a grin, swallowing all amusement when your roommate rolled onto her side and frowned at you. Like a little sister begging to be included, she rounded her eyes and jutted her lip.
"C'mon, please?" she whined. "You can bring your stuff to study, I'm sure there's a quiet corner. They have food, too! Come on, I'll buy you shitty bar wings!"
Eyeing her weepy, desperate eyes and your piles of highlighted notes, you mulled over the options with half-hearted sincerity. You were 95% sure you would ace this exam tomorrow, and the study session was for 'just in case.' Who were you to stand in the way of your roommate's apparent true love?
"And onion rings," you added.
Bouncing into a seated position, your roommate beamed and clapped her hands together sharply. "Anything."
✶ ✶
"Okay, here." Two plastic baskets of sticky barbecue wings and crispy, golden onion rings slid your way across a poorly-cleaned wooden hightop. "Are you good by yourself over here? I saw James by the pool table."
Grinning like a toddler with a treat, you reached for a wing with gentle fingers and nodded. "Yep, I'm perfect. Go get your man!"
Relief flooded her features, all dolled up and sparkly. She popped a quick kiss to your cheek and spun around, sweeping a hand over her hair to tame the frizz.
"Okay, I'm going in."
You watched her trot away in heels she could barely squeeze into with a giggle. She eased her way into a group of people near the pool table, lingering close enough to the blond-haired James without seeming desperate. You'd seen your roommate dizzy-headed around plenty of men before, but James turned her into something else.
The corner she found you was as quiet as a bar corner could be at eight o'clock on the night of a campus-wide event. Purses and backpacks piled in the corner of your booth, potently scented with sweet perfume and cigarette smoke. The lights were low back here, and most of your notes came scanned in the neon blue glow of the Budweiser sign hanging behind your head. Once your eyes adjusted to the hue, and the rowdy buzz of your peers faded away, you honestly found enjoyment in your little corner.
Until—
"Well hello, Oh studious one," a voice bellowed over the noise. "Didn't expect to see you here."
Steve Harrington, handsome, pink-cheeked, and a little bleary-eyed, sauntered toward your table with a beer in hand. He bent over your textbook, elbows creasing the onion skin pages, and flashed you a sideways grin. You thanked the blue lights for concealing the heat in your face.
"I'm quite surprising."
He chuckled, condensation dripping from the amber bottle in hand when he pointed the mouth of it toward the contents of your table. "And you're...reading. At a bar."
You clicked your pen, swiping a lukewarm onion ring from its basket. "I'm studying for our test tomorrow."
Steve lifted his gaze from the book, returning it to your face—his own blank and thoughtless. He's slow to lift the lip of the beer bottle to his mouth, and the swig he takes comes with furrowed brows.
The bottle pops away with a sharp release of suction. "Test?"
Giggling, you slap your hand onto your book. "Are you serious? Professor Brown just told us about it, like, four hours ago."
Steve straightened up, removing himself from your book. A large hand swept over the top of his hair, darkened with dampness from the exertion of Beer Olympic seriousness.
"Ohhh, that test," he snarked. "The test on...."
He trailed so far you worried he'd get lost, and as you tipped your chin down and fixed him with an incredulous look, you had mercy on him. "Chaucer."
Steve blinked again, eyes as glazed over and empty as a doe's. "Who?"
You succumbed to your amusement, a chorus of giggles bubbling over. "You're helpless."
Steve shrugged, cheek meeting his shoulder with an air of coolness. His body tipped sideways, one elbow returning to its place on your wrinkled pages to lean his weight on the table.
"Maybe so."
You took a small bite of your onion ring, which had lost all its crisp, and took your turn to blink blankly. But the boy was patient, knuckles rapping on the table in an offbeat tune as you lingered in the pause. Finally, overcome by his own impatience, Steve set his bottle on the table and slid even closer. You could feel the warmth of his body, exuding alcohol-laced sweat and a back alley cigarette soaked into the dampness of his t-shirt. Black cotton, thinned with sweat, drenched in leathery cologne applied hours ago.
"Maybe...you could help me then," he suggested, tone sauced with boyish charm.
Heat flooded your face like a dam bursting, rushing like a hot-blooded throb. You shifted on the sticky booth, boots clunking together beneath the table. The bits of soggy breading balled in your throat.
"I—" You swallowed, hands gripping the booth beneath you with urgency. "I-t-that could—"
Steve plucked his beer bottle from the table, sliding a step away from the table. His friends crowded around the pool table, where your roommate and her very own version of Steve were pressed against the wall, murmuring in close proximity.
"So, tomorrow?" He took another shuffled step back, a glint in his eye like he already knew his work was done.
He had you.
You swallowed again, tongue darting out to wet your dry mouth. "But...the test will be over by then."
Steve cupped his hand around his ear, eyes squinting as you grew smaller with every step back. "What? I can't—you're so far away! I can't hear you."
Amusement glimmered through, shattering your stunned stupor and bringing you back to life. Another mindless giggle tumbled from your mouth, and Steve savored it as he turned just enough to miss your pretty face.
"See you tomorrow!" he called.
You watched the plain of his broad back make its way into the crowd again, falling into a chorus of hoops and hollers and flushed, sticky bodies. You watched him douse himself in beer from a poorly-crafted beer bong held by a sloppy drunk. You watched him until you felt like a giddy schoolgirl, and did your best to return to your work and wait to take your leave.
And Steve stole glances when he knew you were no longer looking, hoping you'd really show.
✶ ✶
"I can't believe this is happening."
"I'm already nervous enough, please stop saying that."
"I'm sorry!" your roommate shrieked, hands slapping against her cheeks as she watched you fix your hair for the millionth time in the mirror on the floor. "I just...I just can't."
"Okay, but you can tell me if my outfit is good. Is it-is it okay? What does it say to you?"
You hopped to your feet, whirling around to show your carefully crafted outfit. You spent all night holding your roommate's hair back and pondering over your outfit in your head; daydreaming about what Steve would say once he had you in his dorm room, which he slipped by your table with beer-laced instructions to meet him at when the night dwindled down.
Now here you were, clammy palmed and losing your mind. Was this some sort of trick? A dare? Was he playing a joke on you?
“It says: ‘I want Steve Harrington to fuck me.’ But in a very chic, understated way.”
Huffing, you did your best to ignore the swirl in your belly at the thought of Steve mirroring your roommate’s beliefs.
“I’m leaving. You’re no help,” you half-heartedly scolded, swiping your bag on the way toward the door.
But if Steve Harrington wanted to fuck you, you certainly had no objections.
He had a sloppily scrawled sign on his dorm room door declaring it his place of residence (and whoever the hell Eddie Munson was). You swallowed as you brought your knuckles to the wood, smoothing your hair once more as footsteps shuffled behind it. It swung open with a gust of warm, woodsy air. His cologne filled the room like a potent candle, and you took a brief moment to suppress a cough before taking in his smooth, half cocked grin.
“Hey, pretty,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms.
Huffing a laugh, you fiddled with the strap of your bag over your shoulder. “Hi, Steve.”
Steve took a moment to drink you in, tongue inching between his lips to wet it as he shuffled back a step. His hand pushed the door open all the way, revealing a recently-cleaned bedroom adorned with two double-twins and a desk warm with amber lamplight. You immediately knew which posters were his—all sports related and signed.
“Come on in, get comfy.”
You took tiny steps inside, shivering when he breezed by in another whoosh of air to close the door behind you. The heat of his body, lingering close behind as you inspected the room, nipped at that gooey, mushy part of you that ached for him. The same part of you that rendered you a distracted, brainless mess in class when he spoke or flexed that strong arm with a grip around his pen.
“Thirsty?”
Whirling around, you found Steve standing near the desk, watching you with fixed and glinting hazel eyes.
Your face warmed twenty degrees. “Sorry?”
He motioned toward a mini fridge under the desk, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Something to drink?”
You breathed a laugh, swinging your bag off your shoulder. “Oh, um, sure.”
You had to look away when he bent to pull it open, the strain of tendons and cords of muscle in his tan, lean arms enough to make your mouth pool with water. Christ, you were ridiculous. You turned toward the dark, black fabric-clad side of the room where his roommate must’ve lived.
“So, um, the test was pretty easy this morning, but we can still—“
“Look at you. God, you’re so beautiful.”
The cold condensation of a Coke can pressing against your arm was the first to startle you—whirling around with a sharp-edged gasp. Then the sound of his words, rasped behind your ear, bringing goosebumps to your skin. His body, so close you could feel his warmth, smell the mint on his freshly-brushed teeth.
Standing this close, you could feel his breath tickle your cheeks, could see the shiny sheen of spit on his mouth from his tongue.
"W-what?"
Steve just shook his head, a dumfounded wonderment glistening in his eye. "You heard me."
Your jaw slackened, lips parting to utter some stupefied response, mind turning to soupy mush at the sudden proximity. Before you could even attempt some silly, bashful disagreement, Steve collected your chin in his hand. Pinched between gentle fingers, he guided your mouth up to his own until their softness touched.
The Coke can clattered to the ground and rolled toward the desk as his mouth closed over yours. You perked on your toes, fingers curling into fists as they lifted toward his shoulders, broad and firm. You couldn't believe this was happening. You always thought he tossed you looks during class, that he might've lingered a little too long when he walked to his desk just to watch you sit there.
You never imagined it could be true. That Steve Harrington wanted you the way you wanted him.
“You could’ve,” an interruption of kisses stopped you short, the click of spit and lips echoing off cinderblock, “at least…mm, pretended—oh! T-to study.”
“Couldn’t wait,” Steve mumbled against your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip, breath hot against your tongue.
Arousal flushed hot in your body, stomach squeezing in time with the fluttered successions of excitement provoked by his roaming hands. They stroked down your arms and toward your waist, slipping through the curves to hold you firmly. Another gasp bled into his open mouth when he tugged you close.
"This is so much better than Chaucer," he breathed, mouth sliding over your lips to your cheek where he pressed a firm and sloppy kiss.
"Mhm," you pipped dazedly, head tipping to follow his affections.
Thighs bumping the edge of the bed, you allowed Steve to guide you onto the black duvet of the mattress behind you. It rumpled with the hurried shuffle of bodies climbing over. Steve tugged you by the calves when you met the pillow, pulling you flat beneath him. He dipped with eager excitement to collect another kiss as your thighs bookended his hips.
"Test was already graded," Steve muttered, nudging your jaw with his nose to move it aside and fit his head in your neck. "Got...mm...eighty-five."
Heaving for air, you ruffled your fingers through the thickness of his hair: soft and slipping between your hands like silk. Blinded by the tingling buzz reverberating through your bones, you could barely form a thought, let alone a sentence aloud. Steve's lips suctioned to the column of your throat, and your body gave a jolt.
"Th-thought you didn't know anything."
Steve chuckled, and the sound grumbled through you like a firework. You gave another jerk, fingers twisting in his hair, hips canting up against the firmness of his jeans.
"M' not stupid," he mumbled into your neck, nipping with gentle teeth at your earlobe. "Just so distracted. Can't stop thinkin' 'bout you behind me."
"Oh, Steve," you scoffed, eyes opening blearily to blink at the tiled ceiling, browned with old water stains. His hair tickled your cheek, cologne bathing you in masculine comfort.
Steve lifted his head, peering down at you with rosy cheeks and swollen lips. "You don't believe me?"
You let your hands fall from his hair, smoothing over the firmness of his shoulders. The stretch of your thighs around him began to burn in the most delicious way, and the tufts of chest hair slipping from his grey t-shirt made you shift on the bed. You wanted him. Like a mad woman, some nymphomaniac, lust-ridden fiend.
"I don't know," you sighed, running a finger down his chest. "Let's just...talk about it later."
Steve watched you a moment, eyes scanning your face with scrutiny. When heat swelled in your flesh, his lips coiled into a grin, eyes alight with amusement.
"Ohhh, I see. Poor little baby just can't wait. Y' want me, pretty girl?"
You bobbed your head fervently, the beginning of a pout even toying with your lips. He rendered you ridiculous and stupid, and later, you might've even felt embarrassed about how easy it was for Steve Harrington to have you whining.
But right now, all you cared about were his hands, big and rough and warm to the touch, taking off your shirt.
"Don't worry, honey," Steve cooed breathlessly, eyes traveling to the newly exposed flesh. "You've got me."
As his hands explored and grabbed at flesh, your own slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, splaying over the soft skin beneath. He was quick to shed himself of the layer, and you did your best to admire the build revealed as he trailed kisses between your breasts. He led them all the way down to your navel, and then over the curve of flesh leading to the waistband of your pants. Steve hooked his fingers in the belt loops and tugged harshly, practically ripping them from your thighs and down over your feet.
He captured his lip between his teeth as he settled between your legs again, fingers pinching and kneading at the flesh like soft dough. "And I've got you. Ain't that right?"
You grew dizzy with your nodding, so petulantly desperate and pleading. Steve grinned at it, index tracing the lace of your underwear with explorative wonderment as he watched your eyes well up. He was certain if he prolonged your pleasure any more, he'd have you weeping.
"Don't cry, honey," he soothed, peeling your panties off by the lace band. "Steve's gotcha."
In the back of your mind, you rolled your eyes and giggled at the ridiculous confidence Steve seemed to think he could get away with—but in reality, you were too busy lifting your hips to meet Steve's fingers, brushing just gently over your core as he undid his belt with the other hand. The buckle clinked and clunked with a toss, clattering to the tile floor somewhere near Steve's side of the room, where your backpack and all its contents spilled in the erotic chaos of Steve's impatience.
When the pair of you were bare, Steve breached the distance—flesh on flesh exuding heat that glistened in a haloed sheen. His mouth worked over yours a while longer, melting you down just a little more into absolutely nothing. Hands coaxing your limbs to release their tensions, your muscles to relax and ease into him. You trusted him more than anything, warmed by his gentle affections. No man had ever been so sweet and slow.
The crinkle of foil came like tv static, muffled and low. And then something larger than his fingers was brushing your core, slipping through the slickness pooling. He rubbed the tip along your most sensitive, delicate spot just enough to have you whimpering and twisting, before sliding into your entrance with slow, meticulous purpose.
Steve groaned as he pushed further, forearms planted on either side of your head. Your thighs quaked against his ribs, hoisted high and holding on tight. You reached for his hair again, desperate for more of him.
"You okay, honey?" Steve mumbled against your cheek, fanning hot breath into your ear.
You shivered at the grumble of his voice rattling through you, nodding once more. "Y-yeah. Keep going, please."
He huffed a chuckle, shifting his hips to push a little deeper and revel in the gasp you shot out.
"Please," he mocked, kissing your damp cheek. "So sweet."
When he sank in completely, you could've sworn you saw the light. A burning sting that had you writhing crawled through your thighs and up your back, settled even deep in your stomach where the thickness of him rested. He nuzzled into your neck with a low grunt of relief, giving you the space of his back to run your fingers down and kiss mindlessly. Steve seemed to be no better, losing himself in the warmth of your body wrapped around him.
"Steve, please."
Your voice stirred him from his hazy, lust-drunk stupor; he quickly readjusted to lift off his arms.
"Shh, shh, 've got you."
Like revving an engine, Steve gave a few short thrusts before settling into a pace of slow, deep humps that came like timed successions. You gasped and groaned with every one, nails biting into the warm, clammy skin of his shoulders. Once he knew you were satisfied and free of discomfort, Steve took his moment to brush your hair out of your face with a heavy, sweeping palm. He peppered kisses all over your face, delicate brushes of his mouth over your eyelids and nose, firmer across your mouth and cheeks.
Who knew Steve Harrington would be so sweet?
“Knew you’d feel so good,” he whined into your ear, pace quickening a bit with eagerness.
“So good,” you parroted, a high pitched and nasally lilt congealing your voice.
But he was just that good.
The room quieted to a blend of slick skin clicking and the bated, hoarse breaths of erotic thrill. You weren’t sure how long it truly went on, but the world just fell away around you. Blackened in a vignette of vision, hazed over with heavenly satisfaction. Your body buzzed in some muffled, distant way—you felt like just a mind in a body, being taken away. It was hard to focus on anything other than Steve, rocking into you and leaving kisses on your neck.
When your hiccuped breath shifted to sharp mewls, clawed from somewhere deep in your chest, Steve reared back and steadied his hands on your hips. He slowed to a glacial pace, watching his own cock prod at the flesh beneath your navel, your own slickness gather at his pelvis. He brought his thumb to your clit, pressing firmly into the delicate nub to focus a gentle, circular massage. You twisted and writhed like a woman enraged with demonic possession, and your grip on his forearms felt like something out of The Exorcist.
But it was all worth it to watch your face balloon with heat, flooding every vein with scorching pleasure until air became nothing but a lifeline. Steve was glad to even press pause on his own pleasure just to see you summit. Your chest trembled with a quaking roar, limbs succumbing to weakness in the daze. Vision clouded with grey static, streaked with a pool of tears.
When you were positively spent, Steve carefully unsheathed, squeezing his fist around his cock with firm pressure and bringing it to hover over your stomach.
“This okay, sweetheart?” he managed to grit out, neck bulging with veins, cheeks growing red.
You could barely nod, swiping your hand through the thin layer of sweat along his arm. “Uh-huh.”
“Oh God—fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Warmth splattered across your abdomen, like a gentle flicker of water across your skin. The squelching sound of Steve fucking his fist died down, mirroring the dwindle of moans and groans from the boy himself. He fell forward heavily, catching himself with one hand beside your head. His nose brushed your cheek, catching his breath against the clammy skin.
“Christ,” he heaved, jutting a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth. “We owe Chaucer a big one.”
Before you could giggle or scoff, the door swung open with a chittering screech. Steve scrambled to grab the comforter and shield your bare, sticky bodies, both your heads snapping toward the doorway as a shaggy-haired boy stomped through: his roommate.
“Harrington, what the fuck?”
#rolly!#steve harrington#college!steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve the hair harrington#joe keery#steve harrington x female reader smut#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington au#stranger things
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i want to write a college!bucky x college!steve x college x reader fic idk but I’ve been having a lot of little daydreams about the two of them 🤣
Listen I dreamed that Steve and I had a kid together, and the 4 of us went to college together and I dated Bucky throughout High school. We co-parent her but after college we’ve been broken up and she’s now 4-5 years old. It’s my weekend to watch her, Bucky and Steve are now sneaking around thinking I’ll feel weird about it. I have something come up at work and I have to bring her back to his place and I sit her at the table with some cereal and call out for Steve. Meanwhile Bucky and Steve are panicking trying to get dressed and Bucky is like “So much for the quiet weekend” and as I opened the door and he’s like “Hi… just came here came here to help him with a plumbing issue.” Then he excuses himself and goes to eat cereal with the kid 🤣 🤔 should I write something college!stucky related 🤔 I have that idea and angst but I could write pure porn 🤭
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sequel to my roommate steddie au!! here's the first part! tags have changed, it's now more mature with some fade to black sex
Steve’s so warm. It’s not fair.
Eddie must have half his wardrobe on, tucked under all the blankets on his bed, and Steve is just sitting over there, in a T-shirt and thin sweatpants, like the jackass he is.
"You look cold." Steve says, shifting a bit.
Eddie glares at him. "No shit, Sherlock," he bites out, trying to reign in his temper. All things considered, Steve's a pretty great roommate, sharing his food and his children with Eddie. It's not his fault the college decides to let their students freeze to death.
Steve, to his credit, just laughs at him. "Okay, fine. I was gonna offer for you to come hang out over here, since you're over the vent and I'm not, but if you're gonna be like that-"
Eddie practically teleports out of bed. "No! No, please, Steve, did I ever mention how great your hair looks today and how kind you are to me-"
Steve laughs again, moving out of the way and patting the bed next to him. Eddie doesn't hesitate to scurry up and tuck himself into a little cocoon of his own blankets, trying not to bump Steve's arm as he focuses on his homework. He doesn't completely succeed, and his hand brushes against Steve's bare arm.
"What the fuck?" he says loudly. "Why are you the temperature of a campfire?"
Steve shrugs. "I've always run hot." he says. "It's great during winter movie nights because everyone piles on top of me, but then I get banished during summer movie nights, which is no fun."
Eddie's already sprawled over his shoulder, sighing happily, like some kind of lizard on a sunlit rock. If August Eddie could see him now, he'd try to smack the shit outta him for falling for a straight guy. One who was his roommate, no less.
But it's hard not to when Steve is kind, and accepting, and a little bit stupid, and hot as hell. It isn't like he just tolerates Eddie's physical affection either, he seems to welcome it. Steve even started initiating it, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders, grabbing his arm to haul him out of particularly big crowds, and the hugs. Steve loves hugs.
There's a darkness to Steve too, the way he moves, the way he's always checking over his shoulder, flinching at flickering lights, always ready for a fight.
It makes Eddie wonder if Steve is like him.
Eddie wiggles a bit, adjusting his chin to prop on Steve's shoulder. "Whatcha workin' on?" he asks, just to be nosy.
Steve rolls his eyes, leaning away. "None of your business." he teases.
Eddie misses the warmth as soon as Steve's gone. "Nooooo," he whines. "Come back. I won't look!"
Steve stays leaned away, raising his eyebrows. "You're so weird." he says. It's not in a mean way, more that he's bewildered that one person can be this strange. Eddie takes this as a compliment.
He pretends to freeze to death, jerking and flinching. "It's...so cold." he mutters. "I see...the light... All because my roommate...let me freeze to death..."
Finally, Steve's blissful warmth comes back, and Steve sighs, tapping his pen against his paper. Eddie tries to peek again, and recognizes familiar words.
"Is that a character sheet?" he yells, and Steve frowns at him.
"You said you wouldn't look!"
Eddie waves him off, grabbing for the sheet. "Steve, this is D&D. It's automatically my business when it's D&D."
Steve finally hands it over. "Fine. Yes, it's a character sheet. Dustin's birthday is next Monday, and I was gonna ask you if I could join your game as a present to him."
Eddie nods, inspecting the sheet. Dustin's been begging for Steve to join basically since they started their little arrangement, where Eddie DM's for them in exchange for no more open hostility in the dorms. It may have worked a little too well, given Eddie's budding crush, but c'est la vie.
Eddie hands it back. "You are supposed to give the DM the character sheet a couple days in advance so they have time to work you into the plot."
Steve winces. "Really? Shit, I didn't know that."
"It's fine, I got some ideas, just from looking it over. You can borrow a spare set of dice and one of my miniatures too."
"Oh good, I had no idea if I needed any of that stuff."
"Do you want me to do a little crash course for you?" Eddie asks, preparing to brave the cold to grab his little homemade handbook.
Steve gives him a deadpan look. "Are you kidding me? Dustin is gonna love being better than me at this. I might as well go in with a regular six-sided die and pretend I thought that's the one I needed."
Eddie laughs. "Fair enough." The cold touches his neck and he burrows back into his blankets. "This fucking sucks, by the way. The cold."
"You're a big baby, man. It's fine."
"Ah, yes. Forgot I live with a walking, talking furnace." Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering, "This is worse than the time I was left outside in the cold."
"Wait, what?" Steve turns to him, eyes flinty like steel. "You were...what?"
"Oh. Um." Eddie's not sure how much to reveal, but he figures it had to come out eventually. "My dad left me out in the cold when I was thirteen. I think he thought it'd fix me. I just got really sick, though." He laughs humorlessly.
"You said...fix you?" Steve says, and Eddie's heart drops. He backs away from Steve before starting to talk, trying to find something to defend himself with if Steve gets mad.
"Yeah." Eddie says. "He saw me...kissing a boy."
Steve's eyes widen, and then he scoots closer. Eddie's breath hitches.
"Me too." Steve whispers.
Now it's Eddie's turn to be shocked. Steve continues. "Not...not left outside in the cold. They'd need to be home long enough for that. But...bisexual. I like girls and guys."
There's a tense, charged silence in the room. Eddie draws up all his courage. "I like you, Steve."
Steve stares at Eddie’s lips. “Can I-” he whispers breathlessly.
Eddie, seemingly just as entranced, nods, and Steve leans forward, pressing his lips against Eddie. Almost unconsciously, Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Steve hums happily.
Eddie’s tongue swipes at the sealed lines of Steve’s lips. Steve freezes, then slowly, tentatively, opens his mouth.
Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. Eddie practically pulls Steve down towards him, hands greedily exploring every inch of Steve he could reach. Steve gladly returns the favor, sneaking his hands between Eddie’s back and the mattress so he can feel the muscles lining Eddie’s spine flex and move as Eddie kisses him stupid.
Eddie pulls back, breaking the kiss. Steve whines, actually whines, and dives back in, but Eddie stops him with a gentle hand on his chest.
He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Steve chases it, leaning subtly towards Eddie, but Eddie just keeps moving, kissing a trail from his mouth to his chin, to the soft skin where Steve's jawline blends into his neck. Steve keeps moving, running his hands up and down Eddie’s back just for something to do.
Eddie reaches the small curve where his shoulder meets his neck, and Steve feels a small scrape of teeth against his skin. He whimpers.
“Oh?” Eddie says, the first thing he’s said since Steve leaned in. His voice is raspy, and Steve privately thinks it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. “There?”
He kisses there again, but this time there's no teeth, and Steve stays quiet, breathing slowly, in and out, in and out.
“Or…did you like it when I did this?”
Eddie leans forward and nips at Steve’s collar, and Steve keens. “Eddieee…” he says, dragging the vowels out too long, leaving that name hanging in the air.
Eddie tilts his head back up and captures Steve’s lips in another kiss, tongue sliding into Steve’s mouth smoothly. He kisses for a few seconds, then readjusts and gently nips at Steve’s lower lip.
“Please, please Eddie,” Steve begs breathlessly, not even sure what he's pleading for. Eddie seems to get it though, and slides his hands under his shirt to cup Steve’s waist.
Steve laces his hands through Eddie's hair and pulls, and Eddie lets out a moan, pushing Steve off of him and rolling so he's on top, enjoying the feeling of Steve under him on the mattress.
"I've never been so glad for the cold," he whispers against Steve's lips, and kisses him again.
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#college au#stranger things#steddie fanfiction#steddie fic#i am not brave enough to write actual smut yet. so fade to black it is
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Someone comments on one of Eddie’s videos that you can ‘clearly’ tell that Steve is only with Eddie for the money and Eddie responds to it with a bunch of old pictures of them from when they lived with Wayne. Eddie’s just like, “Steve was a rich kid with a trust fund when we met. He got disowned and kicked out for dating me, and lived with me and my uncle in a trailer while putting himself through school way before the band was making anybody money. What the fuck are you talking about?”
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#old pictures include:#a pic from the stage of a CC gig where only 3 people showed up. including Steve in his dorky polo#a pic from the summer him Steve and Wayne tried to fix a car in their backyard#a pic of Wayne and Steve counting out their money to see if they had enough to buy a Christmas tree#a pic Jonathan took of Steve hugging Eddie when he came home from your and a pic of Eddie hugging Steve when he graduated from college#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson tiktok saga
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