#i'm very emotional yes and i love steve yes
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11:11; steve harrington
summary: in an overwhelming moment of pent up insecurities, worry starts to creep up on you as you wonder if maybe you aren’t enough for steve anymore
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
requested: yes
warnings: insecurities, reader doubting herself a little
notes: feedback is appreciated! you can find my masterlist here.
the silence in the car was almost suffocating, the air awkward and tense and you so badly wished you’d asked robin for a ride. steve kept sneaking glances at you, his fingers drumming restlessly against the steering wheel, clear worry and confusion etched into those effortlessly pretty features. more than once he’d opened his mouth to ask if you were okay but the words died on his tongue when he took in your frowning expression and the protective way you’d wrapped your arms around yourself. you were refusing to look at him, he knew that much, eyes locked on the passing trees outside of your window, mind so obviously not in the car.
you were upset, stomach rolling in nauseous waves as you replayed back the last few hours in your head. you and steve were spending more and more time with nancy now that hawkins was under threat, working tirelessly to figure out what the hell was happening and maybe that was the main reason for your turbulent emotions. you were afraid and that fear was making all your other fears and insecurities roll into one until you were left doubting every single aspect of your life. like whether steve had ever actually stopped loving nancy. like whether he was going to realise that you weren't the one, whether he was going to fall out of love with you quicker than he'd fallen in love with you.
you'd caught the way steve had looked at nancy, doubt sparking in the very corners of your mind. there was something soft about his expression, something open, a look that, in your eyes, only came with a long standing feeling of love. sitting in the wheeler's basement you'd watched them from the sofa, watched them trade inside jokes and laughs, the way steve nudged his hip against hers, how his smile was so bright his eyes crinkled at the corners. a feeling of confusion and loss bloomed low in your tummy, insecurity washing over you in waves as you wondered if you were enough. the shared glances made you question if maybe you were only a temporary replacement, a placeholder until steve got the girl he really wanted back.
"hey," you startled at the sound of steve's voice, almost flinching in shock when he pressed his hand gently on your thigh. he gave it a light squeeze, thumb rubbing softly over your skin as he brought your attention to him. "you're awfully quiet." you hummed a little in reply, letting your gaze linger on his dashboard, feeling awkward and unable to meet his eyes.
"just tired."
"you wanna spend the night? i can sneak into work and get us a movie, might be a nice distraction from all of this." it was a shock to steve when you shook your head because you never turned down movie nights, he understood things were messy and scary right now but that was exactly why he wanted you by his side. he could make sure you were safe that way.
"i just wanna go home and sleep."
"well then how about i stay over at your place?"
"my parents are home." total lie and you knew steve knew it, you'd told him only that morning that your parents were visiting family out of town. you turned back to the window, frown only deepening and he removed his hand from your leg, settled it back on the wheel. his heart felt funny, thumping unsteadily in his chest and his palms had turned unnaturally damp because he felt you were upset with him and he wasn't exactly sure why.
"what's wrong?"
"nothing, i told you, i'm just tired." your tone was snappy and it only escalated steve's worry, his throat dry when he swallowed. he slowed the car, turning on his hazards and pulled up at the side of the road, turning in his seat only to be met with your disgruntled expression. "what're you doing?"
"what's wrong?"
"i just want to go home, steve." it came out in a huff because you were tired, so bone deep tired of everything and sleep was the only thing you could think of that would stop you worrying. you didn't want to keep thinking about how your boyfriend was probably still in love with his ex girlfriend because you weren't enough. your arms wrapped further around you, your gaze sliding to the front window and he shook his head, reaching over to ever so carefully tap your chin.
"hey, no. look at me. i'll take you home when you tell me what's going on." he dropped his hand again, let it settle on his own thigh and watched you draw in a breath, your head turning in his direction. you didn't meet his eyes though, you kept them locked on his hands, searching over each and every scar you'd already committed to memory.
"it's nothing, i just-" you let your shoulders rise and fall in a shrug because there were so many things wrong you didn't know where to start.
you felt as though everything was falling in on you, crushing you until your lungs burned and you couldn't catch your breath. you'd always had insecurities, had grown up thinking you weren't pretty enough, smart enough, normal enough and they were slowly coming back, creeping up on you until you were comparing yourself to everyone else around you. you were afraid that steve was eventually going to stop loving you, that once hawkins was free of whatever this bullshit was he'd realise he didn't really want you, that you were just someone to have around for company while he tried not to think about the end of the world. you were afraid that all this monster shit would draw steve back to nancy, because she knew what she was doing, she was capable of making plans and keeping everyone safe. you? not so much.
"i'm not enough for you, y'know?" silence followed your admission, steve's mouth clamping shut, his chest falling still as he somehow forgot to breathe. he simply stared at you across the car, at your downturned lips, the way you seemed tucked into yourself, your usual happy glow snuffed out and something tugged at his heart.
"what?"
"i just feel like one day you're gonna wake up and realise that i'm not the girl you want anymore." the words hung heavy in the air, settling like a dark cloud over both of you and steve could only blink at you in shock. he felt a little untethered because he thought it was obvious how so completely in love with you he was. how much you meant to him, how you were really the only person who ever made him feel at ease with himself. steve was certain that not a single other person would be able to take his heart the way you had, so wholly and completely, so quickly that he didn't even realise it was happening.
"why would you ever think that?"
"i see the way you look at nancy, steve." you finally lifted your gaze to his, tilting your head a little as you toyed with the hem of your shorts. steve's face was a mask of utter confusion, brow creased and he reached out as though for your hand but paused midair, slowly pulling it back and setting it on his knee before speaking.
"and how do i look at her?"
"like you never really stopped loving her."
"so the way i look at you?"
"no-"
"well, if i don't look at her the way i look at you then i'm definitely not looking at her like i still love her. because i look at you like i love you." he paused, eyes darting between both of yours, searching your face for any hint of a reason as to why you suddenly thought you weren't enough for him, why you were suddenly questioning his love for you. "because i love you, y/n, not nancy. god if you saw the way i looked at you sometimes you'd realise i'm completely head over heels, madly in love with you."
you swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry and let your eyes fall back to his hands. your heart thumped at his words but your mind was still two steps behind, thoughts of losing him looping throughout your head, fears over him getting sick of these silly insecurities joining the mix. you wanted to believe him, you really did, but you’d dug yourself into a hole and getting out seemed miles away. steve was incredible, was quite possibly the most amazing person you’d ever met and you were so average in comparison. to you, it made sense that he’d eventually come to terms with wanting someone more and his love for you would slowly fizzle out, no matter what he said now.
“sometimes i just feel like i’m the girl you chose out of convenience y’know? we were forced together because hawkins is fucking cursed and you were getting over nancy and i don’t know it was easy for you to just turn to me because i was always just there. i feel like maybe you love me because you sort of have to and eventually you’ll realise that you could have so much more.” you flicked a balled up piece of paper that was on his dashboard and watched it bounce off the window, tumble to the floor. “i think that if all this stuff wasn’t happening you never would have even looked twice at me.”
“no,” steve sounded upset and from the corner of your eye you could see him shaking his head. “y/n, i did not fall in love with you because you were convenient. i fell in love with you because you’re beautiful and smart and so fucking witty and sarcastic that sometimes it drives me insane but i’d never want you to be any other way. i fell in love with you because your laugh makes me feel like everything’s gonna be okay, because when you look at me i get stupidly giddy and half the time i forget how to speak. i love you because you’re the most kind and genuine person i’ve ever met, the way you stick up for the kids? take care of them? it makes me wanna grab you and kiss you until i can’t breathe anymore.”
steve drew in a deep breath and finally set his hand on your leg, covering your hand that was already there, fingers squeezing lightly around yours. “maybe if henderson hadn’t dragged me into this shit i would never have met you, but that doesn’t mean you’re just a convenience, it means that my life would be so fucking dull if you weren’t in it. nancy and i? friends. i’m not in love with her, i don’t think i was ever really in love with her, not in a way that truly meant anything. i’m in love with you and i’ll keep telling you every second if that’s what it’ll take for you to believe me.”
his fingers settled on your chin, gentle and warm, a comfort you weren’t aware you needed, and he tilted your head towards him, your eyes locking on his. he swiped his thumb over your skin and your lashes fluttered when it caught against your bottom lip. a swarm had kicked off in your stomach, a hot fuzzy feeling buzzing in your chest, sticky and sweet like a summers day and steve’s words sent a tiny thrill through you. he’d said them with such sincerity, such clarity, his tone and the way he was looking at you making it hard not to believe him. but you needed to get it out, you needed to tell him how you felt otherwise it would stay bottled up and would only become worse. you weren’t aware of how badly you’d needed his reassurance, steve told you he loved you often, but this felt different and it lightened that weight on your shoulders slightly.
“sometimes i overthink and i worry that when things are over you’ll fall out of love with me. maybe once you’re not tethered to hawkins you’ll wanna leave and you won’t want me to be a part of that. i guess sometimes i forget you’re not the same guy you were in high school and i remember the girls you used to date and i wonder if maybe you’ll eventually want someone more like that again.” you’d curled your fingers around steve’s wrist and his pulse felt light against your thumb, steady and grounding and you tilted into his palm when he cupped your cheek.
“i want you. just you, with your weird hatred for pop tarts and your strange obsession with the goonies. i want all of you for as long as i can have you.” steve’s other hand came up to your face and he trailed his finger across your jaw, grazing the tip of it over the curve of your ear while brushing your hair back out of your face. "when i picture my life, my future outside of this stupid town, all i see is you. it doesn't matter what dream i'm having, which version of my future i’m imagining, you're always there. with that pretty smile that i love so much.”
your lips tilted slightly on their own and steve's eyes dropped, voice dropping even lower until it was a whisper. "there it is." he leant in a little to brush the tip of his nose over yours, soft and tentative. the angle was uncomfortable, your belt digging into you but steve’s words had made you feel light, more free than you had in days. they’d somewhat eased your worries and that painful lump that had been lodged in your throat all day had disappeared. “i love you. a ridiculous amount.”
“i love you too.” your breath tickled steve’s lips and you noticed his shoulders visibly relax, a small smile forming as he nudged your nose again. he was hesitating from kissing you, waiting for you to make the first move and so you did, leaning up and catching his mouth with yours. you kissed him softly, slow and careful, each lazy drag of your lips over his a reminder of how deep your feelings for each other went. you were more than thankful for his reassurance, glad that it had eased your heart and your mind. you knew they weren’t so easy to get over, you’d been dealing with your insecurities your whole life but you also knew that now you’d told steve how you felt he’d make sure to spend every day reminding you how much you meant to him.
“is your offer for a movie night still open?” you let your hands fall back into your lap, pulling away from steve just enough to meet his eyes. his lips were pink and kiss swollen, pouted slightly at the loss of contact.
“always.” he smiled softly and brought his mouth back to yours, almost kissing the breath out of you. he dragged his mouth from yours to your jaw, nipping teasingly at your skin before pressing playful, wet kisses across your cheeks, nose and forehead until he finally got to hear the giggles he adored so much. “i love you.”
he really fucking did.
#stranger things#stranger things blurb#stranger things fic#stranger things one shot#joe keery#joe keery x reader#joe keery fluff#joe keery smut#joe keery one shot#joe keery fic#steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic
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Eddie and Roan taking care of reader who just had their wisdom teeth removed maybe? Eddie having to explain why reader is super emotional and out of it, telling her to be super gentle and loving. Lots of fluff 🥹
I'm sorry this took me a whole month!! I hope you like it my love!! eddie and roan —dad!eddie takes care of step mom!you when you get your teeth pulled, 2k
"Be careful," Eddie murmurs, hands at your waist, leading you up the last step to the house with a little too much tenderness.
You had your wisdom teeth out and he's acting like you had a near miss with death. You're clearly enjoying how soft he's being, leaning your weight on him for closeness' sake rather than a real need for his help.
"Wayne?" Eddie calls.
"We're in the kitchen!"
The kitchen door is closed, but their voices rumble from within, muffled by wood and the sound of the sink running. Eddie nods, assured they got home in one piece, and kisses the side of your head. "You got it. Keep on walking, we'll get you on the couch."
He hadn't expected the drugs to make you like this. Steve said that when his girlfriend had her wisdom teeth out, she was a mixture of giggly and tearful. One wrong word could set her off. "And whatever you do, man, don't yell. I'm trying to stop her from poking around in there and she's crying in my passenger seat 'cos she thinks I'm mad," Steve said.
Eddie hasn't had to raise his voice; you seem completely uninterested in your mouth and all your gauze. You'd been giggly as promised when Eddie first came in to help you to the car, but strangely shy when he wrapped his arm around your waist. It's kinda nice —you've never been shy with Eddie, not so obviously. You made the first move, you asked him out, you planned the first date. He's lucky he managed to propose before you had something to say about it.
"Here, sweetheart, sit down," he says, fluffing a pillow in your designated seat. You sit, and you look at him imploringly. "What?"
"You'll sit with me?"
Your gauze muffles your words. Eddie smiles at you adoringly.
"I'm definitely going to sit with you, but I need to go wash my hands, because we need to take out your gauze, and you need an ice pack. You understand?"
"You won't sit with me?" you ask, pouting gently.
Eddie leans down to look you in the eye. He's never so aware as to how much he loves you as he is like this, hands on your forearms, thumbs rubbing sweet circles into your hot skin. "Sweetheart," he says, in the stickiest most loving tone he possesses, "I'm going to sit with you, but I have to take care of you first. And… if you're not upset, I can bring Roan in to see you."
That's who you wanted to see most. The you without drugs knew Roan wasn't coming to pick you up, but the you that was full of them seemed very concerned. "Where's Ro?" you'd mumbled woozily. "My girl… I thought she was here."
Eddie watches recognition spark in your eyes, then excitement. "Ro's here?" you ask now.
"Yes! Of course she's here, this is her home. Are you happy enough for me to go and get her?" he asks.
You nod hurriedly. Eddie doesn't feel bad for manipulating you. It's almost like guiding Roan into good decisions.
"Okay." He kisses your hand. "Be good. No touching your mouth."
"I'm always good," you say with a funny laugh, leaning back into the couch.
Eddie gives your shoulder one last pet before standing up. He rubs his forehead as he leaves the living room, kicking his shoes off under the stairs and making his way to the kitchen door. He pushes it open cautiously in case someone is behind it, but Roan's on the counter with a dish rag in her hands and Wayne's putting plates away.
"Hey, little miss," Eddie says, darting forward to give her a kiss.
"Hello," she says, head dipping under his kiss.
"How's Y/N?" Wayne asks, closing the cabinet.
"She's fine, she isn't half as woozy as they thought she'd be. And no pain yet. I gotta wash my hands to take her gauze out." Eddie turns on the faucet. Roan grabs the soap squeezee and squirts a big dollop of raspberry hand soap into his palm. "Thanks, babe."
"Wayne," she says, holding up her arms.
Wayne grabs her and puts her down on the floor, but he says, "Wait, kid."
"I want to see her," she whines.
"Will you grab an ice pack from the fridge?" Eddie asks.
He was asking Wayne, but Roan rushes to the freezer drawers and yanks them open. Eddie did his research thoroughly before your surgery, he knows exactly what you need to make everything as painless as possible. Ice packs, medicine, dry socket prevention. In an event of too much caution, he got six ice packs. That way, if they melt too much, he can swap it for a new one. Six whole times.
Eddie isn't a worrier, but he worries about this. You hurting, and him not being able to do a thing about it.
Wayne passes Roan a newer looking hand towel and she wraps it up. Before he can stop her, she's running off to the living room. Eddie's barely catching up when he hears you.
"Roan!" you yell, the loudest you've been since you came out of the Dentist's office. "Where have you been?" You're ecstatic. "Quick, come here."
"You sound funny," Roan says.
She seems worried. Eddie turns the corner, finds her paused in front of your waiting arms.
"I know," you say regretfully, "but Eddie says I can't take out the gauze and I'm trying to be good." You laugh. "I sound like I have a gumball in my mouth."
"A big gumball."
You drag Roan up onto your lap, pressing your face to the top of her head completely unawares of the future pain you're stoking. "I missed you. Why didn't you come and see me at the dentist?" you ask, whining.
Roan looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?" she demands. "Dad said I couldn't go, and you said I should listen to dad."
"You shouldn't," you say, hugging her like a teddy rather than a real living child.
Roan doesn't complain. "I know."
Eddie does. "Yes, you should. You should absolutely listen to me, because I'm always right. Like, ninety percent of the time. And Wayne agrees. Right, Wayne?"
"I'm always right!" Wayne calls. "And your dad listens to me, so really, he is always right too."
"That's not true," you sing under your breath, your nose rubbing against Roan's forehead. She giggles happily.
"Roan, babe, give her a kiss and then sit down, okay? I need to help her feel better."
Roan gives you a very soft kiss on the top of your cheek. You make a pleased huffing sound. "I love being your mom," you say.
Roan's dazzled. With a big smile, she falls down into the cushions to your left. Eddie refrains from squeezing her knee now his hands are clean, gesturing for you to lift your chin.
"Will it hurt?" you ask.
"Not even a bit. Promise."
He takes your gauze out without much fuss and strokes your cheek as a sticker for a job well done. It's a bloody mess and Roan makes a disgusted sound, rushing forward to offer you the ice pack. Eddie discards the mess, wipes your face clean with a cotton pad, and offers you a bottle of water.
Half of it tips down your shirt.
Wayne laughs in the doorway. "I can see you have things handled."
Eddie gives him a hug, lavishing in the proud pat on his back, and Roan climbs on the back of the couch to get a kiss. Wayne gives your shoulder a fond squeeze while he's there. "Feel better, Y/N. I'll be back tomorrow for hotdogs."
You cheer happily, "Yes, Mr. Munson! Please, I love them so much, I want the special mustard this time."
"You got it. Bye, kids."
"Love you!" Eddie calls to Wayne's retreating back.
"I love you Uncle Wayne!" Roan shouts louder.
"Love you guys," Wayne says, closing the door behind him.
"He could've stayed," you say.
"He's late for pool," Eddie says.
"We have a pool."
"For eight ball pool, with his friends," Eddie says, laughing.
You look at him for a long time. Eddie squints at you, until you announce, "I'm really tired."
Eddie helps you upstairs to your room, to Roan's chagrin. He sets you up in bed with everything you might need, a blanket over your legs, the window open to share the breeze, painkillers in arm's reach. Things are quieter when you're settled, the first hint that you're in pain a strange motion you're making with your hand, fingers jutting on your chest toward your chin.
Roan sits at your feet. "Is she hurting?"
"A little bit," Eddie guesses. "How do you feel, sweetheart? Can I help you take some more painkillers?"
You frown at him. "My mouth is hurting?"
"You had your teeth pulled out."
"She doesn't remember?" Roan asks.
"The medicine the dentists gave her can make her forget things, but it won't last much longer," Eddie tells her. "We'll get our Y/N back in a couple of hours."
"I'm right here," you say, eyes tearing up. "What are you talking about, Eddie?"
"Dad!"
"It's okay," Eddie says, shuffling closer to you to stroke your face. The ice pack has left your skin painfully cold, even in twenty minute bursts. "Sorry, sweetheart, I don't mean it as a bad thing, I'm sorry. Don't cry, okay?" He kisses your temple.
You sniffle.
"She's so sad," Roan says, walking on knees to your hip.
"We need to be really nice," Eddie whispers, wincing at his misstep. "I need to be nicer."
"You're nice all the time, dad."
"Can you cheer her up for me?" he asks.
Roan saves it before his small mistake can butterfly into anything worse, stretching her arms across your stomach, looking at you with wide, loving eyes. "It's okay, mom."
Your eyes mist up worse. You raise your hand to her cheek. Eddie can tell you're trying not to cry, but you breathe out and sob at the same time. "You're so pretty. I love you."
"I love you too!"
"I love you so much.” You turn to see Eddie, prompting another wave of tears. "What the fuck, you're really pretty." Eddie laughs as you slap a hand over your mouth. "Don't say that," you say into your hand.
"You're pretty too, in case you haven't noticed," Eddie says.
"You make me feel really beautiful," you say agreeably. It's perturbing to have you say something nice while tears bump down your cheeks. Eddie wipes them away carefully.
"You are really beautiful," he says.
"Can you make me stop crying?" you ask.
Eddie tamps down a laugh and rolls his shoulders. "Obviously I can. Close your eyes?"
You close them. Eddie whispers something to Roan, and they, as gently as they're able to, press twin kisses to the corners of your eyes.
Eddie pulls away. "That work?"
Your lashes flutter, heavy with tears. "No. Do it again. Like, ten times I think."
"You sure?" Eddie asks indulgently.
"Yessss…" You deliberate. "I think you'll have to help me have some tramadol."
"Tylenol, sweetheart."
"Are you sure?" you ask.
"Definitely. Tylenol will be enough, I promise."
You sniff. "Okay."
Eddie has a long couple of hours ahead of him.
#eddie and roan#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4
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A small brain worm I threw at @henderdads and now I can't get it out of my head...also guys, this is about the musical. Only the musical. Please. Don't come at me and attempt to burn me at stake for heresy. Double please.
Musical singers Steve and Eddie.
They are both very talented, well known, have an amazing stage presence. They never starred anywhere together, but people would love to see them because their voices are exact opposites, Steve's clear and perfected, Eddie's more raw and full of emotion. They don't know each other, but know OF each other.
Steve thinks Eddie should have been a rocker and not a musical singer. He always sticks out of his roles a bit, bringing a lot of himself into his roles. He's also rumored to have an inconsistent work morale.
Eddie thinks Steve is a pompous ass. He had the perfect education, connections, his voice is flawless while Eddie has a bit of a rasp. He's Mr. Perfect and Eddie hates it.
Eventually, they get cast in a production together...of Jesus Christ Superstar, Steve as Jesus and Eddie as Judas. They greet each other cautiously, start rehearsing...and magic happens.
Because Steve, the Grease posterboy, can portray so much pain and loneliness it takes Eddie's breath away. The way two single tears roll from his eyes when he asks God why he should die is...it stirrs something in Eddie. He believes Steve.
Eddie makes Steve speechless when he sings about how everything they've worked for has become sour, how he's torn between his loyalty to Jesus and drive to take action, do something to feel like he's fixing the injustices of the world. Eddie's dark eyes show so much hurt and internal turmoil that Steve wants to hold him.
And the final number, Superstar. It is a show number, it can be taken more lightly, but Eddie manages to convey his regret, his lingering questions, and Steve reaches for him with bloodied fingers, mouthing "help me", knowing all too well Eddie can't.
The crowd goes nuts. There are flowers everywhere, cheering, yelling, and Steve and Eddie finally agree on something - none of their premieres have felt like this.
The second the curtain drops, Eddie turns to Steve. "Uh. Could you maybe get changed?" When Steve stares at him, Eddie turns a beautiful shade of pink visible even through the stage makeup and clarifies. "Look, it's not like I'm really religious, but I really, really want to kiss you now. And it would feel really weird with...that."
Steve snickers and adjusts his prop thorn crown. "You're a wise man, Eddie Munson. The fake blood tastes awful. Meet you outside in fifteen?"
After the first kiss, a fun dinner and a very exciting night, Eddie asks Steve: "so, you think they'd cast me in Grease with you?"
His boyfriend snickers and kisses his cheek. "I sure hope so, you'd look great in a blonde wig."
And yes, it might earn Steve a hit with a pillow, but Eddie always sings along to Summer Lovin' with him whenever they cook together and that's all that matters.
#steddie#steddie au#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie drabble#stranger things#stranger things drabble
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Streetlife Serenade
Chapter Three - Weekend Song 🎶
Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader
Warnings: fluff, money struggles, emotional vulnerability, mentions of sleeping together, minor language, just two kids in love.
Summary: You and Steve finally both get a weekend off of work and Steve wastes no time taking you on a little getaway for just the two of you. It may not be much but it’s enough.
word count: 2.5k
Two ←→ Four
Masterlist
Winter 1986
If I'm gonna lose it I might as well be doin' it right
Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the clock. It had been like this his entire shift. Robin had already yelled at him twice for not helping her restock but how could he? How could he do something as mundane as putting movies on a shelf when he knew in just two hours you will be standing at your door and ready to go?
He had been working to hard anyway, picking up shifts just to fill the time when Robin and the kids were at school, and to spend more time with you. It had been back breaking and the overtime had run him down. The only thing even keeping him alive was doing a nine to five shift and knowing it was one step closer to getting enough money to share a life with you.
When the clock finally strikes five he’s out the door as fast as Cinderella at midnight, leaving Robin in his dust who just rolls her eyes because her best friend is dumb and in love. He knew he didn’t have the money to go on a trip but for the first time since starting at Family Video you both had the weekend off, so he was going to take his girl on a get away trip. Whether you picked him up, met him at the station, or rode in his car for hours. He couldn’t afford a vacation but he could take the strain if it meant going with you.
“Hey baby, you ready?” he calls out, pushing the door open to your home. When he sees you scurry down the stairs, bag hung over your shoulder he can’t help but smile.
“How was work?” you beam at him, arms coiling around his neck the minute his wrap around your waist. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips before providing an answer.
“Long, you ready?” he asks, desperate to hit the road and have you to himself all weekend.
“Yes Mr. Eager” you say, poking at his sides and he lightly flinches and pulls away.
“I’m just excited baby, we got some money to spend tonight” he grins that Steve Harrington grin at you and you just roll your eyes, used to effect he had on you.
“No we don’t but I suppose we can treat ourselves this one time” you smile back at him, knowing this was a big step in your relationship. This was your first trip together and even if it was small it meant things were getting even more serious between you.
“Yes, let’s do this thing” he claps and you roll your eyes, moving to put on your shoes. Steve shakes away his weekday blues as he lets the anticipation of the weekend envelop him. He knew pretty soon he’d be leaving with the wages he was receiving but at the very least he could treat you to something fun.
“Come on baby, take me away” he says as your hand interlocks his and you step out the door. You roll your eyes at his excitement despite secretly loving it.
You had been excited for this trip all day too, preparing and watching the clock for when Steve would arrive. Making sure you had a meal, shower, and change of clothes for the small getaway trip. When he finally came through that door it was like a breath of fresh air to your lungs. In just a few hours you’d be in Indianapolis, in a small motel, and seeing the city for the very first time.
Taking off down the road, dusk falling upon you, you fumble through the cassettes in Steve’s center console. Searching for the perfect road trip album. Just as your fingers find the colorful album art you grab it quickly and pop it into the stereo. Streetlife Serenader starting through the speakers. Suddenly Steve chuckles to himself and you give him a curious look.
“What?” you pry, hand curling around his arm on the gearshift.
“Nothing, I just think it’s funny I find a way to burn my money as quick as I earned it” he says, flashing you a smile that holds no regret. As much as you both had been saving up to get out of that crummy job, small set backs like this made it all worth it. You can’t have a future together if you don’t spend time together now.
“You’ll earn it back next week” you tell him, eyes glancing over his form. The boy you had come to love so much in the last year.
“I’d just broke even tonight, but I know it’ll be alright. There is no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you” he says, leaning over to offer a quick kiss before facing the road.
“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a big city. What do you think the canal is like?” you muse, excited to be somewhere other than small town Hawkins for once.
“Big, what do you think the motel bed will look like?” he asks, daring a glance at you and you gasp softly, hand reaching to smack his chest.
“Steven, it’s vacation. We can’t stay in the room the whole time” you tell him with the shake of your head and he laughs.
“I know Rosy but I just worked an eight hour day at the video store and am now driving for God knows how long. I’m dreaming of that bed and more specifically you in it” he tells you earnestly and your ears burn pink, proving that nickname even further. Steve just smiles at your reaction and lets go of the gearshift to lace his fingers with your own.
“We’ll be there soon enough” you tell him, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.
It was shocking how the closer you got to the city, the more you could see the bright light in the distance. You had heard how cities were always awake and until now you never really understood what that meant. It’s not until the car finally meets road between sky high buildings, lit up like Christmas trees, do you understand exactly what that means. By this time now in Hawkins the street lights would barely be providing enough light to make it down the road but here, the street was clear as day.
“It’s so beautiful” you tell Steve, an excited grin plastered across your face. You can’t tear your eyes away from the people walking the streets, laughing and talking into the night air. Something you’d never see in small street Hawkins. The only night life there was in Hawkins was high school parties in the woods.
“I’ve seen better” Steve says, mischief dripping from his tone as he eyes you in the front seat. You just roll your eyes until Steve needs help navigating the hotel. After two missed turns since you weren’t paying attention to the map, do you finally pull into the two story motel.
“Hurry up, I want to see the room” you urge him when he takes to long to collect the bags and Steve just laughs.
“Says the girl who just picked on me for wanting to see the bed” he says, shutting the trunk and holding each of your bags in each arm.
“Don’t dwell on it now, let’s move it mister” you jump excitedly and he shakes his head even though he loves you and your excitement.
Quickly checking in you discover you’re on the second floor and facing the street, your excitement carries your feet swiftly up the stairs and Steve right behind you. Using the key to unlock the door you’re met with a small room, pink sheets, and brown carpet. It’s nothing special but it’s perfect. You’ve turned and thrown yourself in Steve’s arms before he even has a chance to set down the bags and the boy laughs.
“Happy?” he asks and you nod before pulling back and kissing him as hard as you can.
“Why don’t we freshen up and get some dinner?” you offer as you pull away and steve nods with a smile.
“Sounds like a plan” he agrees easily. He didn’t have the money to be spending on dinner but based on the way his stomach rumbled and the smile on your face, he would do it. He doesn’t wanna stand here and sound accusing since everybody does their share of losing, but if he’s gonna lose, he might as well be doing it right.
When you return from the bathroom content and ready to go, you find Steve has already begun to unpack your bags. Grabbing the sweet boy and his hand, you drag him out into the cool night air, illuminated by city lights and the glow of your love for on another. You never would’ve thought approaching the cute guy in the record store would lead you to this. You couldn’t imagine your life without Steve now, there was just something that made sense. You two just worked.
“Could you ever see yourself in the city?” Steve muses, shoving a french fry in his mouth as he watches you from across the table in a small diner.
“I don’t know, I don’t think so” you respond with the shake of your head, eyes glancing over the various customers here on a late night. As much as the city was beautiful there was no community.
“Why’s that?” he questions further and you shrug, eyes cast on your half ate burger.
“As much as it’s exciting, no one knows anybody here. They’re all strangers and in a way it’s really lonely. When I go somewhere in Hawkins I know everybody. I like having those relationships. Makes me feel like I belong. I don’t think anyone could ever really belong to a city” you finally tell him, eyes shining into his own and Steve smiles.
“Same, even with all the bad things that have happened in Hawkins over the years I couldn’t really see myself leaving everyone, especially the kids” Steve tells you, hand running through his hair and you grin when one strand falls right back into place, stubborn as ever.
“King Steve hasn’t dreamed of living somewhere grander?” you tease and Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname you know he hates. You use it anyway, knowing with you he’d never have a chance to mind.
“Just with you” he answers simply, stunning you silent and you can’t help the cheesy grin that crosses your face.
“Steve Harrington would move out of his parents big luxurious house to just to bum it with a girl” you say but Steve’s stare never falters, eyes locked into your own as he tries to convey every emotion he’s ever had towards you.
“Not just any girl, you” he smiles, voice just barely above a whisper, and you have to glance away from the intensity of his stare. Your cheeks burn pink, reiterating the nickname he had gifted you all that time ago.
“I’m nothing special” you say with the shake of your head, hands reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears. Steve sighs, eyes glancing along the neon lights of the small diner, taking in the smell of grease heavy in the air, and the buzz of the milkshake machine.
“Rosy, before you I never thought I’d be happy again. That I was just one of those guys who peaked in high school and never really found anyone who would love him. Then on a particularly sad day when I wanted to feel close to my Grandpa, I ended up finding you” he tells you earnestly and finally you lift your eyes to meet his own again, a smile covering your face.
“You think it was fate?” you grin, hand reaching across the table to meet his own and Steve just smiles back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.
“Maybe but that day I told you my Grandpas favorite Billy Joel song was the one that described how he felt about my Grandmother and how the right women could turn you around and heal you when you least expect it. You did that to me Rosy, you healed me” he says and the seriousness in his eyes only furthers his point. Your heart is hammering in your chest because you had been waiting a year for Steve to tell you he loves you and this is the closest you had ever gotten. You knew that he did but sometimes it was all you wanted.
“So I’ve got the way?” you ask and Steve smiles, lifting your hand to his lips. Pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles.
“You got more than that baby, you got my whole heart” he tells you and you quickly let go of his hand, rushing over to his side of the booth and practically landing in his lap.
“I’m not hungry anymore, let’s go back to the hotel” you tell him and he laughs, eyes crinkling as he does and you have the urge to kiss him now more than ever.
“Now someone is finally coming around to spending time in bed” he telased you, finger poking into your side, and you roll your eyes as he pulls some cash out of his wallet.
“Whatever, let’s just go” you say, pulling him up and out of the booth to make the short walk back. The city is still just as alive as it was thirty minutes ago and Steve’s confession has made you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt. His pace is swift, eager to be back in the motel, and particularly in bed with you.
“Ooh, postcards!” you grin, eyes catching the new stand that you couldn’t believe was still open this late at night.
“Oh come on, don’t get distracted now” Steve pouts and you can’t help the giggle that escapes past your lips, letting go of his hand to file through the different cards.
“Hey, I promised Dustin I would send one every day we were here” you tell him and Steve shakes his head, arms hooking around your waist as he pulls you close, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Rosy we’re here to three days, barely” he tells you but you’re still just as determined as ever. Loving the kids that came along with being his girlfriend.
“I promised” you pout, finally landing on the one you loved and Steve just chuckles as you pay for it, scribbling a quick message, and sending it off. Preparing to walk away you don’t expect Steve to stop you, hand pulling you back from leaving just quite yet.
“Wait, I gotta write one too” he says, hands grasping a colorful postcard that says ‘Greetings From Indianapolis’.
“For who?” you question but he just hides it, scribbling the pen and address on the card quickly as he hands it to the man behind the stand.
“Don’t worry about it” he tells you and you let it go since you’re desperate to get back to the motel and spend the rest of the weekend with the boy you love.
Which in three days when you return home, you find the postcard amongst your mail with three scribbled words on it.
I love you.
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#steve harrington series#steve harrington fic#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington stranger things#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x femreader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n fluff#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem#joe keery x you#joe keery fanfiction#joe keery fic#joe keery steve harrington#joe keery smut#joe keery stranger things#joe keery x reader#joe keery imagines#joe keery imagine#joe keery#joe keery x femreader#joe keery x fem!reader#joe keery x y/n
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Hey congrats on 1k very well deserved🥰
For bingo card, can I request protective with bucky? Like he is super protective of the reader, and the reader likes it and makes her feel safe and secure
Extra for tooth-rotting fluff
Tysm already😘
Thank you so much 🥰 I love this request, but i mixed it with another because it actually fit very well. So, I went ahead and turned @buckaroundandfindout’s request into reality as well. This is basically part two of presumed dead but each part can be read individually 😊
Protective (Bingo Game)
!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!
BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader
word count: 1.2k
warnings: Bucky being angsty and vulnerable, fluff (so much), Steve being a little too captain, and swearing
part one | part two (each can be read individually)
“Steve!!” It echoed through the hallway before heavy footsteps sped toward Steve’s office.
The Captain already had an inkling of what the rage was about, but he would approach it with reason and calmness as he always did.
“What is this?” Bucky’s eyes were fiery as he held the tablet up to Steve’s face, his hand shaking with agitation before the screen went black again.
“You know what it is” Steve moved to put his notepad away and stood up to level with his friend. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had to do what was necessary, even if it would drive the wedge between them further.
“But didn’t I tell you that she’s not going on a mission with you idiots anymore? Don’t you remember what happened last time?” There was sweat building on his brow now. Steve hated his position in times like this. Times, in which he would rather console his best friend than reason with him why he put his girlfriend back on a mission she had almost died on last time. He hated it, really, but he had an obligation to do so.
Steve sighed with a heavy heart. “She’s a grown woman, Buck.” If he were to argue with himself right now, he’d call bullshit too.
“Grown women can still get injured and lost on a glacier and die!” There was fear forming behind the angry eyes staring him down with a plea. It was hard to see Bucky like this, so desperate and scared, but he couldn’t put him first. Not when so many lives were on the line. Not when going without you would definitely kill his team.
“I'm not changing it, we need her.” Steve turned to look out the window where the sun shone brightly through the clouds. A stark contrast to the atmosphere in his office right now.
“Stop being a punk, Steve.” He was closer now, almost daring but Steve knew that Bucky was begging for help. He wouldn’t back down, but neither would Steve. He’d rather have his best friend think he was an asshole than be responsible for genocide.
“Buck..”
But the brunette had turned as soon as Steve’s mouth opened, speeding out the door and shoving Sam aside gruffly on his way. “Woah, what’s going on?”
“Fuck off.” And then he was around the corner leaving Sam to stare between Steve and the place Bucky just was in confusion.
“What’s this about?” He closed the door as he stepped in and Steve just sighed with his hands on his hips and the sad shake of his head.
-❁-
“Fucking prick!” You watched as Bucky hauled a pillow at the bed with so much force, you were sure went beyond the pillow fight scale. But you didn’t say anything yet. Bucky needed to calm down first and sort out his anger before he could think clearly again.
He wasn’t good with his emotions, and apart from affection, which was definitely the hardest for him, anger and fear didn’t mix well with him either sometimes.
Bucky paced the room for another minute, frustrated grunts leaving his mouth every once in a while, and then, finally, he plopped down on the bed with his head in his hands.
“Is this about the mission?” You carefully approached him, mindful of his agitated state, and gently knelt down before him.
His head shot up again. “Yes, it’s about the mission. He’s sending you out so the same place again!” And then he was looking down again, some short strands falling out of place as he shook his head harshly.
Bucky was struggling, you knew the signs: fast and shallow breaths, avoiding eye contact, and that painful ache in your heart whenever you felt something was wrong with him. And if it weren’t for your being the cause of his worry, you would have probably taken time to appreciate his protectiveness. But you wanted to make things right. Bucky was the sweetest, most caring guy in the universe; it wasn’t fair for him to feel this way because of some stupid mission. He needed you to be safe and he needed reassurance.
“Take a breath with me, Bucky.” Your hand slowly laid on his knee but he instantly jerked away, a choked noise escaping him when he did and it broke your heart a little more. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll be fine.” Your hands kept soothing over his pants, and this time he let you.
Bucky was relaxing all over again - slowly. You could feel it beneath your fingertips, sense it in the room.
But then he finally looked up at you, revealing the tears stinging in his eyes. “But what if you’re not?” His voice was breaking. You didn’t say a word, let him sit in the silence for a moment. You didn’t know what to say. Of course, your job was dangerous, and unfortunately, accidents had happened before, but you were capable and trained and skilled and tough.
His flesh hand covered yours, his thumb soothing over your skin as a tear met with your touch. “I thought I lost you once and it was the worst feeling I’ve ever felt.” His Eyes were boring into you, captivating you, pulling you in. You could feel his pain, his fear. “I can’t lose you. Not again, not ever.” It was only a whisper when his little speech finished but it didn’t affect you any less.
Bucky Barnes was scared, and it took everything in his being to tell you. His anger, the frustration towards all of it, were all born from the fright losing you was providing. And even though it was sad, you somehow found it endearing as well. You were proud of Bucky. Because not only did he get a step closer to communicating his feelings, but he also merged into a man that had things to live for more and more.
Worlds divided the Bucky you met a year ago and the insanely sweet and vulnerable man in front of you right now. And though you could see the timidness in his eyes, he tried so hard to conceal, you knew he had gotten over the initial hurdle.
“You won’t,” you said steadily as you forced an encouraging smile on your face. You would not let Bucky fall into a panic attack when he had already come this far. He deserved just as much security as he provided you with. Care and love and so much more you were exchanging on a daily basis.
But he just huffed in response. You could see the tears in his eyes shimmering with uncertainty and you wanted to kiss each one of them away with tender love. But it wasn’t easy. You were going on that mission, whether your boyfriend liked it or not. You could, however, soften the blow.
You reached up to cup his face and gently pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes. “What if I talk Steve into letting you come with us?” You whispered onto his lips, soft skin grazing his chapped ones.
You could feel Bucky’s hands tighten for a moment, but then he relaxed and exhaled slowly. There was calmness washing through his veins, it cooled him down, made him weigh his options rationally - you could feel it, almost heard the wheels turning inside his skull.
“I guess...” He pressed your hand deeper into his skin, nuzzling his face, and kissed your palm. “I could agree to that.”
“Okay.” You pulled him back with a short but sweet kiss “Good.”
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look at me now (part one)
--- steve harrington x fem!reader
childhood friends to strangers to lovers. this is a more realistic look at developing a relationship with steve, set in canon while you know nothing about the monsters, or the nightmares, or all of his scars.
a fic about knowing steve before, during, and after the events of the upside down. including all the ways your friendship with him grows, wilts, then grows again - to blossom into something he probably doesn’t deserve.
tags: fem reader, no use of y/n, childhood friends, typical king steve meanness, yes there is an allusion to steve being icarus, kissing, fighting and making up, cliches, a lot of emotions, depression and suffering etc, reader has an aunt, mentions of death and injuries, codependent steve and robin, steve is so so so so so so so sad. hawkins doesn't get destroyed after the vecna fight - everything else follows canon
please read both parts, i worked so hard on this fic and i'm really proud of it :)
part two!!!
word count: 14878
-
You knew Steve Harrington better than you knew anybody. At least, you liked to think so.
You were five when you moved to Hawkins into the house right next door to Steve’s, and as things go when you’re a kid, that automatically made you best friends. At that age you didn’t have to try to be friends with somebody - as long as they lived nearby and had a bike, that sealed the deal.
He was only knee high to his mother, hiding behind her legs when she brought him over to introduce themselves. “We’re the Harrington's,” she said, then with a tight laugh, “minus one - my husband. This is our son. Steve - say hi, Stevie.”
He didn’t. Your mothers started a polite conversation and your eyes darted between the tall woman and her son. She was dressed like she had somewhere important to be, with red lipstick painted on her lips and pearls hung around her neck. She was pretty.
Her son didn’t stand with the same pride she had - he was peeking at you, tugging the hem of his mother’s dress and looking down at his feet. You could hardly get a good look at him, and he didn’t even wave back at you. His haircut was prim and proper; the button up shirt he wore was swallowing him.
They came inside for lemonade, and you led Steve into your living room, and by the end of the hour you had instantly become friends, bonding over your toy car collection that Steve loved.
You were kids - of course things were so easy.
To see him, all you had to do was walk over to his front door and knock, and you could spend as much time together as you wanted. Or just wait until his parents needed a babysitter - after they learned how much you and Steve loved spending time together, they started to drop him off at your house and you’d have sleepovers for days.
It was when Mr. Harrington had gotten a big promotion that they’d leave Steve with your family nearly once a week.
“I’m sorry, Stevie, I know me and Dad haven’t been home much lately. But next month isn’t as busy for us,” his mom would tell him.
“It’s okay, Mom,” he’d reply. “Don’t worry, I like staying here, so I’m alright.”
At your age you didn’t see the irony in a seven year old telling his mother that things were okay - shouldn’t it be the other way around? - but those apologies from his mother wouldn’t last very long. And the promises she always made were never kept. Soon enough, she stopped making them altogether.
Sometimes he’d just show up at your door, and your parents didn’t have to ask questions because they already knew more than you did, and you didn’t understand that he was more comfortable in your bedroom than in his own.
The routine of your friendship felt like the foundation of your life. Everything you did was with Steve by your side, like you were tied together with an invisible string that couldn’t be broken. Snacks after school were a must; movie nights every other weekend were your safe haven. The last day of school every year you camped out in his backyard under the stars and then woke up early for a big breakfast and a day spent at the arcade. Even as you got older, those things stayed the same.
You had busier schedules to work around in high school but you still made it work. After-school lunch turned into midnight snacks, and you moved from the arcade to the lake, but you were still intertwined with child-like joy and ease.
Steve’s other friends were another story. Tommy H was a thorn in your side that you couldn’t pick out, but Steve didn’t get why you hated him so much. At first, you didn’t get it either - you just did.
Until one day early in your junior year, Tommy H gave you a good enough reason for your disposition.
Like always, Steve was waiting for you outside of your last class of the day, and you were just about to turn the corner when you heard Tommy’s loud, boisterous, annoying voice.
“Steve, my boy, what’cha standing around here for?”
Steve laughed, even though Tommy had said nothing funny.
“Waiting on your favorite girl so I can get outta here - what’s up, dude?”
“Come on,” Tommy said, dragging the words out. “We got shit to do, ditch her and let’s get a roll on, if you catch my drift.”
You could see his stupid face in your head as he spoke - you just wanted him to go away so you could leave. But you’d wait there forever if it meant you didn’t have to have a conversation with him.
You were hardly paying any mind to their words.
“Can’t, dude, I’m her ride home. Tomorrow though, for sure.”
“She’s holding you back, man.”
But that caught your attention. They were both laughing even though, again, no one had said anything funny.
“Y’think so?”
“She even put out?”
Your eyes rolled so far back to your head they could’ve gotten stuck.
“It’s not like that with her.”
“Oh, that’s not what Kimmy thinks.”
“What? What do you mean - did she say something?”
You knew Kimmy to be the new flavor of the week, Steve’s new eye candy. It’d be someone new in a matter of days - and this was one brand new trait of his you were struggling to overlook.
“Just saying, most of the chicks think you’re taken by Miss Bitch -”
You call Tommy H a dickhead to his face one time and he gives you a nickname that sticks for three years.
“- and that’s why you’re not getting any action, dude. Gotta shake off the fleas, man.”
And then Steve laughed. Loud.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to do. You hoped he would defend you even a little bit, but he didn’t. He just laughed, and said, “I’ll think about it, man,” as if he was in on this joke, and then Tommy left.
And you didn’t know how you felt.
It’s not like Steve said it. But he had no problem listening to Tommy H talk about you that way. He thought it was funny.
Or, he was just saving face - did that make a difference?
You knew Tommy’s words were complete bullshit, and you didn’t care about him enough to let it affect you. Maybe Steve felt the same - maybe he just went along with it because it was easier.
You hoped so, because that’s what you chose to do. You brushed it off and walked out of the room and acted as if nothing happened.
“Hey - about time.”
You didn’t reply; he continued talking as you walked together.
“You hungry?”
“Thought you were coming over,” you said. “Told you I wanted to build a blanket fort. Remember?”
He huffed out a scoff, “A blanket fort? Are you six?” The glare you gave him made him reel his judgment back in. “Fine. Let’s go.”
…
As soon as basketball season was over and you had your weekends back to yourself, you were ready to get through your watch list of movies as quickly as possible. You’d never tell Steve that cheering for him at his games was your least favorite part of your friendship with him - you would always keep that selfishness to yourself.
And if you weren’t so wrapped up in your own mind, lost in planning your movie night, you may have been able to see your next conversation with Steve coming.
“There she is, been lookin’ all over for you.”
A heavy arm slung around your shoulders as you walked down the school hall. You didn’t have to question who it was.
“What do you want, Steve?”
“Just want to see my best friend in the whole world, is there something wrong with that?”
You rolled your eyes. Obviously he’s up to something.
“I’m going to choose to ignore you,” you said, shaking off his arm and stopping at your locker. His back fell into the metal next to you.
“What’s up?” he asked, and he was trying too hard to be inconspicuous, but you ignored it.
“Nothing. Oh, I think I finally have a cookie recipe we’ll like. Mrs. Jenkins gave it to me but she made me swear I wouldn’t share her secrets. Gonna pick up the stuff after school - have you picked your movie yet?”
Then his eyes widened, a bit too much to look genuine. “Oh, shit, is that tonight?”
“It’s Friday, isn’t it?”
“I completely forgot about that, shit. I made other plans without thinking.”
“Well, cancel them,” you said with a straight face.
“Well… what if you join in on my plans instead?”
You closed your locker and didn’t even consider entertaining Steve’s idea. “My mom’s already planning to make dinner for you. Are you ready to face her wrath?”
“Well - no,” he said. “It’s just - y’know, I was supposed to see Nancy tonight, and…”
“Oh, I get it, you wanna cancel so you can get laid. Is that it?”
“No, Christ - I’ll be there, alright? But next time, I’m getting my way.”
You laughed at him, and the bell rang and ended your conversation.
You didn’t think the night would go any differently than your normal hangouts. Maybe if you were expecting it, the disappointment wouldn’t have stung so bad.
He called you early.
“Hello?”
“Hey -”
“Hey, have you picked up the movies yet? I forgot to get popcorn, so…”
“No, I haven’t. Listen, um…” There was static on the line for a moment before he continued. “Sorry, but - can we - are you sure we can’t reschedule? Like, tomorrow night?”
You groaned, you were annoyed. But even when he argued with you, Steve never ditched your valued traditions - he may act bothered sometimes, but he would always come around. Even if he did gripe about it being childish the entire time.
That’s what you thought this would be.
“No, Steve, I have book club and tutoring and dinner with my aunt tomorrow. You know this.”
“Right. I guess I forgot about that. Okay, well…”
“...Well?”
Once again, he was quiet, and you weren’t sure if he was hesitating because he didn’t know what to say, or because he was nervous.
“Well - I think it’d be really fun if we hung out at my place tonight!”
“I guess I can bring all the ingredients for the cookies over. You do have a nicer oven…” you said.
“No, like, you can come over with everyone else I invited and we could -”
“I thought you canceled that?”
“I was going to, but… Tommy wouldn’t take no for an answer! And we already got the booze, and Nance finally said yes and - and I’d be really happy if you were here too!”
“...Okay.”
“Okay…?”
You thought for a moment, then decided to ask him the question you were asking yourself.
“Would you be happy if I was there, or would you be happy if I’m not mad at you for canceling?”
“Uh - either one.”
“Right.”
That answer was good enough for you, even though it wasn’t the one you wanted. You weren’t getting anything you wanted that night, and you weren’t going to fight for it with someone who already had their mind made up.
“Then have fun,” you said.
“Really? We can cancel?”
The excitement in his voice caused an angry laugh. “Yeah. Bye.” And you hung up.
And you made your cookies, and you watched the movies you already had on tape, and you didn’t miss the popcorn but you wished you had Steve’s lap to put your feet on - and it was fine.
You were sure he was having fun. And maybe he didn’t care at all about your canceled plans - because he was too busy with people who didn’t like you, doing something more exciting than what the two of you did as kids.
It was selfish to be angry. Maybe it was wrong. But you let it boil over anyway.
…
You didn’t talk to him for a week after that. Because you didn’t want to, and you wanted to teach him a lesson, and you hoped it would make him sorry.
Maybe you were being immature, but at this point, you were committed.
You were afraid that you were setting the wrong example - that, maybe, he thought you were angry about him making his own plans, when the problem was how he’d canceled yours so last minute. Or perhaps it was both. But now you had dragged it out too long and you were stuck giving Steve the cold shoulder until he finally caved in and apologized.
That’s all you wanted, really: an apology. And a bribe or two, just to get the most out of this argument. That’s how things usually went: you give him the silent treatment and he shows up at your door with your favorite snacks and a new book, and things would go back to normal.
But not this time.
You’d managed to bike to school without being caught by Steve all week, but you’d underestimated him waiting for you at the bike racks at the end of the day on Thursday.
He stood with his arms crossed and his brows drawn together. The moment you saw him you stopped in your tracks, like if you stayed still he wouldn’t see you, but his gaze was locked on. It didn’t look kind.
So you prepared yourself for this fight.
“What are you doing?” he asked, but his tone said something different - it said, I’m sick of your shit.
“What are you doing?”
He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Just wondering how long you’re going to keep dragging this out.”
You kept darting around his words and moved to get your bike as if he’d let you leave so easily. “I’m not dragging anything out. Don’t know what you mean.”
His arms flung out to his sides as his voice raised, “You’re acting like a fucking kid!”
And your volume matched his, “You hurt my feelings!”
“Well - grow up!”
The short silence that followed felt heavy, but he didn’t let it sit for long.
“I mean - come on - I ditch you one time and all of a sudden we’re not friends anymore? Really?”
“A sorry would be nice, Steve.”
“I’ve said sorry.” Both of you knew that he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter now. “But sorry isn’t enough, is it? You’re just mad that I have new friends. Because I don’t want to just - sit around and fucking - watch movies in your living room like we’re kids -”
“Like we’re kids,” you said, laughing. “Yeah - right, because that’s really what this is about, isn’t it, Steve?”
He looked confused, and you didn’t give him the chance to speak.
“Because I’m holding you back. Right? Tommy H said it so it must be true. I’m a bitch and I’m keeping you down and you need to shake me off if you ever want to get any action - that’s what it is. Just say it, Steve.”
“Where is this coming from?” He ran a hand through his hair and his voice sounded desperate, but you weren’t sure what for. Maybe to salvage the remnants of a wounded friendship, to turn this conversation around. But your anger wouldn’t let him.
“You know where it’s coming from. I heard it, Steve, and you - you agreed with him! I’m your best friend but you can’t even defend me to your shitty fucking friends - so just say it! You’re the one who doesn’t want me around -”
“That’s not what happened -”
You were so angry, and he was lying, and Steve never lied to you, and he’d filled you with so much venom that you couldn’t help spitting it out as you stepped closer to him. “It is. And you’re turning it on me when you’re the shitty friend. Stop lying to me and just say it.”
“Yeah, maybe that is what it is - and I was just too fucking stupid to see it before now. That you’re so fucking clingy I can’t even have one night with a girl without you getting jealous. He was right. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yeah, it was,” and you pulled your bike free and your foot hit the kickstand so hard that it hurt, and you told yourself the pain was the reason tears were flooding your eyes.
“Maybe I’m better off without you - have you ever thought about that? Is that your fucking problem?”
“Whatever! I don’t care anymore! You never have to watch another fucking movie with me again, alright? We won’t go to the arcade or build stupid fucking blanket forts or any of the other childish shit you hate so much!”
“Good - fucking - good!”
“And I hope you have fun playing King, and I hope when all your friends turn on you and Nancy dumps your ass - because you’re an asshole - that I’m the last person you run to for help, and I hope your dad is real fucking proud of you, because you’re turning out to be just fucking like him.”
It all fell out like you were pushing rocks off of a cliff - fast and angry and hard. You knew what those words would do to him. You knew you were hurting his feelings more than he had ever hurt yours - that you were putting the knife in too deep to pull out. You knew and you said it anyway, because you were mad and he was being a dick and lashing out felt good. Especially when you could hop on your bike and ride away from him, fast enough to avoid watching the blood pooling at his feet.
The worst part is that you were being honest.
Steve stood there alone and didn’t even turn to watch you ride away. He felt like hitting something, or screaming until his lungs were empty and tired.
And he didn’t even have time for any of this. He was finally making decisions for himself, for once, and who were you to get mad at him for that? He was popular, he had a girlfriend who was actually into him, his parents had finally gotten off his back. Things were going fantastic for him and he wasn’t going to let you mess it up because you were… jealous, or selfish, or whatever it was - Steve didn’t care.
He wasn’t going to lose sleep over you refusing to grow up and give him space. He was on top of the world, and you were trying to tear him down.
He didn’t need you, anyway.
…
Months passed.
And, like you had put a hex on him, all of your words came true - and then some. It didn’t take very long for things to crumble around him, and Steve almost thought it was funny how quickly his wings had melted to send him hurling into the ground.
No matter how hard he tried patching the holes, everyone knows you can’t fly with wings made of wax.
The fall hurt. But it was what came after that brought the real pain - a stinging, striking ache that was impossible to ignore. It felt like he was the last person on earth and he deserved it; like he shouldn’t be allowed to be around other people because he was no good.
And every time he tried putting the pieces back together, things only got more broken - all starting at Jonathan Byers’ front door.
What could get worse than fighting a monster from an alternate dimension?
Or fucking things up with your girlfriend beyond repair?
Or fighting those monsters again?
He learned quickly to stop asking stupid questions like those.
And he learned that he couldn’t just close his eyes and wish it away. He couldn’t run when things got scary; he couldn’t lash out when someone was honest with him; he couldn’t sneak out of his window and into yours when the yelling got too loud. He was forced to face everything he ever hid from, cursed to have regrets and keep them.
At least he wasn’t completely alone - the company of nerdy kid genius Dustin Henderson brought most of these lessons on. And in a normal situation Steve wouldn’t recommend learning anything from a kid in junior high, but he was living anything but a normal life. He’d take friends wherever he could get them, especially during senior year.
Maybe he wanted to set a good example for the kids that suddenly came into his life. Maybe he wanted to prove to himself that he wasn’t his father - that he could do good things without getting something out of it. Or maybe, most likely, he just did it.
He wanted to feel like a superhero, wanted to look in the mirror and feel proud of what stared back at him. But he didn’t, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave or heroic or gallant - he was no Clark Kent. And everything he did was because he had to. Because who else would?
Sometimes he felt like only someone as careless as him would fight a man-eating creature with nothing but a baseball bat - because out of everyone he knew, he had the least to lose. Why bother making safe decisions when most days he didn’t even want to get out of bed? What was he risking when he’d already bet it all and lost?
And who would be proud of that?
But there were moments, in the time between the fall and the fight, that he could almost see it. Like a flicker of light passing by he’d see Max smiling at him, hear Dustin’s excited laughter, feel a heavy high five from Lucas and he’d think - oh. Right there, standing in front of him, were the people he had to lose. The ones he was trying to win for.
And then he’d lay in bed at night and get stuck in another sleepless round of self loathing; hatred fueled by every cruel word he’d spit and all the selfish acts he’d taken, and fuck, he was spinning and suffocating and screaming, and maybe he deserved this.
It didn’t matter that he knew how to swing a fucking bat good enough to win more time for the ones he loved, because he wouldn’t love them right, anyway. And he’d turned the best person he’d ever known into nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper on his floor - something to be tossed aside and forgotten. And even if he tried smoothing it out, those creases would always be there.
Sometimes he stared out his window and watched yours. Waited for your light to turn off so he could look away and stop wondering what you were doing and how your life was without him in it.
All he wanted was to see you again. He’d beg for that movie night he ditched on junior year. He wanted to grab you by your shoulders and show you that he’s better now, he’s changed, those last words you told him weren’t applicable anymore and everything can just go back to how it was.
But nothing was ever that easy, was it?
He was glad when graduation finally came around, until he was forced into a sailor’s uniform with an ice cream scoop on his belt like a gun in a holster.
It was one way to spend the summer. It got him out of the house he hated staying in, and put a little money in his pocket, so slinging ice cream at Scoop’s Ahoy was good enough for him.
It distracted him from the vague nightmares he kept having and the fact that he got into a total of zero universities, and the free ice cream counted as dinner on his bad days. And he was fine with his obnoxious co-worker and annoying customers.
He was just fine.
But it was Hawkins. Nothing could stay fine there - not after a little girl with super powers opened a portal to an alternate fucking dimension and turned the town into a magnet for every fucked up thing imaginable.
Steve thought it was over, and then Dustin had him and Robin translating the Russian words he heard over his radio, and they were all pulled back in.
He wasn’t expecting to fall into the Russian lair under Starcourt Mall, to trauma bond with Robin - of all people - or to get any closer to dying than he already had, but he stopped betting on his expectations a long time ago.
By the time he saw the night sky again, he couldn’t remember how many punches he’d been thrown.
His head throbbed to the beat of his heart. It felt like if he tapped his temple, his eye would pop right out. His work uniform was ruined, stained with blood and spit, but the smoke billowing from Starcourt ensured that he wouldn't be needing it anymore.
The events of the night felt like they were years away. All he remembered was running, screaming, crying; he remembered the fist coming toward his face but not the impact. He woke up to pain, and then it was gone - more running and bleeding and fighting and then, it was over.
Robin sat next to him, shivering, on the back of an ambulance. The lights from the siren were blinding, the noise around him was punching his ear drums.
“Are we alive?” Robin asked. Her voice was totally shot.
“Think so.”
“I want to lay down so bad.”
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Do you have someone to call?”
She sighed deep. “Not really.” She let it be quiet for only a second, then said, “I don’t really want to go home. To be honest.”
“You wanna spend the night here?”
“If I don’t have to be alone, then, yeah.”
He sighed, too, then patted her knee.
He said, “I’ll call someone, alright?” and she nodded.
The payphone was a bit of a walk, and he had to wait behind two people in line, but it was enough time for him to muster up the courage to make the call. Even still, when he had the phone in his hand, all he could do was stare at it.
He was trying to remember the exact words you said to him the last time he spoke to you. Something like, “I hope I’m the last one you call,” he was sure. It was hard to remember your phrasing now, but the memory still stung all the same.
And he knows it’s not fair to call you, but he was going to anyway. Because in all honesty, you were the only option he had.
Any other time, he’d rely on Hopper for a ride. But Hopper wasn’t around anymore.
So he dialed your number and prayed you hadn’t changed it from the one he knew by heart.
-
Your hand darted out of your blanket to reach your bedside telephone. The ringing killed your half asleep ears, and you hardly knew what you were doing when you put the receiver to your ear.
“Hello?”
You could barely get the word out; your voice was thick with sleep that was slowly creeping over you.
“Hey. It’s Steve.”
With your heavy eyes shut, sleep was pulling you back in. Your whole body jumped a little bit when you attempted to stay awake.
“Steve?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry for waking you up, but -”
You didn’t know what was going on, and then you heard sirens on the phone. A jolt of anxiety seared through you at the sound. That’s what got you to wake up - then you realized who you were talking to.
“Steve?”
“...Yeah.”
“What - what’s wrong?”
Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you sat up in bed, holding yourself up with one shaky arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and you held your breath until he answered your question. “There was an, uh - accident at Starcourt, and - I don’t know who else to call. I’m sorry, I can’t drive right now and I don’t have anybody else.”
“Are you okay?”
“Barely.”
You didn’t give your answer a second thought. “I’ll be there in, like, five minutes, okay?”
You could hear his breath of relief over the phone. “Okay. Thank you.”
After stealing your mother’s car keys, you stuffed your bare feet into combat boots and ran to the car. Even though you still only had your learners permit, you absolutely floored it to the mall without a single thought in your mind. It was like you were on autopilot, simply doing what you were supposed to, because you were scared.
You saw plumes of smoke before Starcourt ever came into view, and you swallowed through your dry throat because you knew something bad happened.
You had to fight through crowds and cops before you were allowed to pass under the police tape to search for Steve, which wasn’t easy. Every face you saw wasn’t his and each second that passed dug a deeper pit in your stomach.
The second-to-last ambulance in the lineup is where you found him, sitting next to a girl whose head was on his shoulder.
And when you saw him… it wasn’t him. Your eyes glazed over him because he was hardly recognizable.
You’d seen him beat up before. He’s had his fair share of fights at school; you wiped blood off his face and helped him nurse black eyes. But it was never like this.
His left eye was swollen shut. Crimson stained from his eyebrow to his jawline. His skin was aggravated red, his clothes were blood rusted, his knuckles were ripped open.
And still, somehow, his hair looked perfectly done. That sight alone made you want to laugh and cry at the same time, because of course he managed to keep its style untouched. It was so Steve.
You ran to him; your legs carried you there on their own, shoelaces smacking against wet pavement. You weren’t thinking when you called out his name or when you flung your arms around his neck. You hugged him like it would heal him, like the scent of your perfume could cover the smoke he smelled of.
It’d been almost a year since you’d talked to him, and the jagged edges of your ended friendship still cut deep, but you didn’t care. Not when he looked the way he did; not when he was hugging you so tight; not when your tears were dripping onto his skin.
You pulled back and looked at him, and his wounds didn’t look any better up close.
“Oh my god, Steve, are you okay? What the hell happened?”
“I’m alright,” he said. He wouldn’t look at you, or couldn’t bring himself to. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sorry -”
“Don’t,” you said, and then you looked around at the scene. “Have the paramedics even seen you? Why are you just sitting here?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I - I’m fine. They said I’m fine. They’re all busy with others but - I’m fine, don’t worry.”
That’s when you noticed the girl next to him, who was looking at you like you were crazy, and you realized what you were potentially barging in on.
They sat close - too close to be friendly. They were basically cuddling when you first saw them. It was obvious what they were, so of course she was looking at you that way.
You didn’t mean to make her jealous, but a part of you didn’t care.
“Are both of you okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve said, answering for the two of them. The girl nodded. “This is Robin, by the way.”
You introduced yourself to her, trying to be cordial even though you were meeting in the worst of situations.
“You two can stay at my place tonight, if you want to,” you told them. Steve asked Robin if she was okay with that, and she said yes, and so you led them to your car.
You weren’t sure why you made the offer to Steve - you wanted him with you, sure. After seeing the condition he was in, you wouldn’t sleep unless you knew you were keeping him safe and sound in your own bedroom.
Old habits die hard.
But, all things considered, you should have just taken him to his own home, where he could be with Robin in peace. Without cut ties lingering in the air like flies.
You drove him home anyway.
Nobody spoke until you got to your bedroom.
“Do you need a shower?”
“Yeah,” Steve said. Robin nodded.
“Okay. Robin, you can take my bathroom. Steve can shower downstairs.”
You dug through bottom drawers to find clothes for each of them - you still had the ones Steve kept stored there, as embarrassing as it was, so it wasn’t a difficult task. And you’d let Robin choose from your pajama drawer.
And then you got back into bed, because you didn’t know what else to do for them.
Robin stood in the doorway of your bathroom, just staring into the room. When Steve opened your bedroom door, she snapped her head back to him.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?”
She glanced over at you. You wanted to hide from the tension in the room.
“I - I don’t know how to use this faucet.”
He showed her how, and then made for the exit, but she called for him again.
“I was just thinking - you know - if we both shower at the same time, won’t the water pressure be super low? And what if the hot water runs out before I’m done, and -”
“I’ll be quick, Robs,” he said. “It’ll be fine.”
Steve took one step into the hallway before stopping. The darkness looked like it went on forever. He didn’t remember your house being so unlit, or having so many hiding places, and suddenly his legs were shaky.
“...You’re probably right, though. I’ll just wait out here until you’re done.”
“Yeah. And I’ll keep the door cracked open, for… all the steam.”
“That’s a good idea.”
And he sat on the floor right outside of the bathroom door. When Robin was finished, they swapped places. As if they couldn’t be apart for longer than twenty minutes.
You didn’t ask them any questions.
…
The two of them slept on a pallet of old blankets on your bedroom floor. Robin made Steve sleep closest to the door. He tried not to be upset about it.
And he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep, but it seemed to swallow him. He didn’t dream, or toss and turn, but he woke up unrested.
Everything still hurt just as bad as it did the night before. And Robin’s snoring was making his headache worse.
You were no longer in bed, so he decided to get up and find you.
He wasn’t sure what kind of interaction he’d be walking into when he found you in the kitchen, but he tried to keep his head high.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Hey.” You had a mug in your hand. “Your eye looks better.”
“It doesn’t feel any better,” he said, and he wanted to make a joke that it actually looks worse - because when he closes his right eye, everything’s blurry - but he held that one in. He wasn’t ready for a comedic coping mechanism quite yet.
You put Tylenol on the island that separated the two of you. “Take them. I don’t know if it’ll help much, but it can’t hurt.”
The bottle said to take two, so he took three. And then the awkward quiet started washing in.
Until, “I saw what happened on the news,” and Steve almost coughed up the water he was chugging.
“What are they saying?” he asked, because he didn’t know what story he was supposed to be playing along with.
“Just talking about the fire,” you said. Your voice sounded so dim, and Steve hated it. “It’s… crazy. Hopper… he…” You couldn’t say the word.
“I know,” Steve said.
“And thirty others.”
His throat felt dry. “Thirty?”
Truly, he didn’t know that many people hadn’t survived. And now, it all felt real. Really real.
“Yeah,” you replied. “I’m just glad - you were lucky to get out, Steve.”
You had no clue how lucky he’d really been. And hopefully you would never have to know.
“I know.”
You sat your mug down, brushed your hands on your chest like you were trying to wipe off everything you knew of the accident, then blew out a loud breath.
“Let’s just think about something else.”
Almost at the same time as you, he spoke. “Thank you.”
“...What for?”
“For coming to my rescue,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I know that I… didn’t really deserve it.”
“Don’t thank me, Steve.”
“Seriously. You could’ve just told me to walk home, but you didn’t.”
“I’m just being a good friend,” you said, then shrugged. “I hope you would do it for me.”
“In a heartbeat.”
He wondered if this was his chance to say sorry.
Or if there was even a point in it.
He was afraid you’d do no more than laugh in his face, and even if he deserved it he didn’t want to succumb to it.
But he had to. Because he almost died last night. And he could be fighting those monsters again, any day now. Was he going to lose this chance? Or is he going to die without saying another word to you?
He stared down at his ripped knuckles. The wounds still looked fresh. They stung just from touching the open air.
He stared, and stared, and stared, and - he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. He couldn’t face it.
Your footsteps toward him made him jump back.
You were holding a box of band-aids.
You held out your hand, asking for his without words, and he offered both of them to you. First his right, then his left, were covered in pink, green, and yellow band-aids by you.
It was gentle and kind, the way you went about it. Like you would hurt him even more if you weren’t careful.
He still had dried blood under his nails and splinters in his palms. He watched your clean hands holding his beaten up ones and he felt bad, because your skin was too soft to bother with the cuts and calluses on his.
But you held them anyway.
He put his fingers through yours and you didn’t stop him. He wanted to cry.
“I’m just glad you're alright.”
He didn’t know what to say - there wasn’t anything to say, he guessed. Nothing to make it better or change anything.
All he could do was squeeze your hand and watch you wipe tears off your cheeks.
Until he noticed a cut on the back of your hand. He pulled it closer so he could get a better look.
“What happened?”
“I dropped a knife while I was cooking last night. It’s fine.”
It looked fine, but Steve wanted to repay your favor, so he pulled a band-aid from the near empty box and put it on your wound.
“We match,” he said.
You laughed. “We’re even now.”
He felt overwhelmed with melancholy. He needed to rest, he wanted to close his eyes and not open them for weeks.
“I should go check on Robin,” he said as he walked backwards toward the stairs. He kept his eyes to the ground, away from the look on your face. “She’ll flip if she wakes up and she’s alone.”
You said nothing.
…
The following days and weeks were a lot of checking on Robin, and Robin checking on him. Too much waking up in the middle of the night and keeping his eyes glued to his bedroom door just in case. Only feeling safe enough if he had a baseball bat hugged to his chest and Robin snoring next to him.
So - he wasn’t doing well, but it was fine. He tried not to complain about it. Robin was the only person he let himself be half honest with - but he kept the truth to himself, because she’d get anxious if he said what he really felt.
Steve was scared. And he didn’t want anyone else to know it, because all of the others acted as if their lives were perfectly back to normal. They were doing well. So he had to be doing well, too. For their sake.
Weeks after that awful night at the mall, he and Robin conned their way into getting jobs at Family Video. He was grateful, because god, he was too codependent on her.
It was a random night at his place when Robin brought you up out of nowhere.
“I just realized, I never thanked your neighbor for saving us that night.”
“You don’t need to. I’m sure she knows you’re thankful.”
“Yeah, but, I feel like I should pay her back.”
Steve shrugged at her words. He didn’t want to think about you more than he had to - it hurt just a little bit too much.
“Should I give her a gift?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “She likes cookies. Get her cookies.”
And Steve didn’t know it, but the next day, Robin rang your doorbell with a plastic box of cookies in her hands. You opened the door and she started rambling from the get.
“Hey - Steve said you like cookies, so, I decided I’d bring you some to thank you. For showing up at Starcourt in the middle of the night and practically saving our lives. And for letting us sleep on your floor. That was really nice of you.”
You didn’t know what to say. Robin seemed weird. You just went along with it.
“Oh - thanks. That’s cool. Thanks.”
She shoved them toward you, and you took them.
“Do you want to come in?” you asked.
Instead of answering, she just stepped through the door. You brought her to the kitchen.
“I hope they’re good. I just got them at the corner store. But all cookies are the same, right?”
“Well - no, but, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Oh.”
The gifted cookies didn’t look much better than the worst recipes you’d made, but you opened the crude packaging and gave them a chance.
They were fine. Maybe a little worse than fine. You gave Robin one, anyway.
“They’re good!” she said, with a mouth full.
“They are,” you lied. “They’re not homemade, but they’ll do. Thanks, Robin.”
You ate half of your cookie. Robin finished hers. It was quiet.
You figured you might as well try to get to know this girl a bit better. At least be polite and make small talk, just to be nice.
So you asked an easy question. “How long have you and Steve been together?”
But it wasn’t as simple as you thought, because she started coughing up the cookie. “What do you mean?”
“...What?”
“We’re not together,” she said with a heavy dose of sass. “God, I’ll never get over people asking me that. I am not dating Steve Harrington. Gross.”
“Oh - sorry, I just thought -”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Everyone always asks. I guess a guy and a girl can’t be friends without everyone making assumptions.”
You laughed. “Yeah. People used to do the same thing to us. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a weird question.”
“It’s alright. Actually, I’m supposed to be at his place in, like - well, ten minutes ago. You should come over if you're free.”
“Uh - I don’t know, me and Steve - we don’t really hang out anymore.”
You aren’t sure why you didn’t just make up an excuse. Something about Robin made you feel okay about being honest.
“It’s cool. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. It’s kind of been just us since what happened with - the fire. The fire that happened. So - you know. It’d be nice to have someone else around. If you want.”
You were curious how this would turn out. So, “sure. I’ll come.”
“Great. You should bring a cookie for Steve.”
You brought the whole box, and decided you would accidentally forget them at his place so they wouldn’t go to waste.
Steve’s front door was yanked open from the inside before Robin could let herself in, and his wide eyes became a little less wide when he saw her.
“Where the fuck were you - you were supposed to be here half an hour ago, I thought you got fucking eaten or something.”
“Relax. I was just making a cookie delivery next door. Chill.”
Robin threw her thumb over her shoulder. You poked your head out from behind her and gave Steve a weak wave.
“Oh.”
“What exactly would she get eaten by?”
“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. You noticed he was gripping his car keys in a tight, scarred fist.
“Monsters,” Robin joked. Steve didn’t laugh. You did a little bit. “I invited her over. Is that alright?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
You stuck to Robin all the way to his living room, because that was easier than making yourself comfortable. You hadn’t been in this house in ages, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.
“Where’s my crossword?”
“I finished it.”
“Asshole. You know I hate that. Just get your own.”
“Whatever, you suck at them, anyway.”
Robin, unlike you, had no reservations in the Harrington house. She kicked her feet up and started channel surfing as soon as she sat on the couch.
“Have a cookie,” Robin said to Steve. You reached the box out to him; he sat down next to you to take one, taking up the spot between you and Robin.
It was weird being so close to him again. His knee was touching yours, and it made your skin feel too hot. Still, you didn’t move away.
“These are shit,” he said with a full mouth.
“Hey!”
You laughed loud, because you completely agreed.
“No, seriously, these are awful.”
“I spent five dollars on those!”
You gasped. “Five? Robin.”
“You should have just given her the money instead. Or thrown it in the trash.” Steve dropped his half eaten cookie back in the box. You put the plastic lid back on and sat it on the coffee table.
“I thought they were good. You’re being so rude right now. They were a gift.”
Steve looked at you. “You didn’t tell her how bad they are?”
“I didn’t - I don’t think they’re that bad.”
“You’re lying,” Steve laughed, then he turned to Robin. “She’s lying.”
“I’m not lying!”
“I know you, and I know you’re lying.”
“It’s fine, guys, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything.”
You sighed, defeated. “...They are pretty terrible.”
Robin scoffed loud and obnoxious.
“Whatever. I’ll enjoy them.”
…
As it turns out, Robin acted like glue between you and Steve. Neither of you would have ever made an effort to see each other again, out of embarrassment or guilt or both, but Robin didn’t have to unpack any of that baggage. She didn’t even know it existed.
Instead, she immediately saw you as a friend. And she brought you in like she had known you forever.
But Robin and Steve were a package deal. So, if you were a friend to her, you had to be a friend to him, too.
And the two of them were weird. Most of the time, they left you feeling like a third wheel on their friendship.
They could be mean to each other. Rough. They acted the exact way you knew siblings do, but that was only surface level. There was something deeper - more than anything a brother and sister had, because it wasn’t the blood in their veins that connected them. It was the roots they chose to grow into each other that kept them together.
Robin spent the night with Steve more often than she didn’t. And she bullied him for his bad cooking, and he told her when an outfit was ugly, and they stood next to each other like two puzzle pieces that didn’t match but fit together with a hard press.
Sometimes you sat on the sidelines and ached, mourning a friendship that had been buried some odd years ago. It was well beyond rotten - something decayed and unrecognizable now. Even if you dug it up, it couldn’t be the same as it was.
But you wished.
And as you sat and listened to Robin chastise Steve for saying something dumb - watched as he meddled her hair into a purposeful mess, you could only laugh and sink into yourself. You were happy and sad; you cherished your time together and dreaded it, all at the same time.
Above it all, Steve was different. Distant in the way he would never meet your eyes, or laugh too loud at your jokes, or sit too close for too long.
It all felt fleeting. Like that week you spent angry at him - stuck in a weird limbo, between friends and strangers, a frustrating purgatory. Some kind of Schrodinger’s Cat of a friendship - alive and dead at the same time.
You would have just said something, if it felt like you could. But if Steve minded, he didn’t show it. If he missed how things were, he didn’t act like it. And, as you knew him, if he wanted to he would.
And it wasn’t totally bad. It was just new. You’d get used to it with a spoonful of sugar and a hard swallow.
On a random day, you had mentioned off-hand that you had been meaning to visit your aunt’s apartment to drop off and pick up a few things. Steve offered to take you, and you agreed, and the next day, you made good on your plans.
The two of you didn’t hang out without Robin very often. Since early August, the number was hardly a handful. But with the radio turned on, it wasn’t too awkward.
Steve had visited your aunt with you several times growing up. He went to her house-warming party when she moved into her apartment. You were thirteen, and you made a game of pressing every button in the elevator before getting off it. Now, every time you’re there, you think about how you used to chase him down the halls.
Her place was the nicest there was in Hawkins, in the tallest residential building in town. Parking was a nightmare, but Steve kept his complaints under his breath, and he even carried your bag for you.
The elevator was the only thing in the apartment’s lobby. As you pressed the button, Steve spoke up.
“You wanna take the stairs instead?”
“Why?”
He shrugged. You laughed.
“You want to climb eight flights of stairs? No thanks.”
“I’m an athlete,” he mumbled under his breath, sheepish. “This thing is taking forever, anyways.”
It dinged as it finally started moving down toward the bottom floor.
“It’s on its way.”
He stepped back, looked around, and he must have spotted the stairwell. “I’ll race you,” and then he took off.
The elevator door opened as the stairway’s door closed, and you rode to the top floor alone.
He didn’t win the race - far from it, and you laughed as he tried to hide his struggling breathing.
“Been waiting for you all day, athlete. Thought you’d take ‘til Christmas.”
“Psh. Whatever. I’ll win on the way down.”
The elevator creaked and hummed as it started moving down, and Steve glared at it.
You laughed, “You’re weird,” and you left him behind to walk down the hall.
He worked fast to catch up, and called out, “The loser pays for dinner!”
“You know I’d never pass up that bet.”
Your aunt wasn’t home - she rarely was. But a key was under the mat, and as you walked inside her tuxedo cat, Webster, greeted you at the door.
“Hey, dude,” Steve said, kneeling down to pet him.
An old cardboard box sat on the dining table nearby, “Glassware” written on the side in crude permanent marker. It’s what you had been instructed to pick up and take back home - you weren’t sure what was inside.
You sat down and opened it and pulled out the first thing you saw: a white paper bag, one you knew printed photos came in.
“This what you came for?”
Steve stood next to you. He had Webster in his arms, who was purring loud and melting into his hand.
“Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. Family stuff, I’m guessing.” You pulled out a fat stack of pictures and the one on top made you bark a laugh. “Oh my god.”
You and Steve, seven years old, wearing matching cowboy costumes for Halloween - you with a white cowboy hat, him with a black one. You stood with a jack-o-lantern between you. You had your hands on your hips and a frown on your face; Steve had his chin pushed out in a wicked scowl.
You turned it to him, and he laughed just as loud as you. “Look at those two mean mugs!”
“Do you remember this?”
He sat in the chair next to you, continuing to look at the photo over your shoulder. Webster made himself comfortable in his lap.
“Yeah,” he laughed, “We fought all night because you stole my -”
“Oh my god.”
“You stole my full size Snickers.”
“I did not!”
“You did.”
“I didn’t!”
The way he looked at you told you this was still a sore subject.
“You went ahead of me to the Smith’s place while I was trying to tie my shoe and you took her last bar. That’s what happened!”
“That’s not stealing!”
“It is!”
“I didn’t mean to leave you behind! It’s not my fault you didn’t know how to tie your shoes!”
“You didn’t, either. And, I learned before you.”
You puffed a sigh and flipped the photo to the back of the stack. “Why are you still fighting over this? We shared all the candy, anyway.”
“It’s the principle. Theft is a crime, and you never apologized.”
You only laughed. No way were you giving him that apology now.
When you pulled the photos out of the box, you didn’t intend on looking through them all, but your curiosity kept you flicking through them. Most were of random family members or photos of the beach, but pictures of you and Steve were littered throughout the stack. There wasn’t a single photo of you that didn’t have him in it, too.
There were from some first days of school, birthday parties, sleepovers. They were sorted somewhat chronologically - looking through them was pure nostalgia, memories hitting you at every angle as you watched yourself grow up.
The next one to catch your eye was from a middle school dance. Neither of you wanted to attend, but your mother insisted. Your one condition was that you could wear whatever you wanted.
So you and Steve had swapped styles. You wore his way oversized Atlanta Flames jersey, a baseball cap, and sneakers that didn’t fit; he had on your purple sweater, a big pearl necklace, and white jeans.
It was cute, and it was goofy, and you wished you could jump into the picture and relive it.
At that age, the only thing you knew was that you and Steve would live forever, together. Now that you know what you know, your heart ached for the little girl in these pictures. What would she think about the space between you two now?
There were pictures from summer camp, swimming pools, and your first day of high school.
Webster meowed. Steve meowed back at him.
As you got to the bottom of the stack, pictures of the two of you were less and less. The last one - the one you didn’t know would be your last picture with him - was of you, him, and a few of your extended family members. A day spent at the lake that Steve really didn’t want to go to, for some reason only an angsty teenage boy could understand, that you dragged him to. It was the summer before your junior year.
In the photo, his arm was draped completely over your shoulder. You remembered him leaning all of his weight on you - to the point that you fell out of your seat after the picture was taken by your aunt.
And you had fun, like you always did. Steve became a member of your family out of happenstance. It was just because he was always around, really. They all saw him as much as they saw you.
You put that photo to the back of the stack and kept carding through them. You didn’t find any more pictures of you and Steve.
The rest were all more recent. Steve stopped you on one that was of you alone - sat at a dinner table, wearing a cable knit sweater.
“That’s a good one,” he said.
“Yeah. It’s from Christmas. Senior year, maybe.”
You acted like you weren’t sure, but you knew exactly when that photo was taken. You just didn’t want him to know how sad you were in it.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” and you laughed, “this was not a fun party.” He didn’t reply, and so you kept talking, sparing him a shy glance. “Everyone kept asking where you were.”
The silence was heavier this time.
“Oh,” he said, trying to bury it. “Yeah.” An awkward chuckle. “I bet that was annoying.”
You laughed and tried to make it sound real - tried to seem like you didn’t care. “Yeah, well, you know how my family always liked you better.”
He shrugged, looking like he was going to make a joke, but he didn’t. His eyes were distant as they moved down to his lap.
You shoved the picture to the back with the rest.
The one behind it was just as lonely.
Still, Steve perked up at it. “Is that from graduation?”
You wore a cap and gown, you held a bouquet of flowers, and you stood all alone.
“Yeah.”
Steve’s hand wrapped around yours holding the picture, and he tilted it toward him so he could get a better look.
“My aunt kept trying to get me to find you for a picture,” you laughed.
“You should’ve.” He smiled something big and real, and you realized with a rush that this is the closest you’d been to him in a while. If you kept looking, you could count the freckles on his cheek. His thumb pressed into the back of your hand. “I remember seeing you. You looked real cute.”
You ignored his compliment to say something snide. “I ignored you so hard.”
Another laugh, “Really?”
“Obviously.”
“Yeah. That’s fair - I would’ve, too.”
You tried not to think about how badly you wished he was standing next to you in the picture.
Steve spoke up, “I -” but you cut him off by accident.
“It’s fine.”
You didn’t mean it. He could tell.
“...Is it?”
It was honest when you replied, “I don’t know.”
He was still holding your hand.
“I never told you I’m sorry.”
“I guess I just figured you were.”
You dropped the pictures on the table, dropping his hand with them.
“Is that good enough?” It was an honest question.
“I don’t know. Maybe it is.”
And your answer was genuine, because you didn’t know. Steve had come back into your life just as easily as he left it - on a whim, without any warning. You didn’t put any roadblocks in his way.
But you stared at the photos spread out in front of you. At the story they told of your friendship that would always be unfinished.
You had to teach yourself how to do life without him. All of those lessons seemed useless, now, because here he was. And you didn’t even know if he ever missed you.
You pulled away from him, a move that was far more snappy than you meant. You did it like he’d reached out and burned you. It had Webster jumping down to the floor.
“It’s fine,” you repeated.
“I think you’re lying just to make me feel better.”
“I don’t know why I’m lying.”
“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he mumbled, and you stood up. The chair scraped the floor in a way that grated your ears. You turned your back to him.
“I thought I knew you.” Your eyes welled up, your nose started to run. You balled your hands up like you were on defense. “I thought you would say sorry, and make everything go back to normal like you always did. But you didn’t. I thought you would miss me, at least, but - but you didn’t.”
“You think I didn’t miss you?”
The shake in his voice had your fist dropping to hit your thighs, defeated.
“I miss you more than anything. I’m sorry - I’m not just saying it to make you feel better, or because I have to, I - I don’t even deserve to be saying it.” He paused, and you could imagine the way he was running his hands through his hair and pacing around with nerves. “I’m sorry for being a bad friend. For not treating you like you deserved - I hate myself for it. You were the best thing in my life, and I know that now. I was just too scared to come crawling back to you because I wasn’t worth your time.”
You breathed in deep, exhaled hard, and it felt like the first breath you had taken in two years. It was that feeling when you’ve forgotten your keys but find the door unlocked - the relief of being let in despite a mistake, it rushed through you, and it had you turning to look at him. You found him standing and staring at you, through you, with glassy eyes you would always know.
“I just miss you, Steve.”
Three steps and then he was around you. And you were safer than a child hiding under their blanket from whatever lurked in their closet - monsters weren’t real if his arms were around you. That had always, always been true.
Webster rubbed up against your leg, then Steve’s. The hug shook with both of your laughter, and he held you tighter.
…
Things didn’t go back to how they used to be after that, but it was close enough. And you were trying to settle into the differences that kept knocking you off your feet.
It started with late night phone calls.
Before, you never talked on the phone. Why would you when his house was a stone throw away? If you wanted to talk, you’d invite yourself to his place.
But the two of you were still dancing on the ripped edges of that two year old fight. Wounds were still healing - almost there, but not quite. So it was easier to take it slow, to treat this time as something brand new.
And it was brand new.
You had caught yourself grinning ear to ear over stories he’d tell you, and you had to force the smile off your face. Like you shouldn’t be acting that way over your friend - you quickly realized you just couldn’t help it.
He’d keep you up too late and tease you for it the next day. And you weren’t sure if he was trying to get a rise out of you, but that’s how you felt. He acted so smug after seeing your cheeks swell in embarrassment.
So it wasn’t going back to how it was before. In fact, it was going down an entirely different road - one that wasn’t even on the map.
You weren’t complaining, because you felt things you hadn't felt before around him. He made you feel warm, and you were addicted to it. You were addicted to him, and you had blind hope that the feeling was mutual.
He’d spend his entire lunch break visiting you, even if your breaks didn’t line up. He’d follow you around the apparel section at Roses and you’d have all your attention on him, just the way he liked it. He made sure to see you every day.
You never thought he’d make you feel so shy, but it was an emotion you couldn’t get enough of. You hardly realized what you were spiraling into until you’d catch him looking at you with a blush on his cheeks, or until you had to stop yourself from thinking about him every night before bed.
But there was something glaring, something major, something you couldn’t look at directly until it came up in conversation with Robin.
Robin and Steve always had Sundays off, so the day was designated to be stolen by their other friends - who were all in junior high.
When you asked why they were friends with junior high kids, Steve called himself their babysitter. Robin said she was their good influence. You avoided asking follow up questions.
It was a lazy autumn day, one where the warmth of fallen leaves reflected in the air - something rare for early November.
The youngest of the kids, Erica, loved putting on a nice outfit and going for a walk. Today it was yellow Chucks, a red silk and pleated maxi skirt, and a long sleeve button up with a rainbow of vertical stripes. (It would have been a tie dyed short sleeve, if Steve hadn’t told her it was too chilly for it.) She had stuck gems beside her eyes, the kind that come in the plastic packets and don’t stay on for long, and Robin packed yellow eyeshadow on her eyelids.
She was downright cute, but if you told the eleven year old that she’d aim her sass at you and shoot to kill. She much preferred receiving a refined compliment, because, “I hear that all the time.”
Today, you told her you loved the way she paired so many colors together. She grinned something beautiful and kicked her foot up behind her and agreed with you.
Steve had once described her as a menace - you didn’t understand why.
You walked with Robin a few feet behind Erica, Dustin, and Steve. Dustin had not stopped talking the whole time, except when Erica butted in. Steve had stolen the younger boy’s thinking cap hat and was wearing it backwards.
“The last time I wore this coat, I found two phone numbers in the pocket.” Robin held up two fingers and gestured to the Letterman jacket she wore. It was Steve’s. “Can you believe that? I mean, what a douche. I wouldn’t even wear this if it wasn’t so warm.”
You laughed. “Yeah, I believe it, actually. They were probably from some cheerleaders or something.”
“Yeah, well, he can’t get any numbers these days. He’s cursed to be forever lame as punishment for the jerk he was in high school.” Robin was smirking wicked and wide, like it was satisfying for her.
“He’s lost all his charm?”
“All of it. I mean, one hundred percent. I used to keep count of how many times he fell on his face in front of girls. It’s magnificent, truly.” Then, quieter, “He’ll get it back, though. One day.”
“He used to have no trouble at all.” The conversation had the gears in your head turning; it had you speaking without thinking. “I don’t know. He’s really different now.”
Robin laughed, like you were joking. “Yeah, he learned manners, for one.”
“It’s not that.” You were thinking out loud. “He’s nicer, yeah, but… it’s almost like he’s not even the same person. I’m not sure what happened.”
The Steve you knew was boisterous. He was unapologetic. He was stupidly confident, the life of the party, and he wasn’t afraid of anything. A wouldn’t take no for an answer, go with the flow, drop of the hat kind of person.
You were lucky to know him when that’s all he was. Before the halls of Hawkins High swallowed him and spit out someone ornery who cared too much but not at all.
You thought it was just Tommy and Carol’s influence. Now that he wasn’t their friend anymore, you thought he’d become who he used to be.
“He told me how close you two were before,” Robin said. She was tugging on a strand of hair that was stuck in her lip gloss. “I guess I never knew him like you did.”
“He’s so quiet now. He used to be so loud.” You meant it more than literally - you hoped Robin would understand. “I don’t know. So much changed and it’s only been a couple years.”
It seemed like she was struggling to reply, because it took her more than a few seconds to get her words out.
“I guess - I mean - I think you’ve probably changed a lot, too. Two years is a long time, right?”
Robin knew. No one could tell, but she knew.
Maybe the differences that you had described of Steve were really there. She wasn’t able to see them the way you could, but she didn’t care. It was selfish to admit that she would never change a thing about him - but one.
He was waiting.
Everyone was, she thinks.
Waiting for another fight.
It wasn’t easy to go back to normal after trudging through hell. It was like coming out the other side of trench warfare unharmed - you didn’t. When a gun fires, its bullets hit. If a bomb is dropped it doesn’t miss a fucking thing, and Starcourt Mall was goddamn ground zero.
And Robin wasn’t there for the disappearance of Will Byers. The death of Barbra Holland. The Upside Down. The Demogorgon. The Demodogs, and the lab, and the girl with psychic powers. She wasn’t there, but Steve was.
Her head hurt just thinking of the stories he’s told her. And she knew his did, too, more often than he’d admit to her.
And she felt bad when her sleeping patterns went back to normal but his didn’t. When she got used to being on edge all the time, Steve still jumped at any noise. His phone would ring and she would watch him prepare himself to answer it - to hear Dustin’s voice on the line telling him that it’s back.
So when you said that Steve’s changed, Robin didn’t know what to tell you. You were right, and she knew that, but she couldn’t tell you why. You knew everything about him besides, well - everything.
Robin wished she didn’t have to know, either. She wanted to tell you that you should be grateful you couldn’t see the shackles on his ankles. You got to know him before - and Robin would give anything for that.
But she couldn’t change a thing.
Instead, all she could do was wait.
And lie.
And pretend.
“He’s still loud,” she said, uncomfortable as all get out.
As if he heard her words, Steve busted out in a stomach hurting kind of laughter at one of Dustin’s stories.
“See what I mean?”
Your destination was in sight now. Steve turned around - letting Dustin steal his hat back - walking backwards, and reached a hand out to you.
“You coming?”
Your pace turned into a skipping sort of jog to catch up with him. When you were close enough he grabbed your hand and didn’t let go. He’d been doing that often.
The kids and Robin broke away, heading for the tiny park that was up on your right. To your left, Steve tugged you to a tiny convenience store.
“Place your orders!” he called.
Dustin and Erica shouted at the same time. Steve mumbled something about not being able to understand them, so you relayed their messages.
“You’re getting two things! No more than that!” he shouted back. “Robin?”
“7-Up.”
“What else?”
“Surprise me!”
You hung onto his arm as you walked into the store, and you weren’t even sure why. He never pulled away when you got that close, so you kept going back.
You went for the drink coolers first. He reached for the apple juice.
“She likes orange juice the best, now,” you said.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“You better be right - if she’s mad at me over this, I’ll be mad at you.”
You rounded up all the snacks everyone wanted, following Steve’s only two items rule. You laughed when he chose plain potato chips as Robin’s surprise - the blandest possible choice. And while he checked out at the counter, you wandered off into the aisles.
He acted like he didn’t want you to go, pulling you back and asking a quiet, “where’re you going?”
“To look around.”
It was straight to the candy aisle for a Blow Pop for Erica, Pop Rocks for Dustin, and sour gummy worms to share. You liked spoiling them - it helped to get on their good side.
You made a stop at the candy bars to grab a Snickers bar before going back to the counter, and Steve immediately shook his head when he saw you.
“What are you doing? What’s all that?”
“It’s all for me.” You dropped it all for the clerk to scan.
“All of it?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though you said you didn’t want anything?”
“I changed my mind!”
He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, and you watched his hand move to his back pocket.
“Don’t you dare.”
His wallet was half way out of his pocket as he laughed. “What?”
“You’re not paying. Stop.” You tried to sound mad, and felt you were doing a good job, but he kept giggling at you.
“Oh, are you my boss now?”
“Yes, Steve,” and you bumped into him, trying to push him away. “Don’t make me say your full name.”
“Just let me -”
“Take their things to them! Go!”
You were shocked when he listened, but he only made it as far as the door. He stood against the glass with his arms crossed, staring at you until you finally followed him.
“What are you looking at?”
He pushed his back into the door to open it. “Trying to figure it out.” He reached for your hand, and you swatted it away, only for him to catch you, anyway. And you let him hold your hand, all the way across the street to the park.
Your friends sat at a picnic table waiting patiently. It was actually two tables pushed together, doubling the normal length; Erica and Dustin sat opposite each other on one end, and Robin sat in the middle, crisscrossed on top of the table.
Steve divvied snacks to grabby hands, and you snuck their surprise treats in to the sound of thank yous.
You took your seat on the other end of the table across from Steve. When you sat down, he put a bottle of Coke between you.
“Are you going to share?” you asked.
“Only if you’ve got something to give me in return.”
The Snickers bar made a thud on the wooden table. Steve hummed. “I guess that’s good enough.”
You were almost happy with the trade until you realized, “No bottle opener?”
His eyes doubled their size. “Shit.” Then, he grabbed the bottle. “No, it's a twist off.” The noise he made as he tried taking off the cap was something like a squeak, and everyone at the table laughed.
“Just walk back to the store!”
“Dustin - Dustin! Do you -”
The boy slid a large key ring down the table. It was a wad of keys, keychains, and gadgets.
“It’s on there somewhere.”
There was a mini flashlight, a laser pointer, a plastic Q*bert charm, a pocket knife, keys and keys and keys, a kubaton, and, “Yes!” a bottle opener.
“This is why I keep you around, Henderson.”
“I’m the one keeping you guys around, first of all.”
You grabbed the Coke and guzzled a couple drinks worth in one go, and when you put it back down, Steve had already eaten half the candy bar in one bite.
“Steve!”
His mouth was full when he said, “What?”
“Why can’t you share? Why didn’t anyone ever teach you about sharing?” His laugh was sweeter than the chocolate he was shoving into your face. “Stop, I don’t wanna eat after you.”
“We’ve got the same germs,” he said, and he was feeding you the Snickers before you could make another argument.
The snacks were all gone much quicker than it took to walk and get them, because none of you would ever learn to savor the destination. Regardless, next Sunday, you’d all be sitting in the same spot - give or take a few others, creating a good day for yourselves.
And, if you were lucky, Steve would be holding your hand the whole time.
...
It didn’t matter who you were cheering for on the court, you hated high school basketball games.
Going to Lucas’s game brought back far too many memories than you’d care to recollect. But even though you hated it, you were still filled with pride watching the boy play the game so well.
And Steve hadn’t shut up about it all night. He spoke about Lucas shooting the buzzer beating winning basket like he was recounting a grand story - something from a movie or a comic book. Like you weren’t sitting beside him the entire time.
You stood with him in his kitchen, and the excitement had finally started to settle. You and Steve had spent far too long talking about how weird it was to be back in the high school gym, and both of you agreed that you didn’t miss it at all.
“Is Robin excited for spring break?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “She said she’s spending the entire week here so she can be as lazy as she wants, so - I guess she is.”
You threw a weak fist into his shoulder and he caught it. “What’s wrong with that?”
“She’s gonna steal all my time!” His grin was contagious as he slotted his fingers into yours. “And that means I can’t steal all of yours.”
“Does that mean I’m finally getting a break from you?” You laughed, but he didn’t.
It was weird, the way his entire demeanor changed in a snap. Before you could even take back the joke you made he was shifting his eyes and dropping his grin.
He had always worn his heart on his sleeve, even if he tried hiding it.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.” It was a hand through his hair that said the opposite, but you’d never call out his tells. “I just - that reminded me there was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.” He dropped your hand to cross his arms, and it had you feeling nervous.
“What about? …Did I do something wrong?”
“No, honey.” You weren’t sure when that nickname came around, or when it started to stick, but it had a fairy fluttering its wings in your chest. He started to reach for you again, you could see it, but he stopped himself. “You could never do anything wrong.”
You laughed quiet. “Neither could you.”
You moved to stand next to him, mirroring the way his back leaned against the counter. Your arm pressed to his. He was looking at the floor; you were looking at him.
“Are you sure?” It started as a whisper but jumped into a shake, a crack in his voice that said more than he wanted to. And he looked at you, to see if you caught it, and you swore his eyes were shining. He didn’t show them to you for longer than a moment.
“Steve?”
“I just - I don’t want to fuck this up again.”
“How would that even happen?”
He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. “I don’t know.”
You nudged his arm with your elbow, again and again, until his crossed arms dropped. Your pointer finger snaked around his, and the touch brought enough bravery out of him to link his fingers with yours.
“What do you know?”
He scoffed into a smile, one big enough to reach his eyes, and it brought him out of his funk. “I don’t know,” he said, moving closer to you as he made the joke.
“That’s what I thought,” you replied. “Not a thought going on in your head.”
Making him laugh was the key to his heart - you knew that, and it worked this time as well as it always had.
He had his head turned, cheek to shoulder, staring down at you; you were so close, you could watch his eyes move across your face and know where he was looking. They wandered, but when his gaze lingered on your lips - you noticed.
“I know one thing for sure,” he said.
When you took a loud breath, you’re sure he heard. He gave you eye contact again, and maybe you were seeing things, but you swore you saw question marks swimming in the green.
He didn’t breathe. You didn’t blink. You moved forward just a hair, and he looked back down, so you pressed on. You wanted to be closer, as close as you could get - it was curiosity or desperation, you didn’t know.
When he tilted his chin toward you, it was hardly noticeable. But you saw it, and it was enough. Your nose was just about to touch his - you watched his eyes close, right before yours did. There was nothing to do but move closer, closer, closer.
And then, when you felt just the softest graze of his skin on yours -
BAM! BAM! BAM!
You jumped back from each other like same-side magnets, gasping and jumping at the sound of loud knocks on the front door.
He moved fast, like he was looking for a way out, leaving you alone in the kitchen. “Shit.”
Steve had a good idea of who he’d see when he opened the door. The knob was jingling when he unlocked it, then pulled it open.
Sure enough, Robin. Wearing a flannel that was his, with wild bedhead that he couldn’t help laughing at.
“Did you walk here?”
“Yeah,” she croaked. “Let me in.”
It was written all over her face why she was there, and Steve felt bad.
Even though she asked to come in, she didn’t move. Her features were all scrunched up, her shoulders were hunched into her crossed arms.
“Robin -”
“I fucking hate this.” Loud, echoing into the night and through his door. “I hate it, Steve, and I swear - I swear it’s not over.” Her eyes wet her cheeks; she looked at him through tears. “It’s going to happen again. I can feel it. And I’m scared.”
He had to pull her inside, because he knew she’d stand in the same spot all night if he didn’t. She pushed into him, shoving her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his shirt.
“You just need to rest,” he told her.
She spoke something pitiful, not caring that her words were muffled. “The gate’s really closed, right? For sure?”
“It’s over, Robin, it was just a nightmare - you just need some good sleep, alright?”
She nodded, wiped her runny nose into her sleeve, and tried pulling her tears back in.
“I wish I could sleep anywhere else.”
“I know.” It wasn’t any sort of jab - it was just the truth. The only time she was truly afraid was when she slept alone.
She hit a fist into his chest, something playful that made things feel a little more okay, and then took herself to the stairs.
“I’ll be up in a minute to stand guard,” he joked. She barely laughed but it was enough, and he watched her until he couldn’t see her anymore.
And he hoped you hadn’t heard anything, because he wouldn’t be able to answer any questions you had. When he found you in the kitchen you looked nothing but concerned.
“Is she okay?”
All you knew was that she had nightmares about the mall fire. It was a realistic excuse, in comparison to the unbelievable truth.
“Yeah. You know how she is.”
You nodded. Steve wasn’t sure how to go back to the talk you were having before, so he avoided it.
You spoke first. “I hope she’s alright.”
“I should probably go be with her,” he said.
You were perfectly okay with it, understanding as always. “Yeah. She needs you.”
He walked you to the door, and it was too brief for his taste. But when you were there, he spoke up.
“I’m sorry. Can we finish this tomorrow, maybe? I promise - I… I really did want to talk.”
“Of course,” you said, and it was shy. “Don’t be sorry, Steve, she’s more important right now. We can talk any time.”
His arms wrapped around your shoulders for a crushing hug. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay? Before work. We can make plans then.”
And that was it - he watched you make your walk home until you walked into your front door, and that was it.
The moment was ruined, and he might not be able to make it happen again.
…
Steve didn’t call you the next morning.
-
-
-
part two!!!!
#my writing#perhaps the only steve fic i will ever write#if there are typos in this i. lmao i will rage#this took forever this is so fucking long if no one reads it i dont blame truly#anyway#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#fluff#angst#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington one shot#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you
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Jikook - what we see is what we get
When we get to see it.
Not seeing it doesn't mean it's not there though.
Was sitting today BTS songs just playing in the background while I'm working on my post. All this shit just happening around us, around JK and JM (yes, JM is part of it, he's also affected by it all), and The truth untold comes up.
This version:
youtube
One of, if not their best performance imo. The emotion just pouring out of them.
This song. It kills me every single time. Brings me to tears every single time. JM turned away from JK singing "and I still want you" in every performance. Well, other than their last 3 in Seoul, changed by them, performed by them, ending facing each other JM singing "but I still want you". Defiant.
youtube
All about the need to wear that mask to hide your true self for fear you might not be loved for who you truly are, that you might be seen as ugly, a monster. And the two of them, changing the staging, turning to each other, looking into each other's eyes, while changing the "and" to "but I still want you"... do people understand this? The enormity of this moment?
And then this song comes up, this performance:
youtube
This was on day 2, while on day 3 we had this:
Omg, my YT logarithm is trying to kill me today.
And got me thinking about this moment we got on day 3 as well.
youtube
This love, people, this chemistry, us not seeing it as often for the lack of BTS ot7 content doesn't mean is gone. It's very much still there. We just aren't as lucky to be able to see them in that one frame as often or even at all. But when we do, there is no denying it. Even if it's for the shortest of moments.
We saw it in 2020 (have people forgot memories 2020 for god sake?)
We saw it in 2021
So much more, so little image allowance... But you can find it all in my masterlist.
We saw it throughout 2022 in their Seoul and LV PTD concerts.
And in JITB even if briefly,
And in Busan and Run BTS episodes.
And we even got a little touch of it in 2023, when there was no way of keeping them out of the frame, like in Jhope's enlistment BTB, D-Day in Seoul and even when not being in one frame, in those lives we got to enjoy when the one joined the other in their comments and even without the other even making that kind of appearance.
Letter, goddamnit.
Oh and then we had JM literally flying across the world to be with JK for his Solo debut (if only GMA concert wasn't cancelled, damn it), and them dipping off for their 4 day private trip in CT.
It's sad how short people's memories are. Really. I am reading all sorts of fanfictions being put forward as "this is what happened with Jikook over the years", stating facts that are not facts, creating non existent drama, because people love the drama.
This is a loving couple in a long term relationship. You know, that boring kind. The stable, loving, filled with respect and no drama. The one where one supports their partner when they are struggling. One where just being with each other is fulfilling (cough JK coming to JM's room in LA just to be with him in the same room for hours cough).
Funny how people are talking about them breaking up 2020-21 during the pandemic when JK literally had a slip of the tongue spilling the beans they live together, they are one household, in Run BTS episode 142 they were each gifted a knife. JK all proud and piping up "we got 2"...
JM just sitting there all quiet, smirk on his face.
Stories about breakups. Stories about sexually experimenting but no actual emotional commitment. All while ignoring the constants. Those things that are just there, all the time, whenever we do get to see them:
That electrical chemistry between those two.
The way they look at each other constant over the years.
The way they talk to each other constant over the years.
The way they touch each other constant over the years.
The way they talk about each other.
The way their interactions are so different from the others or their own with the others.
The way the others are around them, their reaction to Jikook.
All still there!!!
*PS:
I wrote this post yesterday before JK's Radiohead appearance and his TikTok post-delete.
I guess now would be a good time to repeat what the wise @ourwinterspring (yes, I'm mentioning you again, lol) once said (well a couple of days ago, that is):
Rumors are created by haters
accepted by fools
and spread by idiots
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Is it too much to ask?
Avengers! Bucky& Reader
WC:767
A/N: I don’t normally take naps during the day but today I did and apparently I woke up feeling inspired. This is just an outburst of fluff! 😘
Gif not mine
Warnings: emotional support, Bucky being a friend—we love to see it.
[Masterlist]
You could never find Bucky Barnes intimidating. Regardless of his past, regardless of his physique you couldn’t see him as a threat.
Which is why you were quick to befriend him. No one else on the team managed to bond with him as quickly as you did. At first no one wanted to be his friend, apart from you and Steve, but they quickly got over that when they saw Bucky take a bullet for you while on a mission.
Bucky was a good man. Sure he’d been brainwashed to commit crimes but at his core he was and still is a good man.
After he took that bullet for you he became more talkative, even if it was in private just the two of you but he was talking. He became your friend. He is someone, sometimes the only one, you turn to when you’re feeling blue.
I wish I was special to someone.
Today was one of those days. It was Morgan’s birthday and while everyone was celebrating the little girl’s 7th birthday you sneaked off to the indoor greenhouse. That’s where Bucky found you, because of course he was the only one to notice your absence.
He quietly snuck into the room while you were watering the daisies. “Hey you.” He whispered when he reached your side.
“Hey.”
He could tell something was off, you were being monosyllabic. Bucky took the watering can from your hands and set it aside, then pulled you into his chest for a bear hug.
Neither of you said anything for a while, you just stood there with your face nestled into his warm chest while he rested his chin on top of your head. Occasionally pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
“You good?” He finally asked, still not letting go of you.
You simply nodded your head.
“Then how come you’re hiding out while everyone is up there having a good time? That’s usually my thing.”
You took a deep breath, “Special days have a special way to remind me that…well, I’m just me. You know?”
“I’m not sure I get it. Tell me more.” He encouraged you by rubbing circles on your back. “You know I won’t judge.”
“Okay. You know I'm happy for Tony and Pepper. They’ve figured it out, how to keep doing what we do and still have a life, a family. And while I know I’m Morgan’s favorite avenger—yes, I know that she loves you but she told me herself I’m her favorite— I still feel…inadequate. Incomplete and sometimes just unhappy, lost and like I just don’t belong… I guess I just wish I was special to someone.”
That hit Bucky like a ton of bricks.
He very much understood now what you meant. Hell, he could relate.
“Baby, you are special to me, to the team.”
He definitely slipped by calling you baby but he needed you to understand that you make a difference in his life. You truly are special to him, in more ways that he can even explain.
You dared to look up at him and found yourself hypnotized by the sincerity in his eyes. “You think I’m special?”
“You are the most special and important person in my life. And I know what it's like to want something…to want someone, to want someone to be your special someone.”
“Uncle Buck? Y/N?” Morgan interrupted the moment, “come on! We’re gonna open presents and have cake!!”
“Well we can’t miss that now can we?” Bucky said and pulled you by the hand and followed Morgan up to the main floor.
“Bucky,” you whispered as you stood by his side on the ride up the elevator. “What did you mean by that?”
His grip on your hand tightened, “Sweetheart, I’m saying you are my special, you have my heart and it’s yours if you want it.” He smiled at you then dropped a kiss to your cheek.
You felt like bursting into tears.
He wasn’t one to express his feelings so freely or openly so you knew he was serious about this. You didn’t get a chance to say anything back because just then the elevator dinged and the doors opened.
Bucky let go of your hand and whispered, “you don’t have to say anything…just think about it.”
You followed him out, almost had to jog to keep up with his pace. Once he was within your reach you grabbed his hand and laced your fingers. That stopped him in his tracks.
“There’s nothing to think about. It’s you and I, James. You have my heart too.”
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x f!reader
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Headcanon: Steve accidentally calling Wayne, Hopper & Mr Sinclair dad. However is not even a bit embarrassed and very loudly says "a dad is a male role model in your life whom you aspire to emulate. And whose words of wisdom & affection are held in high esteem. And I have never had such good dads to look up too." His dads are really proud of him (and yes they have to hide their tears.)
I'm crying I can't. I do wanna add though to this because I knowwwww that Steve "isn't good with words" Harrington always manages to say something gut wrenching that makes them all emotional.
SO.
Hopper starts taking him on camping trips, and at first Steve thinks it will be awkward and not fun because he isn't super fond of the woods or the outside in general. But it turns into Hopper showing Steve a lot of cool things, and it's never awkward because they find that they both enjoy silence.
Wayne takes him fishing and shows him how to work on his own car every weekend. They go out on the lake before the sun is even up, and then head back to the trailer for breakfast and a car lesson. Steve thinks Wayne will get frustrated with him if he doesn't remember something, but Wayne just smiles and shows him again.
Mr. Sinclair starts taking him to basketball games, and at first Steve is worried because Lucas is never with them and he thinks that Mr. Sinclair is somehow prioritizing time with him over Lucas. But he finds out that he just takes Lucas to different games or they watch at home because Lucas prefers it.
He gets them all gifts for Father's Day and always writes heartfelt notes in the cards. He always signs it:
Thanks for being the best dad.
Love,
Steve
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Stucky Recs: Back To School
It's September, and that felt like the very most appropriate time for a back-to-school-themed rec post.
So: A rec post of 11, very seasonally appropriate, high school/college Stucky AUs.
Note: As part of my personal campaign to combat the persistent idea that every great fic in this fandom was written in 2015, I'm now marking recs of fics written post-2016 and recs of fics written post-Endgame.
🎓 The Daily Rogers | Nonymos | Explicit | 32,154 words | College
We have a (surprisingly?) large number of fics in this fandom that use tumblr as a decently central plot point. Of all of them, I feel like this one is probably the most well-known. (Unless it's this one?) This fic, featuring a defenses-way-up skinny Steve and a very sweet, but also very assertive, Bucky, is super memorable, and so incredibly well done. It's somewhat of a meet-ugly, or, honestly, a first-several-encounters-ugly, and I love the way their relationship develops from there over the course of the story. I also love what that relationship turns into once they're together. Plus, the place this story gets them— both as individuals and in their relationship — before it ends is a satisfying and beautifully done one.
Quote:
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Steve mumbled, handing him the phone back. “She, uh, she’s the one who drove me to the hospital when Rumlow broke my arm that first time. She’s a bit protective now.”
Bucky stared at him. Steve—and when had Bucky started to think of him as Steve?—looked fucking adorable in Bucky’s hoodie, with his stupid glasses and his pink lips. He’d also left Bucky’s bed completely covered in blood and dirt after attempting to fight a guy twice his size. Who’d broken his arm before and threatened to do it again.
“I think I understand a bit better why they made a whole Tumblr about you,” Bucky said.
Steve bristled all over again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Bucky looked heavenwards. “Somethin’ nice, Rogers.”
Steve looked—well, he looked puzzled. Like he didn’t know what to do with that.
🎓stars shining bright above you | cable-knit-sweater @cable-knit-sweater | Teen | 3,339 words | High school & College | **Post- Endgame Rec**
Look, sometimes, you want to read angst. Intense emotions. Canon. Canon divergence. Sometimes, you want to cry about these boys. But then there are times that your heart needs to read about them just being all happy and painfully cute about each other — just being wide-eyed teenagers with wide-eyed feelings about each other. My heart does, anyway. This fic is perfect for that. So sweet, so lovely. A fic that left me smiling and thinking about the two of them on a blanket under the stars.
Quote:
Steve thinks he’s going to die. He wants nothing more than to say yes. To the holding down, that is. But he cannot find his voice at all. He looks up into Bucky’s eyes. It’s dark, but the moon and the stars in the sky already provide enough light to see those eyes sparkle. They’re so close now, almost breathing the same air. Forget stars, forget meteor showers. Steve wants to drown in those grey blue eyes, and he’s barely holding his head above water as it is, judging from how hard it feels to breathe.
🎓He's All That | crinklefries | Teen | 88,665 words | College | *Post 2016 rec*
All of the rom-com AUs forever for these two, please. This is such an engrossing and immersive fic. That's something I really enjoy about college AUs, and that works so well in this particular fic —the way that, because actual college campuses are often their own little world, the world's of college AUs can be these really tight little realities with their own specific sort of pacing and consequences. I love that, and I love it in this fic — it's so beautifully done, and it's such a great read, too, I think, because the original rom-com is both high school set and limited to being movie length/tied to Hollywood standards. There is so much more depth and additional story here, while still having that really fun element of being an AU loosely based on a film. So enjoyable, and such a satisfying read.
Quote:
“You do this often?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet to preserve the stillness around them. “Lay on the ground and play dead?”
“Yeah,” Steve quirks a smile. “It was the second trick I learned after fetch.”
Despite himself, that makes Bucky grin.
“You always have an answer for everything huh?” he says.
That makes Steve sigh a little, his shoulders droop enough that it’s only then that they both notice they had been hunched close to his ears.
“Yeah,” he says. “Character flaw.”
“One man’s character flaw is another man’s personality trait,” Bucky says. He stretches his legs out in front of him, props himself up on his palms behind him.
“Pretty sure a personality trait can also be a character flaw, but I appreciate the sentiment,” Steve says with a half-smile.
🎓That Boy is a Problem | 2bestfriends | Explicit | 10,091 words | College | **Post- Endgame rec**
I sometimes debate whether I should go with including fics on these rec posts that fall heavy on the porn side of a porn-to-plot ratio, solely because, at a certain point, smut-heavy fics feel like their own thing that should go in their own post. But! That said, this fic, although it does fall pretty heavy on the porn side of the porn-to-plot-ratio is very, very solidly a college fic. It also does have a really fun plot, and I really, so much, enjoy that it features a Steve POV that is an absolute, just total and complete disaster about Bucky. Also! This fic has vibes and aesthetics that I quite appreciate.
Quote:
Steve grins like an absolute buffoon when he sees him, frozen in place like he's rooted there. Bucky glances around, gaze settling on Steve. The expression that spreads across his face in response to the realization that Steve is in fact there waiting for him is incandescent; Bucky actually brightens like maybe he wasn't expecting Steve to show.
He draws his shoulders up and walks to Steve. When he reaches him, Bucky reaches out and grabs him by the front of his hoodie, pulling him into a kiss. Steve goes with a muffled squeak, ducking down to meet the firm press of lips.
For a second, Steve doesn't know what to do with his hands, hovering just above Bucky's hips as he grasps tightly at Steve's shirt.
Just as Steve's knees go weak and fireworks start to go off behind his eyes, Bucky pulls away, blinking at him with big, sultry eyes.
"Hey, pal. You're very punctual. You ready?"
🎓Natasha Romanoff's Dating Service | HMSLusitania | Mature | 12,223 words | College | **Post-Engame Rec**
So, here's a thing about me: I really like it when fics emphasize that Steve and Bucky are meant for each other. That's it always them, In all universes. It's a thing I'm big into for these two. And this is why I enjoy so much when a fic pulls off the thing where there is some sort of doubled get-together or double feelings build. Like, ID porn fics can do this sometimes — falling for each other two different ways at once — as can fics like this one — a fic about Steve and Bucky both ignoring Nat's insistence that she knows the perfect guy for them and instead going out to a bar and meeting a total stranger. A total stranger they fall for basically on sight. A total stranger who, as it turns out, is that exact guy Nat meant the whole time. — Yeah. That's a premise I really enjoy. This is a fic I really, really enjoy. A total delight.
Quote:
“Now I’ve got some ridiculously low resting heart rate,” Steve said, tipping his head sideways towards his wrist.
Taking the hint, Bucky pressed his fingers to the pulse point below the base of Steve’s thumb. Maybe he did have a low resting heart rate, but if he did, Steve was not currently at rest. It made Bucky feel a little better, knowing that for some reason – Bucky? – Steve’s heart was racing.
“Do you want to, um,” Steve started. When he paused, unsure, he touched his tongue to his bottom lip before chewing on it and something in Bucky’s body short-circuited. He just hoped it wasn’t the actual mechanical hardware attached to his left side, because that would be ill-timed.
“Go home with you?” he suggested quietly.
“Yeah,” Steve said. “That.”
🎓What a Wonderful World This Would Be | Mambo | Teen | 28,723 words | College
You know how sometimes you read a fic and you find yourself literally making embarrassing sorts of noises out loud about it? And also feel yourself making ridiculous faces at your screen in response to it? Right, that was me reading this fic. Featuring an art major Steve who is completely convinced Fraternity Bucky is going to be some total jerk of a guy when they're paired as project partners — until they have all of one conversation and Bucky is ... you know, sweet, friendly, smart, charming, and generally Bucky-like. So then Steve spends thousands and thousands of words falling hard for Bucky while also being super confused by why Bucky wants to keep spending time with him — and incredibly doubtful that Bucky actually does want to be spending time with him. Even though Bucky spends thousands and thousands of words being the Very Most Obvious that he's super into Steve. It's so ridiculously and delightfully cute. I love it a lot. Also! This fic is actually the start of an entire college AU 'verse. I've only read this first fic, but the rest of the 'verse is on my TBR and is likely equally delightful.
Quote:
Steve’s brow furrows. “How do you know I do?”
Bucky moves his laptop off his lap, sets it on the floor. He stretches his arms up over his head, exposing the stretch of tan skin where his shirt rides up over his jeans. And Steve is definitely not looking for purely artistic and aesthetic reasons, but manages to drag his eyes away before Bucky notices.
“You always annotate your books. I can see all those post-its from where I sit, even. You don’t talk much but you’re always leafing through your book because you know which exact quote will prove somebody wrong. Don’t try to argue; I totally notice.”
That’s not untrue.
“No fair,” Steve says. “You sit behind me. I can’t stare at you creepily at all.”
“Not starin’, just appreciatin’ the view.” Steve must look confused because Bucky laughs again. “You’re kinda cute,” he says.
“‘Specially when you blush.”
🎓Alkynes of Trouble | yammz | Explicit | 11,450 words | College | **Post Endgame Rec**
The author tagged this "enemies to friends to lovers" and "the softest of enemy-ships though," which, honestly, is absolutely perfect tagging for this incredibly sweet fic. It is soft. Everything that happens in this fic is very, very soft. Steve and Bucky are assigned to be lab partners! They spend all semester in this terribly and wonderfully cute slow burn! There's tutoring! There are coffee dates shop hangouts! There is cake! There is a Very Meaningful hug! It's all very, very charming and super adorable. Plus, this is a fic that works with one of my personal favorite tropes: someone slowly realizing that they were wrong about another person and falling for that person — hard — as they do. I'm always weak for that, and I love this fic's delightful — and, yes, very soft — take on it.
Quote:
His notebook was full of eraser marks, his lines uneven and confusing, running into each other when he made his structures too small for the amount of bonds between molecules. He could always see them in his mind, but drawing them out was hell for him, his hands just a little shaky.
Steve didn’t seem to have that problem because Steve’s notebook…that shit was just about the prettiest art Bucky had ever seen.
He couldn’t help himself from reaching out his fingers and running over the neat, perfect hexagons with their lines and perfect little letters for the attached elements. They looked straight out of a printed textbook. Steve didn’t move, the solid mass of him almost against Bucky’s side.
“How long do these take you?” he asked.
“Oh, I’m quick,” Steve supplied cheerfully. To prove his point, he drew a quick acetyl salicylic acid, copying its structure from the sloppy one on the board, where the lab’s flowchart was. Bucky was mesmerized, his form perfect and confident and tiny, so at odds with how huge Steve’s hands were. “See?”
“Okay, well,” Bucky let out a laugh, “You can definitely write the lab report.”
🎓Lane Lines | sparkagrace @sparkagrace | Mature | 132,519 words | College | **Post-Engame Rec**
A fic I spent a weekend totally engrossed and lost in on first read and that, ever since, has always been sitting somewhere in my brain. I think something that really, really appeals to me about sports AUs is when they're used as a lens to translate some things Steve genuinely struggles with in canon — the ways he handles guilt, the ways he feels responsible for things and people, his loneliness, etc — into these incredibly real-feeling modern, actual world, contexts. This fic does that so unbelievably well. Steve isn't truly okay, at all, during most of this fic, and affects everything. I love that so much. I also love this fic's worldbuilding, with a childhood Steve and Bucky backstory, a college swim team friend group, the pressures of professional athlete life, Olympic sponsorships, world records, and in-verse media like fake tweets and news articles. (This fic is the first fic in an in-progress 'verse, all of which I would also recommend.)
Quote:
“I didn’t want to come,” Steve says, trying to be honest, “but I’m glad I did. It feels nice to clear the air. I think it’s the most fun I’ve had in a while actually.”
Steve thinks maybe this has been the happiest he’s been in a long time. He doesn’t want to tell Bucky that or speak it out loud, but the knowledge that this is happiness, and that he truly feels lightness in his bones, thrills him and he wants to keep that feeling close to him as long as he can.
“I’m glad you’re here now. Just you.” Bucky says.
Steve doesn’t know how to respond to that so he takes another swig of the champagne. There’s bubbles in his stomach but he’s not sure if it’s from the champagne or Bucky’s words.
“We’re really going to do this, aren’t we?” Bucky says. It takes Steve a second to understand what he’s referring to.
🎓Targeting | queenmab_scherzo | Explicit | 149,148 words | High school & College
I do not know if I will ever be over the way this fic manages to mirror canon so closely while being about high school and then college football. I feel as if that shouldn't work. And yet it does, and I love it. I also love the way, because this fic so closely mirrors canon, we get a lot of Steve refusing, just absolutely refusing to give up on Bucky. Or doubt Bucky. Or listen to anyone's objections or concerns about Bucky. There is a lot of Steve being determined to get real answers to things, and Steve being determined to make things right, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky take the blame/punishment for things, and Steve being determined to not let Bucky go. So you know, very much like canon. Except it's about football? It's so, so good.
Quote:
Bucky doesn't attack. He backs away instead, an immediate, heartbreaking reflex, crystallizing proof that Steve isn't dealing with a predator. It's inhuman, the raw metal of his eyes and his expression, his hollow features, the way he blinks slowly and deliberately. He just won a football game, for crying out loud, not just any football game, the Game of the Century, he beat the number two team in the country and he can't even crack a smile. There is James Barnes, but where is Bucky. Bucky used to smile through broken bones and blood in his teeth, where is that Bucky.
Come back, what happened, come back to me. Heart thudding, Steve surges forward, thinking about 49-yard field goals. "At least take my phone number."
For a long time, he doesn't think Bucky will respond, and when he does, it's on an exhale, an inaudible brushstroke on dry canvas:
"Fine."
"You—do you want to write it down or something?"
"I'll remember."
The noise of the crowd rises and falls.
🎓Okay, so he can play… (pretty's got nothing to do with it | Darter_blue @darter-blue | Explicit | 50,858 words | College | **Post-Endgame Rec**
I realized when I was pulling this list together that I actually probably should have included this fic back in June as part of my Pride recs post I didn't, obviously, and I'm a little annoyed at myself about it. But, that allows me to rec it now, and this is absolutely a college fic. So I guess that works out. Anyway, like I said when I talked about Lane Lines, I love when a sports AU also works as a lens to look at some of Steve's less-than-healthy ways of dealing with things. This fic, which is about college hockey, is another great example of that. There are a lot of things in this fic — many of them, but not all of them, related to Bucky — that Steve has told himself he Absolutely Cannot Do, and his journey of letting go of some of that over the course of this story is one I enjoyed so, so much. Like I said, I could've rec'd this one in June, so there's a lot centered on sexuality happening here. There are a lot of feelings and a lot of romance. Also, one of my spreadsheet notes in the tropes column for this one says, "GRAND GESTURES." So.
Quote:
Bucky doesn’t know what to do with those smiles.
He doesn’t know where to keep them (because he so desperately wants to keep them) that they won't cloud him. That they won’t press into his stupid crush and spill it over into something more dangerous.
The team dynamic is flowing, winding, warming into something so comfortable, it bleeds into their game, and it’s like they can’t lose.
They win their next two home games, Bucky chasing down Steve’s scoring record and loving every second of it. The way Steve isn’t even mad about it. The way Steve nods at him in the locker room at the end of the games. Claps him on the shoulder now with the rest of the team…
All of it leaves Bucky so wholly unprepared.
🎓Persued by a bear | Zenaidamacrouras1 @zenaidamacrouras1 | Explicit | 19,200 words | **Post-Endgame Rec**
So, they're slightly older in this fic than any other fic on this list. (Well, actually, maybe not? They're a bit older in Natasha Romonaoff's Dating Service, too.) Steve is a professor and Bucky is a PhD candidate. This is also the very most academic of all fics on this list, and it's a complete and total delight from start to finish. It's a Shakespeare conference! There are tweed jackets, and suspenders, and pickup lines using Shakespeare, and the cutest Steve POV voice. I'm always, always a huge fan of a fic that features what could have been, should have been, a one-night stand, but that turns into so much more — with some hiccups, but also a lot of shameless flirtation, along the way. This fic delivers that so incredibly well and is just such a fun read.
Quote:
“You’re good at what you do, too, James,” Steve says softly, looking up at Bucky through his lashes, and shit, he didn’t mean for this to get all sexy all of a sudden. Bucky’s just. Really sexy.
“You should call me Bucky. If you want," Bucky says softly.
"I think I do, Bucky," Steve says because. He does. And Bucky's at a completely different university, and he's obviously a full-on, real-deal grown-up. Maybe this is okay.
"Watching you work and listening to you think after following your scholarly writing for so long was incredibly hot,” Bucky says in a rush. “I’m sure you get that all the time. God, now I sound like a groupie.”
Steve suppresses a smile. “Believe it or not, I don’t really have groupies."
There are a few additional fics that could be classed college/university fics and that absolutely are on my rec spreadsheet/in my bookmarks, but that I didn't include here. These are almost all fics with a plot about driving home (from campus) for the holidays/car sharing/motel room sharing/etc. that I feel like are holiday fics more than college fics, and holiday fics will almost definitely be their own post. (I didn't realize I had more than one fic like that bookmarked. But apparently, I do.)
I do have an apocalypse/dystopias/etc rec post sitting in my drafts I'm stressing myself out about it. Probably unnecessarily. I swear it's coming soon. Maybe I'll also do something seasonal in October? I haven't thought about that yet, but it's completely possible.
Fic Rec Series
#SteveBucky#Stucky fic#Stucky Fic Recs#fic recs#fic rec series#Me rambling about other people's writing
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“You hurt me.”
“I know.”
Steve sighs, and he looks at Eddie in his doorway. So much has changed in five years. But Eddie seems the same. Just his hair is a bit longer, he’s got more tattoos, and he’s got scruff on his face that Steve knows when they saw each other last in 87’ would have driven him nuts.
Steve has always liked the idea of Eddie with a beard. It doesn’t matter now, though. “I think you should leave.”
“Steve, I—I just need a chance to explain.” Eddie moves side to side on his feet.
“Explain?” Steve scoffs, crossing his arms across his chest. “You had the chance to explain five years ago before you left. You had the chance to explain the weeks after with no phone calls to me to any of the kids. You had the chance to explain the year after when you talked to everyone but me, and I thought you just needed time. You had the chance a year ago before you cut everyone else off again.”
Eddie hangs his head in shame. “Stevie, please. I know I don’t deserve it. But I just want to talk.”
Steve’s resistance wavers slightly. He moves out of the doorway to let Eddie in. Eddie rushes inside, knowing Steve will change his mind at any moment. Steve shuts the door behind them. “I’m only letting you in because if Robin finds you in our doorway, she will kick your ass. And as much as you hurt me, I don’t actually want to see you in physical pain.”
Eddie smiles a bit, “Still the dynamic duo? You and Robbie? What’s stopping her from beating me up inside?”
“Our cat Sylvia might see. And she’s trying to shield her from as much violence as possible. Says one Sylvia has seen enough.”
“Oh please tell me she is out by now, because that is a giant gay flashing sign.” Eddie chuckles.
Steve can’t help but laugh a little, “Yes, she is. It would be hard if she weren’t, considering she’s dating Nancy. And Nancy is a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them. She shows her off any chance she gets.”
“Wow, Robs bagged Wheeler? Never saw that coming.” Eddie lets out a low whistle. “Must have been a blow to the ego for ya, Stevie. Your ex and your best friend.” He mock clutches his heart.
Steve lets out a big laugh this time, “Nah. I encouraged it. They’re my favorite people; they deserve to be happy.”
Eddie softens, “Yea, being a favorite person of Steve Harrington is a very special thing.”
Steve feels ice water in his veins, “What are you doing here Eddie?”
Eddie sighs, “What do you want to hear? Why I needed to come, or why I wanted to? Cause the truth is I needed to come to apologize to you. Give you the explanation you deserve. What I wanted, though, what I wanted is to tell you that I love—“
“Don’t.” Steve chokes.
“Right apologies first.”
“First? First?! Eddie. I don’t know what you could say to me right now that would make anything make sense. We had something good. It took us so long to get to that point. And it was great because we learned about each other and knew each other inside out. Our friendship blossomed into something more, and we were just getting started, and you left. I had thought I was done with love before I met you. But then you came along and made me feel seen and cared for, and then you got weird and distant so quickly, and you fucking left. And then I knew for sure I was done with love. Don’t think it was meant for me. Sure, that’s not on you, but you don’t get to—you don’t get to open old wounds because you feel the sudden desire to come around again.” Steve swallows tears.
Eddie’s face goes through hundreds of emotions. Anger. Shock. Grief. He doesn’t say anything for a minute. They stew in Steve’s words instead. Then finally, Eddie settles on. “I’m an addict.”
Steve, who has thought about a million ways this could go, has never thought of this. “What?” All the tension releases from his body. He just stares hopelessly at Eddie.
“I’m an addict. I'm sober now, I just reached a year, but yeah. I'm an addict. Never thought I would be. But after everything with Vecna and the painkillers they put me on…it got hard. Denied it for a while. Said to myself a little of everything here and there to forget wouldn’t hurt anyone. But then we were becoming something alongside, me spiraling deeper into addiction. And I—fuck this was easier to practice at the meetings.” Eddie runs his hands through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But I would have hurt you. More than me leaving did. And I couldn’t live with that. I could live with you hating me. It was selfish of me. I wasn’t ready to give up the drugs so I gave up you, and it’s not fair. Not fair that I did that to you, to anyone of you really, but especially you Steve. You just deserved someone who could love you all the time, love you fully. And I thought I did but I think I was using you a little to make myself feel better. That’s not to say I didn’t love you. I did, still do, always will. But we both deserved a better version than what we had.”
Steve feels tears on his cheeks, he isn’t sure what to say. “You didn’t get to make that decision for me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Steve chokes on a sob, “Dammit Eddie. It was my birthday.”
Something breaks inside them, and suddenly they are in each other's arms, weeping together. There is this fragile broken thing between them, a love that never went away. It is horrible and beautiful and needs so much work to be wonderful once more.
But it was nice to break together again.
“I know. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough. I’ll make sure every day for the rest of my life that I make it up to you. In any way I can.”
“I don’t know how we can get back Eds. Don’t know if we should.”
“I’ll take you any way you’ll have me. Friend. Lover. A person you only call when you need a ride to the airport. Just let me try; it’s all I ask. I promised I wouldn’t go back to you until I knew I had put the work into myself first. You don’t owe me anything. I would understand if you kicked me out right now. But I need you to know that Steve, I love you anyway you’ll have me. And I have never stopped thinking about you.”
Steve lifted his head from Eddie’s chest. “I’d like to try to get to know you again. This you. See where it goes. But Eds, no matter what, no matter the version of you, I will always care. And I will always be your friend.”
Eddie kisses Steve’s forehead, “Thank you.”
It’s there where Steve and Eddie hug on the wooden apartment floor; they hear the door unlock. “Oh no, she’s home early.”
Eddie doesn’t get to respond because, suddenly, Robin is in the doorway. “Hey, dingus! I brought home an extra latte—“
She freezes at the sight of Eddie before rebooting with a dark look, “Steve, is your nail bat still under your bed?”
——
Wanted to try the whole break up thing, I have a lot of different break up/makeup ideas in my head. maybe pt. 2???? Kinda feels good to stop here. But if you think so I have more ideas for this.
#steddie#stranger things#cw: discussion of addiction#they have so much trauma and I just gave them more#they still both love each other and will eventually get together after lots of work#addiction is hard and it takes a lot of work to get sober#so be kind#hurt comfort#ficlet#steve harrington#my writing#eddie munson and robin buckley friendship#robin buckley#platonic soulmates stobin#addiction#steddie prompt#ao3#angst with a happy ending#happyish?#it's open ended really#but like it will be happy at some point#angst
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Things I love to read in Billy and/or Harringrove fanfiction:
(Inspired by @grey-sides and in the hopes of spreading some love)
Billy and Max overcoming their problems to form a united front and start working together, and become better siblings to each other.
Realizations. The "oh" moments. The "oh shit" moments, the "oh fuck" moments, the "oh no no no..." moments. ALL the realizations! (So, like ... the boys finding out they're into each other, anyone finding out about Billy's home life, Billy finding out about monsters, both of them finally seeing another - more vulnerable - side of each other, etc etc etc)
This whole post
Billy getting to fight monsters too, especially if he can use it as an outlet for all that aggression and be badass and save people's asses and then be all blasé about it like "what? it's not like it's hard" *hair flip* (also Billy and an axe will NEVER be over-played!)
Physical whump (bruises, blood, hiding injuries, fighting, being pushed up against surfaces, threats, hands grabbing faces and throats and hair, being made to kneel, incapacitation, fighting through exhaustion/illness, manhandling, etc etc. I'm a whumper at heart, I want to inject all these things into my veins).
Emotional whump (being left out of things/ostracization, feeling lonely, overhearing something hurtful, keeping a straight face even though you're hurting inside, not expecting someone to come and save you when you're hurt/captive etc etc - ie my bread and butter).
Billy patching himself up (BOTH phisical and emotional whump, so, like a double-whammy!)
Billy in the upside down, as a very capable survivor. Give me Cast Away, only with Billy, and the Upside Down instead of an island ... ALL THE VERSIONS of that. I like my boy capable, and fighting for survival (I'm normal, I swear)
This post
Billy being touch-starved. I eat that up with a SPOON, all versions of it but especially the ones where he gets touch (angsty version; it's not a good kind of touch but he seeks it out anyway, fluffy version; he gets all the pets and hugs!)
The boys coming back from the upside down and having gotten used to being close, so they get anxious when they don't have eyes on each other (yes I've written it. yes I've read it. yes I love it)
Having to share a room/doing a project togehter because their last names both start with H. Like forced proximity, school version. Mmmm, delicious.
When Billy is ridiculously weak for Steve and would do anything for him (especially if Steve has no idea about he power he wields). Basically Steve as the Billy-whisperer.
Billy getting good parents. I don't even care who at this point, I'll read all of them: Joyce, Hopper, Claudia, Mr Clarke (Mr CLARKE <3), Bob, Flo, that grumpy librarian ... Just give him good parental figures (and let him STRUGGLE with accepting that he's finally safe!)
Scars. All the fics about scars. Angsty scars, proud scars, mental scars, scars on the skin, first time someone is allowed to touch someone else's scars. Just, <3
Badass, BADASS moments, by both Billy and Steve. Smashing demodogs to pieces, rescuing themSELVES from bad situations, etc.
Guilt. <3 That usually comes after the realization moments, but mmmmm, a side of guilt to that? Fucking delicious, I will live off that for weeks. Like, having someone realize what Neil is doing and then feeling GUILTY about it (maybe they caused Billy to be hurt, or maybe they made it worse, or maybe a beating could have been avoided if they'd acted differently), that's my JAM.
That moment when Billy/Steve start calling the other by their first name instead of their last name ...
Self-sacrifice (filed under whump, but can be both physical, mental or simply implied). There doesn't even have to be a real threat of getting hurt, the self-sacrificing idiot (I prefer Billy) just have to THINK there is.
Basic needs not being met ... until they are. (So, say ... Billy being hungry, thirsty, tired, thrown out of the house ... and then finally getting to eat, drink, sleep, get inside)
#tropes#harringrove#billy hargrove#fanfiction#things I love in fanfics#ihni loves#this is just a selection btw#I don't have time to add more to it but this is a TINY part of what i love to read
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Thanks again for answering my ask and sorry to bombard you with these.
I absolutely agree with you about Bucky and Zemo on TFatWS. This might be long as I have so many thoughts about this. The series seems to fail to understand T'Calla wasn't just someone who helped Bucky although he was of course. He was his friend.
The movies don't get everything right with Bucky but I think Bucky and T'Calla's relationship is one of the high points. We don't see them much but when you do you can tell Bucky respected T'Calla immensely and not just because he's a King. He seems to be really genuinely fond of Shuri as well, asking her to call him Bucky instead of the formal Sargeant Barnes.
I know I said it before, but the Wakandans are his friends/his protectors/his adoptive family. He is not just some white guy with colonialist arrogance who expects favours from the African State. If anything its the other way around- he fought because he felt he owed T'Calla and his family a debt.
As such- I do not think he would ever have helped the person who killed T'Callas father. Yes he didn't know T'Chaka, but that is his friend's father. Its like if he found out someone killed Steve's mother and worked with them. Like slapping his friend in the face, and I can't see him doing that.
Also, finally can we talk about how the show robbed us of the emotional impact of T'Challa's death on Bucky? He's sad about Steve leaving but I firmly believe would have grieved for T'Calla too. He's lost not one but two of his best friends within a very short space of time, so he's got grief alongside all his other problems to deal with.
Don't know how that man managed to stay sane. Well relatively sane and didn't have a complete breakdown.
Thanks for all the asks!
I love the idea that T'Challa and Bucky had a strong bond. I agree I think Ryan Coogler intended in that short post-credit scene to show that Wakandans have accepted Bucky as part of the family.
The kids are peering down curiously at him as he sleeps, and he doesn't startle, nor does he startle them when he wakes. There's a high degree of mutual trust there. He lives in their community, not in a boxed off high tech room like the one where he was put to sleep. They dressed him in their ethnic clothing and colour-coded it to match Steve. Someone tied (and probably combed) his hair for him when he didn't have a prosthesis. Someone has folded a blue shawl and tied it into a pretty sling to protect the stump of his arm. This is the image of a guy that was being well looked after -- not just in an impersonal, we gotta keep him alive kind of way, but in a what can we do to make his life better kind of way, and if that isn't some sort of family I don't know what is.
I mean...compare with this costume...that looks like some random sweatshirt from some sports brand worn backwards with the extra fabric pinned and pulled over tautly over his right shoulder, complete with the soft elastic cuffs and the weird neckline. Coogler put more effort into a 30 second cameo than TFATWS did for one of Bucky's most emotionally poignant scenes in a series where he's the main character. Sorry I'm never going to pass on an opportunity to shit on the series.
And like yeah, while I don't ship T'Challa and Bucky (I really like T'Challa with Nakia in the MCU), I think they're an underrated dynamic. They strike me as somewhat similar in temperament? Both peace-loving, respectful and compassionate guys, who have a strong sense of loyalty and a fierce streak when someone they love is hurt. And both Bucky and T'Challa are older brothers to younger sisters, and they both have that oldest kid sense of weary responsibility. And for someone who was broken out of 70 years of brainwashing by being reminded of a promise he made, Bucky clearly has a strong sense of loyalty and responsibility.
So yeah, it makes no sense to me that Bucky would actively do something so personally hurtful, so disloyal and irresponsible to T'Challa, without adequate justification.
As for the mourning, yeah. At the time they didn't know how Coogler was planning to write T'Challa out of the story, so that might be why the mourning wasn't in there. To be honest, Bucky's feelings about Steve was handled poorly too. As I've mentioned before, the series avoids actually addressing how Steve's departure played out. Sam and Bucky are sad about Steve's absence, but never talk about the hurtful way Endgame!Steve abandoned both of them, which is far more emotionally relevant. They talk about him as though he had died in a noble sacrifice, not dumped the world on them and went to mess up someone else's timeline.
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Polyamorous: Apple Pie Life
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes
Warning: Pure fluff and a bit of smut
The First kiss | The first touch | Moving In | The day they left for war | Found you | The day Stark found out | Big Change | The Train | The Plane | Alone | Unfortunate sequences of events | I know her | The Resturant part 1 | The Resturant part 2 | It’s me | You can keep her | He’s okay with that | Mama loves me | Kissing Captain | Kissing Winter | Healing | Hurt | We’ll Wait | Memories | Prude | Whore | Put in her place | The day Stark Jr. Found out | Now you know | Nursing | Like a Virgin | Morning After | The Catacombs | Off with her head | Grieving the Insane | Let me make it up to you | Punishment | Spiderling pt1 | Spiderling pt2 | Twentieth-century love | The new we can imagine | Connection | Please, marry me | Walk me | Stand with me | Final touches | I Do | Honeymoon | A moment of Paradise | Pictures from Paradise | The Fever | The bad days | Let’s talk about it | Practice makes perfect pt1 | Practice makes perfect pt2 | Seed | Unknown Stolen | unfulfilled Duties | Talking Emotion | Next Step | Holy Shit!! | First steps to hope | She’s Awake | Nicknames | The Mother and The father | The Boy | The Name Game |Talking | Not Ready | No Boy | Returning lust | Seven Days (pt1) | Seven Days (pt2) | Seven Days (pt3) | Seven Days (Final Part) | Tears of Joy | Apple Pie Life
(Y/n) took a step back and looked at her hard work. She was quite proud of herself she got it all done in a timely manner as well, two hours less than she thought. Clapping from behind startled her. Spinning around, she found Bucky. He seemed proud as well.
"I thought it would take you longer"
"I did as well. I forgot that one, I'm semi-retired/ part-time, and two, I can't keep as many private medical files here as I want as it's not " secure' "
Bucky gave side-eye, but she waved him off, not giving him a reason to show her how secure the place truly was. She was not giving him an excuse to pull out another hidden arsenal. She was already aware of the one in the living room, kitchen, and bedroom she wished to remain ignorant of the rest. Although she knew he would reveal every spot to her by the end of the month.
"You're missing something," she turned, looking at him confused. Stepping forward, Bucky pulled something from behind him and set it on her desk amongst her knick-knacks. It was a family photo. Their picnic at the park. It even had an adorable flower frame.
"awe," she cootied
"And now Your office is complete."
"Actually, there is one thing that we forgot," she said as she pulled him to her desk. At first, he was a bit confused and let her pull him along, but he quickly got the memo when she plopped her little ass on that desk, spread her legs, and lifted her dress. " we got to christen it," she giggled as she unlatched his belt. He stopped her.
"As much as I'd love to, and yes, darling, I would very much love to. " She started to pout. He kissed her pout " we still have work to do, and our daughter and husband are still wondering about. I'd hate for a specific one of those two walks in on us."
(Y/n) groaned, she really wanted it but she knew he was right. Adulting sucked. "Later?"
"Yeah, you can have us both later, preferably when she's out of the house, I promise" She continued to pout and re-buckle his belt. Hopping off the desk, she leaned into him. He groaned as she cupped a feel of him and squeezed.
"I'll hold you to that."
And with that, her peppy smile returned, and she was off to find their daughter.
Bucky looked down at his new problem and sighed. Maybe he should have taken her offer.
-
"Hi," (Y/n) poked her head into Ash's room. "Oh, this is amazing," she said as she looked around her room. "Oh, I love this," she said, approaching the wall next to her bed it had hanging fairy lights as well as hanging pictures of friends and family ( she ignored that the wall contained 70% Peter, The guys would definitely 'enjoy' this").
"I'm printing more, and the others are sending me more. Those I don't put on the wall, I'm going to put in our photo album," Ash said as she motioned to the collection of photos untouched on her desk.
"Can I see?"
Flipping through the photos, one could easily see how the family had grown with their time together. See how Ash has changed, no longer tensed and scared but relaxed and comfortable. And talking more too. Of course, her mouth wasn't running a mile a minute, but she could hold a conversation better than before. One could see them becoming a family over time within these photos. And you could also see Ash and Peter slowly getting closer, that was going to be a cutie relationship when it happened.
"really making it all your own."
"I'd like it to be," Ash said as she took her Pikachu plushie and hugged it tight. She was just so adorable (Y/n) rushed around the bed to squeeze her tight and drown her in kisses. Ash screamed and giggled as her mother suffocated her with love.
" I Love you," (Y/n) whispered, and her breathless daughter simply nodded. It was until (Y/n) was at her door about to leave did she speak.
" I love you too".
-
The house was officially done. Furniture was set, Pictures up, everything in its place, and now the security system was in place. This house was now a home.
Bucky sighed as he entered the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took off his shirt. It was then that he realized and began to appreciate the layout of their bathroom.
The bathroom was right in front of the bed, and right in front of the door was their large jacuzzi bathtub which currently held his beautiful wife and husband in a bubble bath. Who were both in an affectionate embrace.
"I love this bathroom," Bucky said as he leaned on the door frame watching his lovers. He watched as his husband took his wife's nipples into his mouth. She moaned as he bites down slightly leaning back she saw Bucky standing there.
"Come join us," she said as she pushed Steve away slightly and made the come hither motion at Bucky. "Let's christen the tub"
"Really couldn't wait, could you" he kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt.
"we did, we waited all day," she said as she moved to lean over the edge of the tub. "Don't want to wait anymore" She pulled him forward by his belt. Pulling it off and tossing it across the bathroom and unzipping his pants.
"Eager, aren't we"
"Like she said, we've been waiting all day," Steve said as he pulled Bucky's pants to his knees.
"Two against one. Give us what we want," she said, kissing his thigh
"Take it"
-
(Y/n) grabbed the base of his dick, and Steve kissed the tip of his dick. She came up and licked his length. Their lips met, kissing the tip. Bucky bit his lip as he watched Steve take his length in his mouth. He moaned when (Y/n) tugged on his balls.
She stood up, dripping wet, and pulled him into a kiss he moaned as Steve swallowed around him. "feels good, doesn't it" (Y/n) whispered against his lips.
Steve pulled away, taking (Y/n) with him she giggled as he pulled her back down into the water.
Bucky kicked his pants off the rest of the way and got into the tub. He cursed when the water overflowed. (Y/n) laughed "it's okay, it's okay. We'll clean up later. Just kiss us now" He did, first kissing her and then him. He returned to kiss her and put her on the tub's edge.
"I want a taste," Bucky said, spreading her legs. She closed her eyes and leaned back. He kissed the sensitive spots of her thighs she became breathless as he slid his tongue through her folds and whined as he kissed her clit. She tugged on his hair, pulling him closer she wanted more. She moaned as he thrust his tongue into her entrance, nosing and rubbing her clit.
She was pleasantly startled when he moaned against her. She opened her eyes to find Steve behind Bucky, kissing along his neck and shoulders, his hands disappearing under the water and bubbles. By the way his arms were moving and with Bucky's noises, it was clear what was happening underneath the waves.
Unable to focus with his tongue Bucky switched to his fingers, slipping three fingers inside of her and pumping them up at a sloppy pace.
(Y/n) pushed his hand away and lowered herself into the water. Leaning over Bucky, she pulled Steve into a heated kiss. Slipping her tongue into his mouth she could still taste their husband on his tongue. She moans against his lips, and she pressed her chest against Buckys. Her hands join Steve's pumping him and fondling his balls.
Bucky moaned and whimpered. Between them tugging his underwater and the moans in his ears he was quickly unraveling.
"Fuck, Fuck I'm going to .....I'm -what?!" Steve and (y/n) both pulled their hands away "why?!" Bucky cried breathlessly, heaving.
"Relax, we're just moving this to the bedroom, " Steve said, kissing him.
"Come on, let us christen the bedroom," (Y/n) said as she stood up and let out the water.
-
Steve was the first to wake up. Waking up to the sound of chirping birds and the light from the window shining over the sheets. Next to him was Bucky, and on the other side of him, (y/n) lay on his chest. Steve watched as his wife and husband slept peacefully, beautifully. Quietly and skillfully, he crawled out of bed and found his sketch pad. Taking a seat in the corner of the room, he began to sketch the beauty in front of him.
-
Sometime later, Bucky woke up feeling around the bed, he found his wife but not his husband. Feeling around the bed some more, he felt a piece of paper Picking up the paper and opening his eyes, he sees a sketch of him and his wife.
"What is it" (Y/n) asks, sleep still evident in her voice.
" It appears our husband has been up for a while." He shows her the sketch.
It's of them, (Y/n) curled up into his side, a hand on his chest over his heart. Bucky had one arm around her shoulders, holding her close, the other laid out as if waiting for Steve's return. The sheets were up to their waist, and the shading showed the light.
"How does he do that?" (Y/n) asked
"I don't know"
"I'm going to start a scrapbook of all his loose sketches." (Y/n) says, taking the sketch from him. Kissing his chest, she got up, dressed, and tucked the sketch away.
-
"what's happening here?" (Y/n) asked as she entered the kitchen Bucky followed her.
"Breakfast," Ash said, showing her plate of pancakes. " Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, fruit. Which are blueberries, strawberries, oranges, or bananas if you want."
(Y/n) came up, kissing her daughter's forehead, and hugged her tight.
"Thank you, both of you," Bucky said as he pulled Steve from the stove and kissed him.
"just wanted a nice breakfast in our new home," Steve shrugged as he plated the food. "Come on let us eat"
(Y/n) stood back, arms wrapped around herself, watching her husbands and daughter finish setting up the table and plating food before taking their seats. Bucky was complimenting them on the food. Ash looked quite happy to explain all she had done to help.
She listened as her Buckt gushed over their daughter's cooking, and Steve praised her skills in the kitchen and asked when they'd see more of her cooking. (Y/n) sat down with them.
Ash's smile, Steve and Bucky's laughter. The smell of a home-cooked meal and the warmth of a family. It truly was a dream she had never dreamt. And looking out the window, she giggled. They had a picket white fence.
"You got that look on your face again," Bucky commented, and he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. It was a face of pure joy. She'd sit there and smile and giggle at whatever triggered it. Something they had gotten used to in the last few weeks. An expression of full satisificaltion and happiness. And it seemed right now that the fence had triggered it.
"Hey?" everyone turned to her " Later ...can we make apple pie?"
#fanfiction#steve rogers#bucky barnes#steve roger x reader#Bucky barnes x reader#steve roger fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfiction#stucky x reader#stucky fanfiction#steve roger x reader bucky barnes#marvel#steve rogers x reader#stucky smut#bucky barnes smut#steve rogers smut#steve x reader smut#bucky barnes x reader smut#stucky x reader smut#smut#fluff
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disclaimer: written pre-release
i've had this sitting in my drafts for a bit since i started playing BG3, I kept seeing a particular kind of post regarding Astarion and it really started to frustrate me soooooo. here's a vaguely coherent rant nobody asked for pff
As I got into the game, following Astarion's romance subplot, doing research on the game and characters thus far, I encountered the schism between those who love Astarion and by extension, characters like him, and those that consider said characters as little more than toxic creatures, narcissists best dealt with swiftly and harshly. The latter tends, in the posts I've found at least, to view the former as poor unfortunate souls with the dreaded "i can fix him" mentality.
Now, I'm not here to say either is entirely wrong. I think to take a side here is to do the exploration a disservice and to forget the depth of nuance in art and media interpretation.
And that's just it. Because at the end of the day, interpretation is one of the key elements involved in this discourse. In the case of Astarion, especially with the game having been in early access for so long and no complete, guaranteed details of his past or arc made public yet, with so much up in the air as the full release drops, there are worlds of interpretations that can be made regarding our infamous vampire rogue.
Is one of those interpretations that he's both emotional and literal vampire who's every action is a trap for the protagonist in order to use them, and that he's irredeemable? Yes. Is another that he's simply trying to survive in a situation he's never been in after spending two centuries living like an animal? Also yes.
The error here, I think, is to treat one interpretation like it's more "right" than another. Which is what I've seen a lot of online threads do... Insisting one perspective is superior to the other. Which is bad faith even on a good day when either perspective is based in concrete, unchangeable fact. Even moreso in this case, until there's complete canon material to bank on, and even then that will have so much variety to it since most of it will depend on the actions of the player. It's a choice-based game. There is so much space for varied experiences, and none of them will be "right" or "wrong."
I feel like in modern media discussion, when considering whether a character is actively harmful or just flawed, it can be easy to forget that some of our most popular stories are ones in which someone is deemed beyond hope or redemption, a danger to all they encountered, only for their arc to raise them from their Pit of Dickishness and set them on pedestals as some of the most memorable, inspiring characters we know.
The timeless story of the Christmas Carol gives us an absolutely despicable old geezer who literally spells out the horror he'd inflict upon the poor if he could, simply for the sin of poverty. But in an effort to fixate only on how problematic he (very much intentionally) is, we might lose sight of how the whole point of the story is to watch him be forced to confront his ways, unpack all his crap, and become better for it in the end.
Characters like Prince Zuko, Edmund Pevensie, Greedling, Steve Harrington, Boromir, James Ford, friggin Darth Vader, we wouldn't have any of them if we only read them at surface level as toxic assholes and then left it at that. But through learning the nuances of these characters and watching them confront their actions and consequences and learn from them, they not only grow and change into better people, but we love them because they hold pieces of ourselves in them, despite their sharp edges. We can understand why they are the way they are, and maybe, if we're honest with ourselves, we can acknowledge that we might have done similarly awful things under their circumstances. It makes them relatable, admirable, and cautionary all at once. It makes them human.
None of that is to say that there are never characters built purely and solely to fear and loath, not at all. True scumbags can and do exist, both in fiction and reality. To try to enforce the idea of finding empathy for a true monster is often a tactic used in reality to gaslight people into excusing said monsters' behavior.
Which leads into the "i can fix him" argument. When applied to situations dealing with real dangerous and horrid people who can't or won't change? Absolutely Not Great (though that's not to say it can't be included in a story, there are valuable themes in that on its own). Condoning this dynamic as something good is what leads to abusive relationships and innocent people staying in unhealthy situations for far too long. I'm among those who can attest to that personally.
That said, when it comes to Astarion, no one can rightly say going through his romance arc or not is condoning anything. Because it once more comes down almost entirely to perspective and interpretation, because he's a video game character comprised of pixels and a well-written script and there are limitless ways he can be interpreted and interacted with.
Like, personally, yes, there are some dynamics I'd feel uncomfy pairing him with, even with the empathy I feel for his character. Platonic or romantic, doesn't matter. Does that mean I'm going to apply my interpretation and personal boundaries to the next person playing the Astarion romance? No. That would be assuming I've somehow discovered the "correct" way to interpret the game, which I have not and can never do because RPGs like Baldur's Gate 3 are such personalized experiences. People are 100% free to play a fictional game however the hell they so please, because stories are not inherently 1-to-1 reflections of reality.
Especially when it comes to the narcissism accusation, it sparks an extra layer of discomfort for me when it seems like characters who act selfishly or spin lies get called "narcissistic" when that's kinda severely over-generalizing what narcissism actually is??
Narcissism is inherently selfish, but not all selfishness is narcissism. Gaslighting is built on lies, but not all lies are gaslighting. This separation was literally bugging me so much, I talked with my therapist about it last week. And she agreed.
Some folks seem to forget is actual NPD isn't just about selfishness and manipulating. It's fragile ego and delusions of grandeur and the mind games, dysregulating highs and humiliating lows that they will weave in a web around you so that you, as a victim, can never get your mental and emotional footing. Usually for the purposes of then swooping in to offer themselves as your only source of stability. The whole "rely on me because your judgment is clearly faulty and you need to be protected from yourself" shtick.
You know. Kinda like Cazador.
The way I see Astarion, by contrast, is that he has an honesty to him that lacks such delusions. As much as he desperately tries to maintain this veneer of poise and sass and devil-may-care out of self-preservation, it's paper thin and crumples under the barest pressure. Like, the equivalent of a thematic sneeze and down he goes. Then you see him as he is. Which is just... frightened. Sad. Kinda pathetic, really. And absolutely, positively lost. All things he knows, but he legit believes he will be killed if he lets any of it show.
Comparing that to, say, Wyll, who's blissfully ignorant bluster reminds me painfully of self-aggrandizing family members that I love but can't interact with honestly because of the forest of self-delusion around them... well, it's not much of a contest.
If somebody interprets Astarion as a slimy, manipulating power-monger and gets rid of him the first chance they have, that's their story to tell and power to them for it. But the same must be said for the opposite. I don't appreciate the thought that there's a whole sect of the BG3 fandom that probably genuinely considers me "less than" or "unhealthy" or "problematic" in some way for being among those who like this character or others like him and their potential thematically and narratively. But if my interpretation is that he’s a frightened man who just wants to feel safe and free, that is also its own story and it's mine to tell if I wish. And both can be good or even powerful stories!
Is all of this based on my own personal nuances, biases, and priorities? Absolutely. And that's kinda the whole point... There's not a wrong answer with this, really. I experience these games and these characters through a lens that is mine and mine only, and I give meaning to the worlds I enter based on what makes the story feel most interesting and satisfying for me. And at the end of the day, what else is art for but to help us explore ourselves and learn a little bit more about what it means to be human. In all its glory and ugliness.
And that's a wholly personal journey nobody deserves to have micromanaged or belittled. I'm certainly not gonna go around looking down on anyone for having a different reading than mine. You do you, boo. But let me do me too.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#astarion#my musings#in this essay i will#half of this feels incomprehensible because i added tidbits over the span of a week#but maybe someone somewhere will get something out of it#it was cathartic for me anyway#narcissism#character analysis#media literacy#art interpretation#thanks for coming to my ted talk
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
thank you for the tag @palettesofrenaissance <3
1. How many works do you have on ao3? 91 (with 8 of those posted anonymously and 26 current hidden).
2. What's your total ao3 word count? 316,689
3. What fandoms do you write for? i currently write for marvel and good omens. previously i have written for doctor who, hannibal, harry potter, hetalia, interview with the vampire, les misérables, and the walking dead (occasionally i dip back into writing those). and some other one-off fics for other fandoms.
4. Top five fics by kudos:
quips and endearments (t, 1.6k) aragorn and legolas flirt to keep morale up
acts of service (t, 4k) aziraphale falls
nothing but theatre (e, ongoing) bucky/zemo fake dating and time travel au
behind the make-up (t, 1k) the grandmaster exposes loki's mouth scars
hannibal, it's tinsel (g, <1k) hannibal/will fluffy hissy fits over xmas decs
5. Do you respond to comments? i like to and try to but i've got behind on it lately. i need to catch up.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? angst is my thing so most of my fics end angstily. maybe either:
uncovered secrets (e, 5k) bucky recognises heinrich in one of zemo's family photos
lithium (e, 3k) zemo's first look at the latvian apartment since his family's death
7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? definitely this, it's very hopeful for the future: falling leaves and apple pulp (g, <1k) bucky and sarah go apple picking
8. Do you get hate on fics? i used to but not so much anymore. i've had a couple of hate anons on here related to fics though.
9. Do you write smut? yes, occasionally but i'm not very good at it.
10. Craziest crossover: i haven't really done many crossovers but i mix adaptions a lot.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? i had a couple stolen off deviantart and ff.net back in the day but nothing off ao3 that i'm aware of.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated? no but i had one of my anonymously posted fics podfic'd, so that was nice.
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? i'd say so, yes, because even though it wasn't a back and forth thing some of the babes from the winterbaron discord have plotted and contributed so heavily to fics that i refuse to take full credit. also me and @palettesofrenaissance are going to be co-writing something soon so that's exciting!
14. All time favorite ship? usually i would usually say peggy/steve from mcu because i've loved them fiercely since 2011. but i'm going to say england/spain from hetalia because i'm feeling nostalgic at the moment and i always fall back into writing fic for them when i'm feeling particularly stressed or down.
15. What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i don't often write multi-chapter fics so only have one wip currently up. it would be good to get that finished, since i'm only 1 chapter away from an epilogue.
16. What are your writing strengths? angst. character studies and introspection. oneshots. i've been told i'm good at setting the tone and atmosphere, and i keep getting comments saying i'm good at conveying emotion, which makes me insanely happy.
17. What are your writing weaknesses? worldbuilding in general. multi-chapter fics. spelling and grammar. knowing how to end fics. smut. i'm also very quick to get discouraged and abandon fics all together.
18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language? i love it. other languages are often so beautiful and i like looking up commonly used phrases and contexts for how they are used. i've used other languages in most of my mcu fics.
19. First fandom you wrote in? i have hazy memories of this but i think it was twilight, where instead of going to italy to save edward, she and alice got together instead. i stand by 15 year old me's taste in ship. the first fic i posted online was for hetalia though, the twilight one stayed in a notepad.
20. Favorite fic you've written? i couldn't just pick one so:
the last of fine days (m, 15k) zemo's old family home plays tricks on their minds -> my first attempt at gothic domestic/horror and i'm proud of it.
migraine aura (m, 5k) aziraphale and crowley are exes stuck together at a party -> i wanted to write the most claustrophobic, overstimulating environment i could and i think i succeeded.
no pressure tagging, in case any of you felt like it: @zsparz, @milarca, @zemos-bathrobe, @fuddlewuddle, @yolkinthejump, @captainjimothycarter
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