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stevebabey · 1 year

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somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two.

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too.

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

—

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond.

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

—

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here.

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets.

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name.

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart.

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @televisionboy

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 7 months

Text

Imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission…

“Don’t.” Steve snapped.

He looked at you as a warning, sending a shiver down your spine. He had never looked at you with such fury before. You had been on the receiving end of such looks before - but never from Steve. It was harrowing and cold.

“What did you think you were doing?” He asked. Your quips were silenced by the level of anger in his voice.

“You blew our cover by coming to my aid and now we’ve lost the element of surprise.” He recounted. “You unravelled months of careful planning, do you know that?”

“I was trying to save a life.” You countered, voice hardening the more you spoke. How could Steve not see the bigger picture? “I saw immediate danger and made a call.”

“That wasn’t your job. I told you to stick to the plan.”

“But-”

“No, you need to understand that you’re affected by the rules too. It’s not one for us and one for you, alright?” Steve took a stand. All of a sudden, his height and build made you feel inferior and everything that you had to say would be useless. Steve turned, still undeniably pissed and pointed at your chest.

“I’m benching you from all future missions.”

“What?” You blurted out. “You can’t-!”

“We all agreed that I was the leader of this mission and I’m making the call, just like you did out on the field.” He said, raising his voice to drown your argument out. “You’re out, Y/n.”

The air was so thick with tension that Clint could cut it clean with the tip of his arrowhead. The rest of the team didn’t expect Steve to channel his frustrations onto one person alone. Normally, he’d disperse it evenly not excluding himself but today he was on a warpath with one of their most valued members.

No one moved an inch or dared to breath loudly in case one of the two lashed out. Steve held you under his gaze, both unblinking until you scoffed and broke the stare.

“Copy that, Captain.” You remarked bitterly. Grabbing your gloves from the table, you turned and walked into the open elevator. Silently pressing a hand against the biometric scanner until the doors shut with the sole purpose to take you away.

Steve sighed and looked away, shaking his head as he realised that the rest of the team were still present.

“Dismissed.” He told them. Quiet like mice, the Avengers left the room without another word mostly out of exhaustion. They only wanted to shower and rest up for the remainder of the day.

Steve felt a presence linger and turned to see Tony staring at him.

“You’ve got something to say, Tony?”

“Yeah actually. Y/n made a not-so-smart move. We get that - hell, they get that. But I think you’re being a bit harsh.” Tony said gently. He knew how to coax Steve out of his angry shell by treading lightly on the border. “I understand that you want Y/n safe because you like them but-”

“I love them, Tony.” Steve confessed softly and shook his head, ridding his mind of the delicate emotion and returned to being the disappointed leader. “That’s beside the point. They’re reckless and unpredictable and it can make or break a team out on the field.”

Tony let out a loud exhale and rolled out his shoulders to relax his aching muscles. He took a sip from his green smoothie and patted Steve on the arm before gulping down the drink.

“Reckless is what Y/n does for people they care for. They would jump into the pits of hell for any one of us.” He explained. “But, Rogers, you need to remember that they’re more than just an Avenger - especially to you - and if you’re not careful, you’ll push Y/n further into the fire. The difference is that they’ll be unscathed and you’re the one who’s going to burn.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #steve imagine #the avengers imagine #the avengers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

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emasstars · 7 months

Text

little things

silly headcanons about the greasers | fluff

a/n: @cau-lee-flower215 wanted me to tag them!

ponyboy has a pen collection. every year for his birthday, his parents would get him a new one. for a while, he definitely had a phase where he would only write with a quill. stored away, somewhere in some cabinet, it’s still there.

johnny loves animals with every fibre of his being. he will stop walking to pet a stray animal, and he doesn’t care if it has rabies or ticks or anything. he especially loves when he’s sleeping out in the lot, and a cat comes to cuddle up with him.

dally is a picky eater. his food cannot touch, it needs to be made a very specific way, and he will not eat the food if it does not fit his standards. when they go out to eat, he will always order the same food. he will order it off of the kids menu if he has to.

sodapop secretly writes poetry, and hides the papers in a shoe box in his nightstand’s drawer. he only writes when no one is home, placing some sort of magazine or news paper on top so no one thinks to check ever again. he cannot go through that embarrassment another time.

darry, similarly to how ponyboy used to collect pens, used to collect coins. every time he’d see one on the ground, he’d pick it up and add it to the jar he’d keep them in. if it was a particularly nice-looking coin, he’d put it in some frame and leave it on his desk.

two-bit tried to join band in school, but wasn’t allowed because all he could play was a harmonica. by now, he brings it anywhere he goes. if the time is right, which he argues it always is, he will pull out and play an awful tune that pierces everyone’s ears, and makes them yell at him to stop.

steve cannot dance. it does not matter the kind of dancing you request he does, someone will get hurt. very likely, it will be him. one time, at one of sodapop’s birthday parties, he tried to dance but accidentally twisted his ankle and got sent to the er.

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multi-fandomfuckboy · 17 days

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Part 27: Gifts

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 27, Part 28 (Coming Soon)...

AN: Sorry about the wait Word Count: 3,816 Warnings: none

The rest of your night is spent tossing and turning in bed. The prickling along the skin of your hand and wrist are your only reminder of what happened in the car, not to mention the memories that flood your mind every time you close your eyes. Billy’s coy smile, how his eyes devoured your every move, the hungry glint in them at the sounds you made. Your stomach writhes, flipping and swirling the more your mind lingers on the interaction.

It irritates you, the effect he has on you. Every smirk, or touch sends your heart into overdrive. It doesn't help that your experience with relationships up to this point have never gone further than hand holding. But, this electricity that exists between you and Billy seems to be short circuiting all your logic and reason.

You’ve never spent a lot of time thinking about things like this, you’re not a child, Nancy has told you plenty about her relationship with Steve. You just never took any interest in it. Until now it seems. You're plagued by thoughts of Billy pressed against you, his calloused hands holding you tightly, his lips against your skin, the feel of his hot breath mixing with yours. Fuck.

You turn your head, releasing a pent up scream into your pillow until you're out of breath.

When exhaustion finally wins out, you’re cast into another restless sleep.

———-

You’ve been here before. It’s dark and cold, familiar. Home. It’s quiet right now, for now. You’re not needed, yet. Fear twists through every tendril of your being, as much a part of you as the darkness. You can feel the shadow in your mind, waiting. Ready to bend, break if needed. You’re tired. But, there is no rest here. No peace. No hope. Forever.

———

This is different. Not cold, warmth washes over you. The sound of crashing waves is rhythmic, almost like breathing. It soothes the initial panic of being in a new place, so bright and peaceful. It’s so different from the other place. You are able to glance around, there is no one else here. An empty beach. It’s nice.

———

The sound of your mom trying to sneak out of your room wakes you the next morning.

“Mom?” You ask, propping yourself up on an elbow, wiping sleep from your eyes. She stops, her hand on the door. She’s still in her scrubs, the only illumination in the room is the light coming in from the hallway.

“Hey sweetie.” She greets you softly, turning to face you, an apologetic smile already on her lips. “I was just checking on you, go back to sleep.” She tries to reassure you. Your gut twists, you can barely see it in the dim light but it’s definitely there. The ever present worry you inspire in her. You were having some kind of nightmare, you can feel it in the tense in your muscles and the ache in your bones. Feeling the exhaustion that plagues you from the tension your dreams bring into reality.

“I’m sorry mom.” You sigh, running a hand through your hair feeling the dampness of sweat. Her smile falters, pulling tighter at your apology.

“Don’t be sorry love. It just takes… time.” She reminds you. You know it’s what she needs to believe. That with enough time your mind will heal, that the nightmares will eventually fade.

“It’s getting better.” The lie tastes bitter. Her shoulders sag slightly, like she can feel the lie physically. She won’t press though, both of you are happy to let it sit between you. It’s easier than facing reality.

She pads over to your bed, gently stooping to press a kiss on your brow.

“I love you.” She says softly. You can’t help the small smile that pulls from you.

“I love you too.” You reply reflexively. You always say it back, just in case. It’s an easy truth, for the both of you. She pulls away, her smile a bit more relaxed than it was. “Go back to sleep.” She says again, patting your head as she steps back towards the door. She gives you a pointed look you know she normally only reserves for unruly patients, leaving no room for argument.

“Alright. No need to pull out the nurse mom voice.” You joke, lying back down. She laughs lightly at your joke, slipping out the door.

“Goodnight kiddo.” She says softly. You roll onto your other side, your back towards the door. You watch the light narrow into a sliver of the wall opposite you as she closes the door, leaving it open only a crack. Then laying still, you focus on slowing your breathing, listening to the sounds of your mom moving around the house getting ready for bed. She’s awake for another half hour, eating leftovers, looking through the mail, showering, and finally you hear the springs of her mattress creak as she gets into bed.

You listen to the silence for a little bit. You like the quiet. Your life has been chaos for so long, from the moment you woke up in the hospital and every day since it feels like the world has erupted into too many sounds. Everyone talking, a constant low level buzz of activity. It’s sometimes enough to drive you crazy.

When you're certain your mom is asleep, you quietly slip out of bed and get dressed. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table, you note that it’s only 6AM, still early enough for your morning walk to be peaceful. The house is still dark, but you move through it easily navigating in the dim light of morning. You gather your journal, and fill your water bottle placing both into your bag. When you go to put on your shoes, the dangling remainder of your sole catches your attention. You inspect the dilapidated sneaker for a moment, trying to think of the best way to cobble it back together. You eventually settle on duct taping the pieces back together, wrapping the tape around the shoe a couple of times to make sure it's secured.

It’s not pretty, but technically it’s a whole shoe again. Satisfied that your solution is functional, you lace up your shoes and grab Steves’ jacket from the coat rack. Slinging your bag over your shoulder you head out the door. The dawn is cold, the sky a dim shade of gray, everything still cast in shadow the morning fog slowly creeping over the earth.

You pick up a steady pace, heading for your favorite sunrise spot. There is a hill about a mile east that looks out over the currently barren fields and will be the first spot in Hawkins to see the sun. It also happens to have a very comfortable rock that is perfect for sitting and writing.

By the time you reach it, the sun has just started to peak over the horizon, bathing the top of the hill in golden sunlight. You can feel its warmth on your exposed skin, the cold morning air still clinging to the shadows. You take out your water bottle and notebook, setting the empty bag down on the cold rock. You sit down, positioning yourself to face the sunrise, taking a moment to watch the earth in front of you slowly brighten, the light washing away the remaining shadows. It’s quiet here, as quiet as it can be in nature. There are still the chirps of the birds and the rustling of dead leaves as small animals pass by, but peaceful.

You know that you can’t stay out too long. You may not notice the cold but your body still has a physical response to it and it's still the middle of December. So you open your notebook and begin.

The story you’ve been working on is not peaceful. It is a terrible story about a young boy raised to fight monsters. He’s known no other life, he was born with the burden of being the only one who can see these monsters, and he can never stop. But the older he gets, and the harder he fights to protect the world from evil, he realizes that a bit of that evil has taken root in him. It starts small, a black spot behind his ear, but it grows. It digs its roots in deep, twisting its way into his soul.

In the beginning the young man starts off as the hero, but eventually the evil will consume him and he will become what he fought so hard against. You know the ending, but it’s not written yet. There is still hope in the middle of the story.

When you notice the red tinge in your fingertips brought on by the chilly December air you stop and pack up your things. Taking one last glance around at the now illuminated field, you turn and head back home.

You arrive at the same time Steve pulls into your driveway. You can see him through the window as you approach and he looks a bit worse for wear. His hair is damp, hanging loosely around his pale face. His eyes are hidden behind sunglasses but are no doubt blood shot with circles under them. He cuts the engine as you approach the drivers’ side, opening the door to haul himself out with a grunt of effort.

“Alright grandpa, how’s that hangover treating you?” You ask, unable to stop your teasing smirk even for his sake. He sighs heavily, closing the door just to lean back against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What kind of friend are you?” He asks, lifting a brow. “How could you let me drink that much?” You come to a stop in front of him, crossing your arms to mirror him.

“Because according to you, you’re ‘a grown ass man’ who ‘knows how to handle his alcohol’, and because I ‘never let you have any fun’.” You say, throwing air quotes around some of the excuses he gave you when you tried to get him to slow down the night before. A bit of pink brightens his cheeks at the reminder, but he laughs good naturedly at your teasing.

“Stop holding me accountable for my own actions.” He groans. “I don’t feel good, so I’m just going to blame you to make myself feel better.” He goes on, pressing his finger tips against his temples. His small smile brings a bit of life back to his ashen face.

“Oh of course. Whatever makes your life easier Steve.” You concede, your own smile pulling at your lips. He huffs a laugh, lifting his sunglasses onto his head. There is a beat of silence before he clears his throat, his cheeks flushing a bit more.

“And- uh- thanks. For, you know, babysitting me last night.” He says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his beck. Your stomach drops at the reminder, you didn’t think Steve was sober enough to remember much but apparently he remembered enough. You wonder if he remembers how he had held you against him, crying quietly in the kitchen while you whipped his tears. How he had gently lowered his forehead to yours and held your palm against his beating heart. You don’t want to press the subject, especially if he doesn’t remember everything.

“Don’t mention it, I’ll bill your parents later.” You joke, forcing yourself to chuckle. Steve laughs lightly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looks you up and down, nodding his head towards his jacket you’re still wearing.

“The jacket looks good on you.” He says. You look down at the old bomber jacket, moving to unzip it.

“Yea sorry I just borrowed it to walk home last night. I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” You tell him, the unspoken truth behind your words not lost on him. He’s familiar with your anxious habits that don’t always make sense. That you have a tendency to walk away when your brain won’t settle down. His hand stops yours on the zipper, pulling it away.

“It’s okay, you can keep it.” He tells you. “I don’t wear it anymore anyways.” He explains, looking down at his hand encircling your wrist.

“Thanks Steve.” You beam up at him. He smiles back , his thumb running over the underside of your wrist. Your heart leaps. In that moment you wonder if he’s somehow feeling where Billy’s lips had been the night before. But that’s ridiculous.

“It will be a nice reminder of me while I’m gone. Along with this.” He says, pulling something from his pocket. Your eyes widen at the sight of a delicate gold chain, glinting in the sun, a small pendant hanging perfectly in the center.

“What is that?” You ask in confusion. Steves’ smile only grows as he drapes the shining metal over your wrist, easily clasping it in place.

“It’s your Christmas present. I’m giving it to you early cause I won’t be back until after new years.” He tells you, one hand still gently cupping your wrist. “The lady told me it’s real so it won’t leave a ring or anything.” He tells you as if it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Heat flushes your cheeks as you inspect the bracelet. You take in the intricate beauty of the simple chain, small links twisting and interlocking into a light strand of glittering gold. A simple pendant hangs from the middle. A brilliant shining sun, catching and reflecting the light, casting off its own rays as it hangs from your wrist. It’s beautiful. More elegant than anything you’ve ever owned. Something twists low in your gut.

“Steve, I can’t take this.” You tell him, moving to unclasp the chain. He instantly pushes your hand away.

“Of course you can.” He insists. Suddenly his eyes fill with worry. “Do you not like it?” He asks, his smile falling. Your stomach sinks.

“No, I- I like it, it’s really beautiful. It’s just too nice.” You try to explain. Steve sighs with relief, his smile returning in an instant.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just a bracelet, it’s not like I bought you a car or something.” He laughs at his own joke. You struggle to maintain your smile. You know that money isn’t really an issue with Steve’s allowance but it doesn’t make you feel any better. He should be saving his money for school, not spending it on pretty things for you. Steve’s eyes catch on to your discomfort almost instantly. “Please accept it.” He pleads sincerely. “I saw it and immediately thought of you.” He explains, one of his fingers flicking over the sun pendant.

Your heart swells at the sentiment. It’s unbearably cheesy, and very Steve. When your eyes glance up to meet his you’re once again met with the big brown puppy eyes, the hangover makes them look especially sad. You have to suppress a groan.

“Okay.” You finally give in, earning an ear to ear grin from Steve that pulls a smile out of you as well. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas, Babysitter.” He says, pulling you into a crushing hug.

“Merry Christmas.” You reply, wrapping your arms around him. He holds you tightly, pulling you up and into him. “I didn’t get you anything.” You admit, shamefully burying your face in his shoulder. His responding laugh shakes both of you.

“Can I request an official document declaring that I’m your best friend?” He asks. Your cheeks burn at the memory of you and Steve admitting that you are each other's best friends the night before. You laugh, trying to swat at him but he keeps his arms locked around you. “Can I get it notarized as well?” He adds, still laughing.

“Oh shut up.” You groan, earning another laugh. When he finally lets you go, you take a half step back. You’re hyper aware of the bracelet, holding your arm slightly away from your body to keep it from catching on any of your clothes and potentially scuffing it.

“Aren't you flying out today? When are you supposed to head to the airport? ” You ask, glancing at your watch.

“I was supposed to leave 10 minutes ago.” He tells you flatly. You gap at him.

“You what? What are you doing here? You’re going to miss your flight you dork!” You practically yell at him, giving his arm a shot towards his car.

“I had to come say goodbye.” He says, laughing as he opens the door and allows you to shove him into the driver's seat.

“You could have just called!” You say, slamming the door closed as soon as his legs are in. You see him laugh again through the window. The engine roars to life as Steve cracks the window, still smiling.

“No I couldn’t.” He says, like it’s a fact. That gets an eye roll from you.

“Get out of here before I’m stuck with you all winter break.” You tell him, unable to stop the small smile that he always manages to drag out of you.

“I’ll call you from the resort!” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of the drive. “Don’t miss me too much!” He calls from the end of the driveway. “I’ll try!” You call back, waving goodbye as Steve gives you one last smile before pulling into the street. You watch the car speed down your street and disappear around the corner before heading towards the house.

An uneasy feeling settles over you as you make your way to your door. You and Steve had quickly become inseparable since the night the gate closed, it was a seamless partnership. It made you feel like there was someone there who had your back. You know that Nancy and Jonathan are still close but the knowledge that Steve will be alone for the next two weeks fills your mind with a low level of anxiety.

A chill snakes down your spine and your hurry into the house. You feel unsettled from the thoughts of Steve being so far away and practically unprotected, your palms itch with the need to do something. Instinctively you begin checking the safety of your own home. Moving quickly and efficiently you check locks on all the doors and windows, then lay hands on all the hidden weapons in the house. When you’ve checked all of them, you settle at the table with your fathers Barretta, pulling out the cleaning kit. It's monotonous work, but cleaning the pistol always seems to ease the itch in your hands when your anxiety picks up.

Rolling up the sleeves on the jacket your attention catches on the glint of gold around your wrist. You examine it for a moment, looking at how the delicate chain contrasts against your sun damaged skin. How it stands in opposition to your calloused hands, your fingernails chewed down to the quick, cuticles picked to an angry red. Your stomach twists.

It really is a beautiful piece of jewelry, delicate and perfectly balanced. Traits you can’t see in yourself. It really is too nice for someone like you.

What if you broke it or scratched it? What if you lost it on a walk? What if you fucked it up?

It’s too good for you. You wish it wasn’t, but it is.

You carefully unclasp the chain, lying it gently on the table before you start cleaning. You lay out the cleaning supplies, setting the pistol down on a rag in front of you. Then you settle into the process of disassembling and cleaning all the small pieces of the weapon. You remember when Hopper had taught you how to properly clean a gun. He told you that he and your dad would sit in silence for hours just sipping on drinks and cleaning the small harmless parts of the deadly machines. He always stressed that it was vitally important for you to understand the inner workings of a gun before ever picking one up. How all the pieces fit together, and if even one small part was missing or broke it would alter the functionality with devastating results.

Your fingers slowly darken with the combination of CLP cleaning oil and burnt carbon. You work diligently, rubbing at any blemishes remaining. When you’re satisfied that the gun is clean, and the anxiety in your mind has lessened slightly, you reassemble your gun and pack up your cleaning kit.

You move to grab the pistol, intending to put it back where it was hidden in your nightstand but pause your eyes catching on how dirty your hands are. You go to the sink and scrub at your hands until they are rubbed raw. When you’re sure that no remnants of carbon or oil cling to your hands, you pick up the gun in one hand and the gold bracelet in the other. You walk to your room, securing the pistol to the underside of your nightstand and placing the glimmering chain on the surface.

You can’t risk accidentally damaging it. Better to keep it here, safe. Your fingers ghost along the edges of the sun pendant, still managing to catch some of the light, glimmering up at you.

The sound of a revving engine causes you to jump.

Billy.

Your eyes dart to the time. 1156. You had lost track of time and nearly forgotten that Billy told you he would pick you up at 12. Not knowing what to expect, you just grab your bag, still packed from your walk, and head out the door before Billy can make enough noise to wake your mom.

Before you step out the door, you take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you have killed monsters before and faced shady government agencies, you should not let Billy fluster you the way he does. You are going to be so calm, he’s going to get bored and stop teasing you. That’s the plan.

His eyes are on you from the moment you step out of the house, his gaze follows you all the way to the car. Climbing into the passenger seat you notice he’s playing a cassette, it’s the first time you’ve actually recognized the song. You can’t remember the name, but it’s one of the songs Max showed you that day after school.

“You didn’t have to drive me.” You tell him, buckling your seatbelt. Billy immediately rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh.

“Yea, tell that to the duct tape holding your shoes together right now, loca.” He shoots back.

“It’s only one of them.” You grumble, settling into your seat. Billy just chuckles.

“It’s just a ride crazy, don’t make a big deal about it.” He tells you, putting the car in reverse and pulling out of your driveway.

AN: sorry this took so long 😬

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thinkingoutlouddblog · 2 years

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader - “Why is it always my boyfriend getting hurt?”

A/N: short and angsty, use of Y/N, mentions of injuries - send me angsty Steve requests please!

Y/N had been awful quiet since they had passed through Watergate. She had openly been against Steve going into the lake as soon as he volunteered himself.

In fact, her exact words had been, “Absolutely not.”

Her tone left no room for argument, and yet Steve refused to back down.

“Why?”

“Because you are the one who always jumps headlong into danger and comes out of it with a fucked-up face.”

“Ah, so the concern is preserving my good looks?”

Robin snorted at this, clearly taking issue with the statement. Steve pulled a face at her in response.

She was not having a bar of his blasé attitude. “My concern is you getting hurt again. Or worse.”

“I don’t think the water is going to hurt me, sweetheart,” he went back to shrugging off his shoes, feeling the argument settled.

“Then you won’t mind me going in instead?” She raised a brow at him challengingly.

With no argument to simultaneously support him going in and her staying in the safety of the boat, he simply said, “Dream on.” Then kissed her on the top of the head before diving overboard.

Y/N had been the first to jump in after him when he got pulled under. She was sure she must have broken world records with the speed with which she reached the gate.

The battle with the bats was a complete blur. Moments after it was over she couldn’t entirely recall what had happened. There were oars and bats and Steve Steve Steve playing over and over in her mind as she fought to get to him.

Her whole body shook with adrenaline and fear. There was a buzzing in her ears as Steve joked about the bats “taking a pound of flesh” but being okay. Joked. As if her whole world hadn’t nearly been taken away.

She couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

Not until he made her heart stop once again when he nearly hit the floor. She was forced to look at him as she haphazardly patched him up with a torn piece of Nancy’s shirt. Or more specifically, at his injuries. She still could not meet his eye.

“Sweetheart?”

She just kept wrapping his torso, saying nothing.

The others gave them some space, making quiet conversation between themselves to give the couple some semblance of privacy.

“Y/N, please,” he tipped her chin up to face him after she had tied the makeshift dressing off.

He hadn’t expected to be met with tear filled eyes.

“Why does it always have to be you getting hurt, Steve?”

There was a beat of silence between the two. Enough for a tear to spill over.

“I would rather it be me than anyone else,” he whispered.

She felt her chest crack open at his words. Because she knew it to be true. Because the love of her life would sacrifice himself for her or any of their friends in a heartbeat. And because she knew in her stomach the troubles in Hawkins were far from over, leaving plenty of opportunity for him to do so.

“Do you think you are disposable?”

The question was genuine, and he knew it. The truth would break his lover’s heart, so in its place he left silence.

“Oh, Stevie,” her head fell against his shoulder. “It splits me in two to see you hurt like this. If something were to- If something really bad were to happen to you, I wouldn’t ever recover. Not ever.”

She took his face in both her hands. “If it were me how would you be?”

“Don’t say-”

“No, you don’t get to shut me up about this. Just because you’re the guy you think it would be worse if it were me? That somehow isn’t allowed but I have to see you like this every time? I feel just how you would if it were me.”

This gave him pause. He scanned her eyes a moment longer before pulling her into his chest (avoiding pressure against his wounds, of course).

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Sorry that he wouldn’t ever be able to put his safety first. Sorry that she would have to stand and watch. Sorry that he couldn’t be more selfish for her.

She didn’t question the meaning of his apology and for that he was grateful. She relaxed in his arms.

“Just be more careful. Like way more careful,” she thought for a second. “And next time make Munson jump into the water first.”

“Hey!” Eddie called, who, with Nancy and Robin, had been listening to the entire exchange.

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things s4

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multiverse-sparkles · 2 years

Text

Your kiss is burning to my skin — S. Rogers and B. Barnes.

masterlist // main masterlist

summary: steve and bucky break up with you to focus on their relationship. at first, you took the breakup hard. then you took it worse.

pairings: steve x reader x bucky, stucky x reader.

warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, poly, smut, hydra.

chapter one

the moment where your world crumbled

chapter two

coping mechanisms are a bitch; so are you.

#stucky x reader #stucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x y/n #stucky fanfiction #bucky imagine #steve imagine

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marwritesgood · 10 months

Text

Hide and Seek | S. Harrington

Pairing: Steve x Hopper!Reader

Timeframe: Season 5

Summary: It's time to take down Vecna once and for all and, much to Steve's protests, Y/n puts herself on the frontline.

warning description of violence and injury

PREVIOUS PART

series masterlist // main masterlist

a/n: and we're back to the main storyline :) this part was not initially planned, but it felt awkward moving forward without addressing what goes down during the big battle with Vecna! hope you enjoy :)

September 21st, 1978

Y/n sat at the kitchen table quietly, stewing in her nervousness as she waited for her mom to explain further. She had called her eldest to sit with her, which wasn't what made Y/n anxious. It was when her mom called her by her full name. That was never a good sign.

From underneath the table they sat at, Y/n's mom held up her daughter's school bag, unzipped it and pulled out a sheet of paper. Y/n hung her head, cursing herself for not just throwing it in the bin like she initially contemplated doing. Seeing her reaction, Y/n's mom softened her gaze.

“Why didn’t you tell me there was a school trip coming up?”

She could not understand it. Y/n was not the type to hide things from her mom, nor was she the type to pass up an overnight school field trip.

Y/n locked eyes with her mom for a short moment before averting them quickly. Her face was burning up from the embarrassment. She never meant for her little white lie to turn into a whole thing.

“I forgot.”

“Y/n, don’t lie to me.”

The young girl hung her head once more.

“There’s a fee. I didn’t know if we could afford to…”

She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. Not after the sharp inhale her mother took almost immediately. Y/n glanced up at her momentarily. She had seen her mother do a heck of a lot of crying over the last few months, but never like that, and never over her.

The older woman rose from her chair and sped around the table, pulling her daughter into her embrace.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” she said softly, before finally pulling away. “I know your dad and I have been fighting a lot, and constantly going back and forth about Sara, instead of making sure we were looking after you.”

“I get it, mom,” Y/n whispered.

Her mother felt her stomach drop further. This was the last thing she wanted for Y/n. Her sweet, vibrant Y/n who had gotten far too good at and far too accustomed to pulling a brave face. The older woman lifted her hands to the sides of her daughter’s face and frowned regretfully.

“We’ll do better, I promise,” she said before glancing back down at the sheet of paper on the kitchen table and taking it in her hand once more. “Starting with this field trip, because there’s no way you’re missing out.”

“Mom, you don’t have to-“

Y/n’s eyes widened as her mom held her hand up, stopping her from saying anything further. She pursed her lips tightly, giving the field trip handout a onceover before looking her daughter dead in the eye.

“I’m the mom, you’re the kid, ok?” She snapped, her voice filling the room to the brim, startling Y/n at first and then filling her with relief. She nodded.

The entire time Sara had been sick, nurses and doctors and family friends were commenting on how strong and mature her big sister was, shouldering extra responsibilities to help out her parents and spending all her free time with Sara all while keeping her grades up at school. Y/n never wanted to be strong and mature, but by the way everyone spoke about her, it was obvious that’s what everyone needed her to be.

Y/n’s mother sighed. The fees and the finer details were not to be any of Y/n’s business, she declared to herself. That was hers and Hopper’s. All she wanted from Y/n was a simple answer, and then she would move however many mountains necessary to make it work. The woman gazed intently at her daughter.

“You wanna go on this trip?”

Y/n opened her louth and hesitated for a moment before answering in a hushed tone, “I-I do.”

Her mom nodded once and looked at the handout yet again, her eyes searching for the information on the fee. It would be a stretch, but the woman’s mind was already decided. One of her girls was going to have some semblance of a nice year if it was the last she did.

“I’ll talk to dad. We’ll make it happen.”

Y/n blinked, dumbfounded. It was that simple? She had spent weeks analysing every sentence on the hand out, contemplating if the trip was even worth bringing up to her parents and contemplating ways she could come up with the money herself.

In one conversation, her mom had fixed it all for her.

The young girl was grinning ear to her. With glossy eyes she stepped forward and hugged her mother tightly. It was a small but immensely meaningful win for her, and she needed her mom to know that.

“Thank you.”

The woman felt her breath hitch. After several months of hell, a thank and a hug from a happy daughter was more than she could have asked for. She kissed the top of Y/n’s head and hugged her just as tightly, with no intention of letting go until she did first.

***

November 27th, 1984

Y/n needed a second to breathe. She left Steve with the kids for a few minutes so she could lock the backdoor and the windows, but she found herself standing in the hallway and catching her breath.

When Y/n finally made her way back to the living room, she did so slowly, puzzled by the gruff voice coming from the living room where the kids were. She could only just make out the words being spoken.

“You know what happens when I get angry, Max. I break things."

Her stomach turned as realisation hit and she raced towards the sound of the kids screaming. Billy Hargrove was yet again causing trouble. By the time Y/n reached the living room, he had already broken one of Joyce’s plates and held a petrified little Lucas against the wall by his shirt.

Instantly fuming, Y/n made her way towards him with clenched fists, her thumbs tucked in just as she had been taught by her old man.

“Hey asshole,” she shouted, pulling Billy back by his shoulder as hard as she could. Once he let go of Lucas and turned to Y/n, she swung her right fist with all her might and aimed right for his stupid face.

Billy doubled back, lifting his hand to his nose and kissing his teeth when he saw blood on his fingertips.

“Yeah, kick his ass Y/n!” The kids were cheering from the corner of the room, making Y/n forget about the pain in her hand, but only just for a moment. Billy laughed dryly.

“You know, I’m getting real sick of you butting your nose into my business,” he hissed, starting to get the impression she was more than just an old babysitter to the little boys who kept hanging around Max. “Just ‘cause your dad’s the stupid police chief, doesn’t mean you run this town.”

Y/n furrowed her brows, resenting being referred to nothing but the chief’s daughter, even moreso from a dingus like him. He inched forward, trying to intimidate her, but Y/n straightened her back and planted her feet.

“Just shut up and go pick on someone your own size, Billy,” she spat, still fuming. It was bad enough he had a habit of beating up unsuspecting freshman at school, now he was terrorising her kids.

Billy kept moving closer to her, the crease between his brows remaining steady, and it started to dawn on Y/n that if he had no issue with hitting a kid as sweet as Lucas, there was very little chance he would have an issue with beating her up. Her feet shifted backwards ever so slightly, and Billy took immediate notice of it. He smirked.

“Already did,” he taunted, nodding his head towards the window facing the front yard. “Didn’t you see your little boyfriend on the ground outside?”

Y/n was swinging her fist again before it could even register, but unfortunately Billy caught it before another blow could be made to his face. Just as his lips instinctively curved into what Y/n knew would be another infuriating smirk, Y/n jolted her foot upwards until it came to a sudden and aggressive collision with his groin.

Billy doubled back yet again, wincing momentarily and then donning an expression far more sinister. He recovered his stance in a seconds and was glaring daggers at Y/n, completely fed up.

“Oh, you are so dead,” he growled, moving forward with his hands balled up and winding back ready to swing. If he was holding back before, he clearly did not plan to anymore. Y/n stumbled backwards. Before she could remember to tuck her thumbs, a pair of strong arms pulled her out of the way.

“No you are.”

Steve, bloody nose and all, caught Billy’s fist mid-swing and sucker-punched the left side of his face before he could see it coming. Instinctively, Y/n lunged forward and reached for her boyfriend, startled by the injuries already evident on his face.

“Steve!”

While relieved Billy didn’t get the chance to punch her, Y/n did not have time to feel grateful for Steve’s impeccable timing, nor did she have time to watch him get into fight with Billy Hargrove.

Her fingers barely grazed her boyfriends arm before he was following Billy. Y/n stepped back and signalled for the kids to stay out of the way. She knew Steve had had a bone to pick with him ever since he got to Hawkins, so there was no telling where things would go, but something told Y/n it was gonna get ugly. Billy began laughing maniacally, clapping his hands sarcastically before shoving Steve back.

“So you do have a bit of fire in you,” he chuckled. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see the King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Just leave,” Steve hissed, shoving him back just as hard. Billy’s smirk never faltered, despite losing his footing for a split second. Instead, he stood tall and inched forward again, narrowing his eyes at Steve tauntingly, as if testing to see what would set him off.

“Didn’t realise all I had to do was go after his bitch-“

Y/n inhaled sharply. Before Billy could get another word out, Steve was jabbing his face and his torso repeatedly. He could tolerate Billy poking fun at him, but not at Y/n. Never at her.

The kids were back to cheering again, and Y/n was grasping at straws trying to de-escalate, before one of them ended up seriously hurt. Sure, maybe she thought Billy deserved a few sucker-punches to the face, and maybe she didn’t mind if Steve was the one handing them out, but there was a bigger battle at hand and time was not on their side.

The two of them brought their fight into Joyce’s kitchen, where Billy took a plate and smashed it against Steve’s head, giving him the upper hand. Y/n muffled a shriek behind her hand and decided it was time to step in. Billy showed no evident intention of slowing down anytime soon, even with Steve on the floor and him towering over. Y/n sped forward and tried to pull him back like she had done before.

“Billy, get the hell off him!”

Steve was already losing consciousness, but Billy just kept going. Y/n tried to get a good grasp of his arm to yank him back, but he was moving too quickly. He swung his fist back just as Y/n leaned forward again, hitting her in between her eyes and sending her backwards.

“Uhh-“ she groaned as she tried to regain focus. Her ears were ringing and her vision was beginning to blur. The last she remembered was seeing Max’s faint figure come marching in wielding something. Then she lost consciousness for a few minutes.

When Y/n finally did begin to see and hear things clearly, Max had a strange bat in her hands and Billy was lying on the floor with a needle sticking out of the side of his neck.

***

March 31st, 1986

The days following Vecna’s attack on Y/n came by like a series of punches, not giving anyone a chance to recover. From kissing Steve in his bedroom, helping Eddie evade an angry mob and then helping Steve and the kids lie to the police about why they were all at lover’s lake in the middle of the night. Y/n could not wait to have a good night’s sleep again.

Unfortunately, the end was nowhere in sight. Everyone gathered around Nancy in Eddie’s living room as she explained what she saw— what Vecna showed her before she and Robin could leave the upside down. Almost immediately afterwards, a few of them started to discuss what to do next. Y/n, on the other hand, could only think about El.

She left to call the Byers’ house phone, but after twenty minutes of nothing, Y/n started to fear for the worst. She came back to the living room just as Dustin came up with a bright idea about thinking Vecna and his powers as another version of El’s.

“That all sounds great in theory, but we don’t even know when he’s going to attack next,” Robin argued, “we don’t even know who he’s gonna attack next.”

Y/n's breath hitched. Suddenly it was beginning to make sense why she still did not feel like herself again. Though she was definitely much happier than she was when Vecna was first targeting her, she could not definitively say her symptoms were completely gone.

“Yeah we do,” she said, looking up and seeing everyone's eyes glued on hers. Y/n had become accustomed to their worried expressions since recovering from Vecna. She knew they were going to be on the fence on what she was about to propose, one of them in particular

“I can still feel him," Y/n clarified before clearing her throat. "I think… I think I’m still a target. Still cursed.”

The room was silent. Everyone exchanged looks with each other. Everyone but Steve, whose attention never left Y/n. She couldn't be serious, he thought. But she was. If she wasn't before, she was now that she knew El might be involved.

“So, maybe I ditch the Bee Gees. I draw his focus back to me... and I keep him busy long enough so that you guys can get into that attic," she proposed. “Then you can chop his head off… or stab him- I don't know.”

Y/n shrugged her shoulder and finally looked up, meeting everyone's intense gaze. If she was going to do this, it meant they would have only a small window to do what was needed, to kill the son of a bitch once and for all.

“Just try not to miss.”

Steve furrowed his brows. His frustration grew as he looked around and saw everyone seemingly accept that as the official plan. Like there was nothing alarming about sacrificing his girlfriend to Vecna.

“Woah, hold on, time out," he scoffed, walking towards Y/n and taking hold of her hand, pulling her into the kitchen and out of earshot from the other. Y/n sighed, knowing any lecture he was about to give her would be in vain.

“Steve, don’t try to talk me out of this-“

He narrowed his eyes at her incredulously.

“What, so I should just let you get yourself killed?!”

“I’ve dealt with him before,” Y/n pointed out.

“And you were this close to dying,” he argued, holding his index finger and thumb up to show just how narrowly she escaped the same fate as Chrissy and Fred.

“But I’m not dead! I survived that, I can survive this too.”

She had to tell herself that. She had to force herself to believe it too. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of her loved ones, both in and out of Hawkins. The crease between Steve's brows persisted, and Y/n knew she had to get him on board.

“No one in California is picking up the phone. I’ve rang about 5 times already,” she explained shakily. “I have this… this gut feeling that they’re in trouble. And if Nancy’s right-“

“And what if she’s wrong?” Steve questioned, knowing he would never be able to live with himself if Y/n got hurt or died unnecessarily.

“But what if she’s right, Steve?” Y/n sniffled, her eyes brimming with tears. She was not happy about it either— far from it actually, but what other option was there? She pressed further. “I mean, what if me doing this is our best chance at putting an end to all of this?— An end to Vecna?”

He paused for a moment and realised she was right. If they didn’t go after Vecna with their best foot forward, there was no telling where things would go or how many more people he would hurt.

Even so, he still couldn’t bring himself to be ok with it. Steve wanted to find another, any other course of action that didn’t involve putting Y/n’s life in the palm of Vecna’s hands again. He knew his reasoning was selfish, but to hell with it.

“I just got you back, Y/n.”

Y/n sighed, her shoulders slumping and lips pursing to form a frown. A lump formed in the back of her throat as it dawned on her what he meant. She did not just come back from the clutches of Vecna, she came back to Steve and they found their way back to each other. Inching closer to him, Y/n placed her hands against the sides of Steve’s face.

“And I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured reassuringly, before dropping her hands and weaving her fingers with his. “This time is different. We have the upper hand, because I know Vecna’s moves.”

“You do?”

He studied her closely as he traced circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. She shuffled even closer until their hips met and nodded her head.

“I think so,” she answered quietly, thinking back to how she escaped Vecna before, a memory still vivid in her mind. “It’s like he uses my memories— my really bad ones, to make me vulnerable and easier for him to attack.”

It started when she was looking back at the cabin, she remembered. Then she saw her dad and everything got worse. Y/n tried not to reminisce for too long. That wound was still fresh.

“Oh,” Steve muttered beneath his breath before letting out a defeated exhaled. He hated that Y/n went through that, knowing just how bad things were and everything she had been through. He couldn’t stomach the thought of her going through it again just to stall Vecna.

“But when I survived the last time it wasnt just because I heard the song, but because I thought about good memories,” Y/n explained, smiling weakly, knowing that pulling a brave face would be in the best interest. Luckily, she had years of practise doing just that. “Shouldn’t be too hard to do again.”

“What if he does something unexpected?”

“I just think of a really good memory.”

Thankfully, she had a good number of those. Some with her mom and Sara, a lot with El, but most were with Steve. Her eyes locked with his and, without saying it aloud, Y/n knew it was mutually understood.

“But, even if something goes wrong, I’m not worried, because…”

Her eyes never left his. Y/n knew Steve was running out of reasons to be against it, but she also knew that no matter how much of a fight he put up, if she was going to through with being Vecna bait, Steve was going to be right there with her.

“I know you’re not gonna let anything happen to me.”

All she had to worry about was what would happen in her mind nad in Vecna’s territory. She knew Steve would keep her safe in the real world until she was back.

He gave it another moment’s deliberation. In a perfect world, it would not have come down to this, but there was clearly nothing he was going to be able to do to change her mind. Steve sighed.

“Ok.”

Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He pulled her closer to him and took the time to appreciate it all— the feeling of her waist beneath his fingertips, her head against the crook of his neck and the smell of her perfume.

He knew it before and he knew it then. Whatever trouble she found herself in, he was always going to be at her side.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 6PM

Y/n tested her flashlight a couple times against the doors to the Creel house and then turned back to the the other three. The plan was for her and Steve to lure Vecna out by going inside what was apparently his childhood home, with Erica and Max keeping an eye from the outside, while the others were headed into the upside down.

She had manage to pull a brave face for the last few days, but standing at the doorstep was beginning to test what little bravery Y/n had left.

“Max, you and Erica will be ok on lookout?”

The young girl nodded, "yup, we got it covered.” She then gestured towards Erica who was already setting up base on the front yard. Y/n watched Max head off and turned back to the front door, her hand reaching out to open it only to be stopped by Steve's.

“Wait, um..." He looked at his shoes, then at the door, then at his shoes again, trying to find the right words without putting a damper on morale. He licked his lips and sighed. "Just be careful, please.”

“I will."

Steve continued to hold her hand firmly, his expression beginning to morph from concern to desperation. He knew once they entered the house, there was no going back.

“If you start to feel like something’s wrong, just-“

“Steve. I will," Y/n assured him, knowing where he was going. Just let me know, she presumed.

Y/n did not need to be reminded that Steve had her back and would be ready to step in if things went south. It was already common knowledge to her. However, that was not what Steve was concerned about.

“You don’t need to put yourself on the line anymore than you already are," he croaked, his tone almost pleading. Y/n drew her brows together.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you, Y/n,” Steve whispered. “Don’t do anything reckless.”

Her breath quickened as she met Steve's gaze. Sometimes it felt like he could read her mind. Like he knew she made peace with the chance of not returning if it meant killing Vecna and any plan he had to destroy home and her loved ones.

“This is bigger than just us," Y/n reasoned. Steve kissed his teeth, frustrated. She gripped his hands tighter. "If Nancy’s right about what she saw, the whole of Hawkins could-“

“To hell with this shithole of a town," he scoffed. If the cost came at Y/n's life, it was never going to be worth it to him. Never. Steve narrowed his eyes. "If it comes down to it, I need you to promise me you’re gonna save yourself.”

Y/n froze. No one had ever asked anything like that of her, at least not that she could remember. All her life she had grown used to giving. Her time, her love, her kindness and her patience. There were times she seriously questioned if her selflessness was her primary source of value.

Steve inhaled sharply, trying to keep his composure, as hard as it was. Too much had happened over the last few weeks, much less the last three years. Even so, he knew exactly where his breaking point was, or rather who it rested with.

“Vecna’s taken enough people. And if he takes you too, I don’t-" He shook his head, not daring to finish his sentence for fear it would speak the worst case scenario into existence. Instead, Steve squeezed “Just, please… promise me.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a new and strange sensation in her gut. For so long she had been hyper-fixated on her death- humouring the thought of it, wishing would come sooner and then fearing it would arrive too quickly. Now, all she wanted to do was come back and live to have another burger date with Steve at the lookout and then some.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 8PM

Steve and Y/n's first couple of hours in the house were spent wandering around and playing hangman while the Bee Gees played on the cassette they were borrowing from Eddie, until finally they found it.

She signalled for him to turn the music down and, while hesitant, Steve obliged. He gave her space to sit and try and lure Vecna out, but didn't stand too far away. Steve wanted a clear view of his girlfriend so he could begin timing from the moment her eyes turned grey. 15 minutes and the Bee Gees were to be back on and at full volume, not a second delayed.

Y/n sat down, placing her torch in front of her and crossing her legs. She was unsure where to begin. Hey Vecna it's me again, seemed an inappropriate start. She thought back to what he showed her and he said through the image of her dad, the very words that had been weighing heavily on her.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said…."

The dark and horrid words he said and he accusations he made, all of which were too heavy for her to repeat aloud even to Steve. It took her a while to realise why they haunted her so much.

"Because it was true.”

Y/n hated every second of realising it, but there was no denying it anymore. Vecna was just echoing thoughts that already existed in her mind. She took a deep breath in and out. If she needed to make herself vulnerable, she knew just the thing to talk about.

“My dad was a ghost after my mom died," Y/n began, the lump in her throat growing as she continued to remember it.

The police at the doorstep explaining that there had been a car accident, the moment at the hospital, the funeral and the memorial he was too inebriated to show up for.

“He stopped looking after himself. Stopped looking after me. Then, he started drinking all the time, and then... he just became the worst.”

He was a shell of a person who came in and out of the house, most times without saying even a word to his daughter. Even so, Y/n remembered the few nights he came home and lashed out at her for no particular reasons more than she did the nights he said nothing at all. Her anger and resentment grew and grew over time with nowhere to go but inwards.

“It was true, I used to wish I had died when Sara and our mom died," she admitted, her eyes falling down to the floorboards. There was no shame in admitting it anymore. If Vecna infiltrated her mind, he would have already known.

Steve's grip on his torch was beginning to weaken. Y/n had told her bits and pieces of the same story, but never this part. He wondered how she was able to this to herself for as long as she did.

“I felt like- um," Y/n sniffled, briefly wiping her eyes and clearing her throat before continuing. Steve did not like where this was headed. "I felt like maybe, to my dad, I was just a walking reminder of them, and of the fact that they were still gone... Maybe me living was just insult to injury.”

When Hopper did speak to Y/n in the years following his wife and Sara's death, he never called her a walking reminder in plain words. He didn't need to. His actions said more than enough.

“But then my dad sobered up,” Y/n continued, her tone and expression turning bitter. The day she had prayed for for years, and it came in a way that left her even more wounded and angry. “- and he cleared the heavy stuff out from the bathroom cabinet, and I thought things were finally turning around… But he was still awful to me.”

Perhaps not in the same way. Hopper and her talked more often and he did not lash out at her as often as he did before, but he still found a way to neglect her and inadvertently let her know she was both an afterthought and a burden. And it hurt Y/n all the same.

“And so, I guess between that and watching him be a better parent to El, I just… I started to hate him," she confessed. The thought used to terrify her, but Y/n had since come to terms with the fact that there was no other way of putting it. “I hated that he was good to her. I hated how he made me feel like shit, and I hated how everyone praised him for getting clean.”

From the people at the station, at her school and even at the post office. All people saw was a grieving father father turn his life around for his daughters. Y/n resented it and, because of it, she resented her dad even more.

“Then, I started to realise… I hated him so much, I didn’t want him to be around anymore," she squeezed her eyes shut. The thought came to her over time, but when it did it was vivid. “I wanted him gone, so all the pain and anger could go too.”

Y/n wanted that more than anything. The anger and the pain was all she knew for so long, but she didn't want it anymore and didn't know how much longer she could carry it all.

“It got to the point where some nights, I wished my mom and my sister had never died and I wished he had instead. And I told myself that maybe it was ok to think that, because I…”

This was it, she thought to herself. This was what the tipping point.

“I could never imagine my mom doing this to me.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. He never knew that- any of it, and it killed him she was only just talking about it now, in the Creel house attic of all places. When he opened his eyes and turned his focus back to Y/n, he realised she was still and silent but her eyes were wide open.

“Y/n?”

He waved his hand in front of her face, hoping for a reaction but there was nothing. Steve let out a huff and began to count in his head, trying not to think too much about whether the entire plan was a massive mistake.

***

April 2nd, 1986 - 9:00PM

The first time Steve took her to the lookout. That was the good memory Y/n held onto and focused in on once she was sure Vecna had come for her. She was inside Steve's BMW when Vecna himself appeared, only to be sent flying backwards into the woods. Y/n got out and scanned the empty parking lot until her eyes landed on a familiar silhouette. She was instantly running towards it.

“Is it really you?”

Her head was shaven and she was dressed in white, but Y/n recognised her El. Her little sister. She placed her hand on the sides of El's face, touching and tugging it, unsure if she really was El or just another illusion.

The younger girl held her big sister's hands and smiled, “it’s me.”

Y/n scrunched her brows together, puzzled. She knew this time would be different, but she never expected to see El.

“How?”

“I piggybacked from a pizza dough freezer.”

The older girl blinked, unsure if it was worth questioning further.

“Are you… are you ok? Are you safe?”

El nodded and Y/n felt instant relief. She glanced back at the woods where Vecna would undoubtedly reappear from anytime soon, then turned back to El. There was a chance they might never see each other again, and Y/n could not get past it or past the one thing she had been dying to say to her- that she know she would regret not saying.

“El, I’m so sorry," Y/n cried, her words spilling out in a panicked hurry. "I’m so sorry for every mean thing I’ve ever done or said to you.”

It was the first few weeks after moved in and the weeks following Hopper's death. Y/n was frustrated, resentful, and angry which resulted in being less than kind to El, who was the least bit deserving of it. She needed her to know she was sorry.

“Y/n stop,” the younger girl pleaded, gripping her sister's arms and shaking her slightly. “Don’t think about it.”

It would only make her more vulnerable to Vecna, which was the last thing El wanted. Besides, she never cared about those moments. El had plenty of moments herself where she was the same to Y/n. The memories El held onto and treasured the most were the times Y/n looked after, cheered her. Those moments outweighed the bad ones by miles.

Y/n shook her head. Maybe it wasn't the best time, but there was a decent likelihood it was her only chance at getting it off her chest.

“I never thought I’d get to have a little sister again," Y/n whispered. "I’m so lucky it was you, El.”

“I’m lucky too," the younger girl responded, not missing a beat.

Before anything more could be said, Y/n was lifted off the ground by dark vine-like tendrils outstretched from the woods where Vecna emerged from and began walking towards El.

“Y/n!”

The young girl screamed and lifted her hands, trying to fight back, but Vecna’s grasp on her sister only tightened. Y/n tried to fight it, but the tendril wrapped around her neck suffocated her windpipes. The last thing she saw was El, fighting with all her might to fend off Vecna. The last thought she had was was of how much she wanted and hoped for El to make it out ok.

Then she lost consciousness.

***

April 3rd, 1986 - 12AM

El was running and searching. Though still haunted by Vecna’s dying words, El could stand to worry about it later. First she needed to find her sister snd make sure was ok. El closed her eyes and focused, then she heard it— the sound of Steve screaming.

She could see where they were. She watched from a distance as Y/n’s levitating body come crashing against the floor beneath her. El started to run, praying Vecna hadn’t done irreparable damage.

There were gashes along her arms and legs and she was unconscious from the fall, but her limbs were still in tact and her eyes were unharmed. El let out a sigh of relief, counting it as a win.

“Y/n, Y/n wake up!”

El watched Steve pull Y/n into his arms and shake her roughly, shout her name and begging her to wake up, but to no avail.

Panicked and desperate, the young girl placed her hand atop Y/n and closed her eyes, chanelling all her focus and power into guiding her big sister back to consciousness, back to her body and back into Steve’s arms.

Y/n’s life flashed before her eyes, only it was the good parts. The best parts. All her best memories with all the people she lived— her sisters, her parents, Steve and everyone in between.

Then she heard the faintest voice whisper to her.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Back in Hawkins, Steve tightened his embrace around his girlfriend’s unconscious figure, tears streaming down his face as he continued to call out Y/n’s name, desperate for her to wake up. The cassette player gave out and there was no telling when the ambulance Max called would arrive at the scene. Steve was willing to try anything, do anything.

“There’s a light,” he croaked, his voice coarse from the screaming and shouting. Even so, he owed to Y/n to keep going. “— a certain kind of light, that never shone on me.”

Y/n fingertips moved first, then her eyes and then lips.

“Steve?”

“Oh my god,” he cried out, tears flooding his eyes as he watched hers slowly blunk open. Relieved, Steve leaned down and kissed her temple fervently. “Oh my god, you’re ok!”

Y/n tried to moved her arms so she could sit up, but with every slight movement came a piercing ache in her bones and a burning sensation against her skin. She sunk back into Steve’s embrace and groaned painfully.

“Max already called for help, an ambulance should be here soon,” he explained.

She took deep breaths and glanced up at Steve, smiling weakly.

“You used to hate singing that song.”

“I think I’ve got a newfound love for it now,” Steve quipped, a faint laugh beneath his breath. That Bee Gees song saved his girlfriend’s life twice now. As far as Steve was concerned, it was the best song in existence.

Y/n’s eyes drifted shut as the energy it took to stay conscious came to be too much. Steve shifted his arms and stroked the side of her face.

“Hey, c’mon… Baby, you need to stay awake.”

She opened her eyes and used all the energy she had to stay alert, but the linger she stayed concious the more time she had to remember what had happened— what Vecna said to El about everything that would happen to Hawkins. Y/n began to pant as tears formed in her eyes.

“It’s not over, Steve,” Y/n whimpered. Vecna may be gone, but they weren’t out of the woods. “It’s not over yet.”

“It’s over for now,” he assured her. Whatever it was was not important. Not to Steve and not in that moment. All that mattered was that she did what she needed to do and she made it back alive.

***

April 6th, 1986

Y/n placed her last box of donations on the table. The older woman smiled gratefully and passed to one of the volunteers for sorting. She turned back to Y/n, her eyes darting towards the bandges along her arms.

“How are you healing?”

Y/n came to the shelter at the school gym for three reasons: to donte, to volunteer and to get bandages for her injuries.

“It doesn’t hurt or bleed as much.”

“That’s good,” the woman smiled, remembering how much Y/n was in when she came to get her bandages changed the first time. “Just be sure to take it easy until everything fully heals, ok? And come see me if anything gets worse.”

“I will,” Y/n nodded, “— and hey I’ll come by tomorrow with a few others to help out for the day.”

With more and more families turning up seeking shelter or supplies, Y/n knew they could use as many volunteers as they could get. The woman nodded gratefully.

“That would be really great, Y/n. Thanks.”

Y/n turned around and fished her keys out from her bag as she weaved through the cots and headed for the exit. She looked up and saw a young girl sitting next to an older man.

“How long are we gonna be here dad?”

Y/n frowned as she listened in. Seeing the kids that came to the shelter always brought a pain to her chest. She watched the old man wrap his arm around his daughter and sigh.

“I don’t know, bug,” he huffed.

Y/n froze for a brief second, then quickly sped off before anyone nlticed her staring. When she started the car and turned the steering wheel, Y/n’s hands were shaking. She listened to the radio the entire drive home and by the time she reached the driveway, Y/n was thinking about something else.

Y/n parked Steve’s car in front of the cabin. As she got out and approached the front porch, she was puzzled by the strange vehicle parked adjacent to the house.

When she walked inside, she saw Steve sitting on the couch and tossed him his car keys. Then, when she turned towards the kitchen, she saw a woman standing with her back towards her. Y/n’s bag fell from her shoukder and she went racing towards the woman.

“Oh my god, Joyce!”

The woman wrapped her arms around Y/n, hugging her tightly and then letting go so she could get a good look at her.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re ok,” Joyce smiled, placing her hand against Y/n’s cheek. She had a million burning questions.

“Wh-where’s El? And Will and Jonathan?”

“I-I don’t know,” Joyce answered honestly. “… I was in Russia.”

Y/n blinked, unsure if she heard her correctly. Of all the explanations for not answering the phone when she called before, Y/n was not expecting that to be it.

“You were what? How did you get here then?”

Joyce started grin and patted Y/n’s shoulder, which left her puzzled. There was something going on, but Y/n had a feeling Joyce was not going to outright tell her what it was, and she had no clue what to make of it.

“I’ll tell you later, honey,” the older woman answered, knowing there was something else far more important for Y/n to do. The girl knitted her brows together.

“Why not now?”

Joyce nodded her head towards the door to one of the bedrooms, her smile never faltering, not even for a moment. The woman’s demeanour left Y/n greatly unsettled but also extremely curious.

“There’s someone waiting for you in the room.”

***

i do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, translated or reposted onto another site.

cardigan series taglist:

@littlepadfootmoony @geeksareunique @agustdeeyaa @babygirlwilly @rqmanoff @midnightsgetawaycar @ilovereadingfanfics @lou-la-lou @dickgraysonspersonalwhore @starkleila

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #stranger things #imagine #one shot #angst #x reader #inspired by folklore / evermore #x hopper!reader

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iheartcake123 · 2 years

Text

☁️obvious-steve harrington☁️

a/n: this isn’t the best but i have better ones currently in the making so please bare with me lmao also im currently watching season 4 and all im going to say is im working on some eddie munson fics so keep an eye out ig👀

warnings: none

Masterlist

summary: your feelings for steve harrington are obvious to everyone but him

“well clearly im not good enough because she’d rather be with jonathon byers than with me” steve sighed as he looked out of his car window.

“steve. she was drunk, she probably didn’t mean any of it..just let it be” you explained turning your head to look at him.

“i can’t just let it be! i love her and she called our entire relationship bullshit”

“you know what nancy has been through, especially with barbara. just before doing anything think about it, okay?”

steve let out a loud sigh as he nodded his head.

“yeah i can do that” he pat his car wheel enthusiastically before opening the door and getting out of the car.

you closely followed and before you knew it you were walking with steve to your first period.

you couldn’t help but be in a daze as you were sat in your lessons throughout the day. deep down you felt bad that steve and nancy were having some relationship issues but a part of you was glad that it was happening. this is because of your lifetime crush you’ve had on steve since a child.

you thought you’d made it obvious you liked him all these years but it nothing happened. steve never seemed to reciprocate the feelings so, eventually when him and nancy became girlfriend and boyfriend, you hid your feelings for the sake of their relationship.

“earth to y/n!” tina clicked her fingers in front of your face causing you snap out of a daydream.

“huh? yeah?” you smiled paying your full attention to your friends.

“too busy thinking about your crush on harrington?” tina teased and you rolled your eyes.

“ugh never, he’s just a friend”

“right, just a friend who you’re in love with…anyway are you coming with us? we’re going shopping after the school day ends”

“whatever and um..actually i have a lot of homework to catch up on tonight but definitely next time”

in a rush, you hastily looked around for steve. you noticed him in his car and without saying a word you ditched your other friends and walked up to steve’ car. when you knocked on the window he of course, unlocked the door and you got into the passenger’s seat.

“so i’m thinking your conversation with nancy didn’t go too well?” you examined steve’ facial expressions.

“it was the worst. nancy…she doesn’t” steve then took a long pause “she doesn’t love me”

“im sure that’s not true, she’s just confused about everything right now and just needs some space. it will be okay” you tried to reassure steve but it didn’t seem to work that well.

“look, i don’t even know why i talk to you about any of this. it’s not like you can even relate with your perfect little dating life, god you’re probably having fun watching my relationship break down” steve suddenly snapped at you.

“excuse me? you can’t be serious.” you stared at steve in disbelief.

“you heard me! you’re probably glad all of this is happening to me, you never liked the fact i was with nancy so why wouldn’t you be happy about all of this”

with a dry chuckle you opened the car door.

“fuck you steve.” you said sticking your middle finger up before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind you.

——————————————————————————

“i said i was sorry” steve said as you walked with him and dustin throwing pieces of meat on the floor.

“sorry doesn’t cut it asshole. just stop talking and let’s find this cat murderer” you shot a glare at him before walking ahead of him.

“dart isn’t a cat murderer!” dustin defended the creature.

“well your cat is dead isn’t it? and dart killed your cat. so yeah sorry to break it to you but he’s a cat murderer” you told dustin.

“when you put it that way, it obviously sounds bad” dustin looked at the ground “let’s just get to this junkyard and figure this all out”

after arriving at the junkyard and boarding up the old school bus, everyone sat inside the bus waiting for dart to arrive.

“so you really fought one of those things before?” max asked steve who nodded while flicking his lighter on and off “and you’re like totally 100% sure it wasn’t a bear?”

“shit. don’t be an idiot okay? it wasn’t a bear” dustin fired back at her “ why are you even here if you don’t believe us? just go home”

“geesh, someone’s cranky. past your bedtime?” max stood up and down walked up the ladder to the top of the bus.

“that was a little harsh, don’t you think?” you looked at dustin who was pacing back and forth.

“what he did was good, keep showing her that you don’t care” steve had an amused smile on his face.

“i don’t” dustin paused to look at steve who winked at him “why are you winking, steve? stop.”

“let me guess you gave dustin some bullshit advice about how acting like you don’t care draws girls in?” you turned to steve who shrugged “real nice steve. you’re just so great with understanding girls and their feelings-”

you stop mid sentence after hearing a loud growl which caused you to immediately look out the window.

“lucas, what’s going on?!” dustin called out to lucas on the roof.

“i’ve got eyes, 10 o’clock!” he yelled and you noticed the figure of the creature.

“there” steve pointed.

“what’s he doing?” dustin questioned and you took a deep breath in.

“why isn’t he taking the bait?” you questioned as dart stood in one place not going anywhere near the bait.

“maybe he’s not hungry” dustin suggested but steve shook his head.

“maybe he’s sick of cow” steve took a step back from the window and walked towards the bus door.

“steve? steve, what are you doing? steve?” dustin worriedly questioned as you raised an eyebrow at whatever steve was about to do.

“you’re not seriously thinking of going out there?” you said in disbelief “that’s suicide, you can’t go. as much as im annoyed at you right now, i don’t want you to die!”

steve took a deep breath in before throwing you his lighter “just get ready”

before you could protest, steve had already opened the door and stepped off of the school bus. he held his baseball bat with nails up as he called for the dema-dog to come out. your heart was beating fast and the second your eyes shifted, you saw another one.

instantly, you ran and opened the bus door.

“steve run!” you yelled as dustin also came to the door.

“abort! abort!” dustin yelled too as steve ran as fast as he could towards the bus again.

once he got onto the bus, you slammed the door shut and covered it with a piece of metal to stop the dema-dogs from entering while steve held it with his legs. not long after, one of them had gotten its arm through and steve had began hitting it his bat.

“come on guys, get away from the windows” you quickly told the three younger kids as you pushed them behind you as you grabbed a crow bar to help steve by the door.

just as you were done helping steve, max let out a scream causing steve to jump up and attempt to hit the dema-dog. but, before being able to do that, it suddenly left.

“what just happened?” lucas asked.

“maybe steve scared them away?” dustin answered.

“no. no way, they’re going somewhere” steve stepped off the bus with you and the three younger kids following him.

——————————————————————————

“shouldn’t you be helping guard the house?” dustin asked and you shook your head.

“yeah, im just taking a minute because unlike everyone else here im not strong. im a coward” you frowned holding back tears.

“holy shit, you? a coward? you literally helped steve save our asses out by the old junkyard. you may not believe it but you are far from a coward. at least not in that aspect” dustin stood in front of you now.

“thanks, but what do you mean? at least not in what aspect?” you raised an eyebrow.

dustin sighed before peering over your shoulder and gesturing for you to move into a corner with him.

“i mean you’re a coward for not telling steve you like him” dustin said once you were both in the corner.

your eyes widened but you pretended to act oblivious.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” you shrugged causing dustin to groan.

“seriously? i’ve seen the way you look at him, why don’t you just be honest with him about your feelings? it’s not like he’s with nancy anymore”

“is it that obvious?” you sighed in defeat.

with a nod, dustin placed a hand on your shoulder “ it’s obvious to everyone except him. now good luck with telling him how you feel” he then quickly walked off.

“what? dustin come back here!” you called to him but instead steve appeared in front of you.

“um dustin said you wanted to speak with me? something about what happened earlier and stuff?” steve asked with his hands in his pockets.

with a deep breath you nodded.

“yeah, uh there something i want to tell you” you gulped debating if you should continue with the conversation.

“okay…is everything okay?” steve looked at you with concern.

“yeah totally, forget it. it’s not important” you brushed the conversation off and tried to walk away.

“y/n is in love with you steve but you’re too stupid to realise” dustin suddenly said loudly which caused you to pause in your tracks.

he really just exposed you.

“what? is that true?” steve questioned you and you had to calm yourself down by not looking at him.

why were you suddenly so nervous?

“are you actually in love with me?” he said in a quiet voice and you only nodded your head.

“when did you start having those feelings?” he also asked.

“since we were kids” you whispered still unable to look at him.

“holy shit…for that long? but why didn’t you say something? i could’ve returned those feelings back”

“im not going to beg for you to like me back, you can’t just force feelings for me. you love who you love and im just not one of them”

you finally looked at steve and he looked taken aback.

“you are though, you’re someone i love” he tried to make you feel better.

“i know, but it will only ever be as a friend to you” you sent him a small smile and steve let out a sigh.

“that’s the thing though..it’s probably more than a friend, that’s why i got so defensive when you kept giving me advice. because deep down i guess i wanted you to show me some sign that you liked me in some way…it’s messed up when you think about it really” he admitted leaning against a wall.

“oh” you didn’t know how to react to what he said.

“yeah..i mean if you’re okay with it, maybe we could give the whole dating thing a chance? after we help save the world and whatever” steve reached his hand forward to hold your hand.

“i’d like that, a lot” you relaxed and let him hold your hand as you let out a smile which steve gladly returned.

“i want to give you a kiss..can i give you a kiss?” steve suddenly asked you while stepping forward.

with a nod you leaned in and steve did the same. just as your lips were about to meet a voice immediately interrupted you both.

“finally you both confessed! now that’s all over can we now focus on saving the god damn world?” dustin abruptly yelled walking into view, breaking the moment up which caused you to let out a chuckle because of steve’ facial expression.

“wait..i wasn’t interrupting anything here ,right?” dustin froze when he realised you and steve suspiciously close.

“nope, nothing. you just have the best timing and everything” steve sarcastically answered before going up to dustin and swinging an arm over his shoulder.

dustin side-eyed steve as steve pulled him close with a solid grip.

“now let’s have a conversation about interrupting adults” steve grinned at dustin who gulped.

“uh, y/n..a little help?” he tried to turn to you but steve wouldn’t let him.

“sorry dustin, you’re on your own for this one” you held back a laugh as steve dragged dustin to another room.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #steve imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader

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oklahoma-smokeshow · 10 months

Text

-Love Languages-

Darry Curtis-

Darry spends most of his life supporting his brothers. I think that is the only way he knows how to show his love. He is a total acts of service guy. He will make breakfast for you and the boys before going to work and he would do anything for you day to be a bit easier because he has it hard and he doesn’t want you to feel the same way. I also feel like he is so under appreciated so words of affirmation would be a big deal to him.

Sodapop Curtis-

Soda just radiates physical touch. Something as small as a hand on your lower back in a large crowd, playing with your fingers when standing next you him, or if you are both sitting down I feel like he would softly scratch circles on your back. I feel like he also loves gift giving but something small and sentimental. If he is at work and sees something that reminds him of you, he has to get it immediately. It might be your favorite snack or a pretty flower. I think physical touch is the main way he feels loved and appreciated as well. He just loves being loved.

Ponyboy Curtis-

I whole heartedly believe that Ponyboy hates physical touch but I think he lives for words of affirmation. His parents died when he was younger so he didn’t hear much of encouragement or congratulations after they died. He will fall in love if you give him a simple, “You did really good, Pony,” or, “Good job, Ponyboy.” He works so hard to be smart and a good person despite everything so when someone recognizes that it makes him feel really appreciated. He also says words of affirmation to others because he knows how good it makes him feel.

Dallas Winston-

This one is hard. I think he expresses his love through tiny acts of service. Small things like giving you his jacket or opening the door for you. He has had to live by himself and support himself for so long that he thinks he has to be tough all the time. He never had anyone so I think he would want to make it clear that you have him to fall back on. He doesn’t like big, cutesy shows of love because he thinks it make him look weak, but pay attention to the little things he does for you. I think he would like the same sort of support and concern back as well. It makes him feel like he is not alone.

Johnny Cade-

I think he is another one who hates physical touch but loves words of affirmation. I don’t think he likes to be touched because he is very jumpy from what his parents do to him, but then again the only attention he gets from his parents is when they are beating him. He loves to feel like he is being seen or that someone cares about him. He would love when someone just tiny checkups on him like, “You alright,” or when you would bring his opinion into the conversation. However, I think he shows his love through quality time. You don’t have to be talking or doing anything but at least you are together. Together is better than alone in his mind.

Steve Randle-

He would definitely show his love though gift giving. He says that’s the reason he has a job is to have money to spoil you. It is very rare he comes home from work without at least a little something to give you. It doesn’t always have to be big. He also loves quality time. Working on cars and talking to you at the same time is the perfect moment in his mind. The two things he loves most. He loves taking you to his drag races and rodeos because he loves when you cheer him on and support him. That’s something he didn’t get as a child.

Two-bit Mathews-

If Two-bit lives for anything it is to steal you gifts. He is a huge kleptomaniac and he is very good at stealing things, so logically he steals so much for you. Even if it is something small that he could have easily paid for, he loves stealing it for you because he thinks it is way more exciting. He also loves to make you laugh. He could live the rest of his life with the only sound in his ear being your laugh. So he will try his hardest to make you giggle constantly. I think he is also a sucker for physical touch but nothing to showy. Just like a peck on the cheek hello or a squeeze of his hand. It makes him feel special.

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romanestuffsposts · 3 days

Note

Hi♡♡♡

I was wondering if you might could do one were little!reader gets big Girls tingels for the first time(yk shes horny) and she dosent know what to do so she just sits down and cryes so bucky and Steve is really confused but when she tells Them and then they take her to the bed and helps her out?

Btw i love your posts soooooooo much ♡♡♡♡♡

Hi there love! 💜

Ohhh thank you so much you’re so sweet!! 🥹🥹🥹

Of course i can write that for you angel, I’m sorry it was long but i hope you like it 🩷

Lots of love babeeee 🎀☀️

Ohh and I wrote the fic and when I went back to see if it was like you asked I realised I hadn’t writing the reader crying but I made something else in stead. I hope it’s ok tho!! ^^

****

Warnings : little reader is horny, sex play (no penetration), fingering, kisses, pet names, dirty talk, consent, dirty words (like private part word, you know)

Pairings : Daddies!Stucky ; Daddy!Bucky x Papa!Steve x Little!Reader

Summary : you got some big girl tingles and didn’t know what to do, that until your daddies came in the game

A/N : Please no hate on the writing or the request, i know those kind of posts aren’t for everyone and i respect it so please respect that some of you need and/or want to read something like that sometime. if it’s not for you keep scrolling until you find the thing you need 🫶🏻

****

There’s a lot of things that you can understand even when you’re feeling little. You’re smart, you know how the world works and you know how to handle your surroundings. You had been through many things while being little that you lived during your big girl time, but not everything..

You woke up this morning with a weird sensation, you thought you only needed to pee like every mornings but the sensation wouldn’t go away. It would get low from time to time but it comes back quickly, taking you by surprise. You didn’t know what to do but you were scared to tell it to your Daddies. ^

You know them and even tho you love them like no one you can’t deny that they get worried way too quickly and you don’t want to go to the hospital just because of that. So you keep it to yourself and go along with your day.

It was almost dinner time, you were sitting on the floor, playing with your dolls when the sensation hit harder. You grimace and shift a little. It really start to get uncomfortable because it won’t go away and it’s there since this morning. It start to get too much for you.

You change your position and put your heel against your pussy instinctively. You start moving your hips slowly and that immediately make you close your eyes.

The sensation is now different, better if you can say. Better now that it’s taken care of. You don’t know how it’s working but it feels good, really really good.

Your head fall backward, your mouth slowly open to let out the breath you were holding.

Your Papa stop in the doorway and were about to knock on the open door to introduce himself when he sees you moving against your heel. He retracts his hand and crosses his arms, his eyes watching you closely.

‘’Damn it princess, you could’ve called us’’ he says tilting his head, his tongue lightly moving across his lips.

You open your eyes and look to the side. The view you have in front of you make the sensation higher, your Papa is in his gym clothes and you always loved when he wore those kind of clothes.

You moan from need with a frustrated face as your eyes never leave his.

‘’You know the rules, my love. Ask for it’’ he says with a strong and hard voice, his smirk hidden behind his merciless voice.

You groan in frustration and just as you were opening your pretty mouth, your Daddy appear in your gaze ‘’what’s happening ? I’m waiting for you to eat’’ he asks looking at Steve.

A few tears leave your eyes as you watch them ‘’pease’’ your quiet voice speaks your thoughts. Your Daddy’s head turns toward you and frown when he sees yous sitting on the ground, tears on your cheeks. He goes to walk to you when your Papa grabs his arm and bring him back next to him

‘’Ask, baby, what do you want us to do ?’’ Your Papa asks ‘’it has to come from you, not from us’’

You look down at your foot pressing against your covered pussy, needy and helpless, just like your Daddies love to see you. You look back up at them and ask ‘’pease, need you’’ you mumble.

‘’You need for what ?’’ Your Daddy asks ‘’do you need us to take care of you ? You need us to help you with that ?’’ He asks nodding at your heels.

You nod your head and wait. They’re watching you, just like you’re watching them, you don’t know if they’re gonna come or leave and that alone scare you a bit- which make you even more sensitive now.

They’re sharing a look before stepping toward you. Your Daddy lifts you up and you immediately let out a cry at the lost of the contact of your foot against your needy pussy. He lies you down on your soft bed and crawl above you ‘’get comfy babygirl, you’ll have the most amazing time in the world’’

You gasp and close your eyes, your lips immediately go back in between your teeth ‘’you like my finger, my love ?’’ Your Papa smiles as he watches every little things you’re doing because of what he’s doing. You nod your head and moan, his finger strokes the wet folds of your liquid pussy.

‘’what do you prefer ? His finger, or my tongue ?’’ Your Daddy asks with a smirk. You look at him and harsh your back when your Papa’s finger hit a sensitive spot inside of you. You moan and close your eyes ‘’b-both’’ you breath out.

‘’Both ?’’ Your Daddy chuckles. ‘’Our baby is requesting’’ your Papa adds with a sexy laugh coming out of his throat.

‘’Tell me little one,’’ your Daddy starts, ‘’you prefer when both of us are inside of you ? My tongue and his finger ? Or separately ?’’

‘’I-I-I don’t kn-now’’ you mutter as your Papa’s finger keep making you see stars.

He chuckles and kisses your forehead ‘’you’re doing good, babydoll’’ he smiles as he strokes your hair ‘’you still feel good with all of that ?’’

You whine as your Papa is about to make you cum and nod your head ‘’g-good’’ you breath out ‘’so s-so good-d’’

‘‘Come on, sweetie. Show to Papa and Daddy how good we’re making you feel’’

Your Daddy lower his hand on your naked belly with soft strokes and stops right on your pelvis. He starts to stroke that part deeper making your orgasm come faster.

And seconds later, you’re wetting the new mattress like the good girl you are

‘’Waaa look at that’’ your Papa says with a smile, proud that he’s one of the two that made you make this. Your Daddy chuckles and leaves the room to go get something to clean you up.

‘’Here, beautiful’’ he says as he comes back ‘’I’ll clean you so I’ll press something cold on your private part, is that okay with you ?’’

You nod your head as you watch your Papa coming toward your head. He installs himself behind you and rests you against him, his hands giving you soft tickles along your arms and hair to calm you and reassure you.

While your Daddy cleans you up you close your eyes. You think about everything that you lived with them, the good moments, the moments of laughters, the cooking moments, everything. And you realise how lucky you are, how lucky you are that they respect you and understand you like that, without any judgements.

‘’What are you thinking about, huh ?’’ Your Daddy smirks as he spiders his fingers on your belly. You bring your knees to your chin with a laugh of surprise making him smile more. He lets out a chuckle and grabs your bare feet who are right under his nose ‘’how about we go downstairs to drink something and top eat whatever we want’’

You smile brightly and nod your head, excited ‘’alright let’s go then’’ He jumps out of the bed and grabs you with him. He puts you above his shoulder, your belly against it and run downstairs making you laughing out loud. Your Papa chuckles and shakes his head, he grabs clothes for you since your Daddy left like a thief with you almost naked on top of him, and goes downstairs.

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 11 months

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first love // masterlist

(AU) Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Other works available here!

“Fresh out of a relationship you and your best friend Steve make a pact, if you’re both single at thirty you’d simply marry each other. What better then to marry someone who understood you in a way no other could? Someone that you would happily spend the rest of your life with (platonically of course). What could go wrong? It’s not like you were in love or something…

However, ten years later and still painfully single you wondered if the pact you’d made all those years ago were still valid, and if so did you stand a chance?”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Something to believe (pt.1)

Smiling as I burn (pt.2)

lost between (pt.3)

Homesick (pt.4)

Before I cave in (pt.5)

The art of eye contact (pt.6)

fake fiction (pt.7)

slow burn (pt.8)

just pretend (pt.9)

alone [out of my head] (pt.10)

burial plot (pt.11)

paper heart (pt.12)

let go of your love (pt.13)

(pt.14) coming soon!

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 9 months

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Marvel Masterlist

One Shots

Spook-vengers Tower - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

Better Than Gifts - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda, Vision, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

New Years Eve - Steve Rogers x Reader ft. The Avengers, Doctor Strange, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes (all platonic)

Not Making It Out - Loki x Reader

Love Is Sacrifice - Loki x Reader

Champion Selection - Loki x Reader

My Mistakes - Loki x Reader

The Task - Loki x Reader

Pulled From The Timeline - Loki x Reader

Poisoned Ice - Loki x Reader

Pompeii - Loki x Reader

Madripoor - Bucky x Reader

Why Would I? - Bucky x Reader

A Small Thing - Bucky x Reader

Not The Worst - Bucky x Reader

A Little Help - Bucky x Reader

When You Wake - Bucky x Reader

What We Started - Bucky x Reader

Kiss Her, Captain. - Steve x Reader

Attacked - Steve x Reader

Aftermath - Steve x Reader

The Drink Allergy - Steve x Reader

A Subtle Escape - Steve x Reader

A New Mission - Tony x Reader (platonic)

3am - Frank Castle x Reader (platonic)

Trick or Eat - Venom x Reader (platonic)

Halloween Cookie Surprise - Venom x Reader (platonic)

When Ghosts Hunt - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Under The Flame - Robbie Reyes x Reader

As Imagined - Ben Poindexter x Reader

Surprise Guest - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Earpiece Patch - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Imagines + Mini Fic

Imagine Steve wanting to propose but having to hold off because of the Civil War

Imagine Steve's surprise when you hit an entitled party guest

Imagine flirting with Steve much to his surprise

Imagine inviting Steve to the newly created Memorial Centre

Imagine a kiss from Steve to distract you from blinding pain

Imagine boldly telling Steve how you feel mid-mission

Imagine waking Steve up after being disturbed by a nightmare

Imagine being paired with Steve during the time-travel mission

Imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission

Imagine being the last person that Tony tells about 'moving day'

Imagine Bucky’s therapist asking about you

Imagine laughing at Bucky after his failed plane jump

Imagine getting caught in the crossfire of John Walker’s rampage

Imagine trying to talk John Walker down at Zemo’s apartment

Imagine waiting for Bucky and his cake delivery

Imagine convincing Bucky to get back into dating

Imagine taking Bucky to meet his dinner date

Imagine being ambushed by HYDRA while waiting for Bucky

Imagine Bucky being present when you wake up

Imagine refusing to work with Loki at the TVA

Imagine Loki trying to explain his theory to you on a busy day

Imagine Loki being asked to let you go

Imagine discovering that Loki is to aid in the escape of Asgard

Imagine Loki falling asleep on your hand

Imagine Mobius shocking you with an idea regarding Loki

Imagine Loki hearing about your variants

Imagine sending Mobius to calm Loki after you’re injured

Imagine Loki stealing your pie at the TVA

Imagine your surprise when Thor brings Loki to Norway

Imagine learning that Hela wants you dead too

Imagine waking up on Sakaar to find Loki trying to help

Imagine asking Thor about a gift that you gave him

Imagine Thor trying to grant you visitation with Loki

Imagine Thor learning that you’re in Norway with his father

Imagine Thor asking Loki about your whereabouts on Sakaar

Imagine finding Venom raiding your pantry

Imagine spending the holidays alone in Avengers Tower

Imagine checking on Robbie’s injuries

Imagine helping Matt escape the prison after Fisk takes control

Imagine Marc Spector inquiring about your hand injury

Imagine Khonshu trying to convince you to be his avatar

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers

Imagine the Avengers when they learn that you and Bucky were attacked

Imagine Clint coming to you after a mission gone wrong

Imagine Fury asking you to be a diversion

Series

The Rider’s Guardian - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Stowaway Cloak - Stephen Strange, Reader (platonic)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Return to the Easy Navigate Masterlist)

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remember-that-one-blog · 10 months

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Uncalled For

I hope you all like this. I was something that was stuck in my head. I’m also half asleep so it could be terrible. I hope you all enjoy!

You were fuming. How dare he do that and in front of everyone! You could feel your face grow hot as you stared at him. No one said a word. They just looked between you and Chris. You turned to Scarlett.

“I think I should go. I’ll see you later.” You set your glass down on a table. You walked outside with Chris hot on your heels. He didn’t mean to snap like that, especially in front of everyone. He tried to grab ahold of your hand but you jerked it away. You didn’t want him near you, let alone touching you. You turned around and stared into his eyes. He had never seen you that mad before. Your eyes were cold which made Chris’ heart stop.

“I’m taking a cab home. You can be there or not. I don’t really care right now.” You flagged a cab and gave them the address to your home with Chris. You had never been so mad and humiliated at the same time.

~10 minutes earlier~

You and Chris had come out to a party Sebastian was having. Everyone was in the room together and having a great time. You were talking and laughing with Scarlett when she asked you about your writing. You were currently working on your second book.

“I’m about halfway finished. I’m so happy with it so far. I’ve got three chapters due to my editor next week.”

“Have you ever thought about making your first one into a movie? Has anyone ever shown interest in making it a movie?”

“I’ve had a few people call about it, but I’m not sure. I would love to see it made into a movie. I know exactly who I would have as my lead.” You looked at her and wiggled your eyebrows.

“I would love to be your lead if it ever happened. I mean, I might know someone who could make it happen.” You were laughing now. You knew she would never do that. You had known each other long enough that she knows you want to do things on your own and not have anyone call in any favors.

“I just might take you up on that.” She was laughing with you. All of the sudden Chris came up to the two of you.

“Hey, baby, what-”

“Are you serious?” You and Scarlett looked at each other.

“What are you talking about?”

“Trying to get Scarlett to make your book into a movie? When did you start trying to climb the social ladder like that? I thought you wanted to earn your way like everyone else has.” By this point everyone was looking at you. You were fuming.

How could he say that to you? He’s watched you pour your blood, sweat, and tears into what you do. Writing was all you’ve ever dreamed of doing and now, you were making a name for yourself after years and years of trying. Chris had offered to help you but you wanted to do it on your own. You didn’t want any of the help he and the others had offered. You didn’t want to make a name for yourself like that. Chris knew that. He knew. Tears burned your eyes but you refused to let them fall, at least until you got home. You weren’t about to cry in the back of a taxi.

Once you entered your home you debated on packing a bag. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see Chris tonight let alone be under the same roof. You decided you would figure it out after a shower. You stripped as you went, not caring where your shoes, jewelry, or dress landed. You turned the shower on as hot as you could stand it and stood under the stream. That was when you finally let your tears fall. You sobbed while you stood under the hot water.

Chris made it home about the time he saw your taxi leaving the driveway. He quickly made his way inside. He saw your clothes and shoes strewn around. That was a good sign, you were still here. He followed the direction your clothes were going. That’s when he heard the shower. When he was outside the door was when he heard your sobs. He felt his heart shatter. He loved you so fiercely. He couldn’t believe he snapped like that. He couldn’t believe he did it in front of everyone either. Chris sat on the bed and listened. He knew you wouldn’t want him right now. He listened as your cries subsided. You didn’t come straight out so he knew you were actually taking a shower. That’s where you always did your thinking. When you were stuck on a part of a book you were writing, you took a shower. When you had a hard decision to make, you took a shower. You were probably deciding to leave him or not. He didn’t blame you if you did. He would deserve it. You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.

Chris was in the middle of his self loathing when he heard the bathroom door open. He looked up to see you wrapped in a towel, your hair wet. You gave him a glance. He couldn’t read you. That scared him. You’ve been together for years and that’s one thing he had always prided himself on was being able to read you. He couldn’t even do that tonight. He watched as you dressed in comfy clothes. Usually that consisted of your favorite sweats and one of his shirts. That’s not what you put on tonight. You had on your sweats but not one of his shirts. Chris watched you carefully. He watched as you looked down at your dresser and then to the closet where he knew you kept your duffle bag. He sighed, knowing you had made up your mind.

You surprised him by sitting by him on the bed. Not next to him but still on the bed. That seemed promising. You sighed as you sat beside him. He reached for your hand hesitantly. You softly shook your head. He understood, but he wanted to test his luck. The silence was deafening. Chris couldn’t take it any longer.

“I’m so sorry.” You scoffed at that.

“You should be. Do you have any idea how belittling that was to me? How embarrassing? You of all people should know how hard I’ve worked to get to where I am. I turned down every single time you or anyone tried to help me. Why would that change now?” You were fuming again. You wanted to know what made him do that all of the sudden.

“I know, I know. I know you would never do that. I just-” he let out a breath before he continued. “I heard this other girl at the party boasting about how she used every single connection that her boyfriend and friends had so she could make it big quick. It made me so mad knowing she was doing that when you’ve worked so hard to earn what you have. Then I walked over to you and I heard you and Scarlett talking and I was just flabbergasted when you said you would take her up on her offer.” Chris shook his head.

“Did you even hear what was said leading up to that?” Chris shook his head. “She said if my book was ever made into a movie she would love to be in it and that must have been when you walked up. That’s why I said I would take her up on her offer.” Chris felt like an idiot. He should’ve known better.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I know you would never do that. I was just so angry that she was boasting about taking shortcuts. I’ve seen you work so hard and read endlessly for your books and your work and knowing it’s taken you so long to get to where you are. I just lost my cool. I’m so sorry, again.” You took in what he said. He had only heard the tail end of your conversation, but he still shouldn’t have done that.

“You just heard part of our conversation and you completely belittled me in front of all our friends, Chris. You’ve never done that before. You’ve never even yelled at me, over anything. Even when I accidentally ruined your Patriots jersey.” That made Chris laugh a bit remembering how one red sock had somehow gotten into a load of clothes that had his jersey in it making it pink instead of white.

“I know. I wouldn’t blame you if you left me over this. I would help you pack up.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, god, no!”

“I’m not leaving you Chris, but you have a lot of making up to do. What happened was completely uncalled for.” He nodded.

“I know it was and I'll tell you ‘I’m sorry’ everyday for the rest of our lives if that’s what it takes.” He reached for your hand. This time you didn’t pull away. He took the opportunity to pull you onto his lap. He held you close.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know, I deserve it.” You look into his eyes. You loved his man. You knew, now, that he was angry, but not at you.

“I love you, but don’t ever do that again. Especially when you don’t know everything.”

“It’ll never happen again. I love you so much.” You nodded, leaning into him again. You knew it wouldn’t happen again.

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fandom #chris evans imagine #The Avengers #captain america #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve imagine

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