Eddie Munson: Conditions

all i want is a stranger things reboot where everything is exactly the same except david harbour plays eleven and hopper, joe keery wears his djo wig at all times, joe quinn switches his american & british accents between scenes and nobody acknowledges it and every time someone says something dumb gaten looks straight at the camera in complete silence like he's on the office. is this too much to ask for?

how about steve and his gf hearing their bub do a proper laugh for the first time 🥺

I realized when I finished this that it wasn’t exactly what you asked for, but I hope you like it anyway ily 🥺 dad!steve owns my heart

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Connor was a vocal baby, cooing and squealing at you and Steve, or whatever caught his attention. Despite this, he still had yet to really laugh at anything. It wasn’t for a lack of trying on Steve’s part, though, as he made faces and funny sounds at his little boy, or tickled his tummy in hopes for even the smallest giggle. He’d press his lips to Connor’s tummy and blow an obnoxious raspberry, to only get a gummy smile in return. Steve would pout and pick Connor up, pressing kisses to his chubby baby cheeks, “You don’t think daddy’s funny, huh, little man?”

“He just hasn’t figured it out yet, babe,” you laughed, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek, “I’m sure he thinks you’re hilarious.”

“Like you think I’m hilarious?” Steve gave you a cheeky grin.

“Oh, yeah, definitely, baby.”

It finally happened one evening, though, as you were giving Connor a bath. You’d just finished rinsing him off as he splashed at the water curiously, and quickly realized you’d forgotten to grab his pajamas out of the nursery. Letting out a groan, you called out, “Steve, baby? Can you grab Connor’s pajamas from the changing table?”

“Yeah, one sec!” Steve called back loudly from the bedroom, getting up to run to the nursery.

You turned back to your little boy, wiping the pad of your thumb over his forehead to get rid of some suds you’d missed, “Daddy’s coming with your jammies, bub, and we’ll get you all dried off and cozy in them. How does that sound?”

Hearing Steve’s footsteps back towards the bathroom, you plucked Connor out of the water and quickly grabbed the towel you’d left on the counter, wrapping him up in it. You hugged him to your chest, hand rubbing over his small back to dry him off as you turned towards the door.

You’d accidentally left one of the bathroom cabinets under the sink open, and noticed it just as Steve started walking in, “Here you go, babe—“

Steve had been moving quickly, not wanting his baby to get cold, and ran straight into the corner of the open cabinet, banging his shin into it forcefully, “Fuckin’ hell! Jesus, that fucking hurts!”

You grimaced, watching as Steve bent over in pain. “Shit— I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave it open—“ In normal circumstances, you were both usually pretty good at not swearing when your baby was around, even if he didn’t understand it.

Before Steve could reply, though, Connor who had been watching with wide eyes burst into a loud fit of giggles, absolutely delighted at the chaos in front of him. You looked at him and then quickly looked to Steve, trying to hold back your own laughter, and slapped your free hand over your mouth. When Steve realized what was happening, his head shot up, eyes disbelieving. His jaw dropped and he let out a huff, “Oh, so Daddy’s pain is what’s funny to you? That’s what makes you laugh? You’re such a stinker.”

“Are you okay, love?” you asked, still biting back your laugh until you knew he wasn’t seriously injured.

Rubbing his hand over his shin, Steve sighed, “Gonna leave one hell of a bruise, but I’m fine. More hurt that his first real laugh was at my pain.”

You brushed your pinky down your baby’s nose, finally letting out the laugh you’d been holding in, “That’s not very nice to laugh at your daddy when he’s hurt, baby boy. You should apologize.”

Connor only laughed again, nose scrunching up towards his eyebrows, making him look like an exact replica of Steve. You pressed a kiss to his cheek as you asked, “As long as you’re not bleeding out, could you get him in his pajamas? I’ll clean up in here.” You gestured to the water that had splashed on the floor from the bath, and the towels and baby clothes that had been strewn everywhere.

“Alright, c’mon, trouble maker,” Steve pretended to sigh as he took his little boy into his arms, settling him against his front. As he walked out of the bathroom, Steve put on an exaggerated limp, not even using the correct leg, causing you to burst into laughter as you rolled your eyes at your dramatic boyfriend.

Steve laid Connor onto your bed, dropping the footie pajamas onto the bedspread next to him. He crouched down to be at a better height as he dried his little boy off and got him into a diaper. “No wonder you get along with Auntie Robin and Uncle Dustin so well, huh? You think my pain is funny like they do. They’ve been teaching you naughty things when they babysit, haven’t they?”

His son smiled up at him as if he agreed with Steve and reached up with his small hands, trying to grab at the few loose strands of Steve’s hair that had fallen into his face. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” Steve mumbled, giving in easily as he bent down so Connor could grab his hair, and then pushed his nose against Connor’s cheek. He started peppering small kisses all over his little boy’s face, fingers pressing into his bare tummy to tickle him, causing soft giggles to escape him. Not quite the same laugh as earlier, but it made Steve happy nonetheless, and instantly was his favorite sound.

It wasn’t until Steve tried to sit up again that he heard the same laugh from earlier, one from his little boy’s chest. His fingers were still clutching Steve’s hair as he’d tried to sit up, causing Steve to let out a huff, face twisting up, “Ouch! Let go, bub!”

Fearless

steve harrington x fem!reader

inspired by "Fearless" by Taylor Swift

word count: [5.9k] proof-read (i tried!!!)

warnings: no use of y/n, mutual pining, a lot of fluff, basically this whole thing is FLUFF GALORE!!!!!, mentions of awkward first kisses.

summary: you and steve have known each other for a little while--both playing babysitting to the kids. steve makes the first move and asks you out on a date that takes a stormy turn. despite this you and steve make the most out of your date and it leads to sparks flying and a fearless first kiss.

God, you shouldn’t be feeling this nervous. After all, Steve was the one who asked you out on a date. He made the first move, and all you had to do was make sure to be there and not get distracted by his charm and good looks—Jesus, you were already beginning to drift off into Space Harrington.

“Honey, you look beautiful, as always.” Your mother leaned up against your doorframe, bringing you back to reality as you turned to her and gave her a sincere smile.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked suspectedly, looking down at your little black dress and short platform heels. It had just rained a few hours ago, and it had only begun to clear up. You had been debating on this outfit or tossing on a sweater and some shorts—but this would be a pleasant change from your usual attire.

Your mom sang, letting herself into your room and looking through the blinds to see the pavement still drenched in rain water, but the sky clearing up in this early afternoon, “I think you’ll be fine sweetie, seems to be getting a bit sunny.”

You nodded, walking over to your vanity, put on a few accessories while your mother sat on the end of your bed. Giving you encouraging looks and sweet compliments that eased your nerves a bit. She knew of Steve, given the fact that he would drop off the kids at your place when he needed to take an extra shift at Scoops on late notice.

It became a recurring theme in your short friendship that began this summer—but with fall and a new school year on the way, you and Steve’s little drop offs lessened. You’d miss each other, even when your interactions and conversations were short, you both longed for more time to get to know one another, and surprisingly enough Steve had asked you out on a date last weekend when you stopped by Scoops to pick up a tub of ice cream for you and the kids.

You clasped on your little necklace before hearing a few knocks on your front door, “be back at a decent time, please.” your mom smiled at you through the reflection of the mirror.

Nodding your head, you gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek as she watched you pick up a small purse and rush your way down the stairs. You took a deep breath, internally preparing yourself before you slowly opened it up.

There he stood.

Striped polo, blue jeans with his signature brown belt, his red Nike Cortez’s, and a bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“H-hey,” he sputtered, letting out an awkward greeting, too enraptured by your getup, only snapping out of his stupor when you finally spoke.

“Hey yourself, Steve. You look nice!”

He shook his head, finally pressing the flowers towards you, “Got these for you…you look beautiful by the way, I mean you always do, but wow…I just—sorry, if I’m being weird.”

You giggled with your teeth trapping your bottom lip, taking the flowers from his hands and giving them a whiff, “I’ll put these in a vase when I get back home.”

He nodded, watching as you placed them on the small counter at your front door before you stepped out with him.

“Weather has been all over the place today huh?” He came up with, resting a warm hand on the small of your back as he guiding your to his car.

You wanted to snort at how silly it was that he was talking to you about the weather, of all things, when there was so much that you two wanted to say to each other. Maybe he was nervous, and you were just doing a better job at concealing your own inner anxiety.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure if I wanted to wear this since it might come down again…hopefully it doesn’t.” You smiled up at him, his fingers wrapping around the door handle, letting you in as he nodded politely.

The quiet buzz of his car engine that was still running and music coming from the stereo system filled your ears for the quick seconds of silence before your favorite voice echoed.

“I’ve got a jacket somewhere back there if it ends up storming again,” he assured you, hands resting on the top of the door until you buckled yourself in.

“Thanks, Steve.”

You turned your head towards the backseat, as you waited for Steve to get into the drivers’. Your eyes catching a small picnic basket, along with other junk that cluttered his backseat before—

“Hey! No peeking missus,”

Your eyes were back to the front, trying to keep a guilty look on your face, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh especially when Steve had his arms across his chest like a father.

Your chest never stopped churning with laughter, body bending over to clutch your tummy, “I’m sorry, you just look like a father when you do that.”

He chortled, shaking his head as he started up the car and began the drive to your surprise date that he had planned all by himself…ok maybe he received a little advice from Dustin and Lucas about the fall hotspots that girls love.

“The kids really miss you, y’know?” Steve looked over at you as you smiled, resting a hand over your heart.

“Haven’t seen them in over a week. I’ve just been so busy and they’re growing up and don’t want me meddling in their business anymore,” you half joked.

Steve scrunched his brow is disagreement, shaking his head, “Don’t be ridiculous, the kids love you…they’re just, you know…exploring the boundaries of—”

Your hand shot up, holding it in front of him to stop, “Ew! Please, let’s not discuss the sex lives of the children we’ve been babysitting for the last year.”

“I’m just being honest…jesus I hope they got the talk because I am way too young to—”

“Steven!”

“I’m kidding! I’m joking!”

The laughter that filled the car slowly died, but never did the feeling of warmth and affection. The two of you rarely had anytime to spend together alone, so this was definitely a little different and nerve-racking, but he never failed to make you feel comfortable and today was no different.

Your body shifted towards your left, feeling inclined to want to be close to him, despite sitting beside each other already, “So where are we headed?”

“It’s a surprise dingus,” He experimented a bit, taking his right hand off the wheel to gently probe at your side, insuring a giggle that meant you didn’t mind and he liked that.

He brought both hands back to the wheel and glanced back over at you, “I’ll give you a hint. It’s some place really pretty.”

You scoffed jokingly before responding, “Geez, guess that leaves our options limited in this small town.”

“Hey! Are you doubting my picking a date skills?”

You shook your head, smiling a bit, “Of course not, you’re Steve Harrington for godsake. I bet you know allllll the hot spots around here.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, “Yea, alright, whatever you say.”

Then he did that goddamn thing.

Running his fingers through his hair. It was such a simple action, but it always made you weak in the knees. How the strands of his dark brown hair seemed to flow perfectly through his digits and fall back into place with ease. Jesus, you just wanted to pounce on him and coat him with kisses, but instead you had to play it cool.

“Stop staring at me to distract me!”

Your eyes blinked wildly, and your bottom lip that mindlessly got caught between your teeth was released as you shook your head, pretending to not be affected by him.

“I am not staring!”

“Oh yes, you were!” He argued with an amused look on his face that let you know you had to be caught.

“You must be hallucinating, Steven.” You waved him off as he laughed lightly, making an incoherent comment about how it was more than ok, how he liked it when you stared, anyway.

The rest of the drive was filled with small talk and laughter. It felt easy. Just the way you liked it.

Soon you felt the car stop and watched Steve place his car in park.

“We—we’re at a hill?” You asked questionably, lifting your brows as you peered between Steve and the surrounding setting.

Steve turned his head towards you, smiling as he nodded his head confidently, “Yup…just trust me, ok?”

“I do.”

You didn’t hesitate to trust him at all, and when he heard those two sweet words slip from your mouth, he could feel his heart swarm warmly.

He held one of his palms out, gesturing for you to wait in your seat. And so you did. He got out of the driver’s seat, quickly opening the back door to grab some stuff, then jogging over to the passenger. Opening your door and holding his hand out graciously as you took it with ease.

The wet rain drops sprinkled over your ankles and feet slightly as you two walked through the dewy grass and up the hill until you reached the small flat area that was decorated with a red and white picnic blanket and more flowers that were picked and scatters on the fabric.

You gasped, dropping his hand as yours covered your mouth in surprise. Stepping closer to get a better view of the setup. He had gone all out of the way to plan this, and you knew that the kids must have helped somehow.

“Do you like it?” Steve’s voice was a bit nervous, and you could sense it in his worrying tone.

You turned your head back to him and nodded obviously, “Steve, are you kidding me? This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“Yes!” is what Steve wanted to say, but instead, kept the celebration in his head while he smiled, taking a few steps to get closer to you. Wrapping his free hand around your shoulders to give you a warm hug.

“Here sit.” He said, pulling away and gesturing you to sit. The material beneath you, thick enough to not feel the wetness of the rain from an hour ago, but the air still lingering with a breeze that was nice.

Steve set down the picnic basket, pulling out a variety of finger foods and drinks, explaining each of them.

“I packed us some sandwiches; one has turkey, the other ham. I also picked up one of those small veggie platters from the grocery store, along with some chips. I think Dustin said that you liked Doritos and Lays, so I just got both. Oh! And then yesterday when I dropped off Lucas, his mom gave me a bag of fruits, so last night I just chopped them up and put them in tupperwares so that we could enjoy them today. If you don’t like any of these, then we can totally go to the store or somewhere else to get some—”

“Steve, it’s perfect. Everything is perfect.”

Thank god you cut his rambling off short because it seemed that he was running out of breath from talking so fast just like Robin did when she was nervous. Nevertheless, it was cute. He had put a ton of thought and consideration in this date, making sure he got you everything you liked.

“Y-yeah?” His voice cracked a bit as you giggled and nodded, reaching over to run your thumb over his fingers that rested on his knee.

“A hundred percent certain.” You guaranteed him, leaning over to peck his cheek, ignoring the worries in your head and becoming completely courageous with him.

He eased feeling the touch of your lips on his skin, even if it was only for a few seconds. He would savor that feeling and never forget it. Wrapping that moment in time up and storing it in his mind to reply over and over again.

“Let’s dig in, shall we?”

You opted for the turkey sandwich, but occasionally stealing bites of Steve’s, which he found was adorable. He didn’t mind sharing. In fact, anything that was his, he would share with you, no questions asked.

“You’re a child!” Steve snickered out with a full mouth as he watched you remove the small bits of crust that were left on your sandwich that you were almost done with.

You took the piece and chucked it at him, hitting his nose before it plopped down onto his lap, “The crust is like the worst part of a sandwich!”

“That’s something a child would say.” Steve rebutted as you rolled your eyes with no real malice behind them.

He dusted his fingers off, watching as you enjoyed your last bits of crust-free-turkey-and-swiss. He felt a sense of pride knowing you had been indulging in a lunch he made all by himself. He would have to make it for you again if you liked it this much.

Steve reached over back into the picnic basket, “I actually have another surprise.”

You began giddily clasping your hands together as he pulled out the stocky piece of the latest tech, “Holy shit! This brand new?”

He smiled as you looked at him, silently asking if you could hold it, and so he handed it to you, watching you inspect the device before checking the film slot.

“I just put a new pack in. We can take some pictures if you want?”

You nodded eagerly, peeping through the viewfinder as Steve adjusted his posture and ran a rough hand through his hair that made your heart burn and cheeks blush. You hoped that Steve couldn’t see you ogling like a school girl behind the thing or else you’d never hear the end of it.

“Cheese!” you exclaimed as he flashed you his pearly whites and the flash went off, his eyes squinting for a second before adjusting back to the normal light.

Your fingers deliberately pulled the photo out from the slot, walking on your knees towards him, leaning over as you shook the film and watched it slowly develop.

“This is so fascinating.” You murmured, eyes trained on the photo while his were stuck on your face, compelled at the way you scrunched your forehead together so that it creased as a small bit of your tongue snuck out of your mouth while you waited with anticipation.

Finally, after a few more seconds, your face lit up with an amazed grin, glancing over at Steve, who did his best to act like he too was watching the photo develop, “HA! How cool is that!”

“It’s neat, isn’t it?” Steve replied, taking the photo from you as he looked at all the details that this photo was able to capture.

You leaned against him, hovering to keep looking at the photo, “I always wanted one of these things, might need to get one this weekend.”

He turned to you, letting the photo fall carelessly onto the picnic blanket, as he placed a warm hand on your hip, “I could drive you if you want?”

“You’d do that?” You asked comically, as if Steve wouldn’t drop everything and do whatever it was that you wanted on a Saturday, even if he had made plans beforehand.

Steve nodded, rubbing comforting circles with his thumb, “course I would…now we gotta take some photos of you!”

You smirked, watching him take the camera from your hands before he stood up, walking a bit backwards as you stayed in place, standing on your knees.

“Do I look ok?” you somewhat raised your brow while you combed your fingers through your hair, attempting to get it nicely messy.

He peeped watching you through the camera lense, bopping his head, “The prettiest girl in Hawkins.”

“Steveeeee stoppppp.” You dragged out the words, an evident rose tint peeking through your blushed cheeks as he purred.

“It’s true! Now smile!”

You closed your eyes on habit, but still your smile splayed across your face as you heard the click, “You closed your eyes!”

“I know! I know! I’m sorry!” You threw your head back as he laughed, shaking his head freely.

“S’ok we can take more…c’mon give me another smile,” You nodded, changing your pose a bit before he spoke again, “Eyes open this time.”

You giggled at his certain tone, keeping your eyes open just like he asked as he counted down from three, fingers pressing the button and the flash left as quickly as it came.

“Wow, sooooo pretty.” Steve said, while he walked back over to you, showing you the picture that was still developing as you scoffed, pushing his hands away.

“You can’t even see how it turned out yet.” You crossed your arms across your chest, watching as he shrugged his shoulder.

“I don’t need to see how the picture turned out to say you’re pretty…you’re right here next to me, the prettiest girl in Hawkins.”

The warm feeling burned in your stomach, as did your cheeks. He knew how to make you feel smitten and usually you’d be embarrassed by the compliments, but it was nice, especially coming from him.

“How lucky am I that I get to be in the presence of the prettiest boy in Hawkins?”

What overcame you to give you such confidence to compliment him back? You don’t know what it was. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was just genuine courage. Whatever it was, you wanted more of it.

Steve just smiled, as wide as the one placed on your face as he lifted the camera, not bothering to look through the lense as he snapped another photo of you.

“Steve!” You giggled, reaching over to try to wrestle the camera out of his hands to take your own candid of him.

It only ended up becoming a tickle match as he poked your sides, with the camera long forgotten on the picnic blanket below you two. His fingertips chased your sides and the crease of your neck, while you wiggled beneath him in a poor attempt to get away from his tickles that never stopped. The uncontrollable laughter and shrieks in the crisp air, until you felt a wet splat on your nose.

“uh oh,” you and Steve both whispered, as he stopped his movements. The droplets becoming bigger and hitting the two of you now as the rain danced on Steve’s shirt covered back and against your bare thighs.

Yet the laughter only seemed to get boisterous with you wiggling your way out from underneath Steve as he took your hand and pulled you up with him. His freehand practically bound the blanket around everything, creating a sack that would be easier to carry.

“Let’s make a run for it!” He screeched, giving your hand a squeeze as he led the way down.

The rain came down quicker with each step that almost became a tumble down the hill a few times. He quickly opened the doors to his car, throwing in the blanket full of stuff into the backseat and reaching in for the spare jacket he had in there.

“Here, take this.” Steve flared open the material, draping it over your head and shoulders as he opened the passenger door for you, quickly getting you settled.

He shut the door and raced over to his side of the car. His arm barricading his head from the big droplets of rain that splashed against his skin before he was able to get into cover.

Your skin was dewy from the water. Thankfully, his jacket was thick enough to salvage your hair and makeup. You smiled up at him once he got into his seat. Pulling the jacket away from your head and patting it against your arms and legs where dewdrops spread.

He was chuckling to himself, flipping his visor down to get a look at his rain-soaked face. A few teeny drops floating on his eyelashes and eyebrows, and his hair was now soaked. Yet somehow it still looked perfect, falling into place with a strand curling into his forehead, laying there flawlessly.

You giggled, sitting up on your knees as you leaned forward, “Steve, let me help,” the jacket sleeve now brushed against his cheeks and eyes as the cotton collected the water.

Steve looked up at you, surprised by the touch. He watched you, lip caught between your teeth as you moved the fabric towards his hair, attempting to ring out the excess water as gently as possible without tugging on his roots.

“Better?” You proposed, finally releasing your lip from between your teeth as you looked down at him.

He smiled widely, nodding his head as he felt you fall away back into your seat where you wrapped his jacket around you tighter, creating warmth to your skin.

“Shit, here,” He hurriedly lurched forward, messing with the knobs and buttons on dash until the heater light came on, and warm air erupted from the vents, immediately making you feel a lot less cold.

You closed your eyes, appreciating the kindness of the boy beside you, before you peeked one eye open and looked at him, “Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem,” He replied, reaching over to rub your arm back and forth, gently producing more warmth under his jacket and beneath your skin.

Honestly, you were hoping that Steve couldn’t feel you shaking right now. Not because of the damn weather, but with how close he was to you. It was no different from earlier when you two were practically tickling the lives out of one another, but this was so sweet—too sweet, almost.

It was as if Steve was ticking off all the boxes for your first date expectations. First the flowers. Then the opening of the car door. Next, the whole surprise date setup. On top of that was his tooth rotting compliments. Then giving you his jacket and now doing everything he can to make you feel comfortable.

This doofus was your dream man.

You finally had it in yourself to open your eyes, watching the water slide down the windowpane with the gloom of the town settling in darker, “I don’t want today to end, just yet.”

He hummed, nodding his head in agreement, running his hand up your arm then over your jaw where it rested and gently turned your face to his, “Me neither.”

His eyes were boring into yours, and it was taking every ounce of your control not to squeal like a madwoman with the way he was delicately looking into you and how his voice was so soft.

Steve continued, brushing his thumb over your cheek slowly, “We can just drive around and talk? Does that sound ok?”

“It sounds perfect.” You smiled back, feeling grateful for Steve’s spontaneity.

The drive was hushed at first, but not the troublesome kind. Just not bothering to fill the space with words until you both were ready to. And when the both of you did begin talking about the most randomest things, you found yourself laughing more than you had in a while—your heart swelling with joy.

His camera had found its way back into your hands, and now as the conversation went on, you couldn’t help but to snap photos of Steve mid-laugh or when he’d glace over at you from the road. You just wished that the damn thing had a video record option so that you could capture the moment and replay it over and over again.

Steve continued driving, the rain tapping softly on the windshield as he shared stories about his high school days.

“I remember one time, Tommy and I snuck into the school after hours and rearranged all the desks in the classrooms,” Steve said, grinning at the memory.

You laughed, shaking your head at his antics that were probably still somewhere in him, “You were quite the troublemaker, huh?”

Steve shrugged. “I had my moments. What about you? Did you ever get into any trouble?”

You shook your head. “No, I was always a bit of a goody two-shoes. The worst thing I ever did was get caught kissing a boy by my mom.”

Steve’s eyes widened, reaching a red light and turning to you. “Your mom was mad? How old were you?”

“Like fifteen. I was a freshman, and I had a major crush on the guy! I was getting picked up after school and my mom just had to pull up at that moment.”

You and Steve both shared a good laugh. Him trying to picture what freshman year you looked like and how horrified your mother must have looked like in the car. You knew exactly what she looked like, mouth wide open with her eyes just as big, before she rolled down the window and yelled at you to get in.

You never spoke to that boy ever again, and it was now a memory that you and your mom looked back on and laughed it today.

By now, the laughing slowly died, and the light turned green, ushering Steve to continue on the streets taking random turns until he ran out of road.

“So, what was your first kiss like?” Steve suggested, glancing over at you.

You laughed nervously, cringing at the memory of the actual kiss itself.

“It was...boring, to be honest. I was nervous and excited, but when it finally happened, there was no spark. It was just...bleh.”

Steve chuckled, tapping his fingers on the wheel, thinking about his first kiss back in eighth grade, “Yeah, I get that. My first kiss was okay, but it was kind of gross at first. The girl added tongue, and I wasn’t expecting it.”

You cringed, thankful your first kiss didn’t add tongue, but it was wet and awkward, “That does sound gross.”

“It wasn’t great,” Steve admitted. “But it got better after a few seconds.”

You cackled, throwing your head back against the leather rest. “Well, at least it got better.”

They drove in silence for a few moments; the rain continuing to tap on the windshield.

“You know, I’ve always been waiting for that spark,” you said, voice thoughtful. “Like in the movies, you know? That electric moment when you kiss someone and it’s like fireworks go off. But I’ve never had that.”

Steve nodded, thinking back to all his kisses and never really feeling that feeling with any girl he had ever been with. “Yeah, I know what you mean. I’ve had some good kisses, but I’ve never felt that spark either.”

You shook it out of your thoughts, not wanting to even get your hopes up about kissing Steve on your first date. It probably wouldn’t happen and even if it did, you were so incredibly nervous that you wouldn’t be good at it. Sure, you had boyfriends and kisses here and there, but they weren’t the best.

Kissing was intimate, and you wanted to do good, especially if it was going to be with Steve Harrington.

Your mind was racing.

What if Steve wanted you to kiss him? What if Steve wanted to kiss you? Was he going to initiate it? Which way were you going to need to tilt your head? Should you add tongue? What if you get lipstick on his lips? Was your lips too dry?

God, your fears were echoing in your head.

“Have you ever danced in the rain?”

The question blurted out of your mouth before you could even think if it was a question worth asking. You just wanted to get those stupid thoughts out of your mind and before you knew it, here you were spurting out if Steve Harrington ever danced in a goddamn storm.

Steve thought for a moment. “Probably when I was a kid,” he said, shrugging, looking over at you, “Why do you ask?”

“I—I never have,” you admitted. “In the movies they always do it…I’ve never had the chance.”

Steve grinned, changing lanes before speaking, “Why don’t we change that?”

You watched as he turned off the main street and into an empty parking lot. All stalls were empty, and he freely parked in the middle of the lot not caring if he was in the lines or not.

You looked at him, surprised, leaning forward. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” Steve smiled, twisting the key out of the ignition and opening his door.

You looked out the window at the pouring rain, feeling a little nervous about suggesting this, but as Steve appeared at your side to lead you out of the car, you felt a surge of excitement flowing through your veins, “Dance with me?”

Feeling the cold raindrops hit your skin. You twirled around, feeling giddy with excitement, while Steve watched with a soft smile on his lips. The rain drenching both of you from head to toe didn’t matter as you both laughed, hopping around the pavement with your arms wide open.

And then, without warning, he took your hand and pulled you close to him. Steve's hands on twisting around your waist, and instinctively your arms around his neck. You both started to sway back and forth to the rhythm of the rain, feet splashing on the ground, giggling at the absurdity of it all.

As you and Steve danced, the rain wasn’t the only that washed over you, but also a sense of joy and freedom. It was like nothing else in the world mattered except for this moment, this dance in the rain with the person you felt everything for.

As the minutes passed with your relentless dancing, the rain began to ease up little by little—dissipating into a light drizzle.

Your movements got slower and steadier, just moving back and forth in each other arms before you rested your cheek on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Thanks for this,” you whispered, feeling a little shy, but it quickly passing his arms squeezed your tighter, his chin resting on your head.

“Anytime,” Steve replied, his voice soft. “I had a great time dancing in the storm with you.”

Your breath hitched, hearing his words flow out of his mouth, knowing he was content here with you even if you both were soaked through your clothing and probably would end up with a cold by the night.

Slowly, your face left his chest, and his chin retracted from your head.

You swallowed thickly, closing your eyes, just about ready to go for it. Even Steve had closed his eyes, slotting his head to the side leaning forward, only a few more milliliters separating your lips.

You could feel his breath fanning over your skin as you moved closer. Your heart was beating out of chest, the thoughts in your mind slowly echoing again. You tried to ignore it—just go for it.

And you were so close, but the sudden crack in the sky, rumbled loudly out of nowhere causing you to move back, started.

Steve immediately grabbed your hand, leading you back to the car. “Let’s get out of here,” he declared, opening the door for you.

You felt a more than embarrassed, stuffing your face in your hands when he shut your door and jogged over to his side. You could hear him open the door and shut it, moving around in his seat to get comfy before letting out a grunt seeing your state.

He placed a warm hand on your shoulder, causing you to peek at him through your fingers before pulling them away from your face entirely.

“I’m sorry,” you said, looking down at your feet. “I—I got carried away.”

Steve repeated the action that had you melting earlier in the day. His hand coddling your jaw making you look up at him. “Don’t be sorry,” he said, smiling reassuringly. “I wanted to kiss you, too. But safety first.”

A rush of affection filled you.

He wanted to kiss you.

Steve Harrington wanted to fucking kiss you.

His hand dropped from your cheek and instead intertwined with your hands as he clicked on his seatbelt and kissed the back of your hand before he began driving. The rain was still echoing in your ears, but only lightly as the clouds ironed out and a twinge of golden hour peeked through the gloom.

Steve turned into your neighborhood after a short while, the two of you laughing as he got lost down random back roads after taking a bunch of random turns, but nevertheless he found his way.

He parked the car, sadly loosening your hands as he got out to get you. He led you to the back of his trunk, grabbing a few spare pieces of clothing to dry off with. He passed you a graphic tee, allowing you to ring out the water from your hair, and he did the same with a pair of shorts.

You finished first, leaning up against his car, and watching him with a smile on your face as he wipe the fabric up and down his arms, “Thanks again for today.”

He looked up, tossing the pieces back into the trunk and shutting it closed, “It was my pleasure, doll.”

Again, he reached for your hand, clasping it together as he walked you to your front door, a glow of the sun shimmering off your skin, glittering your eyes in the rays as he stared at you in awe.

He couldn’t even fantom the fact that he was able to score a date with the prettiest girl in Hawkins, let alone had the chance to get this close to you. For once he was thankful that through those little twerps he babysat that he was able to meet you.

“I had a great today with you…” He took your other hand, in his, squeezing both of them as he continued, “I uh—do you wanna do it again sometime? In a few days or whenever you’re free?”

Your heart skipped a beat knowing you and Steve would be seeing each other soon, “I’d love that.”

Today was a fairytale even if the weather may have changed your plans, but every raindrop was worth it if it meant you being here with Steve and another date already set for the upcoming days.

You couldn’t let this day end without showing him how you felt. Feeling a sense of boldness and knowing Steve felt the same, you undid your hands from his, wrapping it around his neck.

Before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, feeling a rush of electricity shoot through your body.

Steve was taken aback for a moment, but then he melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

The spark of electricity flowed between the both of you the second your lips touched. The kiss was full of passion and emotion—like you could just lose yourself in Steve and he felt a sense of joy and wonder, as if a whole new world had just opened up to him.

You both stayed like that for a few moments, lips locked in a tender embrace, before pulling away slowly.

Steve smiled at you, his eyes sparkling with affection a contrast to his low and husky voice, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

Today had been everything you both had ever wanted, and more.

“Then let’s not let it go.” You spoke serenely, orbs flickering up at him as he nodded with a smile, his hands splayed on your back now, pulling you closer.

Both of your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned in for another kiss, then another, and then one more for good luck—feeling fearless than ever.

A/N: all credits to taylor swift for writing this beautiful song!!!! i think fearless tv as a whole is such a steve coded album and i just had to write this!!! let me know what you think and please reblog!! any interaction is greatly appreciated!!!

taglist (if you would like to be added just leave a comment!): @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world

damn shoes

summary: being pregnant and putting on shoes don’t usually mix well.

pairings: Steve Harrington x Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnancy, uhhh its pretty fluffy ngl

a/n: hello! so i haven’t written for the stranger things fandom though i’ve been in it for many a years, so this is a first! plus this is the first time writing in quite sometime, so it might be a little rusty. but i do hope you enjoy! 1.1k words

Pregnancy was, in theory- weird. Growing another human from your own body. Said human living inside your womb for nine months, completely moving each and every organ in your stomach to make room. The ‘morning’ sickness that was actually all day sickness that would be triggered by the most random things. Things you once enjoyed eating suddenly became the worst, and yet enjoying such an odd combination of food.  

Keep reading

Hi Emmy! Did you remember the trend that went viral on tik tok two years ago (I think) where when a person want to kiss their best friend put the song “eletric love”? Okay so imagine this with bestfriend!Steve 🥹

You felt absolutely sick as you set up your phone, the camera already recording, the shiny back of it partially hidden by a cheese plant you’d barely managed to keep alive.

The last thing that had flashed across the screen before you’d pressed the red button was a text from Robin, the notification making your stomach tumble as you read the words: ‘you better not chicken out. I ✨PROMISE✨ you, it’ll work.’

Her use of emojis didn’t make you feel better, but you gave one last look to the camera before settling back onto your sofa, legs folded underneath you, fingers picking at your nails in your lap. Steve came in only a few seconds later, popcorn bowl placed on the table before he flopped down next to you, too close like always. His knee knocked yours before his thigh was squished against your own, shoulder to shoulder, the aftershave you’d bought him two Christmas’ ago lingering on his sweater, along the line of his neck.

Your heart was screaming at you, a thudthudthud that rattled your bones and you wondered if Steve could hear it, if he could feel it vibrate through your body and into his. There wasn’t any music playing, just the trailer of the movie he’d set up to play on Netflix, the same two minutes repeating over and over until he’d returned with the snacks.

But Robin and Nancy had shown you the tiktok almost a week ago, a blur of couples kissing, friends leaning into more, lips meeting, eyes widening, all shot to the soundtrack of BØRNS hit single, Electric Love. The song played in your head like your own private concert, the bass a beat that matched your heart.

‘And every night my mind is running around her. Thunder's getting louder and louder and louder.’

You were going to throw up, you were sure of it. You looked at Steve, his strong profile you knew so well, the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the smattering of freckles that had reappeared over his cheeks now that summer was back. He’d not long had a haircut, the curls at the nape of his neck no longer, the top still a misbehaving mess but you could see more of his throat, the strong column of it, the moles that were scattered below his ear.

“You’re staring,” he said.

You startled, eyes wide and you swallowed hard before you answered. You wanted to glance at the camera, you wanted to up and run. But instead you shook your head and tried to smile, a little bashful but warm all the same, ‘cause Steve wasn’t really teasing you. He did look curious though, like he could sense the tension, the kind that was always there but this time, tenfold.

“You’re acting weird. More so than usual. Are you ok—”

‘Baby, you’re like lightning in a bottle…’

You heard the swell of the song in your head as you pushed your lips to Steve’s, eyes closing on instinct, his bottom lip caught between yours and he tasted like candy and popcorn, cherry sour and caramel butter. You were a little clumsy with it, hands pushed to the soft of the sofa cushions as you leaned over to him, head tilted to the side and up so you could meet your mouth to his. It lasted a second or two, three at most, before you were pulling away, already feeling the overwhelming sting of tears in the corners of your eyes, because oh my god, you’d just kissed your best friend, and surely you’d fucked everything up—

But then Steve was chasing you, only after a moment's pause, his eyes wide and lips still parted. You watched him lick over his bottom one, like he was finding the taste of you before he was leaning back in, a hand catching the nape of your neck to keep you there this time.

It was sweeter than the first, noses pressed to each other's cheeks, lips moving together liked you’d done it all the time, for all the six years you’d known each other. Steve’s thumb pushed at your jaw, titled your head the way he wanted you so he could kiss you a little deeper, cheeks pink and hearts crashing against each other's chests.

The tiktok went viral, after you’d admitted to it and shown Steve. He’d only grinned and shrugged, muttering something about how you both looked good and the internet should see it. The comments mainly consisted of keyboard smashes and forlorn girls asking “when is it my turn.” And there were several who demanded an update, asking questions about what had happened next and “please tell you guys are dating now?”

So Steve made his own account, asked you for help to stitch your video with his, a montage of sorts that showed you and him from when you were teens, hair too long and messy, tongues popsicle stained and skateboards under your feet, to now, just last week, you on Steve’s back, snapped by Eddie at the lake.

He was shirtless, his top on your frame, stolen to hide your bikini but his hands were wrapped possessively around your thighs as he held you to him, your arms clinging to his neck in a similar way. The sun was in your faces, causing you both to squint, your lips were pressed together, smiles biting through and well, that video went viral too.

…

"I'm sorry for the long comment on your fic-"

Please don't be?? I mean, you actually take the time to write paragraphs about something I wrote?? It's so cool?? I cry happy tears when I get comments like this on my fics??

Here's to the people who write long comments on fics, you're one of the reasons I keep writing 💫

Steve Rogers finally gets drunk.

Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Funny? and CUTE. STEVE BEING CUTE WHILE DRUNK. Summary: Steve got wrecked by Thor's Asgardian Liquor and now he's stumbling under your balcony, reciting Shakepeare's Romeo and Juliet to you. A/N: I stumbled over a prompt that I have long lost now and this was the fruit.

It was a perfectly quiet night, and you were unwinding on your balcony, half lost in thought, when the unmistakable sound of someone quoting Romeo and Juliet—or at least attempting to—echoed from below.

“O, she doth teach the torches to burn... so—hic—bright!”

Rolling your eyes, you assumed it was some drunk wandering the street. But then, in a voice far louder than necessary, the mystery romantic slurred, “It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night... like a rich jewel in... uh... someone’s ear!”

You sighed, trying to ignore it. But then there was a strange thunk against your temple—a small pebble had just bounced off your head.

“Ow!” you hissed, standing and scanning the area, annoyed—until you spotted Steve Rogers, lurching slightly, down below on the sidewalk.

You watched in amazement as he squinted up at you, attempting to focus and swaying on his feet like a flag in a strong breeze. He seemed to be mentally assembling the pieces of a big plan, his face all determination and zero sense. Another pebble tumbled out of his hand as he wobbled, barely avoiding tripping over his own feet in the process.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” he shouted, looking about as stable as a newborn giraffe on roller skates.

You blinked. “Steve... are you okay?”

Steve flung one arm into the air, as if delivering a grand declaration, nearly toppling backward. “It is the east, and Juliet is the... uhm... Juliet is... Juliet!” He thrust a hand forward, fingers spread wide, as if that added extra meaning. “And you—you—are...”

He paused, visibly struggling, his other hand braced against a streetlamp for support.

“A total mess?” you offered, eyebrows raised.

“A goddess!” he slurred, blinking up at you with the most sincere, lovelorn look you’d ever seen. “A bright angel!” he continued, pulling himself up, trying—and failing—to straighten his posture.

For a moment, he seemed to try and get a grip, but his feet betrayed him, and he ended up doing an awkward spin, arms windmilling, before stabilizing himself.

“Steve, how much have you had to drink?” you asked, starting to laugh despite yourself.

“Only... one cup,” he replied, attempting to measure out what he must’ve thought was a “tiny” amount with his fingers. But the gap between his thumb and forefinger was about the size of a baseball. “Well... one Asgardian... goblet.” He grinned up at you, eyes bright. “A small one!”

You tried to bite back a laugh as Steve clasped his hands over his heart, gazing up at you with tragic romance. “Deny thy father and refuse thy—thy name!” He paused, his forehead wrinkling in concentration. “Wait... did I—did I skip a part?”

“Just a few lines,” you teased. “You also hit me with a rock.”

“Oh,” he mumbled, frowning. He bent down, swayed, and then picked up a handful of pebbles. “Doth my lady forgive me?”

“Steve, don’t you dare throw those at me.”

He looked down at the pebbles in his hand, confused. Then, with an exaggerated wink, he tossed them aside like he’d just disposed of a dangerous weapon. “Not a pebble in sight!” He shot you a triumphant, lopsided smile.

“And why art thou—no, wait—why are you out here, Juliet?”

“I live here, Steve,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face. “You’re the one making a scene.”

But Steve only clasped his heart, looking utterly enchanted. “Oh, fair maiden... would you come down and—uh, wait... no. Would you let down your hair?” He stopped, perplexed. “No, wait, that’s... that’s Rapunzel.” He scratched his head, lost. “Same thing, right?”

With a sigh, you leaned over the balcony railing, looking down at him with a smirk. “Steve, you should probably get home before you accidentally wander into traffic or—”

But he suddenly looked up at you with the most determined expression you’d ever seen, his eyes glassy but oddly focused.

“Doth thou love me?” he cried, one hand raised in a fist of drunken valor. “Say it true, or I shall be...” he paused, struggling, “...a total disaster!”

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing. “Steve Rogers, get your tipsy Shakespearean self home!”

He beamed up at you, his goofy grin full of pure, unfiltered adoration. “Parting is such sweet... uh...” he faltered. “...sorrow?”

Steve, swaying dramatically, looked up at you with a sudden, steely determination that only a man in his state could manage. “If thou shall not come down… then I… I shall climb up!” He pointed to the fire escape, his face alight with misguided heroism.

“Steve, please don’t—”

But it was too late. He grabbed the bottom rung with a graceless, lurching motion, grinning up at you with sheer triumph. “I’m coming, my fair maiden!”

With all the poise of a baby deer, he hoisted himself up, grunting as he fumbled his way onto the next step. Each rung seemed to be a new, Herculean task as he struggled to stay upright, clutching the railings like his life depended on it. His foot slipped once, making him lurch sideways, but he shot you a reassuring thumbs-up, completely oblivious to the danger.

“Steve! You’re gonna hurt yourself! Seriously, get down!” you called, half horrified, half laughing.

“Fear not, my lady!” he slurred, clinging to the railing and taking a very, very slow step up. “I am... coming for you!”

As he ascended, he attempted another line from the play, fumbling it badly. “Uh… But soft! What... yonder... light and window... um... something?” He shot you a sheepish grin. “Hold on... almost... got it.”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of wobbling and mumbling fragments of Shakespeare, he reached your level on the fire escape. He extended a hand dramatically, nearly toppling over in the process, and declared, “I have arrived!”

You laughed, hands on your hips as he wobbled in front of you. “Steve, that was a lot more ‘Romeo in need of a medic’ than ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ You’re absolutely out of it.”

He blinked, swaying as he tried to focus on you. “I came for thee,” he said proudly, managing to stand up straight—though his grip on the railing suggested it was doing most of the work.

Steve, still gripping the railing for dear life, looked at you with a mischievous glint in his glassy eyes.

“Fair Juliet… couldst thou… come a bit closer?” He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers invitingly, his face lit with pure, drunken delight. “I have something… uh… very important to tell thee.”

You arched a skeptical brow. “Steve, I’m pretty sure you can say it from there.”

He squinted, trying to look tragic but only succeeding in looking adorably pouty. “Nay… ‘tis… a secret of the heart,” he slurred, placing a hand over his chest with a lopsided grin. “I must whisper it… so only thou can hear it.”

Rolling your eyes but grinning despite yourself, you leaned a little closer, watching as his gaze flicked from your face to your lips. 

“Alright, Romeo, what’s this ‘secret of the heart?’” you asked, half-expecting him to spout more mangled Shakespeare.

But instead, as soon as you were close enough, Steve leaned forward, his hand sliding around the back of your neck, and he pressed his lips to yours in a soft, surprisingly gentle kiss from across the railing.

Caught off guard, you froze, feeling the warmth of his mouth against yours. Then, with a laugh bubbling up, you pulled back slightly, blinking in shock as he gave you a pleased, slightly dazed smile.

“There it is,” he whispered, eyes twinkling. “My secret… is that thou art… perfect.” His gaze softened, and he gave a dopey smile. “And... very kissable.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Alright, Romeo. That was smooth—but I think it’s time to get you inside before you ‘heroically’ declare your love to the whole neighborhood.”

He grinned, still clutching the railing, looking like he’d just conquered the world. “Only for thee,” he slurred, leaning into your touch as you helped him down, his expression dreamy. “Only... ever for thee.”

Just as you were helping Steve down from the fire escape, a voice floated up from the street below.

“Steve! Where the hell are you?” It was Bucky, sounding frustrated and more than a little exasperated. You could see him pacing the sidewalk, looking around like he was on some kind of ridiculous rescue mission.

Steve’s eyes widened, and he pressed a finger to his lips, eyes sparkling with mischief as he looked at you. 

“Shhh!” he whispered, grinning like a kid playing hide-and-seek. His attempt at silence was immediately betrayed by a giggle that escaped his mouth, and he put both hands over his lips, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Steve, I know you’re around here somewhere! Get down here before you fall off something,” Bucky called out, still searching.

Steve, in a fit of tipsy brilliance, looked at you with a conspiratorial smirk and pointed toward your open window beside the balcony. Without a word, he started squeezing himself through, contorting like he thought he could make himself invisible in the process.

“Steve, what are you doing?” you whispered, half-laughing, as he awkwardly wedged his shoulders into the window, one leg hanging out, struggling like he was trying to sneak into a bank vault. He gestured wildly for you to help, but his clumsy movement only made him even more noticeable.

He leaned forward, eyes wide, and whispered, “Shhh! The enemy approaches!” He stifled another giggle, clearly thinking this was the funniest thing in the world.

Just then, Bucky looked up, and Steve flailed dramatically, accidentally bumping his head against the window frame with a muted “ow,” then snorted, laughing harder. He pressed his finger over his mouth again, hushing you through breathy laughter.

“What the…” Bucky stared, his gaze following Steve’s ridiculous pose as he tried to disappear through your window, half-in and half-out, his other leg kicking as he tried to haul himself through.

“Hey!” Bucky called, hands on his hips. “Rogers, get down here. Right now.”

Steve froze, peeking over the window frame like a deer caught in headlights, then gave you a pleading look, as if you were his partner in crime.

“Shh! The man downstairs… he cannot know I’m here,” Steve slurred dramatically, squinting as if Bucky were some kind of Shakespearean villain.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Bucky’s eyes narrowed.

“Steve, you’re on the fire escape, not a secret lair. Get down before you fall off and end up in the hospital.”

Steve waved a dismissive hand, a drowsy, lopsided grin on his face. “I’m in safe hands, Bucky! I have my fair maiden to protect me,” he announced proudly, glancing at you with such conviction that you had to stifle your laughter again.

Bucky groaned, his exasperation palpable as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, you’ve got one minute to say goodbye to your ‘fair maiden,’ then you’re coming with me,” he called, crossing his arms.

Steve turned back to you with a goofy grin, still wedged halfway through the window. 

“Didst thou hear that?” he whispered in a loud stage voice, pointing at Bucky. “The villain gives us but one more minute. But it shall be a glorious minute!”

You rolled your eyes, pushing him gently. “Alright, Romeo. Time to head home.”

With one last dramatic sigh, he extracted himself from your window, blew you a clumsy, theatrical kiss, and began his wobbly descent down the fire escape. As Bucky grabbed Steve by the shoulder, trying to steer him down the street, Steve spun around, clutching Bucky’s arm like he was clinging to the last lifeboat on a sinking ship.

“Unhand me, Mercutio!” Steve cried, throwing his other arm up with all the grandeur of a Shakespearean actor. “Thou art but a hindrance to my love! Dost thou not know I’m with Juliet?”

Bucky froze, staring at Steve in complete disbelief. “What did you just call me?” His expression was halfway between horrified and annoyed, eyebrows knitted in utter confusion.

Steve pulled himself up, looking deeply wounded, his hand over his heart. 

“Mercutio!” he slurred dramatically, pointing a shaky finger at Bucky. “You are the friend that doth betray me! I shall not be parted from my love!”

Bucky blinked, visibly trying to process this. “Mercutio? Steve, what the—” He looked up at you, helplessly gesturing at Steve. “I’m Mercutio now?”

Steve waved a dismissive hand. “Alas, yes, for you wouldst steal me away from my Juliet,” he said, glaring with the most intense puppy eyes you’d ever seen.

“Steve, I’m not Mercutio,” Bucky groaned, looking over at you as if hoping you could talk some sense into him. “You are absolutely out of your mind.”

But Steve seemed lost in his own world. He placed a hand over his heart, gazing longingly up at you again. 

“Juliet,” he called to you, his voice full of melodrama. “Mercutio hath come to tear us asunder.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up in pure irritation. “Steve, I’m trying to get you home before you fall flat on your face. You’re gonna thank me in the morning.”

Steve shook his head, looking at Bucky like he was the ultimate betrayer. “Mercutio… thou art a traitor,” he declared, voice wobbling with fake tragedy.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I swear, if you call me Mercutio one more time—”

“Mercutio!” Steve interrupted, leaning against him dramatically. “Wouldst thou poison my love? Dost thou come between us to ruin the most beautiful thing?”

Bucky let out a defeated sigh, looking over at you with an expression that screamed, Help me. “Your ‘Mercutio’ is about to drag you home, Rogers.”

But Steve just shook his head again, mumbling about “betrayal” and “unhand me, knave,” as Bucky steered him away, calling one last time over his shoulder to you, “Fear not, Juliet! I shall return! Mercutio’s treachery shall not prevail!” You stifled a laugh as Bucky, looking thoroughly done with it all, muttered to himself, “Mercutio… unbelievable.” He gave you one final, apologetic look as Steve continued to mumble protests about “Mercutio’s interference,” until they finally disappeared down the street, Bucky still muttering, “I’m not Mercutio.” Tags: @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @strawberrybisou @alyana-luvs-u

It’s like one of those pet sweaters- if he tries to move he just tips over. 🌽

Drabble Birthday Ask!

Reader finally 'catches' the thing Steve's been hiding... it's that he's tired. He's tired, and he thinks it's non-inspiring or embarrassing or a burden, and he has been acting weird to cover for that.

Steeeeeeb!!!! Yes of course some TLC for Stevie. Excellent. Would recommend. 11 out of 10. Always give him the peace and safety! (Don't hate me though; it's just a bit of established relationship fluff!)

I am uncharacteristically skipping the part where you confront Steve about this. Yes, that's right. Remain calm. Ro has passed up the opportunity to write an argument. Hold your applause. WC idk but probably 2k or less (bit of a surprise at the end, too 🤭)

It's so easy.

It's just so damn easy to lose track, to keep going, to repeat. One more conversation. One more chore. One more hour. One more day. One more.

More. Constantly more.

Steve is very good at giving more. He is consistent, constant, incessant, but you can see now that despite his unending strength, your husband can't hide that drawn, fragile look behind his eyes any longer.

Sometimes, that's life.

"Actually, scratch that shit," Tony says with a flagrant point to your face as you chat. "Life is always like that. I know what Big Guy needs, don't you worry. Consider it sorted."

This speed-date style convo tumbles through a ten-second-savoring of tea. You got one cryptic sentence about 'how you're doing' in before Tony perfectly translates your meaning.

For once, more is unnecessary. He knows.

Stark, however, doesn't even have a moment to finish the turn up of his lips in a smile before his watch is pinged.

His eyes focus to the inside of his glasses. "Go for the World's Most Fashionable Hero," he deadpans, wandering off with his mug clasped like a lifeline in his hands.

Yeah, you know that feeling. Wit's End must be as contagious as pinkeye 'round these parts.

Steve's been silent for the last hour of the car ride. He checks the address. He checks the map. He checks the road. That's it.

Music he usually hates has been playing for fifty-one minutes and counting. No reaction.

Clearly, you were right to ask Stark for help.

The gravel drive up to the cabin is bumpy, and Steve apologizes for having to go so slowly.

"Almost there. I think it's--yeah, there. Okay, we're here." Your husband flips the key back and out of the ignition, a stunted sigh forcing it's way past his tight shoulders, immediately opening the door and heading for the trunk. "I'll get the bags. You get the--"

"Steve? Will you come with me for a sec?"

He looks at you--really sets his eyes on you--for the first time since loading the car.

"What's wrong?"

You crunch up to the short staircase to the long porch. "Just come up here, please."

It takes another wave of your hand in encouragement before Steve abandons the small duffels and totes. He's not used to leaving a man behind. He's got a mission. He's supposed to finish the job. Always one more thing.

More. Constantly more. That's Steve's life, and he does it without complaint. Never, ever complaining, even when he should.

His heavy, tired feet fall hollowly on the wood.

"We're starting now," you chirp, excited to surprise him.

Steve tips his bodyweight to lean on the banister, crossing his ankles before crossing his arms, his head down while sneaking a squint-and-blink to try and bounce his energy back.

"Sure, what's first on the list?"

"Oh, no," you correct. "The list is mine. Those are my activities for the weekend. You are here."

His brow furrows. "What? You're gonna--"

"Steve." You gently hold onto his arms. "I mean, you have nothing to do. Not a single thing. And I don't care where you do it, but you will be doing nothing all weekend. Sleep in the bed, on the couch, on the dingy over there, hell, right here on the porch swing. It doesn't matter. It's your rest, but you must rest."

"What about--"

"Nope."

"Or if--"

"Uh-uh, definitely not."

Steve looks slightly panicked. "Dinner?" he tries in a last-ditch effort to be useful every minute of every day.

"There is a bag of stuff that I will be dumping into a crockpot and walking away from, so, no, you can't do that either."

He's still not sure, eyes glassy and flickering about.

"There's fruit for breakfast, veggies and dip for snacks, and we don't have to even turn on the stove unless we want to. Now--" you release him "--I'm putting stuff away and--"

Steve opens his mouth to argue.

"--and not one word out of you. Not one, sweets. Go. Be free. Sleep. Stare at the water, or a wall, or the ceiling for all I care, but you have nothing else to do today. Okay?"

His eye twitches, a half-hearted glare melting into a challenge in his tight jaw.

"Okay???" you prod.

His hands fling out in defeat. "You told me not to say a word," he whines, automatically making his way back down the stairs.

"No bags," you scold.

He whips around, almost muttering.

"No bags." You rush down and past him toward the car. "And I will bring you looser clothes to sleep in."

"You--"

"AH!"

"But--"

"What did I just say, Rogers?"

Now he just looks petulant, a familiar mood in your household.

You stubbornly point to the cabin. "Go on. Git!"

He watches you bring in the mindfully-light bags you packed up for the trip, pouting and scowling in equal measure.

Steve has to show off at least once by snatching up a bit of potato that rolled across the counter in the transfer of dinner.

Instead of thanking him, you shove a t-shirt and thin sweats at his chest.

He fakes an oof of surprise and traps you for a quick kiss before going to change. He does leave you alone for the rest of setting up.

Steve is dead asleep on the deep, two-seater porch swing when you head to the little work shed, his knees bent so he faces in, his forehead buried in cushion to block out daylight, already snoring softly.

You have to hold your hands to your chest so as not to touch him. Tears of joy prick your eyes seeing him relax so quickly.

Steve can follow orders when he wants to, you think with a smile.

In the garden shed, Pepper has all the cool crafting things, and you putz around with some wood pieces and paints for a couple of hours. You walk the perimeter of the cabin to find some nice wildflowers for a table centerpiece, mixing delicate stems of blue buds with expansive wisps of white and little pops of yellow. You attempt to figure out the dingy but decide against going on the water alone yet. Maybe tomorrow.

At no point does Steve move.

When you walk up to the house, fist full of flowers, he's out cold, softly swaying in the breeze as the gusts pick up in the afternoon.

You snack and listen to music in your headphones, doze in the bed after the sun warmed you a little too much, and then wake to the smell of stew.

The beep of the crockpot wakes him.

Bedhead and pillow mishmarks on his cheek look great on Steve Rogers.

Without argument, he washes his hands and sits at the reclaimed wood table.

Steve says only two things:

"Thank you" when you set a large bowl in front of him, and "can you pass the salt?" after he taste-tests the meal.

He reads a book until falling asleep for the night with you, curled with his knees bent again.

He does well.

He keeps resting, multiple times with his book open on his chest, barely to halfway after hours and hours of holding on to the browning paperback pages.

He rests in the bed. He rests on the couch. He rests (again) on the porch swing. Finally, he rests in your lap while you both float on the lake in the dingy.

He rests with you by his side. He rests with you in his arms. He rests even when you leave to do something else. It's exactly what you wanted, what he needed, and how it should be.

Steve mumbles a fair few things, but the most important thing is that none of it is important enough to articulate. He doesn't have to talk. He doesn't have to be heard. He doesn't have to be understood.

He only has to rest, and he's following orders well. He's completing his mission.

It is truly fascinating how close you can feel without words--okay, so you two aren't completely non-verbal for the weekend, but there are no long conversations. After being married for a while, those are not entirely necessary. You know each other too well for all that; Steve simply feels the stigma of being weak and tired from his youth.

He holds himself to a different, impossible standard. He thinks of it as pushing the limits of his serum, as offering everything he has to others, as respecting those he cares for by shouldering burdens. You think it's stupid.

It is the only stupid thing Steve Rogers does.

Now, after days of resting, you're pretty sure Steve knows he was being stupid.

You hope he knows he can ask for help or a break whenever he wants, before he needs it this badly.

To your great delight, Steve gathers up his things that were left around the house, but he leaves the actual packing to you. This is very helpful in keeping the final surprise.

He's watching the water, sitting up in the porch swing for once with an arm thrown over the back, an easy, calm smile stretched across his face, the first you've seen in months if you're being honest.

Steve gestures for you to join him, but you bite your lip and check the gravel drive.

Exactly on schedule, an engine revs and wheels crackle over the gravel.

You wink at your husband just as excited shouts ring out from Tony's fancy car.

"Papa! Papa! Look what Morgan and I found at the beach!"

"I made you a seashell necklace, Momma. You, too, Pops."

Your children race up the porch steps and jump into the space below Steve's arm.

His smile is still easy, but perhaps a little more excited than calm.

More. Constantly more.

But it's not all tiring...

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

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