Juani Es Un Sol 💛💛

Oh, I missed reading about Bucky.

Poor Bucky, he's lost. But that's okay, she got confidence enough for both of them. Loved the story. Super cute 🥺

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐬 — 𝐛.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. bucky barnes x fem!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, social anxiety, bucky being a nervous mess

SYNOPSIS. bucky falls head over heels for a girl at the market selling plums. after coming home, he tries to get any piece of advice on how to talk to a girl from his fellow teammates.

LENGTH. 1.940 words

MASTERLIST

Continuar lendo

Perfect

Tattoo your name

A/N: A short idea that came to me while I was getting my first tattoo today, I wrote this in an hour so I apologies in advance for any mistakes.

Pairings: Jake Lockley x fem!reader, Marc Spector x fem!reader, Steven Grant x fem!reader, they all are married

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff and mention of sex

Summary: Y/N came home in pain. 

Words Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

Y/N entered the flat and smiled immediately when she heard footsteps. Marc walked up to her and kissed her cheek. 

“Hi, baby,” he greeted, helping her pull off her clothes. Y/N put everything back on the cupboard and caught Marc's face in her hands. “Fucking hell, your hands are cold.” 

Marc moved his head away from her and she only laughed cheerfully. She smiled mischievously and then slipped her hands under his shirt. He immediately flinched, but finally put his arms around her. He pushed hard against her and she unexpectedly moaned quietly in pain. 

“What is it? What's going on?” He became concerned immediately. Y/N waved her hand dismissively and walked deeper into the flat and towards the kitchen to make herself something warm to drink. “Y/N?”

“Oh, it's nothing,” she confessed frankly, glancing over her shoulder at him. “I promise, you'll find out everything, but can I make myself a cup of tea first?”

“No, cariño,” he spoke up, but the change in his voice immediately made her realize that Jake had taken control. Lockley was probably the most stubborn of the three of them. “We can settle this the easy way or the hard way. You know that perfectly well. 

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the smile never left her face. She turned back to him and leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“Okay, I did something,” she said cheerfully, and Jake furrowed his eyebrows dangerously. 

“Did you kill someone? Because if you need to get rid of a body, you know I'll help you.” 

“What?” She laughed and shook her head. “No, nothing like that. By the way, it's good to know that you would help me cover up a murder.” 

“Anything for you” he replied confidently and walked closer. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her with anticipation. “So? What happened?”

“You have to promise me that none of you will laugh,” she asked immediately. Y/N nervously fiddled with the end of her jumper and her earlier certainty suddenly disappeared somewhere. 

When she was deciding on her little surprise, she forgot to actually analyse whether they would actually like it. 

“Have we ever laughed at you?” Jake replied, and she sent him a meaningful look. She had a slight blush on her face, but this time it wasn't just because of the cold. “Well, okay, sometimes,” he replied, but it didn't convince her. 

Jake saw that something was bothering her, so he immediately approached her. He caught her chin between his fingers and forced her to lift her gaze to him. “I'm just teasing you, cariño. I promise no one will laugh at you.” 

“Our wedding anniversary is coming up in a few days…”

“Five years, I know” he interrupted her with a smile and leaned his forehead against hers. “The best years of our lives.” 

Y/N blushed even more. As long as she had been able to be with them, she had the feeling that she would never be able to get used to their words of love. Especially from Jake's side. 

“As always, you love to interrupt me,” she laughed, and he snorted cheerfully. “This year I wanted to do something special for you and at first I thought it was a great idea, but now I don't know. I mean it's a bit late to change anything because it's happened, but…”

Y/N paused and bit her lower lip. She stared at Jake for a moment until she finally moved aside from him and pulled off her jumper first and then started to roll up her t-shirt. Lockley smiled broadly and his eyes definitely darkened. 

“If you want to have sex, you don’t have to do anything. One word from you and you're writhing beneath us in pleasure.”

“Jake! You're always thinking about only one thing.” 

“Don't be so innocent. We know perfectly well that you do too.” 

Y/N laughed nervously and then pulled her shirt up again. She only stopped the material after her shoulder, so that her breast was visible, and especially her left side right next to it. It was there that the plastic wrap could be seen, and underneath it a fresh tattoo. The drawing depicted a crescent moon, and around it were three letters - J, M and S - as a tribute to the names of each alter. Underneath the tattoo was also the short, ornate inscription loved by the moon.

“I wanted to have some part of you always with me,” she explained, but was unable to look at their initial reaction. “I know I could have arranged it with some pendant or other jewellery, but I wanted something permanent that I would never lose and would be with me for the rest of my life.” 

Jake didn't respond, and when she looked at him, she saw that he was looking at her with his mouth open. His posture changed slightly and she recognised immediately that control had been taken over by Steven, who was looking at her with silent adoration and love. 

“Love,” he whispered quietly, and in that one word she felt that he had given away all the emotions he felt for her. “This is…” 

However, Steven was not able to construct an entire sentence correctly. 

“Do you like it?” She asked with a smile. 

“Yes!” He replied straight away. “But love, that must have hurt. Why?”

“For you I would endure any kind of pain” Y/N smiled and caught his face in her hands. “Besides, it didn't hurt that much. I have to be careful for now, because the tattoo has to heal, but I wanted to do it. So you can consider it a little present for our anniversary.” 

“Wow! It's beautiful. I really like it.” 

“And what do Jake and Marc think of it?”

“Jake is honestly stunned, but hornier than ever” Y/N laughed and felt Steven put his hands on her hips. He ran one upwards closer to the tattoos, but so as not to touch this and cause her more pain. “And Marc... I'm not entirely sure about that because he went completely silent.” 

Y/N moved nervously and felt a tentative tightening in her stomach. She knew that none of them had any objections to body adornment. Besides, they had always told her that she wasn't their property and she had the only right to decide what she did with her body (except maybe what went on in the bedroom, because there they mostly took control). 

“Do you think he'll want to talk to me about it now?” She asked uncertainty. Early on in their relationship, they had all agreed that the key to making it all work out was shared communication. Their relationship was so complicated that if it hadn't been for the conversation, they would have split up so long ago. Meanwhile, they had seven years of relationship together including five of being married. 

Steven stroked her cheek and then his eyes rolled back and Marc was standing in front of her again. Y/N grabbed his hand and looked at him fearfully, afraid that what she was about to hear would be nothing pleasant. However, for a long moment Marc was unable to speak. All he did was stare at her with an unconcerned gaze, and, as always, she found it difficult to read the emotion on his face. She thought that over time she would be able to figure out his poker face, but over the years she had found out that it wasn't that easy. 

“Marc? What do you think about that?” 

“Y/N, I…” he started and lowered his gaze down. When he looked at her again, she saw tears shining in his eyes. “I don't know what to say. No one has ever done something like this for me.” 

“Oh, Marc” Y/N smiled and felt the tears gather under her eyelids herself. She caught his face in her hands and, gently running her thumbs over his cheeks, placed a brief but emotional kiss on his lips. Later, their foreheads rested against each other. “I love you, darling. All of you and it is the greatest happiness that I have you in my life. That you chose me to accompany you in all the good and bad moments.” 

“I love you, baby. And I like what you've done. But it makes me wonder why the moon?” 

“Because in the middle of the night, it's the brightest light that guides us. You, Jake and Steven are my light in the middle of the night,” she explained. “Also, you're Moon Knight. It all fits together.” 

Marc laughed happily, tilting his head back. Y/N looked at him as if enchanted, for she had the feeling that there was no more beautiful sound in the world than his laughter. She smiled and then drew his face to hers and brought their lips together again, this time in a stronger and more confident kiss. She entwined her fingers in his hair and gently tugged at the ends of the longer strands, which immediately caused him to give a quiet murmur of satisfaction. Marc slipped his hands under her t-shirt and she immediately felt him exploring her back thoroughly, occasionally hooking his hands on her belly until he finally stopped his hands on her breasts. 

She moaned in pleasure as he squeezed them tightly, but unexpectedly he froze into immobility. He moved his head away from her, and when she looked at his characteristically squinted eyebrows, she knew it was Jake again. 

“Did you show your sweet tits to some asshole?” He asked seriously and she parried merrily and quickly stole another kiss from his lips “That's not funny. They belong only to us and to no one else. No one has the right to even think about them, let alone see them.” 

“Don't worry,” she assured him quickly, running her fingers over his neck and nape. That always put all three of them at ease. “It was the girl who tattooed me. I know exactly how possessive you all are.” 

“It still doesn't change the fact that someone saw something that belongs to us. I think you need to be reminded of that.” 

“I think it's a perfect idea, Mr Lockley.” 

Jake smiled mischievously and then grabbed her and lifted her up. Y/N laughed briefly, but was quickly silenced when she felt hot kisses on her lips. 

LETS GOOOOOOOO

Mission save the princess will start!

do not chastise the dove (8) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: the last thing the boys are going to do is sit on their ass and wait for someone else to rescue you. 

word count: 4,248

warnings?: not proofread

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At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

I didn't expect it. Omg. You shattered my heart from this paragraph onwards. 😭😭

And the ending 😭🤌

Remember Me- Steve Harrington

Summary: Every morning Steve shows up at the coffee shop you work in and every morning you hope is the one where the cute stranger will finally talk to you. But it never happens and maybe you don't really need it. Yet, while you wait at the tables with a smile, you can't help but wonder why you feel like you've known him all your life.

Words count: 3.8k

Tags: Fluff and Angst. Post-season4 Steve Harrington / Post War/ Mentions of major character death.

Y/n smells like coffee and lemons. A strange mix that Steve still doesn't know whether its good or not. You move around the shop with a circumstantial smile on your face, a tray in your hands and a green apron used as an impassable wall against the rest of the world, your armor.

Yet you can't take your eyes off that customer, who oders American coffee every morning and sit at the table furthest from people. Sometimes he brings a curly-haired boy with him, other times there's a beautiful girl with big blue eyes - perhaps his girlfriend, perhaps a friend - and with them he smiles slightly more. But he is often alone and clarly wants to be.

You're sorry for that. You don't even know why, you have so much else to think about. You moved in the USA just a few years ago, from your  country you ended up in the middle of nowhere, in Indiana, and when you  arrived you discovered that this place is not as safe and boring as you believed. Strange deaths, accidents, earthquakes, natural disasters like it has been cursed and to be honest you have the feeling of having lost a good part of the time spent here. Now, apart from the fact that this place sucks, you should think about having fun, hanging out with boys, trying to make friends like your aunt says, but you don't. You go home at night and think of a sad stranger and you don't want to, you really don't want to but you do. Silly girl.

"What can I get you sir?" you ask, like every day. When he's alone he usually doesn't reply, he mumbles something under his mouth, looks into your eyes and points his finger at his choice. The menu next to the paper napkins is his voice and you like to listen to it.

"I'll bring it to you right away." There are no smiles between you, even if you would like to. Sometimes you've found yourself wanting a simple "thank you" said properly, not half-mouthed or in a whisper. Yet there's kindness even in the way he moves, the way he isolates himself and it's something you can't explain.

When you place the coffee on the table – a breath away from his fingers – he usually just looks at you. His are not eyes to remain indifferent to. It's not the color that makes them  so special, they're big and dark, but it's their depth, the way they seem to be a portal to that boy's soul, the way they peer into you and seem to contain not a shred of malice and seen too much. They look like a child's eyes, actually. They have something pure, sincere, tremendously tender and at the same time they contain the gaze of a veteran and they defeat you. He looks at you and you are chained. But that's okay, you wouldn't have tried to resist anyway.

He looks at you with something that reminds you of sweetness, hints at a half smile - the first - and this alone is enough to burn you inside,  even if it's snowing outside.

The boy doesn't like snow, he's always in a bad mood when it snows. One day you overheard him talking about it with his friend Dustin, Dexter, something like that. 

"Everytime I fear he is coming back"

"He can't, you know it . We made sure it can't happen again"

"Yes, but at what coast?" and his voice had broken in a yearning way, on the last syllable, like a raging river that you thought you would see burst. When you turned to look at him not a single emotion had appeared on his face. You would like to know what happened to him.

Everyday you look away from him when you realize you've spent too much time staring at him and walk away, ignoring the abandoned baconnotes on the table, silent like him. You feel stupid, a high school girl staring at the mysterious lonely boy. It's ironic and you don't know it yet, but there was a time Steve Harrington was the opposite of mysterious and lonely.

This morning it's different and you don't run away. You linger a moment too long on the marks that can be glimpsed from his shirt, scars on his neck that seem to continue under the fabric of his shirt for who knows how long. You've already noticed some small signs, but usually he's very careful to cover them. Today they are redder and more visible. You notice more scars, these never seen before, on his arms and you realize only now that he has cut his hair and when he moves them you notice and old wound on the left side of his face. 

If he wasn't around your age you'd really think he's a war veteran. You wonder what he must have been through and you don't notice his hand extended towards the cup, which meets yours. For the first time, you feel the contact with his skin, a silent echo of an unexpressed desire. You know nothing about him, barely his name. "Steve" You've heard from his friends. You know nothing of his life; still for an instant you dream of being part of it with all the monsters he must have fought to hurt himself like this. You talk with your eyes for as long as you stay close: you with a silent voice full of questions, he with a single answer. And it's always the same.

To each request, he reacts by moving his fingers, running along your palm and thumb, making red-hot marks that only you can see. You feel them, like burns on your skin, as if you are no longer in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, but in a private place, where every gesture, every touch acquires meaning. And there's no need for him to say anything, you know that today he wanted you to see his scars, he wanted to understand how you would react, he wanted you to see him for real. And you do it, you really see him, and you don't get scared. You never could. You don't know why. 

«Y/n please, could you bring me more coffee?»Another guy asks. He is just another is a customer, an ordinary, common one. Not like him. Just a guy who shows up often, asking you for coffee and smiles. And you're willing to give it to him, you're willing to pretend with the others but not with Steve, with him you only smile when you really want to and it's absurd that in his presence this happens more or less always. 

"Sure! " Breaking contact  with Steve seems more tiring than studying for the last exam, more painful than finding out you didn't pass it. You feel yourself blush as you bow your head and flutter your eyelashes, tucking the tray under your arm. Sorry, you say in one last look, ready to leave him. But he grabs your wrist with the delicacy that distinguishes him, making you turn around again. Blush again.

"I'm Steve." I know, you would like to answer however you avoid doing that. It's the first time you can hear his voice right, with words articulated slowly, fearlessly, spoken for you and you alone .

«Y/n.»

Steve runs his thumb along the inside of the wrist before letting you go, in an almost automatic gesture that he seems to regret immediately. A Last, anxious caress, which reveals what his eyes have always hidden.

"I know"

These words are the most exciting thing you've heard in a while. Suddenly you understand why Steve comes in every day, stealing a look and a few minutes of your life. Or so you believe. You feel a shiver running down your back, turning into a burning caress - the one you would like from him - and going up your spine, up to your ears. It's hope. 

You don't know how or why, you feel as if you already know him, as if in another life your skin has touched nothing but his, and you don't even believe in these things. Maybe he feels the same, the same overwhelming nostalgia for something you haven't even experienced. You hope you're right, you hope he comes here every day  just to see you, to search for a contact that happened by chance - by mistake - and to show you his tormented gaze of him, looking for the peace that he has lost in you. 

«I'll bring you some coffee» You say to another customer, looking at him without seeing him.

I have to talk to Steve. I can't let him go. Not like that. You hurry to get the hot container of coffee and reach the customer's table, dedicating a smile and a moment of your life to him. A moment that he could have, or should have, dedicated to someone else.  "Are you on duty again tonight?" You almost don't hear the question, taken as you are from another table, another customer, one different from the others. Your mind is only on Steve. "Yes," you say, glancing at Steve to make sure he's still there. He is. You suddenly feel calmer. "But only until six."

"It's already dark at six" the boy observes. "I could take you home..."

"There's really no need to, thanks." You walk up to the counter to put the container away. You hear the doorbell ring, and feel the brutal urge to turn around. 

Steve's table is now empty.

*

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

You put on your coat, gloves and wool cap, and say goodbye to your colleague. "See you tomorrow." You pull the scarf up on your chin as you open the door.  

After the war with Vecna and the disappearance of the Upside Down, even the climate has changed. The ice covers the streets, leaving just two gray trails to show the asphalt. There are very few cars parked outside the cafeteria, a badly parked red BMW stands out, it's the only one not covered in snow. Steve smiles seeing you, he holds back from calling you, enjoying the image: a colored spot in the whiteness of winter. You puff. It's cold, and you have to walk home, your high boots sinking into the white blanket, the houses still to be rebuilt across the street are the only sign of the drama Hawkins has experienced. An earthquake so strong that it has destroyed everything. You have been hurt, a head injury big enough to steal a piece of your life. A piece so important that you're only retrieving the fragments of your life here, tales of your aunt, your friends, which for some reason never seem to fit right together 

"Hey." A male voice calls you. You keep moving forward. It is not the first time that some stranger tries to approach you .

«Y/n.» You turn around, you see him and suddenly the snow and the cold disappear and the world is a warm and beautiful place. Steve. "Hello, y/n." You take a step towards him and stop, as if you've dared too much. "What are you doing out here?"

 With this wheater. You think you know the answer. And you hope to hear it from him.

"I'm here for you" Would be the sweetest music. But Steve shrugs, makes an embarrassed noise, pulling his jacket around him. You seem to notice a redness on his cheeck, you wonder if it's not just the cold. "What does it mean?" You ask, letting out a smile, tossing your tied hair. Steve's eyes catch yours, in a silent response that seems to be enough for you. For a moment everything is as before for Steve, you are only you and he is only him and in your eyes he finds the girl he fell in love with during a war that you shouldn't have had to fight. 

You arrived like lightning a year ago alongside the only friend you managed to make in the city at that time: Eddie Munson, and you were the first -together with Dustin- to try to prove his innocence, with all that this entailed: including demobats, Upside Down and Vecna. Now you don't remember anything, and maybe a little part of Steve is happy you don't have to carry the trauma with you, but you don't remember the good things either. You don't remember Eddie. When you look at his old posters or find his photos on the newspapers, to you he is just the killer who terrorized the city and you don't mourn his death. But you did it, you did it until you lost your breath, screaming at the top of your throat in the middle of the darkest night. Steve had to drag you from his  body by force, against your punches and kicks. You melted into his embrace, you vented the pain with such force that he feared your bones might break from the powerful sobs that shook you. Steve lulled you into a tormented sleep and watched over you. And then there was Max. The list of fallen soldiers got longer. Murray.Hopper, again. Will.

And Robin, oh, Rob. 

You were the only thing keeping Steve alive after that. When his best friend fell into his arms, Steve wanted to die and for a moment he stood still, ready to let himself be taken by the same cursed monster that stole Robin from him. But you were there and you needed him, he had to keep you alive. He had to think about Dustin.

Then he lost you too. In a different, unexpected way. When Vecna took you, he thought you were going to die, because the music wasn't playing and you were floating in the air and he, he looked away, like a coward, he gave up. He decided he didn't want to see you die, not like that. He regrets it every day. All he did was prepare to grab your lifeless body, imagining that he would be the next one to die. He couldn't live in a world without Robin.

 But in a world without Robin where he didn't even have you, it was torture, hell. The world was shaking again and the earth was cracking  and Steve desperately wanted to die. But you fell into his arms still alive and breathing and Eleven had killed Vecna and all you had were broken bones and a head injury from the pressure exerted by that monster. Steve didn't know it at the time, but you also had a brain injury, something strong enough to erase everything from the last three years. Everyithing about him. Your family, despite being aware of the situation, has decided not to tell you anything, to keep you away from them, from Steve.

 After all if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have been involved. Also Steve promised to protect you and he didn't. He had failed you , as he did with Robin.

Dustin has kept him alive, keeping him company in the months of solitude spent locked up in his house. Nance forced him to eat every day and Erica, Erica remained silent next to him for hours and that was enough at least for a while. Then, at a certain point, Steve saw you from the shop windows, you were working, smiling. 

And it wasn't enough anymore.

The sky is black, the streetlights barely lit up the street, yet you can understand more about Steve right now, looking at his face wrapped in half-light, than you ever guessed during these endless mornings. «Y/n» your colleague opens the door, investing you with warmth and light, so much so that you lower your eyelids.

"Sorry... I saw you out here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll come early tomorrow so you can go home early." You nod as the door closes. When you turn to Steve, you find him closer than when you last looked at him. You see his breath condense between you and join yours. Heat mingling with heat, and desire meeting desire. Steve nods at the BMW.

"I... I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I can take you home if you want." 

There is a fire inside you, even if you can't explain why. You should be scared of an unknown guy who comes to your workplace every morning and now silently approaches you to offer you a ride home on a dark winter afternoon, but the truth is that Steve makes you feel so many things and fear it's not one of them. You think that this is his car, that the car says so much about people, that you want to see what he keeps inside it, the objects that are important to him. There is probably his scent inside it. 

Steve smells good, clean.You know, you just don't know why.  "That is fine." 

"Steve, can I... Can I ask you a question?" You ask after a few steps in silence. He nods, keeps walking, his arm against yours looking for even the slightest contact. He needs it, or else he'll sink. He needs it to keep himself on his feet when dark comes and in the streets he sees the faces of his dead appear. When your bodies touch, over layers of fabric, you feel your skin melt and you wonder if maybe you're crazy. "Why me?"It's a strange question, you know, you're a little ashamed of it, and you're afraid of scaring him but you feel, somewhere inside you, that maybe he has the answer you were looking for, the missing piece in your story. Or maybe it's just an illusion. He turns around, his gaze softens and he observes you like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Because there is no other girl.

 He doesn't say it, he can't. He doesn't want to mess with you, he doesn't want to lose you again and scare you. 

"You know y/n, I've never met a waitress as good as you." 

You laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. "You're an easy guy to get Steve Harrington"

He opens his eyes wide and you don't realize it but is'shere, clear, limpid: Steve has never said his surname. You don't notice, not really. You keep walking beside him. "Thanks," you whisper as you let your arm slide, intertwining it with his. What would it be like to really feel his skin? 

Warm. Rough in the points furrowed by scars, soft in the rest of the body. To Feel the sensation of  naked flesh on your lips, the scent of laundry, the saltiness of his body, the pulse of the vein on his neck, where you place a kiss that isn't there, never was. It's a fantasy that looks a lot like a memory. It scares you. "Let's go." He exhorts you, with shyness and a touch of fear his hand moves to your back and your body is warm under his gaze. His breath is against his cheek, slips under the scarf, up to your neck."Yes" he says, holding his breath. It's cold, but not that much, not now, not for you. Not when you feel Steve's nose against your ear, not when he notices your twitch too. Steve closes his eyes, tries to refrain from telling you everything, from holding you tightly to him, it's so difficult now that he has you close again to resist, to keep a distance that hurts and he doesn't want. "Are you cold?" Steve asks  in a low voice, but for you this question is so much like the caress you've been craving since you became aware of his presence in the shop, since you met his gaze."Not at all'."

You feel Steve's smile on your cheek and you feel like you're. You just turn your head, just to give him the opportunity to reach your lips, but Steve doesn't kiss you, he's still with his eyes closed and who knows what he thinks of you, looking for a kiss from someone you don't even know

."You smell like coffee." The words are an incandescent breath on the mouth. His breath join yours,  you can feel the the taste of him – mint and aftershave – before you even smell it, like you've never tasted anything else in your life. 

"You don't like it?" Thrill after thrill, waiting to discover something about him that you don't know yet. Everything, you have to find out everything, but it seems to you that you have known him for a lifetime."I love coffee" You know he is lying. You just know. But you don't care. Just one question goes through your head and in order not to give it a voice you decide to shut your mouth in the best possible way at the moment. You shiver a little when your lips are close to him. You trace his cheek slowly with your lips, waiting for the moment when he pulls back and tells you you're crazy. You look for the right way to kiss him. 

"I don't usually do that. You must have something very special" You whisper against him. And Steve can't take it anymore, like a dam that breaks its banks, he pushes you completely against him, as if you were one. And then, finally, he finds his way. When he kisses you – slowly at first, giving your lips time to get to know each other; then devouring your every thought, as if nothing else exist but you – you find yourself repeating to yourself that you don't want to kiss anyone anymore. Touch no one anymore. Let anyone kiss and touch you except from Steve. 

"Steve" You murmur breathlessly, pulling away from him. "Would you think I'm crazy if I tell you something?"He shakes his head, his lips swollen and beautifully red. "Never"

"I knew you before, didn't I?" Now Steve Harrington no longer has the strength to lie.Steve Harrington has come to get his girl back and far off in the dark of night he swears he can see Robin Buckley smiling at him for it.

YES, SIGNALS. JUST KISS ALREADY!

Okay, now I need a part 2 where they go to the show and confess and kiss 😭😍

honey!! number 11 on the prompt list is so steve coded, don’t ya think??

it so totally is 🥰 11. back hugs

steve h x gn!reader. good ol' pining besties <3

****

"Robin," you sigh. "You're overthinking it."

"Signals, Y/N. People have signals. A hand on your wrist, a secret smile. Signals! Now: was Vickie sending me signals? We have to explore all possibilities. But mostly, the answer is probably no. She just wants to hang."

"She asked you to brunch. People our age do not go to brunch."

"Brunch is classy!"

"Brunch is a breakfast date," you scoff. "Brunch is I want to get a cat with you."

"Well, I think—" Robin groans, glancing over your shoulder. "Oh, God. Heads up. Loverboy, twelve o'clock."

Before you can turn, you're being swept into a warm hug from behind. Steve's cheek presses to yours, his chin tucked in your neck. The tip of his nose is cold from outside as it brushes your jaw. Your heart haywires.

"Steve!" you squeal, his arms around your waist. "What're you doing?"

"You're gonna love me," he says into your ear.

Already do.

"Am I now?"

He walks around to face you.

"Yup," he says, popping the 'p'. "Look at these."

Steve holds up two slips of paper. Tickets to Bruce Springsteen at Soldier Field.

"Holy shit!" you cry, and throw your arms around him. He catches you with a laugh.

"These must've cost a fortune! How did you get them? I thought they were all sold out."

Steve shrugs. "I know people. So, interested?"

He knows it's all you've been talking about (and lamenting over when the tickets sold out in three minutes). Bruce Springsteen is one of your favorites.

"You didn't—Steve," you gasp in awe. "You really didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Consider it an early birthday present."

"Then I want you to come with me," you declare.

"Wh—me?"

"Who else would I bring?" you scoff.

"Someone who actually knows Springsteen songs?"

"You know enough of his hits. I mean, if you really don't want to go..."

"No!" He shakes his head. "No, Y/N, obviously I'll go. I just didn't want you to be embarrassed when I'm the only person there who doesn't know Glory Days."

"Well, that's why we're gonna listen to Born in the USA everyday until the concert," you grin. "Get you prepped."

Steve groans. "Can't believe you're giving me homework."

You turn to put the tickets in your bag. Steve crowds you as you do, chin on your shoulder. He's always affectionate with you, loose with his touches and pets.

Robin looks at you, brows to her hairline.

"It's fun homework," you say, ignoring Robin with all your might. "We can listen to the tapes in your car 'cause you've got the fancy sound system."

"That why you're friends with me?" Steve asks, arms curling around your belly. "Just for perks?"

"No comment. But the concert tickets have definitely moved you up to best friend status," you grin.

"Where was I before?" he squawks.

You pat his cheek. Steve pretends to grumble for another moment before slipping away. Instantly, you miss the warmth of his embrace.

"If you're done clinging to Y/N," Robin starts. "The new releases need to be shelved."

Steve throws her an eye roll but goes, giving you one last smile. You return it sheepishly. Robin watches you like a hawk.

You finally relent when Steve's far enough away.

"What is it now, Robs?"

"Signals," is all she says.

"Concert tickets is not a signal, Robin."

"Oh, it's something. Steve's music taste is whatever's on the radio."

"Not true! He listens to Queen and Fleetwood Mac and AC/DC and—"

"Because of you," Robin huffs. "It's you, Y/N, it's all for you. And you're both so deeply in denial you think it's just friendship things."

"He's just..." You watch Steve stack the videos on the shelf.

The enamel pin you got him a few months ago is on his FV vest. It's a bumblebee that says bee mine! You'd thought it was cute and fun and that Steve would like it. He wears it everyday, even if it doesn't match his outfit at all.

You look at Robin, your heart in your throat.

"Signals?" you squeak.

She nods.

"Now you're getting it."

“Those poor boys”

“She deserves to be punished too.”

“I’m not saying I support rape, but-”

“Sorry to say - she deserved it.”

“She put herself in harm’s way”

“But if she was fingered, then that’s not rape.”

“She ruined their lives.”

"He still remembered it clear as day, even though it had been in first grade. You'd thrown a Lego brick at his head and stuffed sand in his mouth"

Omg 🤣🤣 an awesome way to start a friendship 🤣🤣

"You'd liked him when he dated Nancy. Then by the time they'd broken up, you were hooking up with the Dungeons and Dragons kid who had been held back two years."

Eddieeeeee, hi!

Steve and y/n kissed, omgggg. But why when y/n is going to other place?? Steeve, why you didn't something before?? Omg, the ending was sad and frustrating 😭 can't wait for the next chapters. Can I please be added to the tag list? I'm loving your writing! ❤️

timing's a bitch (s.h) - 1/5

s u m m e r ' 8 6

"if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing...timing. but timing is a bitch" - how i met your mother

a.k.a the four times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment and one time he got it right (series masterlist)

You made Steve Harrington cry the first time you met him.

He still remembered it clear as day, even though it had been in first grade. You'd thrown a Lego brick at his head and stuffed sand in his mouth, promising that if he ever touched your pet worm again (his name was Sherm, if you were wondering) that he would pay. After some negotiation and charm from his part - and the promise that he wouldn't make his parents call yours - you had become best friends. You brought balance to one another's lives, even from a young age. Steve was always a little more calculated and thoughtful in his actions, sticking to the sidelines at playtime and always worrying about his hair. You, meanwhile, had always run headfirst into danger, with scrapes on your knees and glue in your hair. Ying and yang.

You never left Steve's side and he never left yours. Things came close when the popularity really got to his ego in sophomore year, but it was nothing a whack across the head couldn't fix. The threat of telling every person at Hawkins High about his Farah Fawcett hairspray secret also very quickly humbled him. He owed you a lot of apologies after that phase.

Things were better than ever by the time graduation rolled around. It hadn't really hit either of you that this was it; that Hawkins High would no longer be your world. It was scarier for you than it was for Steve because he knew deep down that he had probably peaked in high school. He had no college lined up; while you'd gone and gotten yourself a full scholarship to NYU, all he'd done was argue with his parents about his grades and why they wouldn't foot the bill for him to follow you to the city. The world was about to become bigger and scarier. The prospect of you being thousands of miles away only made it worst.

"Just one year," Steve begged, "just take one year out. The new mall is gonna be hiring loads of people and you can save up a butt ton before you go to college-"

"- I am not taking a year out, Steve!" you exclaimed. Reaching across the center console, you gave his chest a whack. "I worked my ass off the last four years so that I have enough money to go now."

"Okay, don't think about money then. Think about..."

He paused, trailing off.

"Think about what?"

"Spending time with me before I go?" he meekly asked. "We can have loads of fun! Just me and you, y'know, having one final year together before you leave me forever."

You groaned. "Steve, we've had all summer together. Also, I'm not leaving you! I'll be home literally every few weeks."

He forced a smile, eyes focusing on the road ahead. This was his last two days with you before you moved and he didn't want to spend it being sad. It was just that his heart ached in a way he never thought it would. A thousand times more than when his parents didn't show for graduation; even more than when Nancy Wheeler left him.

Steve's glance flickered over to the photo tucked away into his rearview mirror. It was a Polaroid taken over the summer; you and Steve were stood between your parents, armed wrapped around each other as you were grinning in your caps. Maybe his parents hadn't shown for him on graduation, but yours sure had, with flowers and hugs and affection for you both. Hell, they probably wouldn't have minded if he moved into your room once you were at college. It was definitely something he thought about.

"Summer doesn't feel like enough," he muttered. "Doesn't it scare you that things are changing?"

"Of course it does," you replied. "Change isn't always bad though. Things can't always stay the same, Stevie. Me staying home an extra year isn't gonna delay the inevitable."

Steve glanced in his wing mirror, indicating off the highway and pulling into your driveway. You'd had to beg him to come and help you pack; even though he'd acted like he didn't want to, he was secretly delighted at the idea. In fact, he was secretly delighted at spending any time with you.

After yelling a quick hi! to your parents, you both bounded up the stairs and into your bedroom. It was pretty much stripped now, years worth of blue tack and marks and scuffs on the wall. Your entire childhood packed neatly away into boxes; some for college, some for the attic, some for the dump. Steve in particular was drawn to the pile of photos on your nightstand. It was you and him through the years - some were a little dog-eared and frayed, but the two little kids smiling back at him never faltered.

He put them down and glanced over at you. You were sat on the bed now, having discarded your clothes for a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies. He'd leant that to you last year after a day at the lake - naturally, you'd gone running in totally unplanned in your clothes. He'd stood at the side the entire time, too scared of getting his hair wet.

That had always been one of his regrets; holding back. Not just the day at the lake, but the time you'd gone tree climbing and waved to him whilst he waited at the bottom. The time you rode all the big coasters at Coney Island and smiled at him as you went by. You were always going a thousand miles an hour and Steve just fucking stood there, waving as time passed him by. And now you were about to loop-de-loop right away from him.

He watched as you frowned in concentration, hands scrawling away at a messy to-do list. Pack, buy new toothbrush, apply for job, find class schedule. It was the most organised he'd ever seen you.

"You're being awfully quiet," you commented without even looking up. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing's on my mind."

"Steve, please," you scoffed. "You've been my best friend for fourteen years. Don't try and act like you're not deep in thought about something. What is it? A car? A girl-"

"- kind of," he said. "I was thinking about...us."

You peered up at him, eyebrows creasing. "Us?"

"Yeah. Don't you think we're pretty great?"

"Yeah," you smiled. "You're my best friend, Steve. Nothing will ever change that."

Steve sighed to himself. Wasn't that the whole problem? You were friends. Best, best fucking friends. And even though it was no secret that you yourself had little thoughts and feelings about him, they never seemed to overlap. You'd liked him when he dated Nancy. Then by the time they'd broken up, you were hooking up with the Dungeons and Dragons kid who had been held back two years. Then by the time that ended, Steve was onto his next fling.

And now you were going away. Maybe that's why he was yearning.

"Nothing at all?"

You frowned. "Nothing."

"Not even this?"

To be honest, Steve wasn't really thinking straight. Plagued by nothing but regret and hankering, he threw aside your to-do list and dove across the bed. His hands found your waist, pulling you towards him with might. It didn't take a genius to work out what was going on; even though his actions took you by surprise, you still tangled a hand in his hair when his lips came down on yours, the other finding it's way to the loop of of his best.

He pulled you closer, tongue slipping inside your mouth. You didn't mean to let out a gentle moan as he did, but fuck. Steve Harrington was a good kisser and it was annoying that all those rumours you'd tried to ignore in high school were true.

Steve sat up, pulling you into his lap. He moved his lips from yours, moving down to just below your ear. You didn't protest, instead dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

It wasn't until there was a knock at your door that you both jumped.

The sound was like a cold bucket of water over your head, snapping you back to reality. Fuck. You'd just made out with Steve. He had never been the King of Hawkins high to you; he was the kid that tried to kill Sherm over a decade ago. The same kid who got yellow braces because he thought they looked cool. The same kid that secretly cried every time Vienna by Billy Joel came on the radio.

"Honey, how's packing going?" your mum called. "I'm going to the landfill early tomorrow so make sure that you-"

"- yeah, I will!" you cut her off, trying to catch your breath. "Thanks, mum!"

There was the fall of footsteps as she walked away, leaving you and your best friend to sit there and deal with the consequences of your actions. You were still sat in Steve's lap, cheeks warm with something that wasn't quite embarrassment. His chest was heaving in time with yours, eyes refusing to break your gaze.

"What the fuck did we just do?" you asked.

"I...uh...I kissed you. And you kissed me back, and then I put my hand here and you put yours there and-"

"- it was a rhetorical question!" you exclaimed. "Oh my god, I'm still sat in your lap."

Rolling off of him, you landed on the bed next to Steve. You immediately pulled your hood up, tugging on the strings so that it tightened around your cheeks and hid your face. The worst part of all this was that you'd enjoyed it. Had the universe - in the form of your mother - not interfered, you had no doubt in your mind that you probably would have fucked your best friend. That certainly was a jarring revelation.

"Did you..." you began, but then paused. "Had you thought about doing that for a long time?"

"Yeah, I guess," Steve admitted. "Not like constantly but there's been moments over the last few years. And then I saw you sitting there in my clothes and we're about to say goodbye and-"

"- no we're not, Steve," you grumbled. "Because I'm going to see you at Christmas, and then like every weekend after that, and...Jesus Christ. Was that meant as an impulsive thing or an actual thing?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't kiss my best friend of fifteen years just for one night. I could go out to a shitty bar downtown and find anyone for that."

"Why now?"

"Can you blame a guy for shooting his shot?" Steve tried to joke, but you didn't laugh "I mean...yeah. Maybe I was thinking about you and I being more than you and I. It seems dumb now."

"Your timing is fucking awful, Steve Harrington," you gave him a small smile, gently running a hand over his face. "You could have asked me at any point before now and I would have said yes."

"But?"

"But I'm moving half way across the fucking country in two days!" you exclaimed. "You're my best friend and I love you but our lives are about to change. The stakes are too high and you are far too important for me to risk losing, okay?"

Steve smiled, giving you a nod. It could have been worse - it could have been a straight up no. A why fuck would I ever love you? or a broken nose. It was still rejection, but it was just...timing. Bad timing. Maybe he just had to wait.

He was okay with that.

taglist: @marauderssworld @boybandbaby (lmk if u want to be added!)

I will never get tired of saying that Agatha is a immaculate character and that I can't hate her!

AGATHA HARKNESS IN PREVIOUSLY ON

Omg. It's hot in here, no?

I didn't think you'd do it

If you had the chance to make out with Steve Harrington - would you take it? Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader Word count: 1,262 Warnings: A bit of swearing, alcohol consumption.

Not only did he scoot himself closer to you, he also playfully and confidently swung his arm behind you, casually resting it on the backrest of the sofa. You sat very still and couldn't breathe properly at the moment. The mixture of his strong scented cologne and his warm sweet breath near your skin almost made you pass out of dizziness. It was intoxicating, and it hit you. It hit you so fucking hard.

"What's it gonna be?" Steves raspy voice made you snap out of your almost hypnotized state, and you turned your head to look at him. Your lips parted automatically at the sight of him, and you did everything in your power to not exclaim a deep sigh. God, you were basically eye-fucking him right now. His brown eyes were darker than normal. Not that you noticed that kind of things about him of course. Why - why would you do that? It wasn't like you had a huge crush on him or anything.

You didn't.

Did you?

Steve smiled and bit his bottom lip while his eyes wandered down to your mouth.

This was your chance. Probably your only chance to actually kiss Steve fucking Harrington. Your whole body shivered with the thought of feeling those perfectly shaped lips on yours.

Screw this.

With a racing heart, you turned to face him and wasted absolutely no time before leaning in to kiss him. But you were no match for Steve. He was well-prepared for your attack and with no hesitation - and a small grin on that beautiful face of his - he grabbed under your thighs and pulled you onto his lap - as if you were as light as a feather. He completely ignored the fact that it was you that was about to make the first move.

"Shit!" you exclaimed and laughed nervously. He caught you off guard. You weren't expecting this to happen and you were a bit surprised by his action. Mostly because you thought this was going to be a cute, innocent kiss. One of those soft ones, that would leave you smiling for a couple of days. Instead you were straddling him, very much aware of how comfortably his thighs was. You were pretty sure this would make you smile for more than just a few days.

"Gotcha" he chuckled and held his hands on your waist to keep you steady. In the hurry you had placed your hands on each side of Steve's head, pressing your palms onto the wall behind him and you tried your very best not to awkwardly fall forward and ruin the moment. It made your faces being dangerously close to each others and you were practically breathing the same air right now.

Steve slid under your shirt and let a few inches of your skin being exposed, still carefully resting his hands on your waist. You let out a small moan when he slightly tightened his grip. The warmth from his hands on your bare skin, along with the almost none-existing distance between your lips, made this whole scenario a thousand times more intense. And you had barely sat on his lap for a hot minute. He leaned towards you, not that the gap between you were that big, but it felt like everything went slowmotion from the moment you realized he was about to kiss you. You closed your eyes and leaned towards him as well.

Finally. Steve's lips on yours, soft as a cloud - God yes, it was one of the soft ones! - with so much tenderness that it felt like your lips almost melted togehter. Every fiber in your body exploded. You got instant lightheaded and without even notice it yourself, you grabbed his thick hair with both hands to stabilize yourself from the overwhelming dizziness which kept creeping up on you.

Once again a moan escaped your mouth unintended, inbetween the soft kisses. This time it was louder, a bit more desperate. You felt your cheeks getting bright red because of the sounds you kept making, but Steve didn't seem to be bothered. If anything, it just made him greedy for more and he groaned eagerly. Steve dug his fingers into your skin, pulled you even closer to him, and before you could react, his tongue was inside your mouth, already fighting your own for dominance.

Stars was showing before your eyes and your heart beated so fucking fast, that you were afraid it would jump out of your chest. The only thing that filled the room was the sounds of your somewhat desperate moans.

Damn how this had escalated quickly.

Steve deepened the kiss, his hands only moving inches up and down your body, but his touches was so definite, that it almost made your body jelly-like. The effect this man had on you was unbelievable and you were effortlessly turned on. In some way it felt so wrong, but at the same time, the only thing you wanted right now was to go further with him.

What if you just…

…wait a minute…

… You opened your eyes, as music started to stream through your ears. The beats from Take on Me filled the room and you were suddenly aware of your surroundings. A bit out of breath, you pulled yourself away from Steve's lips and slowly looked to your left. You noticed that you were still holding a fair grib on Steve's hair, as if it was about to flee, and stopped immediately when you realized that Steve and you were, in fact, not alone.

"Oh. Wauw," someone said. Mortified, you pulled yourself off of Steve's lap and sat next to him without saying anything. You licked your lips unconsciously and felt the warmth from the obvious embarrasement fill your cheeks.

Robin looked at you without even blinking and repeated herself.

"Oh… wauw…"

Steve was kinda disoriented, and just stared out in the room for a solid minute, vaguely smiling.

"I-I think Y/N won the game. Yep. She definitely did," he said.

"It's not like you can actually win 'Truth or Dare', Harrington."

"Let it go, Eddie. I think Steve's right. That was without doubt the best dare played this evening," Robin said, finally snapping out of the baffled state she had been in. Robin smirked at you, and grabbed her beer from the table. "I gotta say. I didn't think you'd do it, Y/N" she laughed and took a sip of the beer, as part of the drinking game you had going on with your friends.

"Uhm. Steve" Eddie said cautiously. Steve looked at him, still a bit lost.

"What?"

Eddie glanced at Steve. To be more precise, his crotch. In his foggy state he didn't knew what was going on. But as soon as he realized what Eddie was trying to say, without actually saying it, Steve started blushing and grabbed the nearest pillow to hide his very obvious enthusiasm.

This evening had been both absolutely amazing, and extremely awful. You couldn't help but think of your poor friends who had just witness you and Steve getting a tad too excited for each other. You also wondered if the music had been playing all along. Did they hear you moan like a fucking porn star? God, you hoped not!

When everyone began to converse, you caught Steve's eye. He smiled mischievously and winked at you, before taking a sip of his beer.

You started thinking this wouldn't be the last time you'd be straddling him. But next time, you would make sure you were alone with Steve fucking Harrington.

do not chastise the dove (9) ✧ steven grant, marc spector, jake lockley

do not chastise the dove ✧ a royal moon knight au | ao3 | pinterest board

pairing: knight!steven grant x fem!princess!reader x knight!marc spector x knight!jake lockley

series summary: you were a princess who would rather be anything but a royal; he was the knight her father forced her to marry—a true match made in hell if there ever was one. but, as the wedding inches closer and closer, it seems that, perhaps, your father had finally done something right by you. 

chapter summary: a look into what’s happening with the princess. 

word count: 1,509

warnings?: a shorter chapter whoops, kidnapping, vague descriptions of vomiting, not proofread

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