Billy Hargrove X Reader

Niall performing Heaven | The Show Live On Tour in Düsseldorf, Germany (March 26th, 2024)

JOSEPH QUINN as ENJOLRAS BBC Les Misérables 1.06, dir. Tom Shankland

....but her - Billy Hargrove one-shot

billy hargrove x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), swearing, fluff, soft!billy, allusions to smut, mentions of violence.

summary: based on this request sent to me: okay but listen...I sudden thought hit me. Billy has this reputation of being mean and scary to basically...Everyone. But what if the gang meets the one person he's utterly doting and loving. Hugs and kisses with tight snuggles that possibly break her spine. Maybe he's about to get into it with Steve/whoever and she just says his name and he calms down and trots right back to her with a stupid smile on his face.

Billy didn't necessarily introduce you to the group on purpose. It was a pool party at Harrington's house, and you went along with him. All their eyes widened when they saw you walk in with Billy. He never bought any of his girls around, keeping that life separate from the group, plus they were never around long enough for them to be introduced.

Their eyes all widened when you walked in behind Billy. There was still some contention within the group. Most still getting used to Billy being a part of their party- particularly Steve, there was still the underlying competition between the two boys.

They thought nothing of you, figuring you were simply meant to go on a date somewhere, but Billy had decided to come along to the pool party instead. The only one not being shocked to see you was Max, she'd gotten somewhat used to being around the house now.

Max offering you a small wave when you walked in and you returning it, clearing your throat awkwardly as Billy introduced you to everyone.

They were even more shocked by his behaviour towards you during the party. The way he would place a gentle kiss on your forehead as you handed him a drink or the way his arms wrapped tightly around your mid-waist and squeezed you tightly, you giggling and pushing him away and shaking your head at him.

"I think Hargrove's on drugs," Steve muttered as Dustin nodded in agreement, watching with wide eyes as you splashed Billy playfully in the shallow end of the pool. The way he picked you up and threw you carefully over his shoulder as you squealed and attempted to break free from his strong grip.

They were used to Billy being all jagged edges, harsh words and surly looks, but he seemed carefree with you, like an actual teenager. Someone who wasn't fighting a constant battle with himself, haunted by the memories of Starcourt or what his father was like.

It's only towards the end when Billy overheard Steve making a comment about how he was acting.

"Got something to say, Harrington. Say it to me." He growls out as Steve rolls his eyes.

"It's a good thing, Hargrove." He snaps back.

"Don't appreciate you bitching about me behind my back," Billy taking a step towards him, his fists clenching at his side as the rest of the group get quiet, watching the event with wide eyes.

They'd seen Billy like this numerous times and knew there was no taming the savage beast. Steve already preparing himself for the fight that was inevitably coming.

"William!" Everyone turning and staring at you as walked out from the kitchen, holding the two drinks and seeing the fight starting.

Everyone turned back to Billy, watching as his body relaxed slightly, his fists unclenching.

"Come and help me bring these chips." You say softly.

Everyone still watching the back-and-forth. No one ever told Billy what to do without reaping the nasty consequences.

They were ready for verbal sparring between the two of you instead, they watch with wide eyes as Billy relaxes completely, smiling and following you into the kitchen.

Turning to face everyone before disappearing. "I just want to be clear. I still hate you shitbirds, all of you.. but her." He snaps coolly before following you into the kitchen completely.

"What the fuck just happened?" Steve asked in disbelief, his own fists unclenched as everyone looked at Max, waiting for an explanation.

"It may seem cute but you haven't heard the gross sounds they make in his room." She mutters, shuddering at the unfortunate memories.

"Happy screams?" El asks softly as Max nods.

"Happy screams."

Found this on pinterest and I just couldn't share it with anyone yet I wanted to share it so here I am posting it on tumblr.

i think my favorite thing non-writers say is along the lines of “well if you’re writing the story can’t you just make the characters do what you want?”

oh, my sweet summer child. you have the naivety of a newborn baby. i love your adorable ignorance. let me lay this out for you, friend:

i am no puppet master. i am merely the person who tippy-tappies on the keyboard and hopes that something legible comes out. the characters run the show and i am at best an exhausted stage manager trying desperately to get through tech week. no listens to me. i’m a documentarian hoping to nab a good shot, you know? just…Trying My Best while the characters set the scenery on fire even though i just told them we’ll need that in act three. they do not care. and i just have to roll with it. i have never once been in control of this circus.

No one knows why Eddie and Nancy call each other "my dear" and "honey" respectively. Not even Steve and Robin, who only give a brief pause (and sometimes a confused, "huh?") before going back to whatever nonsense. Even though it is absolutely, one hundred percent, their fault.

It’s all because Eddie and Nancy are dating two people permanently attached at the hip. "Platonic soulmates" they say, repeated ad nauseam. Two people who should be siblings. A pair of bickering sisters who are also sometimes gross brothers. A brother and sister duo so chaotic they give the Sinclairs a run for their money.

Platonic soulmates who act like two silly drunk girls when they are out at a bar. Two losers who cackle with laughter and sing along far too loudly to the radio on the way home.

A pair of idiots stumbling up the stairs in Steve’s house, gradually discarding jackets, bags and accessories.

Eddie is relatively sober, having played with the band and Nancy is tipsy, never one to entirely shake her sensible and put-together self. So Eddie follows behind, closing the front door, locking it and turning the lights off, while Nancy scurries along picking up the tossed attire.

"You're my best friend!" Robin shouts, squishing Steve's cheeks together as they hang off each other, wobbly at the top of the stairs.

"Love you, Robbie!" Steve says, voice cracking as he sniffles and kisses her on the cheek.

He takes her hand and they disappear up the hall.

By the time Eddie reaches Steve’s bedroom, Steve and Robin are passed out on that plaid bedspread, all curled up together like two creatures huddled together for warmth and companionship.

Nancy grumbles as she straightens up the shoes scattered at the foot of the bed.

"I swear they forget we exist sometimes," she says, huffing as she tugs off Robin’s left boot that she’d only managed to unzip.

"Oh absolutely," Eddie agrees.

He can’t help but walk over to Steve’s bedside and brush his fringe from his face. Steve produces a gross snorting nose at the movement, cuddling in closer to his best friend.

"Stop… snoring… di…" Robin mumbles, not getting out her favourite nickname before drifting back off to sleep.

Eddie steps back and folds his arms, resigning himself to spending his Sunday tolerating two hungover platonic soulmates in their worst and most annoying form.

Nancy rolls her eyes. "Get your bag and come into the spare room."

They make quick work of changing, Eddie in an oversized band tee and a pair of Steve’s checked pyjama pants he had taken ownership of. He looks in the mirror as he stands side-by-side Nancy in the upstairs bathroom, both brushing their teeth in silence. He looks over her pale pink nightdress, embellished with embroidered flowers and can’t help the huffed laugh that escapes him.

"What?" Nancy smiles and spits out her toothpaste in the sink.

"We look like an old married couple who have run out of things to talk about."

Nancy giggles, quickly moving to a washcloth to wipe her mouth before she bursts out laughing. She zips up her cosmetics bag and makes a sharp turn to face Eddie, her brow quirked.

"Honey, did you enjoy the soiree this evening?" she says in an uptight, snooty voice, cocking her chin and giving a sly smile.

"Splendid, my dear!" he replies, toothbrush dangling from his mouth as he bows with a flourish. "Although the band was an absolute bore."

"Don't say that!" Nancy chides, breaking character as she playfully slaps his shoulder.

He snorts a laugh as he finishes up and rinses his mouth out, dripping water everywhere.

"Wheeler, there were like seven people there, including you, Steve and Rob," he laughs, dropping the facade too.

"Shall we retire for the night?" she says, changing the subject and slipping back into character. She offers her hand.

"To the bedroom!" he declares, pointing to the door.

The spare bedroom is, unsurprisingly, similar to the rest of the house. Sparse and low-lit with heavy dark curtains that make Steve’s plaid drapes look light and airy in comparison.

"I hope you don’t snore as much as Steve, Nancy," Eddie warns without any heat behind his words as he punches his pillow into a shape that isn't flat and solid.

"He does snore, doesn’t he?" she wonders aloud as she slips under the covers, huffing a laugh. "Robin talks in her sleep. Nothing serious or anything. Total nonsense."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Of course she does."

"Last week she woke me up," she starts as she pokes at his shoulder. "Tapping on my shoulder saying, ‘Nance, tell the fish it’s time to get ready for school’."

"Di-did you have… fish children?" he asks before doubling over, cackling.

"I think so," Nancy ponders, speaking slow before snorting a laugh.

"Goodnight, my dear."

"Night, honey."

At that, they turn away from each other, snuggling under the covers for a restful night’s sleep.

The following morning, Steve and Robin swap out his bed for cocooning themselves in blankets on the Harrington's gigantic couch as Eddie finishes up making their breakfast. They’d stirred fairly early in the morning, moving into the guest room and not-at-all subtly waking Eddie and Nancy to demand breakfast, all the while complaining about their whereabouts the night before.

Nancy enters the kitchen, freshly showered and laughs at the state of their counterparts. But they do not surface. If anything, Eddie swears Steve’s snoring is getting louder with every passing minute.

"Breakfast is all set, my dear," Eddie says, flinging a teatowel over his shoulder and offering her Steve's plate.

She hesitates but he gestures to the others on the couch. Robin is now babbling something incoherently as she taps Steve on the shoulder.

"Thank you, honey," Nancy giggles as she takes the food.

In The Light

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.9K]

When you’d told Steve you had a bad day, a bad week, you’d hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. Maybe give you a hug, sure, a kiss or five, a soft assurance that good days would come. 

He gave you all of that but you didn’t expect him to pull you into his lap and card his fingers through your hair, thumb pushed to the soft of your cheek and ask:

“How can I make it okay?”

You were so ready to shrug, to try and hide the tears gathering at your lash line because he was looking at you so sincerely it ached. Steve couldn’t make the bad days go away, but he could make the next one better. 

So he picked you up the next morning, the early sun making the summer sky hazy, that pretty pink lilac shade that still hung amongst the blue and Steve Harrington waited for you on the sidewalk like an all American dream. 

He stood by his car, hands in his pockets, leaning against the door, all summer and smiles, tanned skin and a new freckle or two because Steve was June and July and August, the beginning of a heatwave, the end of the longest, lightest night. 

All your stress ebbed away as you walked down the driveway to him, sundress short and flowy, Steve’s favourite colour on you and you acted coy as he gave you a whistle, low and all flirt, eyes flitting over your bare legs. 

He grinned, opened his arms for you to run the rest of the way into, catching you around the waist, kissing you soundly. It was sweet like the early hour, still sleep lined and soft, tasting like leftover mint toothpaste and coffee. Steve made a show of littering your face with kisses, even when you feigned annoyance, hiding your smile by ducking your chin but the boy pulled laughter from you like it was his job. 

And Steve was very, very good at his job. 

So he pressed spearmint kisses to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, over your lashes, your forehead, even an ear. He swallowed your laughter like medicine, gave you it back like a shot of serotonin and sunshine. 

“You ready?” Steve grinned, leaning into your touch as you smooth over his hair, fingers curling into the messy strands at the nape of his neck. 

“For what?” You’d replied, nose scrunched, eyes bright, ‘cause it was barely nine o’clock in the morning and it was already better than yesterday. 

“Only, like, the best day of your life,” Steve shrugged, smile downturned to play off his enthusiasm, all faux nonchalance as he pushed off of the door, turning to open it for you with a flourish. 

You laughed, bright and sharp, leaning over the top of the open car door, pushed to your toes so you could press your forehead to Steve’s. His eyes crinkled in the corners at your touch, your giddy smile, the smell of your perfume, your closeness. 

“Oh yeah? That’s big talk, Harrington,” your voice was quiet and teasing, enough flirt there to make Steve’s cheek ache from smiling so much. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Gonna rock your world, pretty thing. Buckle up.”

He drove you out of town with the windows down and the relief you felt as you passed the Hawkins sign was palpable. You left your worries behind, your stress, the nights with little sleep. The car smelled like Steve’s cologne, like takeaway coffee and leftover sunscreen and cologne from pool days last week. 

The boy wouldn’t tell you where he was taking you, would grin and squeeze softly at your thigh when you asked, warm palm curling around the bare skin under your dress, high enough to be almost scandalous, to make you feel as hot as the sun was on the windscreen. He turned the radio up louder, beamed when you sang along, eyes closed, head tipped back, wind whipping at your hair. 

It took about an hour and a half to drive into Indianapolis, the fields and farmland left behind to give way to a bigger landscape, taller buildings, wider roads and a lot less trees. You were leaning forward at each traffic light, looking at the signs, wondering what turn Steve was going to take next, where you’d end up. 

You gasped when Steve turned the last corner, the road bending and leading into a large parking lot, not all that busy. The sign above the big building told you exactly where you were. 

“The aquarium?” You asked, as if Steve was joking, as if he was going to drive away and your voice sounded small, soft and full of emotion. 

“Yeah,” Steve smiled, pulling into a space and turning off the engine. He turned to look at you, brown eyes as warm as honey, just as sweet too. “You told me your grandfather used to take you here, right?”

You nodded, lips pressed together so you didn’t cry or do something stupid, like ask the boy to marry you. 

“I figured it had maybe been a while since you’d come, but,” Steve tilted his head to look at you, pressed a thumb to your chin in a fond touch, “I thought it’d be a pretty chill day out.”

You hiccuped a laugh, eyes almost turning glassy and Steve would’ve been alarmed if he didn’t know you as well as he did. He leaned in, seatbelt still buckled and straining but he was smiling, that soft, warm smile you swore he only used for you. 

“Good surprise?” He murmured, nose nudging at your cheek. You were warm and it made him feel a little proud, happy to elicit such a pretty reaction from you. 

“Good surprise,” you confirmed, grinning as you let him kiss you, a soft peck of his lips against yours that soon gave way to more, as warm as the sun on the back of your neck. 

Your lips parted for Steve, far too easily considering the public setting but you were leaning over the console to meet him halfway, head tilted, mouth slanting over the boy’s as he kissed you soft and deep. It made you sigh, a sound that Steve swallowed, a contented little noise that Steve swore was his favourite, one he loved to try and pull from you whenever he could. He ran his tongue over yours, pulled back just enough to make you chase him, smiling through the kiss as you tutted at him, at his smugness. 

“If this makes you happy enough,” Steve murmured against your lips, grinning when you moved to kiss at his chin, his jaw, “I’m more than okay to do this all day.”

You snorted a little, a huff of laugh pressed against the line of his neck and you nipped the skin there to make him shudder. It worked and you pulled back, eyes a little darker than before, a shade that complimented Steve’s, both of your lips kiss bitten and rosy. 

“That’s a really tempting offer,” you told him and you weren’t even kidding, not really, not that much. “But I wanna see the sharks.”

Steve laughed, lips pressed together as he looked at you with so much adoration that it hurt your chest. He reached down to unfasten your seatbelt before doing the same to his, smoothing down your skirt and tucking a wild strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb rubbed a soft line over the high of your cheekbone. 

“Yeah? Sharks?” 

“Sharks,” you confirmed. 

So Steve slung an arm around your shoulders as you crossed the lot, two hands holding his as you stood by his side at the front desk, rolling your eyes when the boy refused to let you pay half. But giddy excitement took over as you walked out of the lobby and into the first room, dark except for the lights in the tanks, blue reflections on the floor, the walls, the sounds of trickling water and absolute peace.

Steve followed a little behind you, smiling fondly as your face lit up and lavender and fuchsia lights painted your face. It turned you cheeks a deeper colour than normal, lavender lips, barbie pink eyelids, eyelashes casting shadows. 

You touched the glass gently with your fingertips, everything about you soft, Steve noted. You watched the jellyfish float up and down, dreamlike in their motions, their slow dance reflected in your eyes. Steve was looking at you again. 

“I could stay here all day,” you told him quietly, a small smile on your face. 

Steve believed you, had watched the tension soften and ease from your shoulders, the weight of the world crumbling away as you watched the light dance off of the water. 

Steve leaned against the tank, a shoulder pressed to the glass so the lilac light scattered itself across his cheek, the slope of his jaw. His brown eyes looked black in the dark room and he was still watching you. You made his heart thump, a little harder than normal, just a little faster than it should. 

“But what about the sharks?” He asked and he grinned when you smiled, body leaning into his to indulge him. 

Steve’s fingertips caught yours, a soft touch, a beckon, a silent: ‘wanna come with me?’ You let him tangle your hand with his, fingers linked. He tilted his head and you followed, both of you walking past the few kids that were silently watching the stingrays float at the bottom of a shallow pool, noses almost touching the water. 

“I think I needed this,” you told Steve, voice sticky with emotion. The week had been hard, sleep not coming all that easy. You leaned into his, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you walked through the dark corridors, posters of sea creatures and underwater plants lining the walls. “This is nice.”

Steve smiled, turning his face to press a kiss to your temple, hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You seemed less tired, eyes a little brighter than he’d seen them in a while. 

“Yeah?” He murmured, pleased by your words. His cheeks were pink but you didn’t dare tease. “Good. I just want you to be happy, babe.”

It felt like your chest caved in at his words, so soft and so kind - so sincere - that your heart hurt. You stopped and tugged him back by the hand, a look of surprise in Steve’s eyes as he gazed at you. 

“C’mere,” you asked quietly, uncaring that you were in front of a tank, a shoal of pink seahorses swimming across coral behind you both. 

You anchored yourself to the boy, hands gripping his waist, fingers twisted into his cotton t-shirt. You pushed onto your toes, chin tilted up and you didn’t need to ask before Steve was leaning down for you, a smile already on his lips, eyes fluttering closed. 

“I’m here,” he whispered and you could hear his happiness in those two words, you could taste the joy. 

“Need to kiss you,” you told him, matter of fact about it and before he could reply, you were pushing your lips to his, a soft sound of delight coming from his chest. 

It was chaste, considering the few people that were milling around, too entranced by the animals to really take notice of two young lovers in the navy shadows. But you took your time with it, caught Steve’s bottom lip between yours, nudged at his cheek with your nose so he would indulge you a little more, leaning down further so you could trap his top lip too. 

He was grinning when you pulled away, a smile that matched yours, pink in the cheeks and the ultraviolet lights in his eyes. 

“What was that for?” Steve asked, before quickly adding, “not that I’m complaining, like, at all.”

You smiled, shy, shrugged and crinkled your nose as if the boy was asking a silly question. “You make me happy.”

You got another kiss in return, just as sweet as the first. 

Steve followed you around the aquarium, almost losing you to the shadows before finding you in the light, your buttercup yellow sundress turned orange in the red spotlights, each one illuminating a tank of deep sea creatures, spindly and strange looked, your nose pressed to the glass and your eyes wide. 

The boy was happy to linger, watching you light up, the quiet of the aquarium easing the crinkle that had lived between your brows for a week or two. You looked pretty, like you always did, but almost too pretty under the glow, the refractions from the water dancing across your bare legs. It was the most innocent kind of joy and Steve couldn’t help but laugh at you when you walked through the shark tunnels, hand in hand and naming each species. 

“This is an almost odd fascination,” he said fondly as you told him all about the dwarf lantern shark, which was apparently as small as a goldfish. “And its belly lights up?” He repeated. 

You nodded, eyes still scanning the roof of the tunnel, the glass glittering against the water and the light. A large nurse shark swam overhead and you grinned. “Yup. Like a glow stick.”

That’s how it went, Steve letting you tug at his hand, holding onto his arm as you pointed out this fish and that shark. You both watched as a small octopus, bright red in colour as it opened a jar, both of you enraptured and heads touching, staring through the glass. 

The aquarium was close to closing as you sat on a bench at the last attraction, a huge domed room that was mostly glass, the only light trickling in from the inside the tank, warm and dim. It lit up the shoals of fish, slow swimming and brightly coloured, the coral on the sandy bed just as pretty. 

Every now and then something big would swim past, casting shadows over the floor, you and Steve, a giant turtle, a stingray or two. It was peaceful, dark and quiet, both of you lit up in navy and green. 

You were watching a fish, something long and flat looking, as it bobbed across the tank floor digging at the sand and rocks. Steve was watching you. 

“Did you know, coral produces its own sunscreen?” you told Steve. You didn’t wait for a reply, eyes on the moving plants, a sunset scene of coloured under the water. “They make their own algae to protect them from sun rays.”

Steve didn’t answer so you tore your eyes away from the clownfish that was darting in and out of the bright pink anemone to look at the boy. 

He was smiling, eyes soft and fond, already looking at you. There was small freckles of light on his cheeks, dancing the same way the water moved, disappearing when a fish swam in front of him. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said. 

His words swallowed you whole, sticky like honey, warm and sweet and his voice was so full of affection for you that you almost didn’t know what to do with yourself. Steve was never shy with compliments and you were well used to them after being with him for so long, even before you were officially together. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you that made your heart thump, a solid beat beneath your ribs that you swore could be heard out loud. 

You didn’t know what to say, caught off guard and completely enamoured by the boy beside you, with his wild hair and pretty eyes, all soft lips and sharp lines. He had new freckles, tiny dots you could see even in the shadows, ones you were sure he’d received from the day he spent with you out by his pool.

They made him look a little younger, boyish and achingly handsome. 

So you hid from him, cheeks warm and bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you pushed your face to your shoulder, hands covering yourself as you made some strange noises of protest, as if you’d ever dare argue with Steve about it. 

You heard rather than saw him laugh, and then, his fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugging gently. “Don’t hide that pretty face from me,” he chided. “S’all mine.”

Steve pulled and you followed, onto your feet as he took your hands in his and towed you towards his lap. He settled you between his legs, tucked to his chest with his chin on your head, a kiss pressed there as you both watched the underwater world go by. 

You were grinning, beaming, that cheek aching kinda smile that you knew would last until bedtime and when Steve wrapped his arms around your middle and hugged you a little tighter, it only grew in size. He made you dizzy with happiness, turned you into a greedy, little thing that ached for his touch and attention, but oh my god, you’d never experienced joy like it. 

Steve was summer and sunshine and pool days and trips to the aquarium. He was long drives, messy hair, stolen kisses in the shadows and absolutely everything you needed. 

Everything you wanted. 

“Thank you,” you whispered and you wondered if he’d heard, if he could tell just how much you meant it. You felt weightless leaning against him, relaxed for the first time in days. 

But then he was curling down to you, lips on your cheek and you turned so he could catch the corner of your mouth, another kiss there for good measure. 

“Nothin’ to thank me for, baby,” he shrugged but you could tell he was smiling, you could tell he was happy that you were happy. “Jus’ doing my job.”

Steve walks into the Munson trailer like he does every Saturday morning; it’s apart of his and Eddie’s new routine after the Upside Down. They meet up there and have breakfast (or more likely lunch) and just chill together. 

Music was blasting from Eddie’s room, which is pretty normal, but what wasn’t normal was that Steve recognized what was playing. Elton John. Ok, what?

Steve brows furrow as he walks down the short hallway to the source, and pokes his head through Eddie’s open doorway. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

Sat on the floor with his legs criss-crossed, was Eddie. 

Only that wasn’t the weird part. 

Eddie was wearing a feather boa and those joke glasses with the fake nose and mustache, and he was rummaging through a shoebox. The chorus of the song starts to play, and Eddie is singing along with enthusiasm. “BENNY! Benny! BENNY! Benny! B-b-b-b-b-b-Benny and the JETS!” He was headbanging along now, and Steve’s jaw drops. 

Steve tears his eyes away long enough to look around the room. There were piles of stuff everywhere, more than usual, and the closet looked like it had been ripped apart. 

Eddie is completely absorbed in what he’s doing, so Steve decides to lean on the door frame and see how long it takes for Eddie to notice him. 30 minutes later, Eddie finally looks up, sees Steve, and screams, “What the fuck?!" 

"Me? What the hell happened in here, Eddie?” Steve says in between cackles. Eddie’s face of pure horror is diluted by the Groucho Marx glasses. Oh, Steve is never going to let Eddie live this down. 

Eddie regains his composure and crosses his arms. “I’m… cleaning." 

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up and he takes a very pointed look around the room. Eddie realizes he’s still wearing the stupid glasses and tears them off, throwing them into a seemingly random pile. "it’s a process, Steve." 

"Does this process include gasoline and a lighter?” Eddie levels him with a bored look. The feather boa still around his shoulders isn’t helping at all.

“Hardy har har, you’re hilarious, Steve. I just got a little distracted." 

"When did you start cleaning, Eddie?”  Eddie squints his eyes and looks like he’s thinking, then looks at the light coming through the window. “Sometime around 2am." 

Steve’s eyes widen and he puts his hands on his hips. "2am?! Why would you start cleaning at 2am?" 

Eddie stands up then, feather boa still around his shoulders, and mimics Steve’s stance, squaring his shoulders across from Steve. 

"Because I noticed the shower was dirty." 

Steve runs a hand over his face. "How does the shower being dirty turn into a tornado coming through your bedroom?" 

"Shower was dirty, so I needed to clean it. I needed some gloves and goggles because, let’s be honest, a hazmat suit would’ve been the best choice. So, I went to my room to look for something to use, and I found those glasses,” Eddie says gesturing in the vague direction he threw them, “but then I also found a notebook I lost two years ago. After that it all gets a little fuzzy." 

Steve just stares at him, jaw hanging again. He looks at Eddie for a moment before asking him, "So, is the shower clean?" 

"It is not." 

"Jesus Christ.”

TYLER HOECHLIN as Glen McReynolds in EVERYBODY WANTS SOME!! (2016)

Pregnancy Pillow vs Captain America

Pairings: Dad-to-be Steve Rogers x Pregnant Reader. Themes/Summary:Light-hearted. Steve is feeling lonely on his side of the bed, and it's the pregnancy pillow's fault. A/N: I haven't been giving Steve some love lately. . . so here a cute little oneshot of how he will react when y/n brings out the pregnancy pillow. I don't own any of the images ya'll credits to their owners.

tags: @mrsevans90 @haruvalentine4321

Steve comes out of the ensuite after his shower, his white t-shirt clinging to his body and hair damp. He throws you an easy smile, the kind that makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners, as he heads towards the bedroom. But the moment he steps inside, he halts mid-stride, staring at the bed like it’s personally offended him.

There it is again: the pregnancy pillow. An immovable, unforgiving barricade that now divides your once-cozy bed like a dam, stretching from one end to the other. Steve tilts his head, squinting at it as if that might reduce its size.

He throws his hands on his hips and sighs dramatically. 

“You know, I fought Hydra,” he says, voice dripping with exasperation. “I’ve been through hell and back. But this—” he gestures to the pillow, “—is the one enemy I can’t seem to defeat.”

You burst into laughter from your side of the bed, propped up by a series of other pillows meant to cushion every conceivable ache or discomfort. “Steve, it’s a pillow.”

“It’s a monstrosity,” he argues. “It’s like the Great Wall of China, but made out of—” he pokes at it cautiously, like it might snap back at him, “—fluffy foam and… whatever this is.” He groans, flopping down onto his side of the bed with a huff.

“Pregnancy pillows are supposed to be supportive,” you say in an exaggeratedly sweet tone, rolling your eyes.

“Supportive?” He scoffs, attempting to squeeze his hand through the tiny gap between the pillow and your hip. “It’s so supportive I need to make an appointment to get within three feet of my wife.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh as you watch him contort, his long arms flailing. “I know it’s not ideal, but I need it, Steve.”

“Why does it have to be so big?” He sounds like a sullen child, tugging at the end of the pillow like he’s considering wrestling it out of the bed entirely. “Can’t they make a smaller one? One that doesn’t make me feel like I’m living on the opposite side of the planet?”

You shake your head. “Trust me, if there were a way to make it smaller and still work, I’d be using it.”

Steve finally manages to get a bit of his arm over the pillow’s edge, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. He lets out a soft noise of triumph, and then—he leans in close, his forehead almost bumping the pillow’s fabric. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, as if the pillow itself is an eavesdropper. “Wanna come over to my side?”

Your laugh breaks out fully then. “Are you trying to seduce me over a pillow, Rogers?”

“Absolutely,” he deadpans, his face all faux-seriousness. He wiggles his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I’ve got ‘plenty’ of space over here, you know. Might be a little lonely, though. Could use some company.”

You lean back into the pillow, giggling at the sight of this fully-grown super soldier pouting at a piece of fabric. “I’m not crawling over this thing. You’ll just have to wait until the baby’s born.”

Steve blinks, his face crumpling in over-the-top shock. “Wait. Until the baby is born? That’s months away!”

“Yup.” You nod solemnly, enjoying the way his mouth drops open.

“Months?” He repeats, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m supposed to be a dad in a few months and I can’t even get a hug?”

You finally give in, shifting to face him. 

“C’mere, you big baby.” With some maneuvering, you manage to reach over the pillow, clasping his face between your hands. He grins triumphantly and leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if it’s the greatest victory he’s ever won.

Steve kisses your palm, peeking an eye open at the pillow. “We’re not done yet, pillow,” he mutters dramatically, earning another peal of laughter from you.

He straightens and stares at the pillow again, rubbing his chin like he’s trying to come up with a strategy. “Maybe… I can find a way to make this work.”

“Oh really?” you tease. “You’re gonna outsmart a pillow?”

“Absolutely.” He nods firmly. “If I can’t get past it, I’ll just have to—” With sudden determination, Steve heaves his leg over the top of the pillow, straddling it awkwardly like he’s mounting a wild horse. You raise an eyebrow, biting back a grin.

“Steve—”

He shushes you, waving a hand. “Shh. Let me have this.”

You watch, thoroughly amused, as he tries to maneuver his entire body over the pillow without crushing it—or falling off the bed. He flops, shifts, and mutters curses under his breath, but finally—finally—he makes it to your side, lying beside you with a triumphant smirk.

“See?” he pants, a little out of breath. “I did it.”

“Wow,” you say, clapping lightly. “Captain America, conqueror of pillows.”

“Damn right.” He beams at you, his face flushed from the exertion. “Now…” He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, despite the awkward angle. His hand, large and warm, comes to rest gently on your rounded stomach. His thumb makes slow circles over the fabric of your nightshirt, brushing against the small rise. The smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost reverent. 

“Hey there, little one.”

The teasing, playful glint in his eyes fades to something softer, more intense as he gazes down at your belly. His palm splays wide, covering the bump entirely, and he rubs with a featherlight touch. You feel the familiar flutter of movement beneath his hand, and Steve’s entire face lights up.

“Did you feel that?” He whispers, eyes wide with wonder, his breath catching.

You nod, your hand covering his, sharing the moment with him. “That’s your baby, Steve.”

He swallows hard, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes as he continues to trace gentle patterns on your skin. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I can’t believe… this is happening.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion he’s never been able to hide from you. “You’re going to be a wonderful dad.”

He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Only because you’re going to be an amazing mom,” he murmurs against your skin. His hand lingers on your stomach, his fingers spreading as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of it.

The baby shifts again, and Steve lets out a soft laugh, a sound filled with awe. “I’m pretty sure this little one already loves you more than anyone else.”

“And what about you?” you tease, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

He shrugs, eyes still fixed on your stomach. “I’ll just have to win them over.” He glances up, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “Starting with getting rid of this pillow.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, Captain. It stays.”

He sighs dramatically but leans down to kiss your belly one more time. “Okay, okay, you win,” he mutters, though the smile on his face is nothing short of blissful. “For now.”

You lean back, resting your hand atop his, and the two of you stay like that for a while—Steve murmuring quiet promises to the baby, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your belly. Even with the pillow still stubbornly wedged between you, it’s one of the most intimate moments you’ve ever shared.

Steve might be fighting a losing battle against the Great Pillow, but right now, with his hand on your stomach and your laughter filling the room, he’s never felt closer to you.