#loud orange steve

[steviewashere]

Y'know, my sibling does this really wonderful thing to me when we're talking or arguing sometimes where they'll just turn their hearing aid off.

And I know I've read it before, of Steve turning his hearing aid off because the rooms gets too loud or something.

But if there's one thing I know, it's that Steve Harrington is a petty, petty bitch. He's in the middle of a roundabout argument with Eddie, them circling around each other like two hungry hawks, and then he remembers: Oh, I actually don't need to listen to this right now. I'm just gonna...And then he turns off his hearing aid. And he makes sure that he does it while Eddie's looking directly at him, too. Just so that he knows they're gonna revisit the argument. But right now? Right now, Steve just wants complete and utter silence.

And you may be like, that's terrible communication, Stevie.

Yeah, I know. But listen to me, it's the funniest fucking thing in the world when my sibling looks me dead-on and just turns off her hearing device.

I think he'd only turn his hearing aid off, though, when the argument is stupid and small and petty. Like, they're arguing over who last did the dishes because there's a plate that went through the dishwasher with cheese still stuck on it or something. Or maybe Eddie dried Steve's jeans and now they're too small, even though they were already small to begin with. Or something about one of them having too many water glasses on their nightstand. I don't know, just stupid, pointless shit.

Think the funniest scenario, though, is them years in the future watching something like Wife-Swap or The Real Housewives of Orange County or, even, Rupal's Drag Race. And they're having a very heated argument about who their favorite is on [insert reality TV show here]. But Steve just absolutely despises the person Eddie is choosing to defend with his honor—he's already has his daily bitch and dish session with Robin about their shared favorite reality TV show star—so he just decides to tune Eddie out.

Or they're watching a football game. And Steve's team is playing against Eddie's favorite team (he grew up watching football with Wayne). Then, there's a bogus call made against Steve's team, he is just so appalled by not only the ref's decision, but also the way Eddie is responding to it. He turns off his hearing aid for a few minutes and elects to not watch, "This utter horseshit of a game."

Give me petty, bitchy HoH/deaf Steve Harrington.

[buckets-and-trees]

Viking Steve stirring from sleep because of a tickling sensation. His first thought is that maybe you're trying to slip away, but you're there, soundly asleep and snuggled to him naked and sated. It takes him a moment to realize... that an orange kitten is trying to climb over him to get to you 🤭

Fierce Affirming Sight of Sunlight

Characters/Pairings: Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: this one is soft dark; newly established relationship; kidnapped wife; use of pet name (little wife)

Notes: Don't ask me how it happened, but somehow we ended up with no smut here.

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The tickling sensation at his ribs drags Steven from the depths of sleep like a fish caught on a hook. His arm instinctively tightens around the warm body nestled against him, his warrior's reflexes responding before his mind fully awakens. For a heartbeat, he thinks you're trying to slip away—to escape the fate he's carved for you with his sword and his body.

But no. You remain curled against him, your breathing deep and even, your naked form pressed to his beneath the furs. In sleep, your face holds none of the wariness that shadows it in waking hours. Something in him warms at the sight. You look peaceful. Claimed. His.

The tickling comes again, more insistent this time. Steven glances down to find tiny orange paws kneading at his side, needle-sharp claws innocently pricking at him, the tiny kitten not knowing the minuscule pain of its barbs. 

The kitten mews softly, its tiny body vibrating with determination as it attempts to scale the mountain of Steven's torso. Dark blue eyes fix on you with singular purpose, ignoring the warrior king it's using as a stepping stone. 

"Determined little beast," Steven mutters, watching as the kitten wobbles precariously on his ribs. The creature had been part of his traditional wedding gift to you—kittens to bring fertility and protection to the household. He hadn't expected one to choose you so quickly, much less invade his bedchamber before dawn. 

The kitten's paws slip on Steven's skin, and it digs its claws in to prevent a fall. Steven winces but doesn't move to dislodge the tiny creature. Instead, he watches with grudging fascination as it continues its journey, finally reaching his chest where it pauses to consider the best placement to curl up next to you before crawling into the crook of your elbow and curling into a tiny ball. 

Steven resists the urge to remove the intruder. The ancient traditions say that a cat choosing its mistress is a sign from the goddess Freya herself—a blessing on the marriage. He's not a superstitious man, but neither is he foolish enough to reject a favorable omen. 

The faint gray light of pre-dawn filters through the leaded glass windows, casting long shadows across the chamber. Outside, his fortress is beginning to stir—servants kindling fires, warriors preparing for morning training, fishermen heading to their boats. His kingdom awakens, unaware that their king lies watching his new queen sleep. 

You stir slightly, your brow furrowing as if troubled by dreams. Your hand moves unconsciously to cup the kitten, fingers tangling in its soft fur. The creature responds with a purr disproportionately loud for its tiny size.

Steven studies your face in repose. He's seen countless beautiful women in his raids across distant shores—some he's taken to his bed, others he's passed over, none he's brought home. Until you. You are different. There's a fire in you, a resilience that withstood his violence. You bend but don't break. 

Steven reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with calloused fingers that have ended countless lives. The gesture is practical, not tender—he wants to see you clearly, to examine what he's claimed. He catalogs your features like territory conquered: the curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, the flutter of your eyelashes against your skin. 

You are a valuable acquisition, he reminds himself. A trophy and a necessity. His people need a queen, and he needs sons. The unexpected satisfaction he finds in your company is merely a fortunate circumstance.

He shifts away carefully, disentangling himself without waking you. The kitten opens one eye in mild protest but doesn't move from its place against your warmth. Smart creature.

The cold stone floor greets his bare feet as he rises, muscles flexing against the morning chill. There's work to be done—a kingdom doesn't run itself while its ruler lingers in bed, regardless of the temptation beside him.

Steven dresses efficiently, fingers working the familiar patterns of laces and buckles. His wedding night indulgences these three days since he married you before his people must give way to his other duties. The southern villages report Saxon raids. The shipbuilders await his inspection on their newest vessels. The council of elders has been patient with his marriage celebrations, but they expect their king to return to matters of state.

He glances back at you, still peaceful in sleep, the orange kitten curled against you like a tiny guardian. The sight stirs something in him he cannot name—something beyond mere possession or lust. 

He shakes the feeling away with a scowl. Sentiment is a weakness he cannot afford. 

Steven buckles his sword belt with practiced movements, the familiar weight of steel at his hip reassuring. He is a warrior first, a king second, and a husband third. The order must remain clear in his mind. 

As he reaches for the door, a small sound stops him. The rustling of furs, a faint intake of breath. He turns to find you watching him through half-lidded eyes, the morning light casting shadows across your face. The orange kitten stretches against you, its tiny paws flexing before settling back into the crook of your arm.

"You're leaving," you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep. 

Steven pauses, hand on the door latch. "I have duties," he says, his tone measured, revealing nothing of his earlier thoughts. "A king's work begins early."

You sit up slowly, the furs falling away to expose your bare shoulders, marked with the evidence of his passion from the night before. The sight stirs his blood, tempting him to return to bed, to delay his duties for one more hour of claiming you. 

"What am I to do today?" you ask, and he notes how you've already learned not to question whether you may leave the fortress, but only what your role entails. 

"Helga will attend you," he replies. "Today is soon enough for you to begin learning your duties as queen.”

"What duties?" you ask, your voice stronger now as sleep recedes. 

Steven studies you, taking in the way you hold yourself—dignity wrapped around you like armor despite your nakedness. His queen, indeed. His instincts served him well in choosing you. Even stripped of everything, you maintain a certain grace that both pleases and challenges him. 

"You will oversee the household servants. Learn our customs. Begin to understand our laws." He moves back toward the bed, drawn despite himself. "And you will join me at the evening meal in the great hall. My people should see their queen at my side." 

The kitten mews insistently, pawing at your hand for attention. You absently stroke its fur, and Steven finds his eyes tracking the movement of your fingers, remembering how they felt against his skin last night. 

"I know nothing of your customs," you say quietly. "Your people will see my ignorance." 

"Then you will learn quickly." 

"I'm not afraid of their judgment," you say, meeting his gaze with unexpected boldness. "But I would not bring shame to my position."

Steven’s hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin and tilting your face up. The touch is not gentle, but neither does it hold the bruising force of his battlefield grip. It is the touch of a king to his property—firm, expectant, absolute.

"You adapted well to my bed," he says, voice low with remembered pleasure. "You will adapt to this too." 

Your cheeks flush at his words, but you don't lower your gaze. This small defiance pleases him more than complete submission would have. A broken queen would be of no use to him or his kingdom. 

"Helga has served three queens before you. She will guide you well." He approaches the bed, looming over you. "You have spirit, little bride. Channel it toward becoming the queen my people deserve." 

He bends down, claiming your mouth in a kiss that is both a reminder and a promise. His hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your sleep-tousled hair. When he pulls away, your lips are parted, your breath coming faster. 

"Tonight," he says, the single word heavy with meaning. 

The orange kitten chooses that moment to pounce on his hand, tiny teeth nipping playfully at his knuckles. Steven glances at the minuscule beast with a mixture of irritation and begrudging amusement. The creature has no idea it's attacking the most feared warrior in the northern lands. 

"It seems your guardian has claimed you already," he observes, detaching the kitten's claws from his skin. "The wise women will say it's a blessing from Freya."

"Do you believe that?" you ask, curiosity evident in your voice. 

Steven considers the question. "I believe in what I can touch with my hands and cut with my sword," he says finally. "But I've lived long enough to know there are forces beyond our understanding." He strokes the kitten's tiny head with one finger. "Whether divine or not, the creatures are useful. They keep the rats from the grain stores." 

He straightens, resuming his kingly bearing. "Name it if you wish. It's yours to care for now, little wife." 

With that, he turns and strides toward the door, his movement fluid and predatory even in the simple act of crossing the chamber. At the threshold, he pauses, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

"Remember," he says, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of command, "you are no longer a village maiden. You are my queen. Carry yourself accordingly." 

The door closes behind him with a heavy thud, leaving you alone with the orange kitten and the lingering scent of him on your skin. 

His body remembers the warmth of your flesh pressed against his, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused hands, and though he knows the business of this day will make the sun move quickly, he is eager for nightfall and the moment he will drag you back to his bed and ease somewhat the insatiable hunger he has for your body. 

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[moonstruckme]

Maeeeeee, would you maybe write something about reader being self conscious about not having like, “flawless” skin like maybe there’s some bumps from acne or KP on her body and she’s worried that her bf won’t want to touch her bare skin or cuddle because of it? Could be with Steve or tasm!Peter if you feel at all inspired. If not, no worries :-) <3

Ty <3

cw: reader has insecurities around body acne

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 786 words

Peter slumps onto his bed, hardly noticing the two kernels of popcorn that tumble out of his bowl. He cozies right up to your side. 

“Let me in there.” 

You lift the blanket around your shoulders, allowing him to slip underneath and situate the popcorn between you. Peter’s room is slowly becoming your favorite haunt in the city. He’s got a great view, with a window that looks out at the skyline but is too far up to get much street noise. His bed has been worn down to peak comfort, with a springy mattress and sheets washed to soft perfection. And when he lays against you like this, the light of a movie’s opening credits coming from his laptop to wash his face in an ever-morphing gradient of colors, you really just cannot think of any place you’d rather be. 

Peter kisses your head like he knows what you’re thinking, grabbing a handful of popcorn before gathering you close to his chest. His arm comes around your shoulders. When his fingertips brush over bumpy skin, you shift sideways, drawing in a breath. It’s not terribly dramatic, but it’s enough to cause concern. 

Peter looks down at you, colors morphing from green to blue on one side of his face. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing, sorry—just, I have some acne there.” 

“Oh, shit, sorry.” Peter’s hand falls away. He presses pause on his laptop, and you feel awash with embarrassment. “It hurts? Want me to have a look?” 

“No, it doesn’t really hurt.” The movie has stopped on a dark orange color, likely adding a warm hue to your now warming face. 

“Okay.” Your boyfriend looks confused. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure,” you say to reassure him. “It doesn’t hurt, it’s just that it’s…bumpy.” 

He nods for a moment. “Right,” he says slowly. “So it bothers you when I touch it?” 

“I…no.” Suddenly, you realize that you have no idea where you were going with this. You feel stupid for bringing it up at all. “It doesn’t bother me, necessarily.” 

“Okay.” Peter relaxes back into his previous position, his arm around your shoulders. But he doesn’t touch your bumpy skin, as though still exercising caution. “Then what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You jumped like I’d electrocuted you when I put my hand on your shoulder.” 

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to touch it.” 

His head cocks to the side. “Why not?” 

“Because…it’s…” It feels weird to say out loud. There’s something about voicing insecurities that makes them worse than they are in your head. “Peter,” you say in a soft voice. Pleading a little, because your boyfriend is smart. Surely he can put it together without your help. 

The sympathetic line of his mouth reveals that Peter has, in fact, put it together. “I promise you,” he says, “I don’t give one single shit what your skin feels like. Or what it looks like.” 

“It’s okay if you do.” 

“I don’t. Seriously. I just want to hold you, is that okay?” 

“Of course it’s okay.” Your voice has turned quiet, caught between shame and fondness. “I just didn’t want you to be surprised, or to…for you to think you had to put up with it if it grossed you out.” 

“Oh, my god,” Peter groans theatrically. “Shut up.” He kisses your head, then your cheek, then slouches to hit your shoulder. “I love you, but shut up. I never want to hear you say ‘gross’ in relation to yourself ever again, do you get that?” 

“Okay,” you murmur sheepishly. 

“Good.” He drops another kiss on your shoulder for good measure. “Even if it had surprised me, sweetheart, it’s not like it would have been so jarring. It happens, it’s normal. I don’t care.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you hearing me? You’re perfect. Exquisite. There is no part of you I don’t want to touch. Not that I’m, erm, suggesting anything other than movie-watching tonight, but. You know.” 

Your lips tug. By the way Peter smiles back, with relief, you wonder if that was half the plan. 

“The only thing I care about,” he goes on, voice dropping into a more sincere register, “is that I’m not touching you anywhere you don’t want me to. So, are you sure you don’t mind?” 

“I’m sure,” you say. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Peter gives you a good squeeze, hand settling comfortably over your shoulder again. “Don’t be sorry. The only thing I love more than feeling you up is listening to you talk. Actually, maybe we should scrap this whole movie and you can just monologue to me.” 

“I’m good.” 

“No? I feel like it’d be really fun.” 

“No, I don’t think so. Press play, Peter.”

[crowsofdarkness]

Just For Tonight: Part One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes spanking, voyeurism, oral with male receiving, protected p in v with reader being on birth control, anal, and m/f/m relations.

Summary: Steve lets you live out your secret fantasy. Just for tonight.

Authors Note: This is basically porn with some plot. Part Two will be posted later. Enjoy!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr

-this is not connected to my other Stucky fic Ménage a Trios-

PART TWO

“You’re such a little brat,” Steve stumbled into his bedroom with me attached on his lips. 

My hand worked at the buttons of his jacket, trying to get it off, but he smacked them away. 

“Steve,” I whined, my pussy clenching around nothing. 

His hair wasslicked but he blew away a few loose strands. There was a darkness in his eyes, something I didn’t recognize, and for a brief moment it scared me. 

“You’ve been riling me up all night knowing I can’t do anything about it. Then when I finally think we’re going to fuck, you stop and talk to an old friend for twenty minutes,” I angrily gruffed while crossing my arms over my chest.

Steve cocked his head to the side, those eyes glazing over the pout of my bottom lip before glancing over my shoulder briefly. 

“Haven’t you learned anything? Don’t you want to be a good girl for me, Y/N?” 

I gulped loud in the quiet darkness of his bedroom, knowing that whatever I was in for tonight wouldn’t be good. 

Not like I would complain. 

“Take it off,” he plucked at the strap of my dress. 

I quickly shimmed out of it, letting the silky material pool at my feet. Steve’s hungry eyes raked over my bare chest and pebbled nipples, licking his lips ever so slowly. He closed the distance between us, engulfing me in a feverious kiss that was filled with biting lips and crashing teeth. His tongue devoured every inch of my mouth, reveling in the taste of my drink earlier. I scratched and clawed at his shirt, wishing he would take it off so I could graze my teeth over every inch of skin. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing,” Steve bit along my jawline, down to my neck as his fingers worked circles on my clit.

I hissed in pleasure, trying to remove his clothing while I stood bare for him.

“I’m fucking tired of all the teasing, Steve,” I grumbled and began working on his belt.

The sound of skin on skin echoed in the room and I cried out in ecstasy when he slapped my ass again.

“I’m tired of you being a brat. Get on your knees,” his eyes darkened.

I stood tall to him, not backing down with a wicked smirk on my face.

“No.”

Through the darkness of his bedroom, only cast in the ever-growing light of the moon, Steve stepped back into the shadows with a playful gleam in his eye as a darker voice sounded from the corner of the room. My shoulders went stiff as the smirk was wiped off my face, knowing exactly who that voice belonged to.

“You heard him, doll. Get on your fucking knees.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to gather my bearings as I turned slowly towards the voice, now seeing the figure sitting in the corner of Steve’s bedroom. His ankle was crossed over to his other knee, tattooed hands resting on the arms of the chair. 

“B-Bucky,” you gulped. “How long have you been sitting there?” 

A soft click echoed in the room and it was soon bathed in an orange glow thanks to him turning on the lamp next to him. I sucked in a breath at the sight before me. 

Bucky was still dressed in his party clothes and his hair somehow managed to stay perfectly combed back from when I last talked with him last on the couch less than an hour ago. 

There was a typical monthly party at the Avengers Tower and even though I’d been glued to Steve’s hip all night, I found myself slipping away to talk to Bucky. 

“Wait,” I turned back to Steve. “Did you two plan this?” 

He gently cupped my cheek and left a chaste kiss on my lips. “I see the way you look at him, Y/N. How your eyes linger when he walks away.” 

My lips parted to speak but felt a swift smack to my ass. 

“Don’t lie,” Steve clicked his tongue. “It’s clear you want him to fuck you.”

“Steve,” I breathed, trying to figure out what to say. 

It was futile though because it was true. 

While I loved Steve with every part of my soul, lately I couldn’t ignore the way my heart leaped into my throat when Bucky walked into a room. It wasn’t always like this, I’d grown up with both of them. But recently, as Bucky started becoming healthier and growing into the man that sat before me, something in my brain kept telling me to let my gaze linger a while longer than what’s deemed normal for someone who was in a relationship. 

“I know what happened in the kitchen,” Steve chuckled. 

My head snapped back to Bucky, anger radiating off of me in waves. “You told him?” 

He tried to wipe the smirk off of his face, failing miserably. “I don’t keep secrets from Steve.”

It felt as if a weight had pulled down my stomach when I remembered what happened in the kitchen three nights ago. 

Tiptoeing down the stairs quietly in fear of waking up the rest of the house, I pulled on the bottom of Steve' shirt hoping it would cover my ass. Unfortunately it didn't and part of my yellow panties peaked through the end of it. 

“Just a quick snack,” I muttered into the dark air, reaching for the fridge. 

“Did you want some popcorn?” 

Screaming, I whirled around to see Bucky sitting at the kitchen table, lit up by the faint light of his phone. He extended a bowl of popcorn towards me. 

“What the fuck!” I held a hand to my racing heart. “You scared the shit out of me, Bucky!” 

Chuckling, he rose from the table to slowly stalk over to me. “Steve asleep?” 

I raised a brow. “Yeah, why?” 

Bucky shrugged before running a hand through his long hair and I did my best not to gawk at his bare chest. 

“My room is next to his and you’re not exactly quiet,” he said while standing in front me, towering over with his tall frame. 

Heat rose to my cheeks when I realized exactly what he was talking about. 

“Uh,” I pulled down the end of my shirt, hoping to cover my ass. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t even realize how loud I can be.”

He hummed, the noise vibrating in his chest, and his vibranium fingers swiftly brushed over the heated skin of my thigh. 

“Don’t apologize, Y/N. I liked what I heard.” 

My gaze flashed down to his cock when I felt it brush up against my thigh, feeling exactly how much he liked what he had heard. Every part of me ignited with a burning desire that seemed to only be lit when Bucky was around. The guilt wouldn’t stop eating away at me though because I knew it was wrong to feel this way, especially because Steve also made me feel the same. 

I loved Steve so much, I saw a future with him. We’d been together for years. 

But the prospect of something new lingered on my mind for quite some time and the more I tried to ignore it, the harder it became to tell myself I didn’t want Bucky as well. 

“Bucky,” I breathed as my eyes fluttered shut. 

His fingers grazed up the skin of my thigh, burrowing up the shirt so they could rest on my hips. His warm breath tickled the side of my neck as he breathed me in deep. I didn’t push him away, I let his lips graze over the purple marks Steve left earlier and my fingers wrapped around his thick biceps. My nails dug into the skin, claiming what wasn’t mine. 

“Yellow is your color, doll,” he ghosted over my lips before stalking out of the kitchen, leaving me in a pool of my own desire. 

“It wasn’t anything,” I tried to tell Steve, hoping he would understand. 

With his hand still resting on my cheek, he grazed his thumb just underneath my eye. 

“It’s alright, honey,” he reassured you with another kiss. “I talked with Bucky and I have something to run by you.”

A sudden chill brushed over me, causing my nipples to peak. 

“What is it?” 

Bucky spoke next, still sitting in the chair in the corner of Steve’s room. “One night. You can have the both of us for one night.”

I nearly choked on my spit when I realized my darkest desire was about to come true. 

“You’re joking, right? This is some kind of prank?” I asked Steve. 

He sternly shook his head. “It’s the truth, Y/N. As long as you agree, you can have Bucky either along with me or just him. Just for tonight.” 

My jaw fell to the floor in shock. There was absolutely no way that Steve was being serious. The second I touched Bucky, would he freak out and break up with me? 

“How do we expect things to go back to normal after tonight? You can’t possibly think we’ll all forget this happened,” I snorted. 

“Doll.” 

Turning my head towards Bucky, he beckoned me over with a crooked finger but I was still unable to move. I felt Steve slink up behind me, his hands trailing up my stomach. 

“It’s alright, honey,” he whispered. 

Swallowing thickly, I took a step towards Bucky but he sharply shook his head. 

“Crawl.”

Heat shot straight down to my core, that fire igniting as I slowly dropped to my knees so I could crawl over to him. His ocean eyes were blown wide as they tracked my every movement until I stopped in front of him. 

“I need you to agree, doll,” he said, body vibrating with adrenaline. 

I threw a look over my shoulder at Steve who had sat on the edge of the bed resting his elbows on his knees. He gave me another reassuring nod so I looked back to Bucky. 

“Yes,” I breathed. 

The pale skin his neck bobbed slightly as he swallowed. “Take my cock out and stroke it.” 

Fucking finally. 

My hands worked quickly to undo the button and zipper on Bucky’s pants and I gasped when I noticed how hard his cock was in the confines of his briefs. 

“Do you see what you do to me?” He groaned while his cock sprang free.

I licked my lips at the sight of precum that beaded at the head of his cock; so pretty and pink. 

While Steve’ was a bit shorter and thicker, Bucky’s was longer and had a vein that ran underneath. It looked angry, like he’d been fighting a boner all night long. My hand worked up and down, squeezing every so often as I went, and Bucky’s head fell back against the chair. 

“Fuck,” his jaw went slack when my mouth began to take all of him. 

His hands found my hair, keeping me locked in place as he fucked into my throat. My feet dug into the carpet trying to keep myself locked in place and my nails dug into his clothed thighs. 

“Easy, Bucky,” Steve warned. 

“She can take it. Can’t ya, doll?” Bucky’s one hand cupped my cheek, working out the tightness. 

I nodded, urging him to keep going with a pat to his thigh. 

Now he didn’t hold back, rising up from the chair as he fucked the back of my throat all while keeping my head in place. 

“Shit,” he cursed. 

Opening my eyes, I glanced up at him with tears, begging him to keep going. 

“Beautiful,” he mused while holding his arms out wide moments before I felt his warm seed shoot down the back of my throat. 

I hummed in such delicious delight, swallowing all of him, before falling back to my knees and wiped the drool with the back of my hand. Bucky was still slumped in the chair, breathless, and I dared a glance over to Steve to see that he was gripping the blanket tightly. I feared that maybe he was angry with what happened but realized he, in fact, loved what he saw because I could tell how hard his dick was underneath his pants. 

Large hands gripped me from my armpits and forced me to sit on a lap, Bucky’s warm breath fanning over the back of my neck. He spread my legs wide, giving Steve a preview of how wet I was between them. 

“Do you want to be a good girl and give him a show?”

I nodded to Steve. “Can I?” 

He palmed his dick. “Of course, honey. I want to see you fall apart.” 

“Touch yourself,” Bucky rasped while biting my ear. 

Moaning out in pleasure, my fingers worked in fast circles against my clit and when Bucky’s cock brushed along my folds, I shivered in his embrace. 

“You want my cock, doll? You’re so fucking needy for it like the slut you are.” 

“Please,” I choked out. “I’ve wanted it for so long.” 

I felt Bucky’s chest rumble underneath me. “Did you hear that, Steve? Your girl has been wanting my cock for a long time.” 

Steve snorted. “Tell me something I don’t know.” 

My entire body was red from not only the heat of my growing orgasm but the fact that these two could read me like a book. Knowing what I wanted before I even knew. 

I jerked, halting my actions slightly, when Bucky pressed himself inside of me. 

“She has an implant,” Steve answered for me when he realized I was too far gone with touching myself that I wouldn’t be able to answer. 

Slowly but all at once, Bucky filled me completely and I groaned out his name. My hips rode against the length of it and my hand, that familiar white haze creeping into all of my senses. 

Unlike how he fucked my throat, Bucky was soft and gentle while dragging his cock in and out of my pussy. 

“So tight,” he bit down on the skin of my shoulder, causing me to cry out in ecstasy. 

“I’m so close,” I panted, fingers working even faster. 

Grunting filled my ears and through lidded eyes, I watched as Steve pumped his cock desperately trying to chase his own release. The sight of me being speared open by Bucky’s cock drove him wild, his hair no longer slicked back. 

A hand turned my face and now I was staring at Bucky, whose eyes glanced down to my lips; a silent question. 

“Please,” I sighed. 

His lips tasted different than Steve’s. They were softer, more plump and the few hairs that peppered around his mouth tickled my skin as our tongues danced slowly together, getting used to each other. 

Without warning, my orgasm tore through me violently and I screamed my release into Bucky’s mouth. His cock twitched inside of me before I felt that familiar feeling coating my insides, spilling onto my thigh and his pants. 

“Fucking hell, doll,” Bucky tried to catch his breath and wrapped his arms tighter around me. 

Steve halted his grip on his cock to lift me off of Bucky, tossing me onto the bed. I was exhausted but knew we were only just getting started. 

“I need you now, honey.” Steve made quick work of discarding all of his clothes. “Is that alright?” 

I reached out for his hand, pulling him down on top of me. “Please, Stevie.” 

His eyes fluttered shut at my nickname for him and then he lined his cock up with my pussy. “I won’t last long. Seeing you on Bucky’s cock nearly tipped me over the edge.” 

I ran a hand through his long hair and gave a lazy smile. “It’s alright.” 

The vast difference between the two men was evident as Steve’ cock filled me. His pace was erratic, him pulling my knees to my chest so he can fuck into me even deeper. 

The bed creaked beneath us, the headboard slamming into the wall, and Bucky chuckled from his corner of the room. 

“This is what I would hear every fucking night. Imagining this scene in front of me; although seeing now, it’s much better than what I thought,” Bucky said. 

I turned my head towards him, watching as he slowly rose from the chair to toss his clothes to the growing pile on the floor.

“Holy shit,” I mused at the sight in front of me. 

Bucky was like a god, as well as Steve. A pair of super soldiers. The muscles of Bucky’s stomach constricted as he began lazily stroking his cock. I held out a hand, inviting him over to us. He was too far away, I needed to feel his body heat against me again.

“Honey?” Steve whined in my ear, causing my attention to snap back to him. “I can’t hold on.” 

I pressed a kiss to his lips. “Cum for me, Stevie. It’s alright.” 

I knew he wanted to try and bring me to another orgasm and felt bad. But I reassured him it was alright and soon felt himself spill inside of me; his cum mixing with Bucky’s. 

Spent, he fell to the bed beside me and I gazed tiredly up at the ceiling, noticing all the faint hairline cracks that ran along it. The bed dipped at my feet and I felt Bucky’s long vibranium fingers gather the cum that started to run down my legs, forcing it back inside of me. 

“We can’t have this go to waste, doll,” he pressed a kiss to the inside of my knee. 

“Bucky,” I whined when he slipped in another finger. “I don't think-.” 

“You can. I know you can,” his voice was gone, taken by the lust that consumed him. 

Steve rose from the bed to help Bucky position me on my knees. Bucky then slipped underneath while Steve knelt behind me. His finger grazed over my puckered hole and I shivered. 

We’d only have done anal a few times, more recently the last few days. It was then that I realized he was preparing me for this moment. 

“Stevie,” my head fell against his shoulder. 

He kissed me long and slow, savioring how I faintly tasted like Bucky. 

“You can back out if you want,” he reminded me. 

I shook my head. “No, I want this.” 

I then looked down to Bucky, who gave me a warm smile. “I want both of you.”

It took a bit of finessing but we managed to get a perfect position as I slowly sank down on Bucky’s cock. Steve then pushed me over so my breasts could press against Bucky’s chest. His arms held me in place while Steve gathered some of the cum inside of me, coating his cock with it. 

“Safe word?” He asked. 

I glanced over my shoulder at him, remembering that we came up with one a while ago when we decided to start experimenting sexually. 

“Mercy,” I breathed. “But don’t stop.” 

“Keep her distracted, Bucky,” Steve ordered. 

He did by capturing my lips in a feverish kiss, one that was a fight for dominance and ultimately, he won. My nails scraped along his scalp, causing Bucky to hiss out in pleasure. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long, doll,” he admitted while moving his hips, fucking me all over again. 

I brushed away the sweat sticken hair from his forehead, agreeing with a nod. “I feel the same.” 

Steve left a kiss to the base of my spine. “Ready?” 

I nodded and slowly, the head of his cock began to press inside of my ass and my cries were swallowed by Bucky as he kissed me again. I’d never felt so full in my life and it took me a moment to adjust to having both of their cocks inside of me at the same time. 

“Tell us when, doll,” Bucky’s voice cooed in my ear. 

“Go,” I urged them on. 

After a moment, Steve and Bucky figured out the best rhythm that worked best and my body felt like it was in overdrive. All of my senses were heightened as both of their cocks worked in spreading me wide for them. The room filled with the scent of all three of us, tangling together with the tellings of our ever growing affair. Some might have thought this was wrong but it felt so right; so free. 

This was supposed to be one night and then we would go back to our normal, everyday lives. Bucky would have to watch Steve and I be in love while he received none of that. 

How was that fair to him? 

How was it fair to my heart that always yearned for him?

Bucky’s vibranium fingers wrapped around my throat, his thumb titling my chin up so he can leave bruising marks there with his lips. 

Steve' pace was slow, not wanting to hurt me, while Bucky’s was fast paced and down right ruthless; the perfect mixture that brought me closer and closer to the euphoric release I’d been craving. 

“Doll,” Bucky bit down on the sensitive part of my neck when his second release of the night filled me. 

His body fell limp underneath me but we dared not move, fear of stopping how good Steve felt inside of me. 

“I love you,” Steve panted into the skin of my back. 

“I love you too.” 

My eyes hooked with Bucky’s and for the briefest of moments, I could see something twinkle in them. Our lips met in another kiss and not a few seconds later, both Steve and I let out our releases at the same time. 

The three of us lay in a mess of tangled limbs, me snuggling up in Bucky’s chest while Steve held onto me from behind. I was sticky and wet between my legs but I couldn’t be bothered to clean up. Sleep was beginning to sink its claws into me, desperate to pull me into the darkness with it, until I felt the bed beneath me shift. 

Bucky was getting ready to leave after noticing Steve was asleep, an arm draped over my stomach. But I grabbed onto his arm, stopping Bucky. 

“Where are you going?” 

His ocean eyes motioned to Steve behind me but I pulled him back into bed with us. 

“Y/N,” he breathed. 

“Please stay? For me?” I begged with bright eyes. 

He brushed away a strand of hair from my face and eventually agreed with a gentle kiss to my lips. “Anything for you, doll.” 

None of us knew what this meant but I think we all could agree that we’d be unable to go back to our old lives after this. I’d have to be open to Steve about my feelings for Bucky and I could only hope he’d understand that my heart was big enough to love both of them; equally. 

For now though, I lay with both of them. Feeling both of their heartbeats and skin on mine lull me to the sleep my body was craving. 

[iwritefandomimagines]

A GOOD PLACE TO START — STEVE HARRINGTON

masterlist

pairing: scoops!steve harrington x bookstore worker!reader

description: you’d not known steve that well in school, but his reputation preceded him. the sight of him in your book store surprises you, but the conversation that follows you surprises you even more.

tags/warnings: angst if you squint, teasy cute flirtiness and then some real talk, tiny bit of hurt steve, mention of nancy, swearing (ofc it’s me), gender not specified, pg because it only goes as far as a cheek kiss for now lol

author’s note: eeeee i love steve harrington wholeheartedly and i can’t wait to make this a series. i hope you enjoy, im a lil rusty because it’s been a while. fluffy domestic (maybe established relationship, maybe initiation of it?) part two & more ideas in the pipeline… PLEASE let me know what you think and what you wanna see <3

———

The first time Steve set foot in your store was not of his own volition.

As with most things of late, it seemed, it was in fact at the behest of a very anxious Dustin who wanted a copy of some comic or other that had just been released in limited run and happened to be sold exclusively there.

Your eyes had found Steve Harrington the second he entered the store, and had rolled practically to the back of your head a second later as his found you.

That was something that hadn’t changed since high school.

He’d always been loud, always been confident. Always spoken to people without any real implication that he cared who he was speaking to beyond his core friendship group.

He looked momentarily bewildered and you couldn’t help but chuckle at what a sight to behold he was as he ambled in still wearing his Scoops Ahoy uniform.

The store was relatively small — you could never decide whether to blame the lack of enthusiasm for reading in Hawkins or the one rival book store in town and its very attractive owner — and the dim glow of its orange lighting lit him so well you might briefly be able to not perceive him as the devil incarnate.

Right, he might have been a perpetual pain in your ass in high school, but he’d never not been pretty.

And that was still the case even in his stupid work uniform.

“You’re telling me King Steve can read?”

Your lips curled up in a smirk, your arms folding across your chest as his hand fell to his hip with a shake of his head.

“Wow, Y/N,” his eyes widened in feigned surprise, tongue swiping across his lip for a moment, “That’s no way to treat a paying customer.”

Scoffing, your eyes trailed him as he took a final step and leaned forward onto the front counter, “That’s not a yes. What do you want, Harrington?”

His eyes flitted briefly around the store as if looking for something, “The kids want some lousy comic. S’posed to be out this week.”

You chuckled, choosing to ignore the small spread of warmth in your chest at the reminder of how much he cared for that group of kids.

He slid you a piece of paper containing its title, and for a moment you were relieved by the fact that you did in fact have one copy left and this wouldn’t have to turn into an argument.

“Ah, right,” you nodded, “You can’t look for it yourself on account of you not being able to read?”

“Still as funny as you were in school, huh,” his fake chuckle still lit his face up with a pretty smile and you cursed yourself for thinking so, “I can, in fact read. Tell you what, if you gave me your number I could even prove it.”

You weren’t as surprised by his request as you might have been before starting work in this shop — you’d heard many a whisper of Steve’s incessant flirtation with anyone and anything since he’d joined Scoops Ahoy.

You smirked, shaking your head with a laugh as he watched you carefully for your reaction.

“I think even you could manage reading a phone number,” you watched him huff, “And then what, I gotta listen to you yap on about your romantic exploits or something?”

Okay, maybe that was a little harsh.

“Why, would you get jealous, sweetheart?”

It took absolutely everything in you not to react with a squeal — but you were absolutely sure he’d noticed the prickle of a blush on your cheeks as his smirk only broadened.

You couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington was having this kind of effect on you, and you didn’t like that it was clear that he knew it.

You cleared your throat, hands resting on your hips now as you tried desperately to regain your composure.

“It’s no wonder you’re not having much luck with the ladies if you’re using lines like that, Stevie.”

For a moment you think you might have offended him, but he hides this quickly behind his usual lopsided grin, “No denial. But hey, what makes you think I’m so unsuccessful?”

“Have you forgotten that Robin is, like, one of my best friends?” you reminded him matter-of-factly, “Or was I really that much of a fleeting acquaintance to you in school that you don’t remember?”

He detects genuine insult in your tone, and for a second he almost reaches out to touch you when he knits his brows together and shakes his head, “You weren’t a fleeting acquaintance to me, are you kidding?”

For now, he doesn’t care that Robin is spilling gossip about his pitiful love life — he cares that you think he was totally unaware of you in high school.

Sure, you didn’t hang out. You didn’t talk much… Okay, maybe he got why you thought he was oblivious to your existence. But he wasn’t.

He savoured the brief moments he’d hear your laugh, or work on a project with you. He watched from afar as you spent time with your real friends, seemingly so close but so far away.

Tommy had teased him once or twice about his longing stares, but that had just reminded him that you didn’t deserve to be brought into that group — that you deserved better.

So he’d continued to drink in your laughter from afar. Watched you kiss boys at parties from the other side of the room. Heard boys in the locker room gossip about how perfect you were, how pretty, how soft.

When you didn’t reply for a moment, he shook his head again, “You were unattainable, not invisible.”

At that, you snort.

A loud snort that you would almost be embarrassed by if you weren’t too busy trying to piece together what the hell he meant by that.

“Unattainable? Like King Steve was pining over little old me,” you licked your lips as your laughter continued, the intensity of his gaze not convincing you, “If you’d wanted to even be friends with me, you’d have tried. You always did get what you wanted.”

He doesn’t like that — you can see it in the way his eyes fall to his feet and his hands pull away from the counter.

You’ve hurt him, or brought up memories, or both, and he doesn’t know what to do with them for a brief moment.

“Did I? Look at me,” he swallows thickly as the teasing smile drains from your face, “I thought things were good. Then the one thing—person— I thought I got, I thought I really needed, just upped and left me for someone else and I can’t—I dunno... Just—King Steve got sweet nothing, really.”

Your eyes are sad now, and he can feel the pitying words threatening to spill from your pouty pink lips. He doesn’t want your pity and suddenly he regrets opening his mouth.

You sigh, “I’m sorry for saying that when we didn’t really know each other. Everyone’s got their own shit—I just find it hard to believe you ever noticed me more than you’re obligated to as a classmate, y’know?”

He nods, as if choosing his next words carefully, “I know, but I did. It’s just—I was scared and then Nancy happened and then even after that, things got complicated for me,” he looks like he wants to explain, but a frustrated sigh signals his internal debate has stopped him.

“And then I didn’t want to drag you into things so I just stayed away. And then you started here and I saw and Robin said I should either shit or get off the pot but I didn’t want to be weird,” he’s running hands through his hair as he speaks, frantic, “Man, I don’t know. I’m not King Steve anymore. I don’t know how to do these things with people that matter to me.”

You shrug, confused and overwhelmed and unsure if you really want to hear more of his explanation, “Right. Uh—I’m sorry. I—.”

You were utterly blindsided by the notion that he’d spoken to Robin about you, that he’d maybe kind of sort of had some semblance of an interest in you somewhere along the lines of your acquaintance, and for a second the silence between you is tense.

You stare at each other, mouths agape and expressions barely readable to the other for just a pause.

Then Steve looks defeated again, his eyes narrowed and the frown on his face more than evident.

You regret making any stupid comment about his luck with the ladies or your bitterness towards him in high school and now you too feel small and insecure and pathetic.

“Well, I’ll go and grab you that comic, if you’d like?” you offer, your voice almost a whisper as your softened gaze met his, “We’ve got one copy left that’s in the back. Perfect timing.”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets, taken aback by the swiftness of the return to the original subject and he nods, “Oh, sure. Thanks.”

You’re gone longer than you need to be, and for a beat he thinks you might not be coming back — instead leaving him to fester in his own confession until he’s too overwhelmed to wait any longer.

In truth, you spend five minutes staring blankly at the wall of boxed comics. Your head is a whirlwind and you briefly can’t even remember your name, let alone which issue you’re looking for.

But then you snap back to reality, snag the comic and saunter back to the counter where Steve has now taken off his Scoops hat and laid it on the counter, fiddling incessantly with its details.

“Got it,” you hum, trying your hardest to sweeten the mood and lighten the tension ever so slightly with a beaming smile.

He looks up, a smile finding his face now too, “Amazing, that’ll get Dustin off my ass for at least a week then, thank god.”

You chuckle, and warmth spreads through him again at the sight as he takes the comic from your hand and pulls cash out of his pockets to pay for it.

“I’m glad,” you hum, taking the cash and working with the dodgy old cash register to put it away before pulling a notepad from below the counter and clicking open a pen, “Two seconds.”

He’s got that bewildered expression on his face again as you briefly glance up at him, and your heart swells as he pulls his lip between his teeth.

That one strand of hair has fallen in front of his face again, and now you’re swooning and flustered and you once again can’t believe that you’re feeling this intensely towards Steve Harrington when you’d barely known him in school, barely seen him since, and now— here you were.

“My number,” you tear out the sheet you’ve just written on and slide it towards him, “You know, ‘cause if you’re going to need to come back in here again— for, for Dustin— you might want to practice your reading. My number is a good place to start.”

You’re pretty sure your heart stops at the sizeable grin that overtakes his face at these words, tongue swiping over his lips and his hands snatching the paper up immediately.

“Right, I’ll definitely be back. For Dustin. Makes sense,” you can hear the pride in his voice at the unexpected acquisition of your number. You, of all people, gave him your number(!), “Thanks, Y/N.”

You grin, tiptoeing up to kiss his cheek before your brain has a chance to determine whether this is a good idea.

It’s Steve that blushes crimson now, accidentally leaning in to the brief moment of your lips on his cheek so that you linger momentarily.

You can feel the warmth of the blush that has reached his cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to emit a delighted hum and ask him when you’ll see him next.

You’re already getting in over your head despite this one interaction with him, and you remind yourself you should probably slow down.

He clears his throat, trying to pretend he wasn’t wholly affected by the kiss too, “You give all your customers a kiss on the cheek when they leave?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him and nudging his arm.

You debate telling him to fuck off, but figure that the dynamic between you has changed enough and you’ve just given him your number, for god’s sake, so you can flirt a little.

God knows you’ve waited long enough now that you think about it, and apparently so has he.

“Only the pretty ones,” you sing-song, holding eye contact as he gulps and watches you carefully.

“Noted,” he beams, leaning up to tuck a hair behind your ear and kiss your temple.

You chuckle, “And do you always kiss retail workers when you’re leaving their store too, then?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

God, you’re sure your palms are sweating and your knees are weak and your heart will burst out of your chest at any damn second.

How’re you managing to flirt with him so seamlessly now when you feel so crazily overwhelmed by whatever the fuck is going on?

“Noted. I’ll see you soon, yeah?” you offer him a sugary sweet smile as you grab a stack of books to start sorting, “You’re welcome in whenever. Even if it’s, uh, not for Dustin.”

“Good to know I’m welcome in public places after all,” he chuckles, the teasing grin he’d started this encounter with back to its full glory, “But better to know you want me here. Catch you later, Y/N.”

And with that, he’s turned on his heel and leaving the store — leaving your heart racing wildly and your mind wondering desperately when later might be.

His heart is beating rapidly too, the comic between his fingers gripped so tightly his knuckles are turning white.

He takes one last glance back at you and the way his stomach seems to swarm with butterflies at the small wave you send his way, he is certain of one thing.

He’ll be back very soon.

———

saw djo twice. rewatched stranger things. now here i am pining over steve again — this is a part one, probably to become an ongoing series ! pt 2 coming soon of domestic fluffiness, maybe a jealous!steve part soon too because y’all know i love writing jealousy fics …

ANYWAY please let me know what you think or request more stranger things fics or let me know what other things you’d like to see from scoops!steve x bookstore!reader <3

[dayasfilms]

Chapter One - The Disappearance

ㅤSummary: You don’t think too much about your best friend’s absence at school until your mom tells you about a new case that came to her desk involving a missing child. The missing child being your best friend’s younger brother.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: This story contains mature themes such as sexual content, strong language, violence, mentions of alcohol and drugs, blood, gore, and death. No mentions of Y/N. Some mistakes in information, not everything is factual.

Word Count: 2.1k

Note: Thank you for choosing to read my Stranger Things series! I just want to emphasize that the reader’s first name is your choice, however, her last name is still Kaul because of her mother, Yasmin Kaul. The reader and her mother are two important characters in the story, so there will be times where the scene shifts to Yasmin’s perspective. The entire series is still based on the reader, but the scenes with Yasmin are essential to the plot. Also, in the show, it mentions that Hawkins is 80 miles from Indianapolis, but due to Yasmin’s work being located there, let’s pretend Hawkins is 40 miles from Indianapolis. I truly hope you will continue to read and enjoy this story until the end!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

The chair scuffed against the wooden floor as you pulled it back, taking a bite of your apple as you sat on it. Your eyes trailed out the window, stuck on the trees outside the yard. A bird landed on a branch, which had little to no leaves, with the remaining few turned into a combination of reds and oranges as the November weather grew colder.

A loud thump made you jump, turning your head to look at the source of the sound to see your mom, Yasmin, picking up a few books. Putting them back on the corner table, she walked into the kitchen, giving a small smile as she took out a glass before turning the faucet on. “Morning, sweetie.”

“Morning,” you responded warmly. You turned your head back to the stack of books. “Sorry, I was going to take them to my room but forgot to.”

Yasmin turned the faucet off as she took a sip from her glass, waving her hand. “It’s okay, you were working late on your project and were tired. I should have seen it while I was walking in here. Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.”

You grinned, nodding your head before taking another bite. You watched your mom wash the glass before putting it back in its spot. “You’re not going to eat anything?”

Shaking her head, Yasmin grabbed her jacket that she left hanging over one of the chairs and put it on. “No, I just got a call about another case on my desk. Something about a missing person. I need to get there a little earlier today. I’ll just grab a coffee on my way.”

You nodded your head, taking one more bite before throwing the apple in the trash. You stood up from your chair, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, I have to go to school now. Let’s walk out together.”

Entering the school, you heard chattering and laughter as people walked to their lockers or classrooms. You opened your locker, scanning the hallways. Your eyebrows furrowed as you noticed that your best friend, Jonathan, still didn’t show up yet. He was always there earlier than you. Shrugging, you took off your jacket and shoved it into your locker, closing the door shut.

You began to walk to your class when you felt a presence falling into step with you. You rolled your eyes, not sparing a glance before speaking. “What do you want, Steve?”

A little startled that you somehow figured out it was him without looking, he quickly shook it off before smirking. “Noticed your little friend isn’t here with you. You looked lonely.”

Scoffing, you picked your speed up a bit faster. “Oh yeah? A little birdie tell you that?” You saw your classroom door come into view. “And just because I’m walking alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I’m perfectly capable of being by myself.”

“No, of course,” Steve responded, putting his hands up in surrender. “Still don’t get why you hang out with that freak, anyway.”

Your blood boiled at the name, turning around in anger as you faced the boy. “Don’t call him that,” you seethed, making sure not to yell and gather the attention of everyone nearby. “And what’s it to you? I don’t think you should be caring what another girl does when you were making out with Nancy Wheeler in the bathroom not even five minutes ago.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, but you still said it.” Rolling your eyes once more, you turned back around to continue your steps. “And do you always go around harassing your ex-girlfriends, or am I the only exception?”

Not waiting to hear a response, you walked inside the classroom.

Parking your car in the driveway, you noticed your mom still was not home yet. After locking the front door, you immediately went to the phone to call Jonathan. After a few rings, a frantic Joyce Byers picked up, leaving you confused. “Hello?!”

“Uh, Joyce, hi, it’s me,” you greeted as you said your name. “Jonathan wasn’t at school today so I wanted to check up on him. Is he okay?”

You heard a shaky breath come from Joyce before you heard some shuffling and Jonathan responding with your name. “Hey.”

You leaned against the wall. “Everything okay? Are you sick?”

“No, no, I’m not sick,” Jonathan answered, but you could hear the shakiness in his voice. You waited for him to continue. “Will’s missing.”

“What?!” Your heart hammered against your chest as you stood up straight, not quite sure that you heard what he said correctly. “He didn’t come back from Mike’s last night?”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I’m on my way.” You instantly put the phone down and got your keys, rushing out the door and getting in your car to drive to the Byers’ home. It didn’t take long for you to reach the Byers’. You parked your car and quickly got out, running to the door before knocking on it rapidly. The door opened to reveal a distressed Jonathan Byers. You walked in and saw Joyce Byers, Jonathan’s mom, on the phone.

“What happened?” You asked, worriedness laced in your voice.

Jonathan took a deep breath, looking back at his mom. “Mom was at work last night and I was supposed to be home but I took an extra shift and now Will’s gone. Missing. And we don’t know where he is. And it’s my fault.” You looked at the boy and saw the pained look on his face. You instantly wrapped your arms around him and rubbed his back.

“Hey, it’s not your fault. We’ll find him. Please don’t blame yourself, alright?” You heard Joyce put down the phone and let go of Jonathan, walking over to the woman. Joyce looked at you as you took note of the tears in her eyes, threatening to fall out. You hugged the woman as you attempted to comfort her. “I’m so sorry, Joyce. I’m sure they’ll be able to find him. Have you called my mom yet?”

Joyce pulled back and nodded her head. “Thank you, sweetie, and yes, I already called your mom and Hopper.”

She walked away as you turned towards your friend. “Why didn’t you call me this morning? I would have come straight away, Jonathan.”

He shook his head. “It wouldn’t have mattered. We still haven’t found him and there was no reason for you to miss school because of us.”

You knitted your eyebrows together as you glared at him. “No reason? Jonathan, Will’s like a younger brother to me. My mom may not have told me because she’s already busy looking for him, but you could have called me. I’d drop anything for you guys.” Jonathan didn’t say anything and you didn’t push further, not wanting to make him more upset. “Okay, listen, we have a few hours of daylight left. Let’s get out there and see if we can find anything.”

“We already checked, the police came and even found his bike, but no sign of Will,” Jonathan breathed out, his eyes glassy.

You pursed your lips. “Hm, maybe they missed something. It’s possible. I’m sure my mom’s already gathered a search party. She’s dealt with a lot of missing person cases, especially children. She’ll find him, okay?” You rubbed your hands against his arms, trying to calm him down.

Jonathan nodded his head. You took his hand and dragged him out of the house, walking towards the woods nearby.

Your mind went back to this morning, about how your mom mentioned she received a new case this morning about a missing person. You wouldn’t have guessed it would be someone so close to you. You knew your mom didn’t even know it was Will himself until she reached her office, or else you would have found out from her.

You and Jonathan spent the next hour calling out Will’s name, scouting the surrounding area for any clues. The day was starting to become night, and soon enough, you would have to go back home and hope that Will would be found soon if not today.

Walking back to the Byers’ house, you held Jonathan’s hand as you reassured him. “We’re going to find him, Jonathan, okay?” Your heart broke for the family, for Will. “I know this doesn’t really mean anything and nothing I say is going to change the situation, but as long as there is no body, he’s still out there. We will find him.”

Jonathan wrapped his arms around you, and you could feel the tears streaming down his face onto your jacket. You rubbed his back soothingly, wanting nothing more than to find Will. You hoped he was somewhere safe.

You pulled back, wiping away his tears. “You and Joyce need to get some sleep. If anything happens, call my mom or me as soon as you can, alright?”

“Thank you,” Jonathan responded, watching as you climbed into your car. He watched as you drove away before walking back into his house.

As you drove, you couldn’t think of any reason as to how Will may have gone missing. Hawkins was quiet, a small town where nothing happened. A strange feeling bubbled up inside of you, a feeling you had not felt in a long time.

Will was like a little brother to you. Will and his close friends, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. You sometimes offered to babysit them when their parents were busy when they were younger, creating a close bond with them. You were always a little tough with them, never showing them your soft spot for the boys. Not Will, though. You were always soft with Will, knowing he was a lot more quiet and sensitive than the others.

You felt something wet on your face, bringing a hand up to swipe at it. You had not even realized you were crying.

Pulling up in your driveway, you finally saw your mom’s car. You rushed inside to see her sitting at the kitchen counter, her head shooting up at the sound of the front door opening.

Yasmin stood up, walking over to you as her eyebrows furrowed. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Where were you?”

“I was at Jonathan's,” you answered. “Sorry, I should have left a note.”

Realization hit Yasmin and she sighed. “No, it’s alright. God, we tried all day looking for him,” she said, walking back over to the kitchen counter. You followed. “All we found was his bike.”

You crossed your arms, not liking the tone in her voice. “What do you think?”

Yasmin shook her head. “I’m hoping he’s just lost but sweetie, you already know the chances of finding a missing child after twenty-four hours.”

“Very low,” you mumbled, aware of the statistics. It’s hard not to ask questions when your mom is an FBI agent and you also want to go into law yourself.

“Hopper thinks Will ran away to his dad’s,” Yasmin stated, rolling her eyes. “He doesn’t seem like the type to run away, I know this. There doesn’t even seem to be a reason for him to run away.”

“Yeah, and especially not to his dad’s,” you grimaced. The idea of Will running off to his dad’s place in the city was improbable. “And how would he have even gotten there? It’s already a long drive to the city, let alone going there by foot.”

“I don’t know,” Yasmin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She looked down at the files in front of her, before looking back up at you. She could see guilt crossing your face and she immediately took your hand. “Hey, sweetie, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, okay?”

You shook your head. “No, but, what if he’s in trouble, mom? Maybe something happened and he didn’t feel like he could tell anyone.”

“I know you feel like you have this urge to protect the kids and everyone you love, but you have to remember that you can’t save everyone, okay?” Yasmin reminded you, a reminder she has to deal with on a daily basis. “You have to remember this when you go into law yourself, my girl.”

You smiled, your eyes trained on your joined hands. “Yeah, I know…”

“Okay, good,” Yasmin whispered, kissing your forehead. “Now get some sleep. We’re all going to need it.”

You hugged your mom tight, listening to the sound of her heartbeat against your ears before pulling away. You began to walk away before mumbling a quiet goodnight, walking upstairs to your room.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

if you’re still taking requests, i’m a sucker for a good one bed trope with our boy Eddie🤭

Too Close for Comfort

requested by the lovely @braindelete , hope you enjoy! ☺️

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Tension, angst, cliche trope.

divider by @cafekitsune

-

The quiet spinning world came to a sturdy halt as your fatigue stricken eyes landed on the single double bed centred in the middle of the motel room. You had specifically asked for a room with two beds but clearly the receptionist was also engulfed in a thick mist of sleep induced haze. You couldn’t blame her— it was 3 a.m.

The story explaining how you and Eddie Munson ended up in such a predicament was as simple as this— Steve Harrington’s wedding reception. Yes… that’s right, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was finally screwing his courage to the sticking place and settling down with his lovely fiancé whom he met during freshman year at college.

You had met her a few times, but with your busy schedule you were always left wishing you were able to spend more time with them and so when your invitation came in the mail, stamped with a ‘Save The Date’ announcement you were ecstatic. Only issue? You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment where you ended up getting stuck in a van with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson on this 5 hour long car journey from one state to the next.

He had matured slightly, you could give him that praise. But a lot about him remained unchallenged and the same. He was unapologetic about the way he was, he had always been that way. You admired that about him… ever since you had met in high school.

“Shit.” Eddie’s voice grumbled in the still air, rippling down your spine, “I swear this isn’t some dumb ploy, the lady said there would be two beds.” You could sense his nerves in his hoarse sleep deprived voice and it left your skin tingling. You sighed as you watched Eddie peripherally drag a pale hand down his face.

“Look, I’ll sleep on the ground. I wanna go out for a cig’ anyways so that leaves you with first dibs on the bed.”

You immediately laughed, a crazed and obnoxiously loud laugh that caused one of Eddie’s pierced eyebrows to perk on his forehead in confusion and distaste.

“Dibs?” You echoed and Eddie’s features softened as he came to realise you were teasing him, “What, are you five?” He rightfully huffs in response and you try to ignore the tightening of your chest and the way your gaze lingers a second too long on the glint of light that crosses over his muddy brown eyes.

“I’ll happily take the bed if you don’t want it, smartass.” His challenge silences you and your own face scrunches in dissatisfaction as you scoff.

“Nope. Like you said, I called first dibs.” Eddie brought out a petty childish side to you and it caused a smug grin to eat up the corners of your lips as you pounced onto the bed. Both of your legs and arms were spread to each corner of the mattress and in defeat, Eddie left the room to the porch balcony just outside the front door.

Through the pale curtains of the motel room you could see the porch light casting a shadow through the fabric. Eddie’s silhouette engulfed the green carpeted ground and you were almost hypnotised by the small blood orange cherry of his cigarette burning like a powerful beacon of light through the blackness.

You watched the fire flicker and eventually die and as you did, it soothed you to close your eyes and just breathe.

This whole journey had been nothing but stressful and borderline tormenting. Eddie made your head spin and your teeth clatter together and then, just as you thought you could prepare yourself for his spontaneous outbursts, he would confuse you and show you a whole other side of him. A side you hadn’t seen in years. A side that reminded you of why you were ever friends in the first place.

Sure, you two weren’t overly close, but you would’ve taken a bullet for one another. That’s what it meant to be part of that friend group. The love was endless and forgiveness was a priority. Nothing could separate you from your friends and vice versus.

Unless that separation was college or jobs or distance.

And as time ticked mercilessly onward, you heard from everybody less and less. The only glue tethering you to Hawkin’s was Steve. He was the only one who fought to keep in touch with you, despite your trying efforts to push everyone away.

Pulling you from your thoughts, Eddie grabbed two pillows from beside your head and he made himself a pity worthy bed on the floor.

You sit upright and before you can even contemplate what you’re doing, you are speaking, “Eddie, you can sleep up here with me. Just… don’t get any weird ideas.” It pained you that you had to even say such a thing to him, but you were both adults now and you had both probably spent way too many nights just like this one. Only difference being that whoever you slept with was gone within an hour of you dozing off. And they were a stranger.

But Eddie… Eddie was no stranger to you. Even after all of this time.

“Scouts honour.” He presses his palm to his chest and you smile softly, your eyes following his bodies every move as he climbs into the bed next to you, so cooly that you would’ve thought he was used to doing this sort of thing, “Let’s get a quick two or three hours before we need to be up and on the road again.”

The dark brunettes voice trails off in your ear and you nod hesitantly, your eyes trained on the stained ceiling of the room, “Yeah...” you reply absentmindedly.

“Yep.” Eddie shifts next to you, mirroring your laying position and you fight every instinct to turn your head and look at him.

To look into those milky chocolate eyes that are sweet enough to give you a toothache.

“Eddie?” Your voice is hushed, an echoing whisper.

“Hmm, yeah?” He turns his head toward you, his eyes warming the skin of your cheek but your face remains trained ahead of you.

“You never called… you never reached out.” Your mouth sours into a slight frown, “Why?”

You felt like a kid again, sharing a bed with your friend. Staying up way too late, eating way too much junk and sharing way too much of your feelings. It felt all too foreign and all too familiar.

“Neither did you.” Words that should have made your skin turn to ice only made your heart crack in your chest at the honest truth that Eddie was right.

Your hands fist the quilt that shields your body so tightly that you’re sure your knuckles would be pale.

For a moment you were stilted, your stubborn nature battling with what was the right thing to do. To say. And the harder you tried to conjure up something to say, the longer the silence thickened the air between you and the metal head lying next to you.

“Just because you didn’t hear from me doesn’t mean that I wasn’t thinking about you,” there was a pause full of anticipation and only then were you able to look at Eddie, “I thought about you all of the time. Every day…” Eddie catches himself, and you watch as he gulps thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat, “I thought about everyone.”

You study him for a moment, quietly admiring the freckles littered over the bridge of his nose and his rosy cheeks. The slope of his tired eyes and the softness of his eyebrows. The thickness of his eyelashes left you envious of their length and you hate that your heart leaps as soon as you glimpse down at his plump pink lips.

“I thought about you too. I guess I was just too stubborn to be the first one to reach out…” Your cheek nuzzles further into the feathery pillow beneath your head and for a moment you are certain that Eddie stops breathing, “I’m sorry.”

And you meant it. With your whole heart.

“I’m sorry too…” Eddie’s response is sombre in comparison to your own and at the time you weren’t aware of what was racing through Eddie’s mind.

Bubbling beneath his calm demeanour Eddie was thinking back to all the times he had called in the middle of the night and hung up as soon as your voice bounced back through the receiver. All of the times he used you as his muse for a sketch in his sketch book and the motivation you provided him for all of the times he struggled to get up on stage and perform. You were all he could think about for years. And then one day…

He was forced to give you up. He had to stop because it was hindering his life. He couldn’t quit you.. no matter how hard he tried. And finally, after many failed attempts, things started getting easier— his mind would wander occasionally but not even near as much as it used to.

Now, lying next to you, your perfume tingling his nostrils and your hair tickling his shoulder. It all came rushing back. The drug he couldn’t rid himself of. The lost love of his life. He would sit in this torturous pain forever if it meant he could be this close to you— even if it was only for a little while.

He should have told you in that moment. But he didn’t.

His love for you died in his chest.

And as he watched you slowly succumb to beautifully dark sleep, he slipped out of the bed to step outside…

Only so he could sob to himself and leave you to rest.

Eddie cried gently into his hands, the hands he wished could caress your skin, hoping that one day he would be able to muster up the courage to tell you the truth. The truth he should have told you all of those years ago. The confession he should have told you right there and then.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[pretentious-blonde]

soft spot

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after being drenched by the rain, steve just wants to take care of you whilst reminiscing over his “king steve” days

warnings: none

a/n: it was raining so here you go, also steve is a gossip you can't change my mind

The stairs leading up to your apartment were usually a challenge, but today they felt endless. Each step you took was accompanied by the squelching sound of rainwater trapped in your shoe, only irritating you further as you climbed. Your hair was plastered to your face and you could tell how horrendous the strands looked as they stuck to your skin, drops of rain that still clung to your eyelashes blurred your vision. You started to regret your ambitious decision to walk home, Steve had insisted on picking you up but of course, it had to start pouring halfway home. Typical. 

You let out a sigh as you reached the top floor, rummaging in your bag before your hands managed to snag your keys, shivering slightly from your soaked clothes, the coldness seeping into your bones. The door let out a gentle creak as you entered, stepping inside and savouring the warmth of the flat as you allowed it to flow over you. 

“Steve?” You called out into the empty room. 

Within a few seconds, his head poked out of your shared bedroom, brown hair falling over his forehead from jumping up so quickly. His brown eyes widened as he took in your drenched state. 

“Oh, honey, what happened?” His voice was laced with concern, his question answered by the loud crash of thunder that rumbled loudly from outside. 

“You said you would call. Look at you! You’re soaked through.” His large hands flew to your coat, heavier due to the rain, peeling it off your body like it was tissue paper. 

“I was fine—“ You began to say, only to be cut off by his excessive fussing. 

“You’re clearly not,” he shook his head as he hung up your jacket, a small puddle already forming underneath that he would have to deal with later. “I can hear your shoes from here, sweetheart. And your hair—“ he brushed a wet lock out of your face and behind your ear, his concerned expression making you giggle. “You’re shaking, honey. Gonna get sick like this.” 

You just smiled at him through your waterlogged lashes, his over-the-top worrying making you laugh more are you batted his hands away. “I’m fine, Steve. Really. It’s just rain, it happens all the time.”

“Nope. No way,” he said, not letting you respond as he was already halfway to the bathroom. “You’re gonna catch a cold and I’m not gonna let that happen.”

His voice was playful but still firm, the sound of running water became audible as he returned to your side. 

“Bathtime,” he said teasingly and you knew there would be no point in arguing, not when he was in full-blown protective mode. God, he could be so stubborn sometimes. 

The brunette boy led you into the bathroom, muttering under his breath about how you should have just phoned him as you trailed behind, wet clothes dripping onto the floor. You stood patiently in the doorway as he rummaged in underneath the sink, his furrowed brows relaxing as he found what he was searching for. He straightened up with a playful grin and held two bottles, bubble bath from one of those birthday sets you got ages ago and forgot about, finally being put to good use. 

“Alright, angel, we got options here,” he said as he inspected the labels on both. “Lavender or…this one’s called ‘Sunset Bliss’. I guess they are bottling sunsets now.”

You roll your eyes before tapping your finger against the small orange bottle, trying to hold back a smile. “Sunset Bliss, obviously.”

“Good choice,” he said whilst nodding as if you passed some sort of test, opening the cap and pouring it into the tub. “Gotta get some sunshine back into today, right?” His voice was light as he leaned over the bath, holding his hand underneath the faucet to check the temperature, adjusting it just how you like it. Just shy of scalding.

He stood back up and hesitated as he looked down at you. “Do you want me to stay with you, or should I wait outside?” His tone was gentle, so as to not pressure you. Just that lovesick gaze that was laced with a hint of concern. 

You shrug your shoulders at his question, still shivering slightly as you respond. “You can stay. I still have to tell you what Robin and I got up to.”

Steve’s eyes softened as he nodded, stepping towards you with a tender smile. His fingers were gentle as they brushed against your skin, treating you with care as he helped you out of your rain-soaked clothes. He was so sweet as he worked, treating you as if you were the most precious thing to him. To which he would probably agree. 

There was nothing suggestive in his movements, no expectation—just the quiet intimacy you had come to associate him with. He adored being close to you in this way. 

Once you were free of the drenched clothes, he held onto your arm as you lowered yourself into the water, feeling a sense of pride as you sighed in relief. The water was soothing to your freezing skin, helping thaw out your numb fingers and toes. He took a seat on the bathmat next to you, resting his chin on the edge of the tub as he gazed at you expectantly. He always had a soft spot for your ramblings. 

“So,” he began as he drew out the word, an amused look on his face. “What did you and Robin get up to while I was slaving away at work? Any trouble?”

You splash a bit of water on his face at his teasing before sinking deeper beneath the bubbles, beginning to babble about your day, not leaving anything out as he loved hearing all the small details. No matter how mundane. He listened, amber eyes focused as he nodded along, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic comment and then laughing at his own joke. God, he was a dork. 

Steve reached out and traced small patterns on your arm with his fingers, his touch light. “Do you want me to wash your hair, sweetheart?” He asked you with eager eyes—he always wanted to do things for you. Things you really didn’t need help with. He was constantly coming up with excuses, helping you made him feel good. He liked to feel needed. 

You shook your head with a chuckle. “You don’t have to.”

He scoffed and you knew he would not take no for an answer, already reaching out for the shampoo bottle on the side of the tub. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He said with finality, popping open the cap and allowing the scent of citrus to fill the steamy air. “Besides, I’ve got hair down to a science,” he said with a wink as he moved behind you. 

You tilted your head back to look up at him and he placed a soft kiss against your lips, gently moving you to face forwards, careful not to get any water in your eyes. His fingers were firm as they massaged your scalp, blunt nails moving perfectly as you shut your eyes, leaning closer to where he knelt. 

“You do have great hair,” you tease, eyes still shut, focusing on the motion of his hands. 

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was my nickname in high school,” he smirked, you don’t see how proud he looked of the title at that moment. 

“Part of your charm huh?” You poked at him. 

“Oh, absolutely,” he agreed as he carried on with his movements. “Speaking of charm,” he continued, “any updates on Robin and Vicky? Has she finally made anything resembling moves?”

You groaned as you recalled the previous conversation you had earlier that day, the hour spent listening to Robin pining. “She is still being awkward about it. I swear she panics every time she talks to her, and you know how she talks too much when she’s nervous.” 

Steve snickered, a sound so boyish you couldn’t help but join in. “Robin? No way.” His sarcasm earned him another splash to the face, making him laugh even harder. 

“Hey! I’m just stating the facts!” He said. “But seriously, she needs to just ask her out already. Vicky is clearly into her.”

“I know right? They would be adorable together,” you agreed with him, enjoying the playful sass he was giving. If there was one thing Steve secretly loved, it would be gossip. He ate it up just like he did back in school, he always knew the drama from listening to people talk in the hallways. Plus he could never keep a secret, that’s what he had you for. You pretty much knew what every citizen of Hawkins was going through based on their movie choices at Family Video, he always kept you up to date on those. 

“She better not mess it up,” Steve added, rubbing conditioner through your hair, making sure to focus extra on the ends. “Might have to step in. Play matchmaker.”

You scoffed at the statement. “Like you’d do any better?”

He shoved your head playfully. “Honey, I have excellent matchmaking skills. You’re looking at the guy who got Nancy and Jonathan together—but maybe that’s not the best example.” He paused, thinking for a second, before the both of you burst into laughter.

You felt his hands slow as he finished working product through your hair, you turned your head to find him looking at you warmly. “I’m not worried about Robin and Vicky. If they’re meant to be, they’ll figure it out. Just like we did.”

Your heart clenched at the look on his face, all soft eyes and adoring smiles. The expression that was reserved for you and you alone. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as you turned back around, allowing him to carefully rinse your hair for the final time. “Just like we did.”

He finished up and shifted to your side once more, fully facing you. “All done, angel. Feeling better?” His voice was low and sweet, like syrup. Sticky and saccharine. 

“Thank you,” you tell him honestly, as you move to get up. He rose as you did, hands outstretched to help you climb over the ledge of the bath, making sure you were steady on the bathmat before reaching for a towel. Wrapping you up with exaggerated care.

“Alright, sweetheart, wait here. No running off,” he said as he finished tucking the towel around you. 

You giggled, watching him scoop up your pile of wet clothes from the bathroom floor. “And where exactly would I go?”

He walked to the door and held a finger up, pointing at you. “Knowing you, you’d probably find some trouble to get into. Plus, I don’t want to mop up any more water from the living room, so stay put.”

He disappeared into the hallway and you could hear the familiar beep from the dryer, along with him talking to himself about what buttons to push. He always complained about how many setting the damn thing had. 

Not wanting to keep you waiting for long, he reappeared, holding a pair of your pyjama bottoms and—of course—one of his old school jumpers. 

He handed them both to you with a small smile. “Vintage Hawkins, what do you think?”

You raised an eyebrow as you inspected the item. “Didn’t think you’d want me wearing something that is so… ‘King Steve’”

Barking out a laugh as he helped you into the soft material. You had spoken a bit about his past, he openly disclosed that he may not have been the best person then. You withheld using the nickname, usually reserving it for when you wanted to rile him up. 

“I don’t mind,” he said with a shrug. “You would’ve been way too good for me back then. No way we’d be friends in high school. I was kind of a dick.”

You hummed as you wriggled into the dry clothes. “Kind of?”

Steve held a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Wow, okay! That hurts, honey. I’m nicer now aren’t I?”

He helped you tug up your pyjama bottoms, taking a step back to admire you, as if you were dolled up for a date. He loved you like this. Warm and comfy, wearing his clothes. “You are very nice. Maybe too nice.”

He flashed that beautiful, boyish grin once again. “Too nice? No such thing.” He pulled you closer to him. “I had to change my tactics to win you over. I’m whipped for you, just ask Robin.”

Leading you to the couch and pulling you down next to him, he grabbed a blanket and draped it over you both, looking over your shoulder to make sure your feet were covered too. 

“You know, I don’t think I would have liked you much back then,” you teased, poking his side and earning a surprised yelp from the boy beneath you. “Mr. ‘I’m too cool for everyone.’”

Steve ruffled your drying hair playfully before continuing. “Yeah, I was pretty insufferable,” you can hear the cringe in his voice as he looks away, cheeks heating slightly at the embarrassing memories. “But look at me now, completely reformed and with a gorgeous girl looking all pretty in my lap.”

It was your turn to blush as you hid your face in his chest, TV playing softly in the background as you let yourself melt into his embrace. He always made it easy for you to unwind around him. Completely relax. It was simple with Steve, it always was.

“I’m glad I’m not that guy anymore,” he said, his quiet voice laced with sincerity, fingers running through your hair. “Because now, I get to be here with you.”

You tilted your head upwards, eyelids beginning to droop, surrounded by his warmth. “I’m glad too,” you tell him as you feel your body getting heavier.

The white noise from the TV and Steve’s embrace lulled you into a gentle sleep. He smiled down at you, seeing you completely at peace on his chest. He placed a soft kiss on your temple, inhaling the smell of you mixed with the citrus shampoo he had used earlier. He felt content, full. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispered, not speaking too loud at the risk of waking you. His fingers drew shapes across your back as the TV droned on, but he wasn’t paying it the slightest bit of attention. Way too focused on the sweet girl in his arms, and nothing in this world could make him want to move. 

[eternal-sunflowers]

Enlighten Me

AO3 | written for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event - prompt school's out for summer | rating: g | wc: 997 | cw: none | tags: post-s4, everyone lives, steve pov, pre-steddie, platonic stobin, besties eddie and robin and steve, eddie munson is a flirt, just mostly fluff and banter

“You know, I kind of wish it had fallen into the void like most of the town did.” Eddie grumbles, sitting on the trunk of the bimmer, crutches leaned against the side of the car.

“Oh, absolutely. That would’ve saved me from Mr. Denson’s bullshit chem final.” Robin sighs, legs crossed beneath her where she’s sat beside Eddie.

“Hey, at least you passed Dickhead Denson’s final, Buckley.”

“You did too!” 

“I didn’t pass shit and we all know it.” Eddie falls onto his back with a thump that makes Steve wince, but Eddie waves him off. “They just took pity on me after three tries and, oh, I don’t know, forming a witch hunt after me.”

Robin throws her head back and groans loud enough that several people milling about the lot turn toward them. Steve glares at the gawkers where he’s leaned against the side of the car until they all turn away.

“There was no pity involved, you piece of shit. You had the grades before the spring break from hell. All Hopper did was,” Robin wrings her hands in her lap, cocks her head, “kindly tell them that you had clearly shown your intellectual prowess enough to get your diploma.”

Eddie chuckles. “Hopper? Kindly? Yeah, next time you wanna lie to my face, Buckley, choose better adjectives.”

“Munson, I swear–”

“I just can’t believe they still forced finals on everyone after everything.” Steve squints against the setting sun, arms crossed across his chest. “You’d think the town, I don’t know, splitting open and, like, a quarter of the student body just,” he throws his hands up, makes a poof gesture, “disappearing would make them waive the rest of the year, or whatever, for everyone.”

“You have far too much faith in the American education system, my dear Stevie.” Eddie laments. 

They fall into silence, staring at the school that they’d spent far too many years, and, for Steve, far too much Upside Down related bullshit, in. People are slowly drifting out to their cars, laughing, hugging, talking about summer plans, which Steve finds kind of laughable himself considering summer in Hawkins has never been anything to celebrate, and even less so now with the state of everything. He watches as the cars pull away one by one, until all that’s left are the three of them and a few displaced graduation caps and tassels across the lot.

Steve turns to look at Eddie, the setting sun casting him in a beautiful shade of orange. “You did earn your diploma, by the way, Eddie.”

“Oh, don’t you go lyin’ to me too, now, sweetheart.”

Robin laughs. “Oh, yeah, he’s not. I think he’s basically incapable. He’s like, so bad, it’s honestly hilarious. There was one time, Jessica Randal came in asking him on a date and–”

Steve slams his hand across her mouth. “Robin!”

Eddie perks up, props up on his elbows. “Oh? Do tell, Buckley. What did our dear Stevie do when faced with the visage of Jessica Randal?” 

“I will buy you both your celebration dinners if you shut up right now and never bring this up again.” Steve spits out, glaring at both of them in the process. 

“Is my, what was it, ‘intellectual prowess,’ only worth a singular dinner, sweetheart?” Eddie hums. “I don’t know, this Jessica Randal story seems to be worth a bit more than that.”

Steve sighs. “What do you want, Eddie?”

“From you? Oh, Stevie, you have no idea.” Eddie chuckles, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. Steve tracks the movement almost subconsciously, watches as the oranges and yellows of the sunset glisten across Eddie’s lips, making them, like, goddamn sparkle, or some shit. Eddie chuckles, catches his eye.

Steve swallows thickly, tries to will back some of his former confidence in his response. “Ye–yeah? Care to enlighten me?” Yep, super confident there, Steve. Good job.

Eddie’s eyes glint as he pulls himself up to sitting. He leans forward, snakes a finger through Steve’s belt loop, and tugs slightly. “Oh, I’ll enlighten you any night of the week, big boy.”

Just then, Steve feels something hot and wet on his hand, followed by teeth sharp enough to make him jump back with a yelp. “What the hell?”

Robin wipes her mouth off on her gown. “Can you two not obnoxiously flirt in front of me? At least let me rack in that free post-grad dinner first.” She jumps down, walks over and opens the passenger door, chucks her graduation cap and gown into the floorboard.

“Uh, wh– flirting?” Steve stammers, looking between them. Robin stares back unimpressed. Eddie smirks.

“Yes, Steve, flirting, which you two can do over dinner, because if you don’t put food in me right now, I think I might explode. Why is graduation so long?” Robin slumps into the car, slamming the door behind her.

“Don’t slam the fucking door just because you’re mad at graduation!” Steve yells. Robin flips him off through the window. 

Eddie laughs, grabs his crutches, and drops down to the ground. Steve helps him to the back door, moves to open it, but Eddie stops him. Steve lifts his brow in question. 

Eddie leans forward and hesitantly kisses Steve on the cheek. “In case it wasn’t clear, I am 100% flirting with you, sweetheart. Have been, in fact. You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Eddie pulls back, a shaky grin to his face as he opens the door and slides into the backseat, crutches tossed into the floorboard with his cap and gown. Robin and Eddie immediately launch into a debate over where Steve should take them to celebrate.

Steve shuts the back door, a dazed look to his eye as he moves to the driver’s door and slides into the car. As he leaves the lot, Hawkins High nothing more than a memory, he catches Eddie’s eye in the rearview mirror and smiles. 

Maybe there’s some things worth getting excited for this summer, after all.

tags: @sunshine-daydreams0809 @saramelaniemoon

divider credit: @saradika-graphics

thanks for reading :))

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Lakeside Cabin

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: Y/N Use, swearing

Summary: The hate you and Bucky have for each other has gradually increased throughout your time knowing each other. This time, things went too far. Thanks to your arguments, you get sent on a unique consequential mission: You will both live together in a secluded cabin until you're able to come together and settle your differences. You're screwed.

This doesn't really follow the movies or shows.

*Not Proof Read*

No mentions of body type, skin color, or details of reader's appearance. Reader is able-bodied.

Pt. 2

□□□□□□□

My mom always told me hate is a strong word.

It's not strong enough to describe the way I feel about Bucky Barnes.

Bucky Barnes.

10 percent muscle. 90 percent jackass.

I never wanted to hate Bucky. He just makes it very difficult to like him.

We have different personalities-I like being loud and outgoing. I love the spontaneity life has to offer and being around people. I can be rebellious and don't like it when people tell me what to do.

Bucky's the opposite. He lives in silence and routine. Everything has to go his way. He's grumpy and constantly has a gloomy grey cloud of isolation that surrounds him.

He does fine with everyone else. He's not exactly their best friend, but he's civil. He's willing to work together with them.

Just like he pisses me off, I piss him off. We trigger each other. We're always looking for an in -a way to catch the other when they slip up and help drag them down.

It doesn't help that some people on the team think the only reason we fight is due to some extreme sexual tension. The way they make stupid remarks or exchange looks when they see Bucky and me fighting makes my blood boil.

Don't get me wrong, Bucky Barnes is an attractive man. He's got beautiful eyes and an amazing physique. He's strong and mysterious -the kind of bad boy type guy that makes girls swoon.

But the attraction ends there. His personality totally kills the mood.

Things have definitely escalated since Bucky joined us at the compound last year. It started out with small, snarky comments and evolved to full-on verbal warfare: no filter, no tact, just venom and fire.

"Are you always this loud, or is it just when I’m around?"

"Only when I’m trying to scare off emotionally stunted super soldiers."

"You know, I’d rather face Hydra again than spend another second dealing with your miserable ass."

"I’d gladly leave you to rot with them if I didn’t know you’d screw up the escape plan."

"You know, for someone with a metal arm, your grip on reality is weak."

"And for someone with a mouth like yours, it’s a miracle you’re still breathing."

Sometimes I don't even mean to fight back. I try to take the upper hand, face his words like a champ, and not let them bother me. It's just so difficult. When he starts the fire, I need to make sure it burns.

I know it bugs the team. We've been warned multiple times by Steve and Fury.

It's just so hard to stop.

I don't know why I do it. Maybe it's to get his reaction. Maybe it's because I like to get the last word. I don't know.

It's rare that the team pairs the two of us up on missions. They know the way things will play out.

We're only paired together in extreme situations in missions -situations where they need the best shooters in the group.

Situations like the one today.

Bucky and I haven't said a word to each other in half an hour.

The air is beginning to chill with the change in time. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange and pink glow over the chaos we're supposed to cover. If this were any other situation, I would be sitting down and admiring the beauty of nature. I love sunsets.

But this isn't any other situation.

Bucky and I are lying on the roof of an abandoned building a few feet away from each other. Our eyes are trained on the deteriorating warehouse across from us, fingers hovering above the triggers of our guns. The building, which looks like it's holding a bunch of secrets, is definitely holding a bunch of secrets -kidnapped human experiments and top secret information regarding planned attacks. The shady, untrustworthy exterior definitely matches the vibe of the horrors happening inside.

Outside of the warehouse are parked cars without license plates and scattered pieces of junk and broken machinery lying on rough gravel and yellowing grass.

Steve walks into my view from the left. He quietly guides, who are closely behind him. They stop behind one of the cars, using it as cover while Steve scans the area for any dangers. After the area is secured, the three begin making their way into the building through a side entrance.

Through my scope I briefly spot Tony as he enters through the other end of the building.

The comm in my ear gently crackles as Natasha's voice comes through. "I've got visuals on the northwest entry."

Steve's voice follows. "I'm placing charges."

"All right, folks," Sam chimes in. "Let’s make this fast and quiet. I’ve got eyes in the sky, but our rooftop lovebirds better stay sharp."

There he goes again, our number one shipper. He's so adamant about there being something between Bucky and me. It's annoying.

I choose not to let his words ruffle me, biting the inside of my cheek harshly instead.

Bucky ignores the jab as well.

The only sound between us is the soft click of his rifle adjusting. He ignores me, just as he always does.

The tension between us is strong. We're both annoyed. Neither of us wants to be here with the other one.

I try to focus on the task at hand. Observe. I need to observe.

It's difficult.

Every few minutes, I feel my attention shifting to the man in my peripheral vision. I watch him lie perfectly still, the only movement coming from his jaw, which he clenches and unclenches every so often like he's trying to hold back.

He probably is holding back. Something I did pissed him off. Something I do always pisses him off.

I shouldn't be distracted. I can't afford to be, not when the lives of innocent people are at stake. I need to stay focused.

This isn't about me or Bucky. This is about freeing civilians.

Because HYDRA is HYDRA, all hope for a smooth, easy mission is thrown out the window about 5 minutes later when Tony's voice breaks the tense silence.

"Cameras are down," Tony’s voice is quiet. "Something triggered the internal defense system—doors locking. They’re trying to cage us in."

"Bucky, Y/N, keep the perimeter secure." Steve orders, his voice more urgent than before. "Watch for backup."

I force myself to focus on the building below, knowing this could turn into a life-or-death situation. "Copy." I reply calmly.

Bucky stays silent beside me. He shifts his scope lower.

"You could at least pretend we’re working together," I mutter, frustration laced in my tone.

"Didn’t realize babysitting you required small talk." He snaps back without looking at me.

I roll my eyes so hard I practically see stars. "Right. Because you’re just so pleasant when you’re brooding in silence."

"Silence is better than listening to your constant whining."

"Whining?" I let out an annoyed laugh. "God, you’re insufferable."

"And you’re loud. Even when you’re trying to whisper, you’re loud."

We both freeze at the same time.

Footsteps.

Close and fast.

Fuck, just what we need.

I turn my scope, just in time to see a group of Hydra agents breaching the stairwell two floors below us.

"Oh, shit," I breath.

Bucky moves first. He's up in seconds, his rifle in hand. "We’ve got company."

"Team, rooftop’s compromised," I say sharply into the comms. "We’ve got Hydra climbing the building."

"How many?" Asks Steve.

"At least six, maybe more. All armed and in tactical gear." I get up, clutching my rifle securely in my hands.

"Get out of there. Now."

Bucky moves towards the door we entered onto the roof from. His steps are light but purposeful. He stands to the side of the door, barely waiting for me to get to the other side before opening it quietly.

Of course, he didn't wait.

He doesn't give a shit if I'm shot down. One less problem for him to deal with.

"Sacrifice me, I guess," I mutter snarkily. "It's not like I mind getting shot. Thanks for asking."

"Have you ever considered shutting up? You're going to give our location away." He hisses, still not sparing me a glance.

I can't resist. "Have you ever considered thinking about anyone but yourself before? I know it's a new concept for you -possibly a little difficult for you to wrap your brain around, but I promise you'll be slightly more tolerable."

"Ha ha." Bucky's tone is unamused. "Thanks for the life advice. I'd try it but I really just don't give a shit about what you have to say or your opinion."

We continue making our way down the stairs, eyes constantly scanning in front of us.

"Fuck you." I huff, annoyed by his presence. I just want to go home and get as far away from this man as humanly possible. I've spent enough time with him for today -for a lifetime.

"Very mature. What, can't think of anything better to say-" Bucky is cut off by the sound of gunshots echoing through the room.

Immediately, he's quiet, his lips tightly pressed together. He's pissed we drew attention to ourselves. He's so going to give me shit for this.

The next ten minutes are a blur. Everything happens so quickly.

Gunfire cracks through stairwells. We move, dodging, weaving through offices. We take down the agents who come at us, neither of us needing to speak a word. It's about survival right now.

Then Bucky has the nerve the piss me off again.

"I said left, Barnes!"

"You want to lead? Be my guest," he snaps, ducking behind a filing cabinet as bullets tear through drywall. His lips are pursed into a tight frown, his eyes crinkling with anger.

"I am leading! You’re just too busy trying to look cool to listen! Newsflash, Bucky. We're not in a fucking action movie. No one gives a shit if you look cool and mysterious." I hiss back, pressing myself tightly under a desk as the bullets continue to come.

"Right, because this is such a great time for your little ego trip!" He quickly shoots down two agents with ease before retreating behind the filing cabinet again.

"My ego? Oh, please -like you don’t walk around with a six-ton chip on your shoulder and a martyr complex the size of Manhattan!" I manage to take out the last agent left shooting at us.

"You don’t know the first thing about me." Bucky brushes past me, his shoulder roughly knocking into mine.

I don't let it faze me. I quickly follow him, still keeping my eyes searching the room. "And you don’t know the first thing about working with someone who doesn’t worship the ground you stomp on!"

"You think I wanted to be paired with you? You think I asked for this?" For the first time all day, Bucky's head snaps towards me. His striking blue eyes are dark and narrowed at me. His face is tense and clearly angry. "You're the last fucking person I want to be paired with."

By now, we're screaming. Our boots thud down staircases as we duck another volley of shots. He's pissed. I'm pissed. We're on the verge of quite literally killing each other.

And through all of it—

The comms were still on.

-------

When we finally burst out onto the street, smoke in the air, Hydra agents down for the count, I am heaving. My hands are shaking from adrenaline and rage. I can't stand one more minute with this asshole.

Bucky is beside me, jaw clenched like it might crack. We storm across the lot to where the Quinjet is freshly landed and waiting for us, steam hissing from its wings. The team is standing and waiting.

Sam crosses his arms slowly. "Well, that was subtle."

"Shut up, Wilson." I roll my eyes, wiping a little bit of blood from my hand onto my shirt.

Steve looks like he aged five years in ten minutes.

Natasha just raises an eyebrow. "You two done with your little lovers’ quarrel?"

I blink. "What—?"

And then it hits me.

The comms. The fucking comms.

"Oh, god."

Sam smirks. "Not gonna lie, I was really rooting for one of you to throw a punch. Or kiss. Hard to tell with you two."

I scoff. "Keep your fantasies to yourself."

"You’re both exhausting," Steve mutters.

Bucky looks like he wants to dig a hole with his metal arm and crawl into it. His face is slightly flushed -most likely from a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

I lift a hand. "I didn’t mean ...he’s just -this whole thing-"

"Sexual tension like that could level a building," Natasha deadpans, eyeing the two of us. "And apparently did."

"I hate him," I state.

"Right back at you," Bucky growls.

We glare at each other for a moment.

And then we both walk in opposite directions while the rest of the team stares after us like exasperated parents watching their toddlers throw tantrums.

The mission was a success.

Our dignity? Dead on arrival.

------

The silence on the Quinjet is suffocating.

We are barely five minutes in, and already I feel the tension crawling across my skin like static. No one is speaking. No one is even pretending to make small talk. Even Tony is quiet (Something I thought was impossible), which meant we had officially fucked up.

I sit with my arms crossed and my jaw clenched, staring furiously at a very interesting spot on the floor. Across from me, Bucky sits in his own simmering silence, eyes fixed straight ahead, metal fingers twitching like he wants to strangle a ghost.

Every bump of turbulence feels like a passive-aggressive nudge from the universe.

I get it. What the fuck else do you want from me?

Steve is seated beside the cockpit, flipping through a report like it owes him an apology. Natasha leans against the wall by the hatch with her arms folded, wearing the expression of a woman who'd just listened to two coworkers have a very personal argument on speakerphone.

Because she has.

Because everyone has.

Sam lets out a long, theatrical sigh from the back bench.

"Just say it," I snap without looking at him. I tightly clench my fists, waiting for his remarks.

"What?" he asks, all innocent.

Fucker.

"Whatever comment you’ve been chewing on since we left the ground."

He grins. "Oh, I wasn’t gonna say anything. I’m just wondering who’s gonna crack first and scream ‘I love you, you emotionally constipated bastard!’ because honestly, I’ve got twenty bucks riding on Y/N."

I open my mouth. Close it. Turn to glare out the window instead. If I could kill Sam legally, I would. At this moment, he's on the same level as Bucky on my shit list. "I hate you."

"You've said that a lot today," Bucky mutters.

I snap my head toward him. "And you keep earning it. Care to earn another one?"

He finally looks at me, face hard. "I didn’t ask to be stuck on a roof with you."

"Believe me, if I could’ve picked anyone else on this planet to crouch beside for two hours of pure hell, I would’ve!" I tear my eyes away from him as I roll them.

"Oh my god," Natasha mutters, dragging a hand down her face.

Steve stands up abruptly, closing his folder. "We’re debriefing in an hour. Separately."

He's tired of our shit.

Tony, from the cockpit, calls back, "Debrief? Nah, just show me the footage of their comms again. That was way more entertaining than the mission feed."

"Delete it," I hiss. "Or I swear to-"

"I enhanced the audio," he replies brightly.

Of course he did. Why wouldn't he?

Sam wheezes. Natasha covers a snort with a cough.

Bucky is back to brooding in silence, but I can feel the heat rolling off him. Or maybe that's me. I can’t tell anymore.

We don’t speak for the rest of the ride. But I can feel his anger in my bones.

This has been the worst day of my year.

------

When we arrive back at the compound, we're all instructed to fill out our mission reports. Of course, I fill mine out as honestly as possible.

According to Bucky, he does, too. Sure.

Then we're called into a meeting by Nick Fury. Of course we are.

I sit with my arms crossed, refusing to look at Bucky, who’s already slouched in the chair across from me like he’s being forced to endure a root canal. His jaw flexes. Mine probably looks the same. The silence stretches like wire, taut and ready to snap.

Fury walks in, holding two tablets. He doesn’t sit. He just stops in front of the table, stares at us for a second, and looks like he’s calculating how hard he’d have to throw them for one to hit me and the other to clock Barnes. His glare is sharp enough to slice a block of metal.

“Alright,” Fury says, voice low and loaded with irritation. “Let’s recap.”

He lifts one tablet and reads.

"Agent Y/L/N: 'Mission compromised due to Barnes' refusal to follow sniper protocol. Irresponsibility put my safety in danger. Verbally hostile. Referred to me as, and I quote, "a trigger-happy liability with the patience of a caffeinated squirrel.'""

My arms fold tighter. I stand by my words. "Accurate."

Fury doesn’t react. Just switches tablets and reads again.

"Sergeant Barnes: 'Agent Y/L/N compromised positioning with unnecessary movement, broke radio silence to argue during enemy fire, and nearly shot me during an escape maneuver. Refers to me as having, quote, "the emotional range of wet drywall.'""

Bucky shrugs. "Still stands."

I scoff. "Only because I didn’t include 'walking splinter with a martyr complex.'"

Bucky snaps, "Maybe if you'd shut up for two seconds—"

Sure, maybe it's a little immature, but we're both already in deep shit. I scowl as I mock him.

"Enough," Fury barks, slamming both tablets onto the table like they’ve personally offended him. His glare shifts between the two fo us.

The silence that follows is blistering. Bucky looks like he wants to say something else, but I throw him a glare that could slice through vibranium.

Fury pinches the bridge of his nose like this briefing is physically draining him. "You two do realize your comms were on the entire time, right? While you were sniping. Escaping. And—what did the tech guys call it—oh right: 'screaming like a divorcing couple on Judge Judy.'" He spits. His brows are furrowed in anger.

My face burns. Fucking tech guys.

Bucky mutters a sharp curse under his breath.

"And thanks to that little performance," Fury continues, "Tony enhanced the audio. Sam made a remix. Natasha uploaded it to the team drive under the file name 'The Sound of Sexual Tension.'" His eyes narrow. "Not to mention, you put yourselves and your teammates at risk."

"I’m going to kill him," I mutter. "Actually, all of them. I'm going to kill all of them."

"You’ll have to beat me to it," Bucky growls. His posture is stiff and straight. He looks ready to jump up and hunt them down the second Fury excuses us.

Fury claps his hands once. Loud. Final. "Great! You'll have plenty of time to coordinate the murder. Together."

My stomach drops. What does he mean? Together. I don't want to spend another minute with Bucky. "Wait, what?"

"You’re both being reassigned to Safehouse Bravo-Tango-Twelve,"Fury says, way too casually, "for a mandatory cooling-off period."

Bucky and I speak at the same time.

His tone is annoyed. "You've got to be kidding me." For a moment, he closes his eyes like he's wishing this was all a bad dream.

"You’re locking us in a cabin?" I demand, staring Fury straight in the eye. I'm ready to fight. No way am I staying in a cabin with Bucky, we'll kill each other in minutes. I'm not kidding.

"No. I’m locking you in a lakeside four-room, twenty-camera, panic-button-equipped safehouse with 2 weeks' worth of rations and no mission clearance until I get a report that doesn’t read like it was ghostwritten by a Real Housewives producer."

"You've got to be fucking with us!" I groan, leaning back further into my chair. This is a nightmare. "Tell me you're fucking with us."

Bucky leans back, arms crossed like he’s bracing for a fall. "I'd rather bunk with Hydra."

Fury leans down, voice low and lethal. "Don't tempt me."

He grabs the tablets, heads for the door, and pauses just long enough to twist the knife.

"Oh -and if either of you so much as touches the surveillance cameras, I’m putting you in a room with Loki for a week of trust-building exercises. You are not allowed to leave the premises. If this isn't sorted out by two weeks from now, someone will bring you more supplies until it is. You two decide how long you want to let your egos get the best of you."

The door slams.

I whip my head toward Bucky. He turns at the same time. We both have a similar glimmer of rage in our eyes.

"This is your fault," we snap in perfect sync.

This is a nightmare.

------

Taglist: @buckysdoll85

[apomaro-mellow]

Corroded Coffin ransoms Steve 4

Part 3

Steve's makeshift shackles were released and he honestly had half a mind to bolt. But in the end, he figured it was better to get this all over with. Eddie pushed Steve in front of him and he started towards the convenience store. The bell rang on the door as he went in. The cashier didn't even look up from his magazine.

Steve pretended to peruse the candy aisle as he scoped out the place. He didn't have a gun or a knife, so he couldn't be expected to stick up the joint and empty the register.

Bingo

Eddie was posted up by the magazine rack right by the door. Steve went towards the back where the drinks were. He grabbed a couple six packs and casually walked back up to the front. The cashier looked up then and Steve felt his heart skip a beat before he bolted for the door.

He could hear the cashier screaming at him. He could hear Eddie howling behind and yelling for the van to start. Steve threw himself into the back and the cashier had chased them outside. Steve's leg was still dangling out the door as Doug peeled out of the parking lot. Eddie pulled him further inside and shut the door.

The van was a cacophony of loud noise as they drove back to Gareth's house. Only when they got to the driveway and parked did it begin to quiet as they all caught their breaths.

"So", Steve spoke up first. "Trust me now?"

Eddie just shoved him. "It's a start. Let's talk about what else you can do for us."

In the house, everyone was either a full can or a can and a half into it. Eddie still wanted to hold out hope for their original plan.

"Can't we still ransom your folks? We could call 'em up from whatever resort they're all and demand the money."

Steve shook his head. "It's not gonna work. Your best bet is just taking some stuff from my house and pawning it."

"Works for me", Jeff said.

"Your parents really wouldn't give a huge payout for you?", Gareth asked, eyes narrowed.

"Well they didn't last time", Steve shrugged and then stood up, crushing his can and picking up his third can.

"Wait. Rewind", Eddie said. "This isn't even your first kidnapping?"

"Yeah and I gotta be honest. Compared to them, you guys are amateurs", Steve said as he cracked his beer open.

"When was this?", Jeff asked.

"Uhh, ten? I don't know, the whole things kind of a blur now. I just remember getting in a car, being in a room, talking with my dad on the phone and finding out he wasn't gonna shell out the money for me."

"...Jesus Christ", Eddie breathed out. "And I thought my dad sucked."

"Okay, it's kinda apples to oranges", Doug said. "Harrington's dad sucked. Eddie, your dad sucks in a different way."

"Why does your dad suck?", Steve asked, switching the attention off of him.

"Psshhh, where do I start? Never around until he wanted me to do something for him, was a dick to my mom, ditched me when cops came, all around scum of the earth." Eddie stood with a groan. "And the apple don't fall too far from the tree."

Steve rolled his eyes. "You're not that bad, Munson. I told you, you guys are third rate kidnappers."

"That's the one thing I didn't mind being being last in."

"You got anything you're first in?"

"You wanna find out?"

Eddie didn't realize how close they'd gotten, almost toe to toe before Gareth cleared his throat.

"Uhhh, do you two need a room?"

Eddie cleared his throat and took a step back. "So, you just let us into your house? And we take what we like?"

"Exactly", Steve said. "A lot of it's insured anyway."

"Dudes, we might be able to get more than just battle of the bands money", Doug said.

"You guys want something more than some band competition?", Steve asked.

"We can dream big", Jeff said.

"Like what?"

Gareth started immediately and Jeff spoke with his eyes, hinting to Eddie that they should both go to the kitchen. They did and Jeff wasted no time.

"Don't fall for Harrington's shtick."

"His shtick?"

"Yeah, his jock shtick. He's gonna get you with the things they do and you're gonna fall for it."

"Like what?", Eddie leaned in.

"Just stay metal, Eddie. Okay?"

Eddie snorted. "Yeah, whatever man."

They decided to just go ahead and do the job tomorrow morning. They stayed up until about midnight before figuring out they should probably sleep before robbing a house. Gareth also suggested they take turns watching Steve.

"I stole beer for you guys, where's the trust?", Steve bemoaned.

"You could still earn some more points", Eddie said. Then he saw how the others already declared themselves 'not it' by putting their fingers to their noses. When Eddie's face fell in realization, he groaned, eliciting snickers from the others.

Gareth slept in his room while Jeff and Doug took up the couches in the basement. Steve laid across the couch in the living room while Eddie got comfortable in the armchair right across from him.

"You're really just gonna watch me all night like some stalker?", Steve asked. "What if I wanna beat one off?"

Eddie shrugged. "If you wanna give the freak a show."

"It's weird to just watch."

Eddie wanted to choke on his spit. "'Just watch'?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Munson, you had to have done it once."

"Done what?"

Steve sat up and made a jerking motion with his hand. "I mean with friends."

"I'm afraid I'm unaware of that custom", Eddie squeaked. "You and the guys on your team just, what? Jerk each other off?"

"Don't make it weird. We do it to ourselves. We just...do it around each other. If you're gonna do it, might as well, right?"

Eddie remembered Jeff's words then. Harrington was either trying to entrap him now, or get him in a trap later. He was just dollar signs to Eddie and that's how it needed to stay.

"Get to sleep, Harrington. You can go one day without abusing yourself."

Part 5

Taglist

@tinyplanet95 @dammitjim02 @chaotic-waffle @missarte-beltane @im-sam-fucking-winchester

@persnicketysquares @estrellami-1 @spookycollectorcandies @chocolateraccoonlights @exasperatedsighohmy

@disrespectedgoatman @yesdangerpls @me-ig7 @imaginary-maggie-waggie

[amathslutsguidetofandom]

You just moved in the house next door to Bucky’s and when he welcomes you to the neighborhood, he completely forgets what he was going to say cause he’s stunned by your beauty and he eventually asks you if you want to hangout with him and Steve which you immediately accept🥰

Never Been More Sure

PAIRINGS: Construction Worker!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: FLUFF, overworked reader, reader needs a break, loud music. Grumpy Bucky

WORD COUNT: 1,644

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

His grip on the hammer tightens as he hears the base from the house next door increases.

“Jesus,” he mutters, Bucky looks at his watch as see that’s it three in the afternoon. He then looks at Steve, “who the hell would be listening to music this loud at this time of day?”

Steve looks up from the blueprints and squints his eyes at the house next to the one they’re working on and hears the bass he’s best friend was talking about. “Dunno man,” he shrugs.

The house flipping project was not knew to Bucky’s experience, but it was albeit different from his usual construction work, but when the man who own the company, who also happens to be his best friend, tells him he needs some help, Bucky’s up and ready to help.

He enjoyed renovating the house, but what he did not enjoy was the loud music playing from the house next door.

It would always be the same playlist every day, at the same hour, at maximum volume.

He’d always grit his teeth as he felt the vibrations through out the entirety of the house.

***

He parks his truck in the driveway and steps out, Bucky looks up into the sky and see’s the orange hue of the rising sun tainting the blue sky.

He sighs and walks into the house gets all the equipment up and ready for action.

Steve arrives a little while later and sets up too, they talk about random updates on their lives when Steve stops to a specific topic.

“Oh, and the person next door, the one that blasts the music is apparently new to the neighbourhood too,” he says as he uses a hammer to nail in some wooden floorboards.

Bucky pauses as he holds some tiles under his arm, “yeah?”

To which Steve nods too, “yeah.”

***

There is it, again.

The bass.

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance and rubs the bridge of his nose trying to push away the oncoming headache.

Steve had to go and get some caulk for the bathroom, so it was only Bucky working out some things.

“Fuck this shit,” he drops his tools and walks out of the house in his beige construction boots.

He was on the sidewalk to the house next door; he sees the plants on the porch and the little metal porch table and chair on the corner. With each step towards the house, the bass gets louder.

Walking up to the door he clenches his jaw as he hears his heart thumps to the beat of the base, he clenches his knuckles and knocks on the door a bit too loudly.

***

Your mind was too focused on working on your code and trying to find your bug and trying to understand why your program runs on an infinite loop, that you almost did not hear the loud knock on your door.

Your mind reels itself back into the real world, where Freddie Mercury screams through your house about some woman being a killer queen.

You walk to your front door, as you do you feel the base course through your body, providing you’re tension some sort of release. You open the door to see a 6’ something beefy man with hair till his shoulders, the bluest eyes you’ve seen, and a pair of construction vest and a hard hat.

You, however, are cladded in a tank top and red flannel pyjama pants.

“Uh hi, may I help you?” you look at him confuse, like you weren’t totally checking him out a few seconds ago.

I mean you really can’t blame you, when he is doing the exact same thing as you were: checking you out.

***

Bucky taps his foot impatiently waiting for the door to be opened, and when it does the string of cuss words that he had planned to use evaporates from his tongue.

He takes in your messy hairdo and the glasses that perch on your nose.

His heart stutters for a sec, he can’t even bring himself to answer the question you asked. And when you repeat it again, he just lets out a serious of “uh’s” and “um’s”.

You look at him questioningly, wondering what a construction worker would be doing around these parts. Then you remember the house that’s being renovated on your left.

“Oh you the guys working on house next to mine, yeah?” You say as you lean against your doorframe.

Bucky stands straighter and gets himself together. “Uh, yes ma’am,” he nods he scratches his stubble.

“I’m sorry for knocking so loud, ma’am. But I’ve been working on the house for a few weeks now and I can’t help but hear the…. music from your house,” he says looking into your eyes and stuffing his hands into the hands of his cargo shorts.

You blush immediately, “shit. Oh my god, I’m so sorry it’s just when I get locked into my work. I just need some loud base so it does get loud in the noggin’,” you say and tap on your temple, and then cringe.

WHO THE FUCK SAYS NOGGIN

To your luck, Bucky chuckles at your little stunt and nods.

“What work needs music so loud that it can break the sound barrier,” he crosses his arm and gives you a smirk.

Your legs almost turn to jelly at his smirk.

“Well, um, I code…...A lot. I work in Machine Learning,” you say as your wring your hands and laugh nervously.

Bucky raises a brow, impressed at your revelation of what you do for a living.

“Impressive. Well then, I really shouldn’t say anything that would affect your work-,” he starts but you cut immediately.

“No, no, no, it’s my fault I’ll reduce the volume. I should’ve done it sooner, but I was just seriously locked in. I’m like running on five cups of coffee, it’s literally insane. My boss thinks that I am able to code an entire authentication system in two weeks, and that’s where she her screws are loose in her head. Cuz, no one in the entire world can build an entire TWO-WAY authentication system in two weeks. Like who does she think I am Mark Zuckerberg, I can’t-,”

You pause as you realise, you’re going on a rant. Bucky’s eyes are slightly raised in shock.

“Sorry I really shouldn’t be rambling about my job to some stranger, I’ll lower the volume Mr…,” you drag the last bit hoping he’ll finish it off you.

“Barnes, James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky,” he sticks his hand out and asks for yours, which you tell gladly.

“And don’t worry, we all have those days,” he says giving you a little nod of sympathy.

You smile softly at his efforts and thank him before giving a tight smile and a “See you later” and closing the door of your humble abode.

***

Bucky notices the reduced volume of the music in the following days, he smiles as he can only hear the traces of the 80’s/90’s music you play from your home.

Steve see’s the look Bucky has as he watches your house.

“Have you met ‘em?” Steve asks as he continues to tile the kitchen.

Bucky, without looking away from the house, responds with a yes.

Steve chuckles, “you gave ‘em a piece of your mind? Threaten ‘em? Is that why their music is barely audible now, hmm?”

Bucky shakes his head, “she’s gorgeous, Steve.” He remembers how you were dressed with you first opened the door and it made his heart flutter again.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, with a smirk on his face. Bucky death glares at Steve, to which Steve chuckles at.

The blonde looks at his watch as sighs, “well it’s time for lunch, wanna clock out?” To which Bucky nods to.

Soon they make it to Bucky’s truck and Bucky can’t help but stare at your house.

“Ask her if she wanna join,” Steve pushes Bucky in your direction.

“Should I? I dunno man,” the brunette scratches the back of his neck. Steve just rolls his eyes and shoves Bucky to the stairs leading up to your porch.

***

You excepted there would be a bug in your code. But what you didn’t expect was your doorbell to ring.

You got up and felt your grey sweats unstick from your thighs, you shudder at the feeling.

You make your way to the door and open it up to reveal the man you were secretly hoping it would be.

Bucky.

“Hey Bucky, gosh I hope the music isn’t loud again,” you laugh nervously to which Bucky shakes his head and reassures you.

“It’s perfect, doll. Greatly appreciated,” he smiles giving a soft smile.

You return with your own and then a confused look glazes your face, “oh, great. Then, why are you…?”

Bucky helps you finish the sentence, “My co-worker and I were heading to grab some lunch, just wanted to check in and ask if you wanted to join us?”

“Oh,” you look behind him and see and equally handsome blonde man waving in your direction with a 100-percent-typical-American-golden-boy smile. You nervously wave back and look back at Bucky, “Oh I don’t wanna impose.”

Bucky huffs and chuckles, “you ain’t imposing, Doll. I’m offering.” He raises a brow in question, waiting for your answer.

“How long have you been at your computer?” he asks straightforward. You reel you head back in slight confusion at the sudden change of topic, “uh, since this morning?”

Bucky nods and replies, “you need a break.”

That you didn’t disagree with, since you are desperate for one.

But you feel as though you’d disturb Bucky and his friends lunch.

“You sure I won’t be imposing?” you ask him as you bite your lip.

“Never been more sure of anything else in my life, doll.”

💌💌💌

Hey Lovelies! this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I FINALLY finished it. My deepest apologies @sergeantbarnessdoll for not completing it sooner, it isn't the same as you asked I hope that's all good 🤧🤧🤧.

This was also a fix I was planning to make! ( a fix that included a construction worker Bucky Barnes’s, cuz that AU is soooo underrated)

Lemme know what y'all think!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

[luveline]

Hello! If you are in the mood for it, I’d love to read some more hurt/comfort w zombie au Steve! Is it bad I love when reader gets hurt? Maybe she almost gets bitten and can’t run away for some reason, or if you have another idea that is better (my brain isn’t working rn) thank you! Have a lovely day, be kind to yourself!

zombie au | fem, 1.3k

“Ready?” 

Steve kneels, offering his palms braced ready for your foot. “Ready.” 

You take a running start and press your foot into his palms, gasping breathlessly at the sudden weightlessness of his strength underneath you, pushing you up as your hands scrabble for purchase at the top of the wall. Steve does his best to help you all the way over, on his tiptoes no doubt as he pushes the bottoms of your shoes and forces you onto the second story. 

Your hands ache. The floor is cluttered with chunks of plaster that bite your skin as you struggle onto your knees. 

“Anything stand out?” Steve asks from below. 

There’s a vinyl player cracked and on its side by the wall, a shelf of albums in faded disarray beside it. You climb onto your feet, careful of the warped floorboards and the darkest mould of water damage to the right side of the room. “Uh, there’s a lot of stuff up here.” 

The bed is sinking into itself, once pink sheets turning an unfortunate orange from sun and weather alike, the wardrobe spilled and sprayed in all directions. Any clothes worth wearing will be in the dresser on the dry side of the room, or through the door and in another bedroom. “I think there might be pajamas and underwear and stuff in the dresser. I don’t know how I’m gonna get you up, though.” 

“I’ll look for something. Be careful, okay?” 

You turn to the edge, peering down at Steve with a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Shout if you need me.” 

“Sure.” He smiles back. “Seriously, be careful.” 

“There’s not much in here.” 

“That hasn’t stopped you getting yourself hurt before.” 

“Is that snark I’m detecting?”

“Baby, when I get up there,” he threatens without heat. 

You blow him a slightly uncharacteristic kiss and wave your fingers at him. 

You and Steve work in a quiet tandem clearing the house for things you can use. You have a rather large list of things you’re going to need soon; underwear for both of you, socks, some pants that will actually fit Steve, soap, a bedroll or anything that could work as one, batteries for the radio, a torch, etc. The list goes on. 

The underwear situation is dire. You’ve started wearing boxers in lieu of any better option. Steve says he likes the look of them —you can’t believe him sometimes. You have hair on your thighs and the boxers aren’t a cute look, the last time he tried to kiss your stomach you both realised you had a streak of dirt on your ribs you’d failed to scrub away in the stream. You never, ever feel clean, but it doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t find you pretty. Same way you find him handsome in his holey jeans or with enough grease in his hair to fry your cuts of rabbit. 

The dresser proves hopeful. The top drawer has underwear that at first glance seem too small, but when stretched have enough give to work out fine. You won’t find boxers in here for Steve and you aren’t sure he’ll like the hipster cut of the panties you pocket. “Steve?” 

“Yeah?” he calls. 

“I’m gonna go see if there’s more bedrooms.” 

“No, hey!” He comes running into the living room below you, looking severe. “Hey, wait for me first, you don’t know what’s up there?” 

That’s why you’re going to be cautious. “Steve, I have the knife, and we would’ve heard by now if there was a geek up here,” you say, heading back for the door, “they’re pretty loud when they–”

You’re flat on your back before you’ve even really opened the door. 

As urgent as things may be, the second you realise it’s a geek on top of you, you can’t stop yourself from thinking you deserve it for being so smug. And then you start screaming. 

It’s a gnashing, gnarly mess of black gore and greened skin, the stink of it turning your stomach, it’s weight heavy and hard on your chest. Fuck, it hurts more than it scares you, all snapping, faltering teeth. Trapped. You squirm and shriek, your panic turning to rage as you slam your hand into the things throat and push it upwards, away from you, but it’s so fucking big —why is so huge? You shriek again as its teeth snap at your hand, but you’re not completely useless, not fully, pulling the knife from your shallow pocket and flicking it open one-handed like you’ve practiced. With a cry, you slam it as deep as it’ll go into the geeks neck. Miss, you pull it out and slam again, looking for the stem. You must stab the thing ten times before it stops grunting and goes still, your lips crammed tightly shut as blood gushes down its back and the ridges of your arm. 

You realise Steve’s screaming your name in the quiet. 

“Answer me!” He shouts. “Are you okay? Answer me!” 

You pant. “Fine! Fine, it didn’t bite me!” Heat pools behind your eyes anyways, the memory of its teeth grazing your hand startling. You push at the body, needing to analyse your hand, quickly, there’s still time to cut the whole thing off— 

You’re trapped. 

“Steve, I can’t get it off me,” you say, squeezed and panicking, “I can’t move, I– I can’t–”

“No, no, baby, it’s okay, I’m coming up! I’ll be right there, I’m gonna be right there!” 

It takes him ten minutes. You devolve into a frenzy of panic and defeat, trapped by such a monstrous thing. It must be four hundred pounds of gored decay. You can feel it wetting your clothes. 

Steve eventually clambers up onto the bedroom’s weak floor with a groan and a frantic, “Babe!” 

“I’m fine!” 

He drags himself across the floor, throws himself at the geek to push it off of you, and it’s so heavy full of water or mould or whatever it is that’s inside these devils that you have to push as hard as you can beside him before the geek sags onto its side and releases you. You’re crying great shuddery tears as you flop into Steve’s embrace, his chest moving like a hummingbirds under your cheek. 

“Sorry!” you say, clutching him tightly. 

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” he says back, between gasps that sound painful. Still, he attempts gentleness. “It’s okay, you’re okay, it didn’t get you? Are you sure? Let me look, honey, I need to see.” 

You twist away to let his gaze run over your neck and face. “My hands,” you offer. 

“I can’t tell. I– you’re covered in fucking blood.”

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s–” If it bit you, you’re dead already. Steve clutches you so hard that you’re worried your head is going to pop off of its stem. “Why can’t you just be careful?” he asks quietly. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why can’t you–” He cuts himself off, his nose digging into your ear. “It didn’t get you?” 

“No. No, I don’t think so.” 

Steve pushes you away from him far too quickly for your liking, but you forgive him when you realise he’s checking your hand against the light coming in from down below you. If you were bitten you’re sure you’d feel it by now, and if there were teeth marks in your hands, he’d see them already. 

“What the fuck is that thing?” Steve asks in a mutter, pressing your bloodied hands to his chest. 

You bite your lips. “I,” you say softly, terrified and tired and thankful your new underwear is still clean on the dresser, “don’t have a fucking clue.” 

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry Blossom. aka - Cherry, Part Four.

a night of conversations, kisses and long awaited confessions.

pairing - bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - cursing, kissing (but no real smut).

word count - 2.6k

authors note - the babies are back!! no smut in this one - it was getting too long. but don’t you worry… there’s gonna be so much smut in part five !! sorry for the cliffhanger. love u <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

series masterlist. main masterlist. inbox.

The smoke from the bonfire is stinging your eyes, ash sticking to the strands of your hair. Orange embers burn rapidly, dry wood being occasionally thrown on top by drunk boys with red cups in their hands.

The music is way too loud for a forest party, but no one seems to care. Someone’s haphazardly strung lights between the trees, creating a surprisingly cosy ambience. The atmosphere is alive, charged with the electricity of being out later than curfew.

“M’lady!”

You laugh, accepting the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you, kind sir,” you say as you curtsy sarcastically, making both of you laugh harder. “Hey, you didn’t bump into Steve on your way over here, did you? I haven’t seen him for like an hour.”

The curly haired boy kicks the toe of your sneaker with his.

“Saw him with that Clara girl, talking by the lake.”

You take a steadying breath, pretending it doesn’t bother you in the slightest.

“You should go and check if he needs rescuing,” Eddie jokes. “God knows she can talk for hours without coming up for air.”

You smile at him, pulling at one of his curls.

“Good idea. Just in case.”

“Just in case,” he winks, pushing you in the right direction.

You saunter down towards the water, spotting your best friend instantly. He’s stood with his arms across his chest, weight on one hip as he tries to listen to whatever Clara has to say. The minute he sees you, his posture is straightening, lips quirking up at the corners.

Clara turns around to see what Steve is looking at, her face falling when she recognises you.

“Hi. I don’t mean to interrupt! Just wanted to check if you needed another drink, Stevie.”

The boy grins, beckoning you closer with a nod of his head. When you’re near enough, he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, all affectionate and tender.

Oh.

You don’t do that.

The two of you have kept your romance completely behind closed doors, up until now. It hasn’t got a name, never mind a label, and you don’t need people asking questions when you don’t even know the answers yourself.

You could blame it on the alcohol, but you know Steve’s on his first drink. With your head spinning, you look up at him as if he is the sun and all things warm. He looks down at you the exact same way.

“I’m gonna go see where my friends are,” Clara says a little too loudly, strutting away with as much confidence as she can muster.

You have a sudden feeling that you’re the villain in her story, but you’re not entirely sure why.

“How many drinks have you had?” Steve asks as he pulls a strand of hair away from your face.

“This is my second. I was nursing my first one, Eddie says.”

The boy laughs, and you grab onto his bicep for support. The sound of it is enough to buckle your knees.

“This is my first. It’s not doing much for me.”

“You want something different? I’m sure Robin has that beer you like in her bag.”

“Nah, I’m okay. Don’t think I’m gonna drink any more tonight.”

Steve slips his hands into the back pockets of your jeans, pulling you in closer and keeping them there.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Okay,” he whispers back.

And then he kisses you. Again. It’s slow and careful and so romantic that you think you might start crying about it.

“What time is it?” he asks when he pulls away as if nothing happened.

“Eleven thirty.”

“You wanna stay a bit longer?”

“Not if you don’t.”

Steve presses his lips to your forehead, hands cradling your cheeks.

“I kinda wanna go home.”

You smile at him, all soft and sweet.

“Then let’s go home. I’m getting a little cold, anyway. And I didn’t bring a jacket.”

“Will you ever learn?” he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“If it means I have to stop wearing your jackets that I know you bring to parties just for me? No, I won’t.”

You weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but the way Steve chuckles soothes the sting of the accidental wound.

“Let’s go home, Cherry Baby.”

Home. The assumption that the two of you will always be returning to the same place makes your heart so full, you wonder how it doesn’t spill over.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You good?”

“Feet hurt.”

This happens every single time the two of you go to a party, so you feel as if you’re reliving a memory.

“Hop on.”

“Steve-”

“Cherry. Come on. We’ll get home quicker this way.”

You can’t argue with that. Steve crouches as you jump onto his back, his hands wrapping around your thighs to keep you steady. You wrap your arms around his neck from behind, resting your head on top of his.

“Comfy back there?”

You hum, the noise of agreement enough for Steve to start walking.

The two of you chat each others ears off on the way home, talking about nothing and everything. You laugh so hard at something he says that you end up with a mouthful of his hair, which he in turn finds hilarious.

“Have you thought any more about what I said the other day?”

“You say a lot of things, Steven.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and giving your thighs a squeeze.

“About college.”

You go quiet for a moment, and Steve wonders if he’s chosen the wrong time to have this conversation.

“I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? When I’m not constantly worried I’m gonna accidentally trip and kill you.”

You nod, and he feels it. You know it needs to be a discussion sometime soon, but perhaps having it when you’re being carried down the street on your best friends back isn’t all that practical.

“Love you,” you mumble into the crook of Steve’s neck.

He shudders a little at your lips on his skin, leaning his head sideways to rest against yours.

“Love you, Cherry Pie. More than anything.”

You let Steve piggyback you all the way to his front door. Neither of you say anything else. Neither of you feel the need to.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Steve bumps his hip into yours as you both brush your teeth, laughing at your shocked reflection in the mirror.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you place your toothbrush back in its holder, right next to his.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

You hop up on the bathroom counter, sitting up so you’re eye to eye with the boy in front of you. He takes a step forward, standing between your legs as he splays his cold hands over your thighs.

“Why’d you ask?”

You trace over his fingers where they rest on your skin, quiet for a moment.

“You seemed pretty eager to go home tonight. It’s unlike you. You love a party. Leaving at eleven thirty is like… unheard of, for King Steve.”

“King Steve would rather be at home with you than at a party with all those people.”

“Really?”

“Really. Clara was going on about something or other, the music was too loud, and I could feel the chill coming in. It hit me, all of a sudden, that I’d rather be in bed. Or, anywhere else, as long as I was with you.”

You lean forward to rest your head against his chest, sighing when he starts playing with your hair gently.

“You’re a softie,” you mumble into his shirt. “And a mind reader.”

“It’s my one talent,” he chuckles. “I wish reading your mind was a college major. I’d be the best in the world.”

You shake your head, laughing like you can’t help it.

“If I don’t move soon, I’m gonna fall asleep on this bathroom counter.”

“Want me to carry you?”

“Contrary to popular belief,” you tease as you hop down, “my legs actually do work.”

Steve gasps, all theatrical and exaggerated, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Come on, sleepy girl. Let’s go to bed.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“We’re not talking about stuff.”

You whisper it into the darkness, the trees rustling outside Steve’s window serving as the only sound you can hear.

“Hmm?”

Your legs are tangled with his, tired head resting on the boys shoulder as your sides are pressed together. You’re both lying on your backs, staring at the ceiling.

“We keep saying we’ll talk about stuff, but we haven’t been. It’s not like us.”

“You mean, like, feelings?”

“Yeah.”

All that can be heard now is two sets of heaving lungs. Steve’s hand finds yours under the duvet, fingers intertwining.

“Is there something specific that’s bothering you?”

“Not bothering me as such. I just… I think the more we don’t talk, the more complicated things become.”

There’s silence for a moment, before Steve speaks.

“I’m scared, Cherry.”

The tone of his voice is paper thin and vulnerable, and you will yourself not to cry about it.

“Of what, Stevie?”

You squeeze his hand, tucking yourself further into his side until there isn’t an inch of space between you.

“Of… everything changing. You’re my best friend in the entire world, and I know that what we’ve been doing isn’t typical… best friend stuff. I just…” he takes a deep breath, exhaling carefully. “I worry that something will happen and we’ll break up, and I’ll lose you forever.”

His voice cracks on the last word, fear seeping through his pores. Yet, he continues.

“I’d die without you, Cherry. I really would. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a world where we’re not… us.”

You turn onto your side to face him in the dark, reaching up to cradle his cheek softly. You rest your forehead against his temple, pressing a kiss into his skin.

“I’m scared too. I have been ever since that first night in my room. Not because I don’t trust you, or because I don’t feel that way about you… but because I don’t want to lose you either. More than anything, I don’t want to lose you.”

“Why didn’t we talk about this sooner?” he laughs, throat thick with emotion.

“Because we’re us. And whether we talk or don’t talk, we know we’ll figure it out. We always know we’ll be okay.”

“I love you,” he whispers into the dark. “More than all the stars in the sky.”

“I love you,” you whisper back. “More than all the grains of sand on all the beaches in the world.”

You press another kiss into his temple, letting your lips linger on his soft skin. He smells so familiar, so warm, so yours… you can’t help but inhale, chuckling when he shudders.

You continue to leave kisses across his jaw, over his ear, down his neck. He tilts his head to give you better access, groaning when you nip at his throat with your teeth, licking over the scrape to soothe him.

Steve pulls you in as if you weigh nothing, moving you so you’re lying on top of him. You sit up, straddling his lap, as he does the same so you’re chest to chest. Running his hands under your shirt and over the bare skin of your back, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You look so pretty like this,” he hums against your lips. “Prettiest girl in the world.”

“You wanna talk about pretty?” you tease, running your fingers through his hair. “My pretty, pretty boy.”

Steve’s hips buck up into yours, making you giggle.

“Oh, you like that? You like it when I call you pretty? Or do you just like it when I call you mine?”

His hips buck again as his cheeks flush pink.

“I am yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been.”

You thought you had the upper hand for a minute, but now you just want to cry. You’re overwhelmed by the way you feel about the boy underneath you, unsure of how to process it without bursting into tears.

“All mine,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your fingertip.

Steve takes a deep breath, watching your eyes as they look over him again and again, taking him in as if it’s the first time. He decides it’s now or never.

“Cherry?”

“Stevie?”

Your voices are low and careful, irregardless of the fact that you’re alone in the house.

“I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stops, and so does the world outside. Everything pauses, the two of you suspended in this moment in time.

Steve takes another breath, exhaling it carefully before meeting your eyes and continuing.

“You don’t have to say it back. Now, or ever. I just - I needed you to know.”

You blink back tears as you watch his face, biting your lip to stop them from falling.

“Steve-”

“Hey, I told you. You don’t have to say anything, babe. I know-”

“Shut up.”

“What?”

“Just-”

You surge forward and kiss him with all the affection you can muster, trying to express your feelings. You grip his hair, plastering your bodies together where you sit in his lap still. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in as close as he can.

“If you let me talk,” you say when you pull away, all breathless, “you’d hear that I have something I’d like to say.”

Steve smiles, humming in acknowledgment and encouraging you to keep going.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

The boy looks shocked to hear it, as if it’s news to him.

“What’s that face for?” you laugh.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to say it back.”

“Steve,” you chuckle, looking at him sternly. When you realise he’s being serious, you double down. “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. When we were kids, and someone would say the word ‘husband’, I always pictured you. I was so convinced it was always going to end up being you and I.”

“Why… why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He laughs, and the sound makes you feel as if you’re on cloud nine. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed to yours, frantic like he’s just ran a marathon.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He leans up to kiss you, all saccharine and honey sweet.

“Say it again,” you whisper against his lips.

“I’m in love with you, Cherry.”

“Say it again.”

“I, Steve Harrington, declare that I am completely, utterly, ridiculously in love with this girl right here. I always have been. I always will be.”

You can’t help but throw your head back with laughter.

“And I love you. So much.”

The words you’ve always said mean so much more now. It’s a welcome change, one you never thought you’d see happen.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?”

You lean in, nosing at his jaw as you murmur into his ear.

“Want you. So bad.”

“Fuck, honey,” he groans, all low and rough.

“Please. Want it to be you.”

Looking up at you with big eyes, he searches your face for any kind of hesitation.

“Are you sure?”

Smoothing his hair away from his face, you trace your thumb over his bottom lip.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “I’m about to rock your world, Cherry Blossom.”

@psychicnerdcat @allcheesemelts @valerievortex @swiftsgirlfriend @steviespookie @betweenstarsandsatellites @mrsjoequinn @internallysalad @saucypeanuttt @empathyroad @niceskyler @spookysins @theoraekenslover @7minutes-tomidnight @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @clairesjointshurt @livsters @diffrent-spokes @regular-joe-shmoe @ihatepeanutss @ladyburberry @thenonweeknd @abarelyexistentbeing @jennaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @slut4gaga @hopelessromanticwriter @mgchaser @wintrsoldrluvr

[pupsmailbox]

SCENE︰EMO ID PACK

NAMES︰ acid. adder. adrian. aisling. alex. alice. alix. amethyst. annabelle. aqua. ash. ashlee. ashley. aspen. astley. avril. awe. axe. ayesha. bates. bell. bella. belladonna. bellatrix. billy. blade. blair. blitz. bloodie. bloodscene. blythe. bow. bree. butterfly. callie. candi. candy. celeste. chase. checkerz. clarity. click. coraline. couture. crow. cyril. cyrus. dakota. demi. demonia. devin. dino. dizzy. doge. dom. dominic. ebony. electra. elliot. emery. emmett. emo. epic. erin. evan. flash. fred. galaxy. gavin. gerard. ghostie. gif. gloom. gray. grayson. grim. gutz. happy. havoc. hazel. heyley. hunter. hyde. indigo. ink. iris. ivory. ivy. jack. jade. jason. jasper. jax. jeff. jet. jett. julie. kai kandi. kandiz. kat. kayden. killer. kit. kitt. kobi. kyler. lady. lapis. lee. lexie. liam. luna. lurk. lynx. lyric. lyxzen. mace. maddox. madeline. mae. malice. marceline. marcie. mars. mavis. meow. mia. midnight. mika. mill. nana. neo. net. nick. nina. noah. noob. nora. nyan. nyx. obscene. octavia. olivia. onix. onyx. opal. orange. orchid. pearl. phantom. phoenix. pierce, pierce. pitch. pixie. pop. punk. pusheen. rain. rainbow. raine. rainer. rave. raven. raver. rawr. razorz. reaper. ripley. river. rogue. ronnie. rose. rouge. roux. rubi. ruby ruby. sable. salem. sally. sapphire. sash. sasha. scythe. silvi. silvia. smiley. smoke. smokey. snap. snow. sonya. soot. sparrow. spike. splatter. spook. stella. steve. stripe. sunny. suzi. suzie. suzy. taffi. taffy. tag. tech. tempest. travis. trend. tyler. vesper. vine. vista. vivi. waffle. wave. web. wentz. wesley. wild. willow. wound. xander. z!m. zach. zack. zade. zaire. zak. zander. zara. zero. ziggy. zim. zircon. zoe. zoom. zyair.

PRONOUNS︰ awesome/awesome. ay/aym. bark/bark. bi/bim. bite/bite. black/black. bling/blingee. blood/blood. bone/bone. bow/bow. brace/bracelet. bright/bright. bright/colour. byte/byte. cat/cat. cata/catatonic. ce/cer. check/checkered. chem/chem. cir/circut. color/color. computer/computer. cool/cool. cos/cos. creepy/pasta. cringe/cringe. cry/cry. cut/cut. dead/dead. death/death. die/die. dino/dino. emo/emo. emoticon/emoticon. epic/epic. ev/ev. exe/exe. ey/em. eye/strain. fang/fang. fringe/fringe. game/game. gamer/gamer. ghost/ghost. gir/gir. girr/girr. glit/glitter. glitter/glitter. gloom/gloom. glow/glow. glow/stick. gore/gore. grr/grr. gun/gun. gut/gut. hor/horror. hx/hxm. hyper/hyper. hyperpop/hyperpop. internet/internet. it/it. ix/ix. kan/kandi. kand/kandi. kandi/kandi. kill/kill. kit/kit. knife/knife. lix/lix. loud/loud. luv/luv. mask/mask. meme/meme. meow/meow. mew/mew. mlp/mlp. mon/monster. mspaint/mspaint. music/music. neo/neon. neon/neon. net/net. nostalgia/nostalgia. nya/nya. nya/nyan. nyan/cat. old/old. online/online. pika/pikachu. pix/pix. pixel/pixel. plur/plur. pony/pony. pop/pop. pop/tart. queen/queen. quiet/quiet. rain/rain. rainbow/rainbow. random/random. rave/rave. rawr/rawr. raz/razor. red/red. rei/reina. scene/scene. scene/scenester. scenecore/scenecore. scream/scream. shx/hxr. si/silent. silly/silly. skull/skull. slash/slash. slice/slice. sound/sound. spi/spider. spook/spook. stab/stab. stick/sticker. sticker/sticker. stud/stud. swag/swags/swagself. thxy/thxm. troll/troll. tutu/tutu. txt/txt. vamp/vamp. video/game. virtual/virtual. vocaloid/vocaloid. web/web. windows/window. xe/xem. xey/xem. xy/xyr. youtube/youtube. ze/zem. ze/zer. ze/zero. zi/zim. zim/zim. zom/zombie. zomb/zomb.

[gloomysoup]

he's probably worried (not hiding anymore)

@steddiebingo christmas card prompt: secret relationship

rating: teen+ | word count: 717 | tags: post-s3, post- starcourt, coming out | ao3

The air is filled with red-orange flames and smoke as the mall burns to the ground in front of him. His head is still spinning, face throbbing, and he can barely breathe. The adrenaline is starting to fade, and Steve’s injuries are making themselves known. He stands side-by-side with Robin, neither of them saying a word. Everything has changed. Neither of them will ever be the same person they once were.

Steve has a fleeting thought that Eddie must be worried. It's gone just as soon as it was there when the paramedics are ushering them into the ambulance and taking them to the hospital.

Everything is a blur of sirens and lights, Robin’s hand in his, a shock blanket around his shoulders. Doctors and bright lights, wires and beeping machines. He gets set up in a room for monitoring. Robin is okay. The kids are okay. Everyone is okay.

Steve doesn't even register what's happening when the nurse says they're going to call his emergency contact. His brain still feels a little fuzzy, even if things are starting to become clearer.

Everyone is gathered in Steve’s room. Robin and Dustin are sitting at the end of the bed, on either side of his legs. Robin refuses to leave his side. Steve is thinking about Eddie again.

Steve is late for dinner. He's probably so worried.

There's heavy footsteps in the hallway, shoes squeaking on the linoleum. The door flies open, and a head of curls stumbles into the room. Eddie’s eyes find Steve’s quickly, wild and full of fear and concern. He quickly crosses the room, pulling Steve into a tight hug. The room falls silent around them.

“Christ, Steve, I was so worried about you,” Eddie whispers, his voice tight like he's trying not to cry. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I'm okay, promise. Just a little banged up, that's all.”

Eddie sucks in a very shaky breath, not letting go of Steve. “You're not allowed to scare me like that anymore, asshole. I can't handle it.”

“I'll do my best. How'd you even know I was here?”

Eddie pulls back, his hands resting on the sides of Steve’s face. “The hospital called Wayne.”

The door opens again, and there's Wayne. Steve notes that he looks tired, but the older man smiles when his gaze lands on Steve.

“Glad to see you're still kickin’, kid,” he says, the worry washing away from his face.

“Sorry, Wayne, can't get rid of me that easy,” Steve says with a grin that pulls at his cuts and bruises. Wayne barks a laugh at that, shaking his head.

“What the hell is going on?” Dustin says, finally finding his voice.

Eddie's eyes go wide as he suddenly seems to realize they are not alone in the room. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand with a smile and gives it a squeeze. Then he clears his throat and looks at Dustin.

"Wayne is my emergency contact,” he explains. “Has been for a little while now. I've, uh… kinda been staying with them from time to time.”

Dustin frowns, his eyebrows knit together. “But… why?”

Steve glances at Eddie, squeezing his hand again. He takes a deep breath. It's now or never. “Eddie is… my boyfriend.”

It's the first time he's said the words out loud. It's the first time they put an actual label on what they are, what they truly mean to each other. They've been boyfriends for a little while now, but they never actually talked about it. There was always so much sneaking around and secrets and keeping it under wraps. They were both scared.

Not anymore.

Steve isn't scared to hide Eddie away from his friends, from his family. The people who truly matter. Not when Eddie has never been scared of hiding him from Wayne, his family. He's done being scared, because he knows there's so many scarier things out there. He knows that monsters are real, and he knows it'll take a lot more than a boyfriend to run off his monster hunting family.

So he smiles at Eddie, and he calls him boyfriend. Because that's what he is. He's Steve’s boyfriend, and he loves him.

He's done keeping that a secret from the people who have always had his back, despite what they've been through.