#steve is the perfect third wheel

[fromsouptonuts]

All right, it’s M&M era!

[ramp-it-up]

Bolder

Summary: Bucky and Steve's relationship is practically perfect in any way. And then Bucky wishes for what would make it complete for his birthday. Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes!

Word count: 5.6 K

Pairing: Stucky x Enhanced!Reader (Sparrow)

A/N: This is another dream inspired by #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Another Year Older, Another Year Bolder. Althought I've written mfm before, I've not written Stucky. Let me know how I did. 😬 Please reblog, comment, and like!

Another note: This is canon divergent in the events of Endgame, Steve returns from replacing the Infinity Stones, but he still gives Sam the shield.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Bucky and Steve. That should be the entire warning, but it's not. Grumpy Steve and, cock blocker Sam. Poly sex acts, angst, emoting, wild thoughts, a birthday wish, which leads to birthday sex. Birthday sex: Captain and Sargeant kink, fingering, voyeurism, nipple play, oral (female receiving), raw p in v, two sex acts simultaneously (not dp) cock denial, creampie, squirting. I wish I could say this was a one shot, but... well, let me know if you want another part.

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I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

The way Bucky pushed back against Steve’s command and control, subtly at times, outrageously at others, was a sight to witness.

The order and restraint that defined the former Captain America trembled in Bucky’s presence.

And Steve made Bucky come alive, fully awake for the first time in years. 

Steve belonged to Bucky and Bucky to Steve, for almost a century, even when he couldn’t remember his own name. After all they’d been through, they finally had the time and space to proclaim and celebrate their love.

They were the most beautiful couple you’d ever seen. 

When you first joined the team, you were starstruck not because they were some of the most famous Avengers, the hero and the villain, but because they were sun and moon, yin and yang, and seemed utterly perfect and complete in their relationship.

They were nice to you, respectful and curious, as you were the most like them. But you were so very different. You’d wanted to serve your country as a volunteer for a 20 week trial of the serum, the effects of which you were assured would be reversed.

Turned out, the people doing the assuring were HYDRA in disguise.

Now, here you were, another supersoldier and newbie on the team, and that caused them to drift toward you naturally. Skittish at first, you warmed up to them and became the third musketeer, training, working together, and hanging out.  

Your code name was Sparrow, because you were small yet fierce, which Steve admired, and handy with sharp implements, which made Bucky smile, which was a feat.

With this team, you third wheeling became a running joke. Although you didn’t admit that you would jump at the chance, you could handle the ribbing, mainly because you thought you were in no danger of having your deepest fantasies fulfilled. 

Of course it was a joke, because what would they need with you?

It was a question you were beginning to ask more in the past few months. It had almost been a year since you joined the Avengers and everyone was comfortable with you now.

Especially Bucky and Steve. 

As time progressed, way they acted with you was more than familiar and you began to feel something…else in the way they interacted with you.

When he looked at you, Steve’s gaze was steady, with heat simmering just beneath it. You admired the way he shared command of the team with Sam easily, his restrained and disciplined demeanor the default until he was pushed.

And so you did it, because you wanted to see that control crack for you like it did with Bucky. 

You disobeyed Steve on a routine mission, but the actions you took put you in slightly more danger than was planned. Steve snapped and chewed you out so thoroughly that you were wet for the entire seven minutes that he lectured you on protocol. It was a thorough dressing down, and it made you want to get undressed for him.

After, he retreated to the other side of the room, looking at you like he was considering all the ways he could break you apart and put you back together. You stared back at him, silently daring him to.

He would have bent you over the desk if Sam hadn’t told him to give you a break. He stalked out and you wanted to follow him and submit to anything he wanted, but Sam followed him instead.

Bucky didn’t hold back that day either. His hunger was blatant, carved into the smirk that tugged at his lips, in the way he leaned just a little too close, testing, demanding.

His voice dropped when he spoke to you, low and rough, thick with the promise of something dark and dangerous. 

“What you did wasn’t too smart, Sparrow. You shouldn’t put yourself in danger like that. Better be careful, before Steve takes it out on your ass.”

Bucky devoured you with those sharp and knowing eyes, like he already knew how you’d sound when you moaned his name and how you’d feel beneath his hands.

“Something tells me that you wouldn’t mind that…”

Sam came back into the room and cocked blocked yet again. This time you escaped the situation. 

After that, you were caught in a storm of tension so thick it was dizzying. You knew what Bucky and Steve were to each other, two halves of something unbreakable that was forged through war and loss and survival. 

And yet, somehow, they’d turned their attention on you.

The heat between you was filled with unspoken promises that these two men would destroy you in the most exquisite ways. 

And God help you, you wanted them to.

—-

Bucky’s birthday rolled around not too long after that, a crisp March day bright with newfound sunlight and celebration.

Steve had apologized to you and you to him, yet there was something unfinished there. He still held you at arms length.

Nevertheless, you were able to have a fun day celebrating your “old man,” as you joked about Bucky. Steve’s eyes flashed and Bucky’s jaw clenched when you said it. 

And when you kissed him on the cheek after wishing him happy birthday, Steve’s cock hardened when he noticed the way Bucky’s fingers twitched on your lower back.

Bucky had never been one for birthdays. For too many years, they were just another mark on a calendar he didn’t remember, a reminder of how much time had slipped through his fingers like sand.

But now, things were different. Bucky was bolder now.

The older Bucky got, the more he leaned into asking for what he wanted. And for what he needed.

Because of that newfound boldness, now he had Steve.

And this year, he had you.

Was that right?

Maybe he should’ve questioned the way you had slipped into their lives like you were always meant to be there, and the way his body recognized your presence before his mind did.

But it was all so obvious.

He noticed it in the way Steve looked at you, that quiet hunger he tried to reign in but never quite managed to. He felt it in himself, in the way his pulse jumped when you laughed, in the way his fingers twitched with the need to touch you. It was also in the way his stomach tightened whenever you looked straight through him into his essence.

Only Steve had been able to do that before. 

And Steve was lost, too. His eyes followed you when you walked out of a room, like he was waiting for the moment you'd return. 

Strangely Bucky wasn’t jealous, but at first he was alarmed when he noticed the way you looked at both him and Steve. Like you were just waiting for one of them to finally say it out loud.

But then he realized that he just needed to ask for what he wanted. For what he and Steve both needed.

So Bucky did.

It was 2 AM of the morning after night of his birthday, the three of you the last hangers on in the living room of their apartment. Each time you made to leave, one of them drew you into another conversation.

Finally, Steve lit the match.

He asked Bucky what he wished for when he blew out his candles.

Bucky didn’t even hesitate because he wasn’t good at pretending. Never had been.

"I wished for Sparrow to join us," he said simply, leaning back against the couch, watching as Steve processed his words.

Neither you, nor Steve, had to question what he meant. The meaning was painfully clear.

Steve’s blue eyes flickered with something unreadable. His jaw tightened as his fingers flexed against his thigh. Bucky could tell he was already overthinking, probably considering a dozen different ways this could go wrong. 

That was just the way Steve was, always careful, always considerate. Even to the point of denying himself.

But Bucky knew Steve wanted this too.

Across from them, you stilled. Then, slowly, like you wanted them to see, you tilted your head and uncrossed your legs in your short skirt, just to cross them again, the smooth slide of your thighs against each other made Bucky’s mouth go dry and Steve’s pulse race.

A smirk played at the edge of your lips, but your eyes gave you away. There was curiosity there, something that said you’ve thought about this too.

Bucky pretended to be cool even as tension and heat coiled tight in his gut. 

"It’s my birthday. And I figured—why not make it interesting?"

Steve exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand through his golden hair, his ears tinged red. Bucky knew that look. 

He had seen it in battle, right before Steve made a decision that would change everything. 

He’d seen it in private, right before Steve begged for his cock.

Steve’s gaze flickered to you, then back at Bucky, then at you again. He and Bucky had built something solid between them, something unshakable, but he couldn't deny there was a certain pull whenever you were around.

The tension, the glances, the way you fit so seamlessly into their lives. It was heady.

You sat watching the scene, eyes flickering between them with interest.

"You don't have to say yes," Bucky said, giving Steve an easy out. 

But he smirked anyway, because deep down, he already knew what the answer would be. Steve was flustered, Bucky could tell, but not upset. 

No, this was something else.

"You’ve been thinking about this for a while, haven’t you?" you asked Bucky, your voice smooth, teasing.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea," Bucky chuckled.

You gasped as if those words alone sent a jolt through you. Then you hummed trying to remain calm as you tapped a finger against your knee, eyes flickering toward Steve. 

"And you, Captain?"

Steve’s breath hitched just slightly as he gazed at you. Small, but Bucky caught it.

And when Steve’s gaze landed back on him, slow and deliberate, Bucky felt it. That heat. That unspoken understanding. 

Bucky saw it happen in real time, the shift in Steve’s expression, the way his pupils blew wide, the way his fingers twitched like he was fighting the urge to reach for you right now.

Steve smiled and his voice was a low rasp when he finally spoke.

"Happy birthday, Buck."

Bucky grinned.

—

The second Steve said it, the air in the room changed.

You didn’t move right away, just watched them, your breath just a little uneven. Bucky could feel your body heat, close enough to touch. Close enough to ruin.

He’d imagined this. Countless times. 

What it would be like to have you here, caught between him and Steve, wanting them.

But reality was so much better.

Bucky reached out first, metal fingers around your wrist, pulling you up and forward until you landed on his lap with a soft gasp. His other hand found your waist, grinding you against him. Your body was warm, soft, and pliant in all the ways he had dreamed about.

"You sure about this, sweetheart?" he murmured against your ear, his lips just barely brushing the sensitive skin there. 

His voice was rough and hungry.

You shivered in his grip. 

"I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t."

Bucky let out a low chuckle, his grip tightening. 

"Good."

Behind you, Steve shifted, so close Bucky could feel the desire radiating off him. When he spoke, his voice was thick.

"You look good like this," Steve murmured, and when you turned your head slightly to look at him, Bucky caught the way Steve's face changed to a look of pure lust.

Fuck.

Bucky had always known Steve wanted you, just as much as he did. He’d seen it in the way Steve watched you, in the way he tried to be respectful, to keep a distance, even though everything in him wanted to close it.

Not anymore. He was going to help Bucky thoroughly defile you.

Bucky leaned in, pressing his lips just beneath your jaw, smirking when he felt your pulse racing beneath his lips.

"You gonna let us take care of you, Sparrow?" he rasped. "Since it is my birthday, after all."

Your breath was uneven, but you didn’t hesitate. You turned slightly in his lap, your fingers reaching up to fist in Steve’s shirt, tugging him closer.

"Yes. I want you both to take care of me tonight.”

With those words, the space between all three of you disappeared in an instant. Bucky felt your body press against his, your breath warm against his neck, and it took everything in him not to lose himself right then and there. 

He wanted to take his time. He wanted to feel this, wanted to drag it out until you were breathless, until Steve’s control cracked, until all three of you were left trembling in the aftermath.

Steve’s lips hovered just above yours, his breath uneven. Bucky watched, enthralled, as you stared up at him, eyes dark and half-lidded.

"You absolutely certain about this?" Steve asked, voice low and thick with something deeper than just desire.

You reached up, moving your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him down until your lips brushed his. 

"Never been more certain of anything."

Steve groaned softly, capturing your lips in a slow, hungry kiss. Bucky exhaled sharply, his grip on your waist tightening as he felt you melt between them.

Holy shit, this was happening.

Watching you kiss Steve, watching the way his hands skimmed over your sides and the way your body responded, Bucky swore he could feel it in his own skin.

When you finally pulled away, your breath hitched, and your lips were swollen as your eyes flickered toward Bucky. He smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers grazing your jaw before he leaned in, capturing your lips with his own.

While Steve’s kiss had been slow and languid, Bucky’s was something else entirely.

Possessive. Starved.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth, your fingers tightening in his shirt as he deepened the kiss, his metal hand trailing up your spine, cold against the heat of your skin. You shivered, arching just slightly, and hell, that was enough to drive him crazy.

Behind you, Steve let out a low chuckle, pressing closer, his lips grazing your collarbone. 

"Didn’t think you’d be the greedy one, Buck," he murmured, amused.

Bucky smirked against your lips. 

"Oh, I know how to share." 

His blue eyes flickered between both of you, dark and full of promise. 

"Especially when it’s something this good."

Your breath came in shallow pants, eyes flickering between them, heat pooling between the three of you, thick enough to drown in.

Steve’s fingers traced the curve of your jaw, tilting your face back toward him, his lips barely ghosting over yours as he whispered, “You sure you can handle us both, Sweetheart?”

His voice was teasing, but beneath it was reverence, like he needed to be sure before he let himself fall. This was the fourth time they’d asked for your consent.

They were really about to ruin you.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” you murmured.

A soft, delighted hum rumbled in Steve’s chest behind you. Bucky caught the way your body shivered at the sensation of the warmth of Steve pressed against your back and at the weight of Bucky in front of you. 

Sandwiched between them, you fit perfectly, like you had always belonged here, like this was inevitable.

“We should take our time with this,” Steve murmured against the skin of your neck.

“Make sure she knows exactly what she’s gotten herself into.”

Bucky smirked, sliding his metal hand up your spine, relishing the way you arched into his touch. 

“That sounds like a plan, Stevie.”

The way they were talking about you as if you weren’t there served to make you wetter than you already were. You wanted to be used by them for their pleasure.

For yours. 

The two men looked at each other in a silent exchange that didn’t need words. It had always been that way between them. Decades of understanding built through war, through loss, and through finding each other over and over again despite the odds. 

But this?

This was new.

Sharing something, someone, this intimately wasn’t just about lust. 

It was trust. It was knowing Steve would move when Bucky moved, and that Steve would read him the way he always had. It was knowing that they could balance each other, even in this.

And you were centered in it, the tether between them, the unspoken possibility they had both been too afraid to touch until now.

Bucky slid his hand to the back of your neck, guiding your lips back to his. He kissed you slowly and deeply, savoring the way you melted into him, the way you rolled yourself over him. 

The sound of your soft sigh sent heat curling in his stomach, and just as he deepened it, Steve’s hand slid over your hips, grinding you down harder on Bucky’s lap.

“Fuck, you feel s’good, Bucky”

You were already lust drunk, the thought that you would have them both electrifying your body. And your mind.

“Think she likes this,” Steve mused, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt.

“What do you think, Buck?”

Bucky pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes dark, searching. You were breathless, caught between them, pupils blown wide.

“Oh, she loves this,” he murmured, dragging his metal fingers down your spine again, watching the way you arched your back, feeling the heat pool between your legs.

Steve hummed in approval, his grip on your shirt turned to pulling it up and over your head. Bucky’s eyes widened at the fact that you didn’t have on a bra. Well, he’d guessed at it earlier as his eyes took in your body, but seeing you in the flesh, and in his face made his blood heat. 

When Steve grabbed your tits and, softly at first, then more urgently pulled and rolled your nipples, Bucky licked his lips and glanced over your shoulder before he leaned down and sucked you through Steve’s fingers. 

You threw your head back on Steve’s chest as you rode Bucky’s straining jeans covered cock.

Oh, this was heaven.

“Open your eyes, Sparrow.” 

You hadn’t even realized you’d closed them. You opened your eyes as Bucky’s hands went to your thighs and spread you wider against him. The move bunched your skirt high up around your hips, leaving you with only your panties covering you. 

Steve watched as Bucky pulled your dress higher yet and then palm your pussy through your panties. He reached down and together, the two men tore your panties and tossed them aside like they were made of tissue paper.

“She’s so wet, Stevie. Wet and…” 

Bucky slid his hand to your pussy and pushed two fingers into you.

“…Tight. Holy fuck she’s going to feel so good.” 

You rocked your hips to take his fingers deeper, but he gripped you with his metal hand, forcing you still.

“"M gonna fuck you first since it's my birthday. But should we show Steve what he’s missing?” 

Bucky’s touch, while authoritative and demanding, was nothing less than reverent. And Steve’s gaze was on you as much as it was on Bucky. 

You made a noise that must have been enough for Bucky, because he turned you around on his lap as Steve backed up for a better view. Bucky palmed and finger fucked you for Steve’s benefit.

And yours.

You moaned and squirmed in his clutch, while the only reaction from the blond was a tightening in Steve’s jaw and his blue eyes going molten steel. Bucky laughed softly. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, Sparrow. I’ve never met a man with better control than Steve. It’s downright supernatural. It’ll take a better show than this to get him over back over here to put his hands all over you.” 

He nipped your earlobe. 

“If you make it very, very good, I’ll even let him use his mouth.” 

There wasn’t enough air in the room. There couldn’t be. Your breath hitched in your lungs, and it took you two tries to force words out. 

“What–what if I want his cock?” 

This time, Bucky’s laughter filled the room. He sat up, taking you with him, and positioned you with your legs on either side of his thighs. 

“Tell her, Stevie.” 

The other man crossed his arms across his broad chest, his features cold. Why did that turn you on so much?

“After what you did on that last mission, you have to earn my cock, Sparrow.” 

His arrogance should have been a turnoff. It should have made you want to put him in his place and make him earn access to you. Instead, a part of you that you just met whispered in your brain.

I want to earn your cock, Steve. Just tell me what I need to do. 

You slammed your mouth shut hard enough that your teeth clicked to avoid giving voice to those thoughts. You took a breath, and then another, then leaned back against Bucky more firmly. 

“Then let me play with you, Sargeant.” 

Bucky didn’t laugh again. You were a team now, testing Steve’s restraint. He let you stand and guided you out of your clothes.  A few seconds later, his shirt joined the growing pile, then he sat you back down on him again. 

The shock of his bare skin against your own drew a small moan rom your lips. There wasn’t a soft spot on his body, and he caged you with his chest and arms, one flesh and one metal, holding you open for Steve’s perusal. 

You twisted to offer him your mouth, needing to taste him again, and Bucky didn’t hesitate to give in to your unspoken request. His tongue tangled with yours, and he cupped your bare breasts and pinched your nipples to aching peaks. Bucky spread his thighs, forcing yours wider.

You felt Steve’s gaze all over you: On the curve of your neck. Following the path of Bucky’s hands. Centering where your pussy was exposed.

You felt it as if he’d reached out and touched you. 

Or maybe it was Bucky responsible for those sensations. It was too much and not enough and you whimpered against his mouth. 

“Stop teasing and touch me.” 

You grabbed his hand and pressed it between your spread thighs. 

“Please, Bucky. I’m gonna die if you don’t make me cum..” 

“Can’t have that, can we Stevie?” 

He looked him in the eye as he drew your wetness up around your clit with a single finger and circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, easily finding the motion that made your entire body go tight and hot. You opened your eyes and met Steve’s gaze as your orgasm spiraled closer and closer. 

A challenge rolled around your brain.

I’ll get what I want, and you’ll have to watch while it happens, knowing you could have been a part of it.

Bucky, damn him, seemed to know exactly you were thinking. He slowed his pace, dragging it out. You whimpered.

“You see how he looks at you? He’s seconds away from stalking over here, smacking my hand away, and licking that pretty pussy until he takes your orgasm for himself.” 

You made that soft whimpering sound again. The whole situation was overwhelming your senses, dragging you into a place where every part of you centered around these two men. 

“Please!” 

You didn’t know what you were pleading for. An orgasm. Bucky. Steve. All three. 

“I’ll make you a deal, Sparrow,” Bucky murmured in your ear, his finger never stopping its slow circles that seemed designed to keep you on the edge but never take you over it. 

“I’ll let you choose this time. Who do you want to gift this orgasm to?” 

“Both!” 

The answer tore itself from your lips, too honest for your own good. Steve grinned. His white teeth flashed and his eyes lit up with amusement, the whole effect knocking him from just handsome to downright dangerous. 

Oh God, what have I gotten myself into, you thought. 

Bucky kissed the back of your neck.

“Good girl.” 

He slid his hand away from you cunt as you grunted in displeasure.

“Stop playing and get over here, Steve. We’ve got to take care of our girl.”

Steve walked toward you and stopped to tip up your face, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip.

“This mouth was made for one thing.” 

You caught his thumb between your teeth and bit him, just hard enough to get his attention. You felt off-center and floaty and needy, but you weren't weak. 

You lifted your chin at the same time you looked at the bulge in his pants.

“Then do something about it.” 

There it was again. The heat radiating off of Steve that made you sure he wanted to ruin you. You shifted, but Bucky held you, caged and spread by your thighs and your elbows behind you.

You rocked your ass back against his cock, desperate for him to lose control the same way you were on the verge of doing. 

Steve just stood there, staring down at you with his mouth quirked in a smile. He released your mouth and shook his head.

“You haven’t earned my cock and you damn well know it.” 

He kneeled and braced his hands on Bucky’s legs. His knuckles dragged along your inner thighs, close enough to where you wanted him that you felt his heat near your clit

Steve leaned towards your face, his dark eyes intent, and you braced for another kiss. 

But he didn’t kiss you. He dragged his rough cheek against yours, and you twisted as best you could to watch him take Bucky’s mouth. 

You stared in shock as they kissed right next to you.

No, calling it a kiss was too mundane.

Steve and Bucky came together like two titans clashing, like opposing forces of nature, where one had to submit or they would destroy each other. Bucky shifted his grip on your elbows to one hand and used his free hand to tangle his fingers in Steve’s hair. 

He disconnected the kiss, and Steve groaned softly. You felt it as intensely as if it had come from your own throat. Bucky raked his teeth over Steve’s bottom lip as they parted, his blue eyes darker than they’d been before. He ran his thumb over Steve’s bruised mouth, mirroring what Steve had done to you. 

“You give her your cock when I say you do. Not before.” 

Through some unspoken agreement, they reversed positions. Bucky released your arms and Steve caught your wrists in a single hand before you had a chance to fully appreciate your freedom. He dropped onto the couch with you sprawled on his lap. 

You huffed out a breath. 

“I can move on my own, you know.” 

“We like moving you.” 

Bucky knelt between your and Steve’s spread thighs. 

“And you like being moved by us.”

He looked up at you and whatever smartass comment you were thinking of disappeared into thin air.

 “Wider, Stevie. I want to see all of her.” 

Steve responded, spreading his thighs and parting your legs further. Bucky ran his thumbs up the dip where your thigh met your pussy, exploring, his expression intense as if committing every bit of you to memory. 

He glanced at Steve, and that was all the other man needed to guide your hands down to the couch on either side of his hips. 

“Don’t move.” 

Steve spoke softly in your ear, as if too much volume would break through the spell Bucky wove around you three with his touch. Steve released you and you realized that he wanted his hands free, too. 

Lust made your head spin. 

You nodded, “Okay.” 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the quirk of his lips. 

“Good girl.” 

Steve ran his hands up your stomach and cupped your breasts as Bucky dipped his head and dragged his tongue up your center. Your body went hot and cold, tight and unfurled, all at the same time.

You gripped the edge of the couch cushions with everything you had and bit your lip hard. It was only when Steve nudged you back to lean fully against his chest that you realized you were frozen in a half sit-up, waiting for Bucky’s next move.

The man between your thighs chuckled, the sound vibrating across your skin to your clit. 

“Let Steve watch, Sparrow.” 

Steve moved your thick hair to the side with one hand and dragged his mouth along the line of your shoulder up to your neck. His beard prickled against your skin, which only made the smooth slide of Bucky’s tongue even more intoxicating. 

Your brain couldn’t handle the onslaught of sensation. 

Bucky’s hands gripped your thighs as his mouth worked your pussy. Steve played with your nipples as he sucked on the pulse point in your neck. A sound came out of your mouth that you’d never heard before, a keening cry that was more animal than human. 

“There you are,” Steve murmured.

Bucky speared into you with two fingers, and then a third, spreading you almost painfully, the sensation completely at odds with the way he sucked your clit. He met your gaze and then looked over your shoulder, and you knew he and Steve were watching each other as Bucky ate your pussy. 

The realization sent you hurtling into an orgasm that blanked what few thoughts you had left in your head and bowed your back sharply enough that you would have fallen off Steve’s lap if both men hadn’t held you down. 

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh my god, oh shit.” 

You were just saying words as you experienced the feelings.

Bucky brought you down gently, giving your clit one last thorough suck and shifted to ever-widening circles as your pulses slowed down. He nipped your thigh and sat back on his heels. 

“We’ve barely gotten started.” 

You blinked at him. 

“I don’t know if I can survive more.” 

“You can take it.” 

This from Steve. He reached down and cupped your pussy, his fingers huge and causing you to dream of his cock.

“Change your mind yet, Sparrow?”

“Is that a trick question?”

They had gotten you off harder than you’d gotten off… well, ever. You weren’t about to stop now.

“I want this.”

Bucky didn’t take his gaze from your face as he unbuttoned his jeans and underwear and replied, “Good.”

You weren’t as polite. You stared at his cock.

Holy shit, you thought.

You’d known he was big, but he wasn’t just big, he was big.

“Oh fuck,” was what you said aloud.

“That’s the idea.”

Steve lifted you and turned you around as Bucky caught your hips. You ended up with your hands on the back of the couch on either side of Steve’s head, your legs wide on the outside of his thighs as you were bent over, tits very nearly in his face. 

You looked from his beautiful eyes down to his jeans, to where his large cock was straining against the heavy material. You licked your lips, but Steve used a single finger to tilt your chin back up.

“Not. Yet.”

Bucky stroked his metal hand down your spine and gripped your hip as he lined up at your entrance and you tensed, thinking he would slam home in one thrust.

Or maybe you were hoping.

Instead, he held you tightly so that you couldn’t throw it back on him, and teased you, one delicious inch at a time. 

“More, Bucky, moreeeee…”

You were desperate.

Steve shut you up with his mouth, his tongue twisting over yours as Bucky shoved into you to the hilt. Steve cut the kiss off prematurely, then sat back with a smirk as Bucky started fucking you.

“Oh. My. GOD!”

Bucky drove into you again and again, making you sob. He felt so fucking good. Pleasure spiraled through you, and you didn’t know if it was Bucky’s cock, or the way Steve was watching, or both, but you were so close so soon.

Bucky stilled, buried deep, then leaned over and braced his hand on the back of the couch, caging you in with his chest to your back. 

Steve moved, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“What are you…? Oh fuck…”

The words choked out of you as Steve captured your hips, his and Bucky’s hands entertwining around you, and then his mouth was on you.

“OH GODDDDD.”

“Not God, Sparrow, Steve.” 

Bucky started moving again slowly, and you weren’t able to do anything but take what they were doing to you.

Steve was relentless, and there was nothing restrained in the way his mouth moved over your pussy. He tongued your clit even as Bucky fucked you, and their hands clasped you so hard, that you were sure there would be bruises later.

The thought brought you closer to the brink.

You were gripping the couch so hard that your knuckles went white, and the wood inside was cracking from your strength.

The sight of Steve's golden head between your thighs, of knowing exactly how close it was to Bucky’s cock sent you speeding toward the edge.

Bucky seemed to read your mind. 

“Another time, and it would be a stroke for your pussy and one for his mouth,” he chuckled as he palmed your breast and rolled your nipple.

“You’d like that.”

“Yes!” you gasped.

Like didn’t even begin to describe how that image made you feel. And when Bucky’s fingers laced through Steve’s hair, holding him to your clit, it was too much. You could only imagine what Steve was doing to Bucky as well as you. And the image tipped you over the cliff.

Your orgasm buckled your knees and it was Steve and Bucky that kept you on your feet. They held you in place as Bucky kept fucking you, his strokes becoming wilder.

How could one person endure this much pleasure?

The pressure built until you couldn’t hold it any more and then the pleasure caused you to release, squirting all over Steve and all of you melted into a puddle on top of him.

You were speechless, as both Bucky and Steve soothed you with their hands, and words that were meaningless murmurs because of the blood rushing in your ears.

There was no mistaking that this wasn’t over yet. And that you didn’t want it to be.

Bucky stood up, and lifted you in his arms, looking at you for a minute as Steve started down the hallway ahead of you, stripping off his clothes.

You heard the shower start as Bucky murmured.

“Been one hell of a birthday so far. Stay with us tonight?”

“Yes,” you managed to whisper as Bucky claimed your lips again.

“Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes.”

——

Let me know if you liked it! 🥰

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

Summary: Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): drinking / fluff / jealousy / divergent from canon timeline / suggestive language / tipsy symptoms / mentions of war + the hardships that came with it

a/n:  Here’s a little piece that’s been sitting unfinished in my drafts for ages. For context, this timeline is one where Steve and Bucky both made it back from the war safe and sound and are enjoying their lives now that the war is over. Thank you for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ As a little psa my writing challenge is still ongoing!! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! ♡

for ambiance 🎶

“ I am about to spew my dinner all over this table,” you grimace, downing the rest of your martini. The bitterness of the spirits was lost on you as your consumption grew in time with your sour mood.

Peggy eyed you from across the table, holding back her amusement, “ If you keep stuffing your face with martinis you will.” You reach out to grab another unclaimed drink, but before you could, Peggy slid the rest of them away from you. You crossed your arms, blowing out a resigned sigh. Even in your inhibited state, you knew better than to argue with an SSR agent. 

Peggy shook her head at you, “ As your best friend I have an obligation to put a stop to this. Don’t you have a shift tomorrow at the clinic?” Your eyes went wide at the reminder. 

You slump in the booth, dreading the bad hangover awaiting you in the morning. “ I do, but thankfully it's in the afternoon. I won’t feel it by then. . .” You trailed off, failing to convince Peggy, or yourself, you wouldn’t be miserable at work tomorrow. Peggy turned to look at the dance floor before returning her attention to you, “ You know, maybe you should dance the dizzy away. It might help you sober up.” Your lips purse at her suggestion, noticing a certain blonde-haired blue-eyed super soldier returning from the bathroom.

 “ It's easy for you to say. You have a dance partner,” you motioned over to Steve. 

“ You would too if you would only go up and ask him,” she pointed out. 

You glanced at the dancing couples, “ No way. With the way that leech is clinging on to him—I’d never get one word in.”

She shrugged, “ You’ll never know until you try.” These were her parting words before Steve arrived at the table and escorted her onto the dance floor. You watched them, your head bopping along tiredly to the swing music. 

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

You almost didn’t come to the outing—being the third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn’t exactly your ideal Thursday night fun. However, Peggy had mentioned Bucky would come along, and seeing as you hadn’t seen him in a few weeks due to conflicting schedules, you thought this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up. 

That was until the leech—a woman named Darla—decided to hog Bucky all night. Darla had been trying to get with Bucky for over a month now. You found this out tonight when Steve made a comment about it. Bucky hadn’t paid it much importance, so you thought it must have not been anything serious. However, right about the time you and Bucky were starting to catch up, Darla came over and dragged him away. 

Since then you’ve been inhaling martinis like your lungs preferred them over air. 

You couldn’t help the way your eyes drifted over to Bucky’s figure. Handsome as ever in his navy suit—your favorite color on him—and hair neatly combed. Watching as Darla threw herself at him with the courage that you lacked. Pulling him every which way on the dance floor, holding his hands to her hips in a tight grip. 

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

When did things get so complicated? You scratched at your brain for an answer. Spending time with Bucky had been so easy back at the military base where you met. You were stationed there in the medical unit caring for wounded and ill soldiers. During that time, you became great friends with Peggy and everyone on the Howling Commandos team. Bucky would frequently visit the medical unit even when he wasn’t sick or wounded. Sometimes you swore he would fake injuries or aches just to come and see you. Anytime he came in with something new he would refuse to see any other nurse but you.

It made you feel special. While other women were smitten with his charms and stumbled over seizing his attention—you had it without effort. You had so much more than just his attention without even trying. On hopeless nights he shared his fears, on days where the war seemed endless you eased his worries, and when he felt like the world was crashing down on him his heart spilled all vulnerabilities to you. 

You found refuge from the horrors of war in each other—a balm to each other’s wounds that went beyond the physical. In no time, something deeper for him bloomed within your heart. 

Ever since the war was over, however, things have been different. It’s been a couple of years and Steve and Bucky work alongside Peggy for the Strategic Scientific Reserve. Going on missions has become their norm, so seeing your friends is a rarity nowadays. 

You on the other hand were given a job at a children’s clinic in Brooklyn. You were grateful for this small piece of normality coming back to you. Treating smaller wounds on smaller bodies instead of lethal wounds during a relentless battle. Your senses are permanently burned with sights, sounds, and smells horrific enough to induce nightmares—and they do—managing to steal precious hours of sleep from you almost every night.

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

“ May I have the honor of a dance, gorgeous?” A voice interrupted your thoughts. You looked up to meet a pair of unrecognizable hazel eyes. A handsome stranger stood in front of you, his hand outstretched for you to take. If you had but only one percentage less of alcohol in your system you would have declined his offer. This of course wasn’t the case, and not wanting to reminisce on more melancholy thoughts, you decided to listen to Peggy’s advice and dance the dizzy away.

Even if it wasn’t with the man you wanted to dance with.

“ You may,” you smiled at him, taking hold of his hand. Swiftly you were swept into the sea of couples on the dance floor. The handsome stranger—who you soon learn was named Thomas—was an impeccable dancer. With one hand holding yours, and the other holding you gently at your lower back, he spun you around the dance floor in rhythmic kicks and slides. Thomas’ energy was infectious and you couldn’t help but match his enthusiasm. 

After two dances your footwork and Thomas’ were practically synchronized. Thomas twirled you, causing a giggle to escape your lips. It seemed the alcohol was stubborn about staying in your system as the twirl caused the dizziness to come back—for a split second—making you trip over your own foot. Thomas caught you and steadied you, both of you laughing at your clumsiness. The carefreeness of it all lulled the ache in your heart.

Behind Thomas, you caught a glimpse of Peggy who was dancing as joyfully with Steve. Her eyes met yours and she sent you an encouraging smile. Soon after, her eyes drifted to something behind you, turning her smile into a smirk. You went back to dancing with Thomas, but manoeuvered around to get a look at what caused Peggy to smirk. Your heart did a little jump when you discovered she had been looking at Bucky and Darla, dancing a few feet from where you were. 

Correction. She had been staring at a Bucky you barely recognized. His jaw clenched and body rigid as he glared daggers at the back of Thomas’ head. Darla beside him looked snubbed, tugging on Bucky’s arm to get his attention. His tense demeanor didn’t move an inch no matter how much she protested. The pair were no longer dancing, merely standing in the sea of all the couples. This piqued your curiosity. 

Why had he stopped dancing? And to glare at Thomas of all things?

You didn’t have much time to think about it as Darla, clearly fed up by Bucky’s lack of attention, grabbed him by his arm and pulled him away from the dance floor. You swayed to and fro with Thomas, controlling the direction you were swinging in to try and not lose Bucky from your line of sight. 

Where was Darla taking him?

Your heart stopped when you realized where they were going. Darla was making a beeline for the back of the bar where the honey hallway was. The spot where all the couples went to have a little more privacy and fool around without having to leave the bar. If he was going there with Darla, then maybe things were more serious between them than you previously believed.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

You excused yourself from Thomas, scurrying away in need of some fresh air. He offered to follow along, but you declined wanting to be alone. You threw the entrance door open into the Brooklyn night as a sickly feeling spread throughout your body. 

You stepped into the street, the swing music fading into the background as the door closed behind you. You took in a deep breath, once again regretting the amount of alcohol you had consumed.

If you weren’t drunk seeing Bucky with someone else wouldn’t have hurt so much. It wouldn’t have knocked the air out of your lungs like it's doing now.

You know that’s a lie. That’s a damn lie you’re telling yourself to get you through the night. To give you the strength to focus on your surroundings and trudge home. 

You’d eventually do that. First, however, your body seemed to want to cling to a street lamp to bring the world back to you. The cold metal underneath your palms grounding you for a moment. The breeze blowing past you threading through your hair as if to comfort you.

“ Doll, everything alright?” Your heart stuttered when you heard his voice, the thud of the bar door closing following it. You shut your eyes and bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from saying or doing anything the liquid courage in your system was trying to wrestle out of you. 

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

“ I’m fine. Just heading home,” you were straight to the point before turning to walk away. Not looking at him as you put one foot in front of the other—and then stumbled. 

Bucky caught you, his arms offering a strong support,“ Woah, Y/n, how much did you drink?” There was a slight annoyance in his tone. As if the mere thought of you having fun was preposterous. 

Or at least that’s how your tipsy state interpreted it.

“ Doesn’t matter. I can have a drink or two if I want to. I get to have fun too,” you retort, trying to push his arms away from your body. Your arms are no match for his, as he doesn’t budge an inch—on the contrary, his hold gets more firm. The world started to spin more, but at this point, whether it was because of the martinis or his proximity—you wouldn’t know. 

Bucky huffed and rolled his eyes,“ This isn’t having fun. This is going overboard,” he counters. His constant need to hold you steady and scold you for drinking irked the part of you that was already upset with him—fueling it more. Especially when you had the image of him heading to the honey hallway with Darla ingrained in your brain. And his arms, the ones around you now, swinging her around on the dancefloor. 

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

“ Why do you give a damn?” you snap out harshly. He stills at your tone and it's enough to shake his hold off of you. You force yourself to look at him. Intending to shoot him an annoyed glare. Something to convey what your heart felt when your words failed to—but when your eyes met his you froze. 

They were dark—virtually stormy—and yet, there was a hint of pain in them. Almost as if you had kicked him, but he was toughing it out.

“ What was that about?” He finally spoke after what seemed like too long. 

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

His eyes got darker, a disapproving half smile on his face,“ Don’t play coy. I come out here to check on you. You’re stumbling like a drunk fool. I try to help and you snap at me?” 

“ I didn’t ask you to,” you’re quick with your dismissal.

“ You…unbelievable…” Bucky lets out a scoff, not knowing how to respond. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into you. In his mind, you’re simply too drunk to regulate yourself. He doesn’t know the vile jealousy that bubbles in the pit of your stomach and gnaws at your heart. He doesn’t know the intense battle your emotions are having with your brain—right in front of him—to stay silent before you truly say something you cannot take back. 

“ Go back inside. I’m heading home,” you say simply, not wanting to dwell on this conversation any longer. You feared what might come of it if you didn’t.

“ No. I'm walking you home,” he shakes his head firmly, his tone matching in conviction. 

“ No, you're not,” you reply, turning to make your way down the boulevard. Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose, “ Like hell I'm not, doll. I'm not letting you walk home alone.” 

“I'm not letting you walk me home. I don't want you to,” you say adamantly as your feet start moving. Bucky is right beside you as they do, not letting you get away,“ I don't care what you want or don't want. I'm walking you home and that's final.” His voice leaves no room for argument. 

The martinis in your system don’t particularly give a damn, but it is enough to quiet you for the time being. Your speed increases slightly, but Bucky can match it easily. For a moment you consider running—as ridiculous as an idea that may be. 

The sharp patter of your footsteps against the pavement synchronizes with the thudding of his as they mingle down the boulevard. The city sounds around you are an otherwise low hum of the occasional car and distant conversation. The city still whispering its signs of life at this time of night.

The walk to your place isn’t too far. And you know if you don’t shake him off soon there would be an unpleasant conversation awaiting you when you arrive.  

“ Don’t you have someone waiting on you at the bar?” You remind him with a little sting to your heart. Secretly hoping this wasn’t the reason he’d walk away from you.

Bucky frowns, thinking for a moment before speaking,“ What? You mean Darla?” The sound of her name on his lips bristles you. 

“ Yeah, her,” the word her spills from your lips as if it was venomous. Bucky catches that and is taken aback for a second. His footsteps coming to a stop. You push yourself to keep walking. Taking this as a sign to ignore the tiny part of your brain that begs you to stop moving.

Not a minute later Bucky strides to your side,“ Doll…are you jealous?” He asks with the tiniest bit of doubt, his small smile overshadowing it. 

“ Me? Ha! No,” your denial is quick—too quick. His small smile turns into a wide grin. You’ve just confirmed his conjecture,“ Yes, you are.” 

“ No. Go ahead and marry her for all I care. I won’t be at the wedding anyway,” you don’t mean what you say and yet you said it anyway. Playing up the indifference act you’ve dawned. 

“ You won’t be at my wedding?” He’s not upset when he responds, he's amused. He has to hold back his laughter at your train of thought. This gets under your skin and you grumble a snippy no before picking up your pace. You’re now imagining Darla in a wedding dress next to Bucky in his suit and it does devastating things to you. 

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

His tone takes a more serious turn when he replies, “ It’ll be hard to have a wedding without the bride there.” You come to a halt, your head whipping so fast to look at him you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“ What?” You manage to find your voice. His gaze softens,“ You heard me, doll.” He’s being completely sincere—you know this deep down. However, there’s still a part of you that doesn’t believe this is happening. That believes this to be a dream.

“ You don’t mean that.”

“ I do. If you were to ask me where I see forever—I see it with you.”

His confession takes your breath away. The mere admission of him thinking of you as his eternity—as the one he wants beside him for life—your heart could burst at how delightfully overwhelmed it feels. 

“ But you—” you start and his pointer finger gently presses against your lips to shush you. He already knows what you’re about to bring up and he needs to nip it before your drunken mind jumps to wilder conclusions.

“ She’s just a friend. She’s a secretary at the SSR—nothing more. I was dancing with her to be nice. Honestly, I was trying to find a polite way to leave her and get back to you until I saw you dancing with that guy,” he removes his finger from your lips once he’s done explaining. At the mention of Thomas, his jaw clenches briefly and annoyance flashes in his eyes. 

It dawns on you why he was glaring at Thomas earlier. The realization of Bucky having felt as jealous as you did sends your heart ablaze. Your heart had gone through so much tonight, you were surprised it hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest already. 

“ Who’s the jealous one now?” you tease, an almost giddy smile on your face. 

Bucky rolls his eyes playfully,“ Yeah, doll. Unlike you, I’ll admit it. I was jealous. I don’t like seeing you with another man. Laughing and dancing—should've been me, not him,” he says stepping closer to you. His eyes reflected pure adoration.

“ Why didn’t you ask me?” your question comes out quieter than you’d like. Enamored with the way he’s looking at you. You can barely focus on anything else. 

“ Because when it comes to you I get all nervous and worked up. It's like I’m a punk again—a dumb kid with a crush. I don’t want to mess it up with you, Y/n. I would never want to do anything to lose you. Guess I got too caught up in doing things right I didn’t do anything at all,” Bucky opens up to you, his answer shedding away any last bit of hesitance in your body.

“ Bucky…I wish it would’ve been you instead too,” you say softly, stepping closer until you’re only a few inches away from him. His features match yours in fondness as he gently reaches out to grab hold of your waist, pulling you even closer, and closing the final bit of distance between you.

Your hands rest delicately at his chest. You can feel the way his heart races under your fingertips, drawing out a small gasp from you. Knowing you had this effect on him delighted you. It made you wonder how long you had been making him feel this way—and how long you had missed the signs.

“ Told you. I’m a dumb kid with a crush,” he reiterates with a soft chuckle. You giggle at his words, beaming dreamily at the way that all of this is real. That Bucky has feelings for you, and you two can only grow closer from here on out.

For a split second his eyes dart to your mouth. Having you so close like this tempts Bucky to no end. Everything he’s ever wanted to do with you crosses his mind and it drives him crazy. He has no idea where to start or if he’ll even let himself start anywhere. 

Your body thrums with anticipation as it waits for him to make a move.  

Bucky ends up tenderly kissing your forehead, “ Come on, doll. Let’s get you home.” Your lips form a light pout, disappointed his lips didn’t touch yours. He sees your reaction and he laughs, giving your hips a light squeeze, “ Doll, our first kiss will happen after you get that alcohol out of your system,” he says, one hand reaching up to lightly swipe at your nose—finding you endearing. 

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

The memory of you two drunkenly kissing in the medical tent on one particularly lonely night during the war flashes through your minds. The already tension between you rising to a palpable form. 

There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes,“ Still. If I’m being honest, I’m not stopping at just one kiss. So let’s wait until you’re sober, alright?”

“ Not stopping?” Your tone is playful as you pry for further explanation. 

“ Oh no, doll. I'll be doing so much more than kissing you,” he smirks, his words laced with suggestion. His hand goes out to cup your face, caressing your cheek. It warms under his fingertips at his implication. The air around you buzzes with electricity. 

He can tell where your mind went and he’s enjoying every second of it,“ Yeah, doll. Like taking you out on a proper date,” he winks at you. A genuine laugh erupts from you at the way he side steps what he really meant. He joins you in the laughter, his eyes telling you the truth of what he really desires.

You. Every bit of you.

You interlace your fingers with his, knowing deep down he has a point. When you kiss Bucky you want to be all there. You want all your senses to be fully awake to drink in every bit of him. 

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

Bucky moves you over so he’s walking on the outermost part of the sidewalk, holding your interlaced hands to his waist so you’re pressed right up against his side as you walk. You tease and playfully banter all the way to your apartment. The unspoken promises and unmistakable yearning for one another dancing around you two. Assuring you there was so much more to come. 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nine

He didn’t even say 'hello,' just, “you need to get some shoes on.”

Like Eddie’s being tested, right out of the gate. Eddie stares at the dog. The dog stares back. It’s sitting on it’s ass at the front door, right where Steve left it, neatly holding the end of its lead in it’s mouth like butter wouldn’t melt, tail swishing back and forth over the tiles as it slowly wags.

Eddie shoves his feet into some sneakers. Growing up they would have been the cheapest white sneaks going. Now they, to Eddie, look exactly the same as the ones he had growing up, and yet cost several thousand dollars more.

At least he didn’t pay for them. Brands are always sending him shit on the off chance he gets papped while wearing them. Chrissy used to try and nag him, right at the beginning, about brands and income and shit like that. Energy drink companies who send you product but actually it’s just a can of water for you to be seen with because no one ever actually drinks that chemical shit.

Eddie pretty quickly made his thoughts on all that bullshit known; he’s not playing their games. That was kind of the end of it.

Celebrity is weird; sending each other stuff. Eddie’s got all sort of shit that he’s not interested in.

He doesn’t care. The fluffy golden monstrosity in front of him definitely doesn’t care.

Eddie didn’t know golden retrievers could even get that big; he’s pretty sure if the thing got up on it’s back legs it would be taller than Eddie. The thing looks solid. Muscly and golden; a perfect fit for Steve.

Eddie pulls a hoodie out of the hall closet and puts that on for good measure. At least it has a hood.

“Okay, you ready?” Steve’s back from dropping his things off in whichever guest room it is that he’s claimed, “I swung by the kitchen, we definitely need to do a grocery order.” Falkor lets Steve take his leash, and Eddie follows them out the door, “anything in particular you want?”

“Overnight oats,” Eddie mumbles without thinking, “and the flat breads. The chicken, with the pomegranate.”

“Oh yeah, course, I’ll see how quick they can deliver, might be able to make that tonight.”

Eddie’s stomach grumbles, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t make any noise. Next to Steve, Falkor trots obediently, tongue waggling out of his open mouth, he keeps looking up at Steve and away again, Steve fussing him every time he does it. Telling him what a good boy he is.

At the gate, Steve puts in the code, and Falkor sits next to Steve while they wait for it to slide open far enough. That gets Falkor a treat out of the little fanny pack Steve has on, hidden under his own jacket.

Eddie could say something, but no, low hanging fruit. What kind of guy wears a fanny pack anyway? Even if it is a little one with lots of pockets, like Steve has somehow found the tactical version of a fanny pack. He was definitely a boy scout, there’s absolutely no doubt in Eddie’s mind.

“What’s with the dog?” Eddie asks as they head out. He hopes Steve isn’t expecting him to trek miles with the thing.

“He belongs to some good friends, but they’ve gone on holiday, and he couldn’t go. I said I’d take him for the week. Needed to use some PTO anyway,” Steve shrugs, “not always the best at remembering to take time off.”

Steve just...says it. He’s not having a go at Eddie or anything. He’s not, like, being any kind of way about it, Eddie’s sure, but, still, “sorry.”

“No worries, I’m going to take next week off instead, Robin and her girlfriend want me to third wheel with them to some convention over the weekend, so actually you kind of did me a favor.”

Eddie’s relieved that his selfishness hasn’t dicked Steve over; but he’s definitely not going to show it. “Convention? What kind?” They turn at the corner of the block, and Eddie hopes vaguely that means that they’re only going to do a loop and head back. He might be feeling better, but it very quickly becomes apparent how tough doing simple shit is when you’ve spent months doing no physical activity at all. At least the sun isn’t too hot right now, and Eddie’s rut is still at the itchy, vague awareness stage.

He prays to anyone who will listen that it’s more normal this time and doesn’t drag on for nearly a week.

“I don’t really know, they’re being kind of hush about all of it. All I do know is that we’re camping, they’re very excited to dress me up, and there’s going to be turkey legs.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Steve, that’s going to be some kind of renaissance fair.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns for a second, “hang on,” they’re at the next corner, and Steve makes Falkor sit for a second at the curb. No apparent reason that Eddie can discern, but still, the dog gets another treat and they move on. “So I might get like, a cool knights outfit or something? Maybe I’ll be defending the honor of two princesses.”

He actually sounds kind of excited about it. Which, to be honest, Eddie figures, Steve seems to be just that sort of guy. Game for anything. “More likely some sort of manservant. To carry the bags.”

“I’m far too noble,” Steve answers without missing a beat, “but I will carry their bags,” he almost immediately concedes. “So how have you been? Chrissy says you’ve been working a little?”

Eddie mentally kind of misses a step for a second, not expecting the conversation to turn to that, “yeah. Yeah- it’s. The guys are being great.”

“They’re being really nice about it all?” Steve asks, Eddie figures he’s just checking in.

“Yeah, yeah they’re great.”

“It’s infuriating?”

“I-” Eddie turns, stopping dead, “how did you know?” clearly he was not just checking in then, he’s using his magic mind powers again.

Steve shrugs, Falkor stopping at his side without having to be told, “see it all the time.”

Eddie starts walking again slowly, “what do you mean?”

“Friends and family. The people that really care, they have all sorts of funny reactions. Guilt is the big one, somehow blaming themselves for your choices. Thinking they failed somehow. Sometimes they distance themselves completely, just because it hurts to watch the person they care about suffering and they don’t know how to cope with it themselves. Anger, angry at themselves but lashing out. Honestly there’s a fucking laundry list, but just...kind of being smothering is kind of the top response,” Steve shrugs, “it’s because they care, and those feelings have got to come out somewhere, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie fiddles with his hoodie cuffs, “I think I’d prefer anger, from the guys. They’ve every right to be.”

“Uh hu, makes sense. But, like a lot of shit, that’s not your choice.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. He’d somehow forgotten Steve was an asshole, “do you not have any sympathy for me, like, at all?”

“Nah. They don’t pay me enough to get emotionally invested.”

“Oh my god you’re such a cunt.”

Steve sets out a bowl of water in the kitchen. It’s a proper dog bowl, so clearly something Eddie didn’t already have, which means Steve’s brought everything with him. That doesn’t surprise Eddie at all.

Steve snaps a picture of the dog, “proof of life.”

“Uh hu...wait, do they know he��s here?”

“They know he’s at a clients place, but no details past that.”

“Oh. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind if they knew.”

“I would.”

“Sure,” Eddie responds almost reflexively, sinking in on himself, he slinks out of the kitchen, going to hide in his bedroom. It’s understandable Steve’s embarrassed by him, or whatever the logic is there.

He knows Steve is in the room, hears the door and hears the pad of his feet on the carpet. Steve’s rattling around in the bathroom now, and Eddie is completely not at all surprised when he hears the bath filling up.

Eddie sighs. Considers fighting it. Decides he doesn’t have the energy. He strips in the bedroom, carelessly ditching his clothes on the floor, avoiding the sight of himself in the mirror. Too skinny. Pale. Sickly looking. Some nice tattoos, some a cheap mess.

Eddie gets into the bath, Steve doesn’t bat an eyelid at Eddie’s nudity, “groceries will be here in an hour, then I’ll make some lunch.”

He leaves the room, Eddie listens as Steve strips and remakes his bed. Potters around out there; leaves. Comes back ten minutes later, probably put on some laundry, Eddie guesses.

The bathroom is clean again already.

Eddie really should hire a cleaner, like fuck is he doing it himself, but for the first time he feels really bad about making Steve do it.

He likes the thought of Steve making the bed though; there’s an unfamiliar little rumble, right in the middle of Eddie’s chest. Just a tiny one. A little announcement of his Alpha approval at the thought of Steve building their nest, and then it’s gone again. It’s been a long time since Eddie’s body has produced a noise like that. His Alpha must be royally fucked up, considering everything Eddie’s put his body through.

Eddie’s never really been attracted to Beta’s before. It’s never been for him. Eddie naturally gravitates towards an extreme, likes the challenge of another Alpha, likes to have them folded in half and pinned under him. Likes how submissive an Omega can be.

It precedes a little flush of heat, that sound, exacerbated by the steaming bathwater. This feels more like the beginning of a rut; nothing like the half formed itchy bull shit Eddie was dealing with last time.

“Hair?” Steve appears in the doorway.

“Yeah, please.”

Eddie sinks down, glad that whatever fancy bubbles and salts Steve has filled the water with covers Eddie’s nudity and the fact that he is rock fucking hard.

The moment Steve's hands are in his hair, Eddie knows he has a problem. He has absolutely fucked up here; he should have said no.

Eddie’s Alpha is...confused. That is the only logical explanation for this. Steve has been present for a rut, if you could even call it a rut, doing all the peripheral things a mate would do. Feeding Eddie and making his bed and all that shit.

That’s all it is.

Eddie sits still and does his best not to be weird about it. Steve soaks his hair with that plastic jug he keeps pulling from no where, before going through the routine of washing, conditioning, combing, doing that funny little curl scrunch he does that Eddie’s pretty certain does fuck all for his hair.

And then the massage part.

Eddie sinks into it. Steve doesn’t miss a beat when Eddie starts rumbling again.

It’s heaven, Eddie relaxing into the hot water. Despite the steady rumble Eddie’s producing, Steve doesn’t act any different. Just takes his time, firm fingers doing stuff to Eddie’s scalp until he’s pliant and noddle like right down to his toes.

Eddie’s rumble quiets, half way between a purr and a snore.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Steve whispers so as not to disturb him, “don’t drown, paperworks fucking horrendous.”

Eddie’s hand creeps across his thigh almost without his permission the second Steve is out of the room. His cock is steel hard and hot even in the now cooling water. Eddie tries to take it slow; water does not a lubricant make. But Eddie’s wound up enough, apparently, that it doesn’t take much. With one hand Eddie massages at his burgeoning knot, and with the other he plays lazily with he head, fingertip pressure enough to draw his foreskin back all the way. He drags the velvet skin up and down the shaft slowly.

He’s done in about two minutes, come spurting and mixing with the bath water. It’s a proper orgasm, teeth clenched, spine bowed, eyes clamped shut. It drags right up from Eddie’s toes, the hand on his knot squeezing in an uncontrolled death grip. Eddie barely has his breath back before the pressure is dragging another load of come out of him.

It feels incredible. Probably the best orgasm Eddie’s had in months. Probably the only decent sober orgasm Eddie’s had in years.

He feels incredible, skin tingling, muscles alive with it. He feels like he could like, go for a run, or some crazy shit like that. Feels invigorated, like something inside him finally cleared through.

“Oh,” Eddie says out loud, finally realizing, “oh yeah.” Because he’s actually in rut. A proper one.

If this felt ridiculous before, it feels outright fucking stupid now. But still. Eddie humors Steve.

Feels like he owes him, at least a little. Falkor has some sort of toy that he’s rolling around on the grass; sometimes it dispenses a treat somehow, so Steve’s made allowances for keeping the dog occupied when they’re doing shit like this.

Eddie is full to the brim with Steve’s pomegranate chicken concoction.

So yeah, the least Eddie can do is sit criss cross applesauce on a yoga mat in the sun. Even if he does have an absolute rager of a hard on.

Steve’s not saying shit about it, which, small mercies.

“Are you willing to scent me this time?” Steve asks, apropos of nothing.

“I did actually scent you last time,” something Eddie recalls fairly graphically, and desperately tries to ignore the suddenly very wet feeling material clinging to the head of his dick.

“Yeah, after I nudged you into it, can we skip that this time-”

“Excuse you, there was no nudging-”

“Eddie,” Steve sighs, eyes still closed, still physically ignoring Eddie, “I had to pin you to get any kind of reaction-”

“You fucking bitch-” Eddie’s flabber is officially ghasted.

Steve does blink one eye open at that, “excuse you-”

“Are you telling me you tricked me with a- with a fucking back rub!” Which, looking back, that hadn’t even occurred to Eddie at the time, but hind sight is twenty twenty and...yeah. That’s kind of exactly what happened, “you sneaky fucker,” Eddie breathes out with the realization.

Steve still has his eyes shut, but he smirks a little.

Eddie has a bowl of fruit with ice cream, sauce, and sprinkles a la a small children's party.

Steve had thrust it upon him, and Eddie had taken it reflexively. He’s pretty sure the entirety of his five a day has been rammed into the bowl.

Steve sits next to him on the couch, “want to watch anything in particular?”

“Nah, don’t care.”

“Cool,” Steve flicks through Disney, which he must have logged into because Eddie is certain he does not have Disney fucking Plus.

Robin Hood, but they’re all animals. Eddie’s seen it, when he was a kid, kind of. He can’t say he really remembers it, and he finds himself watching it, eating his stupid bowl of ice cream, Falkor crashed out on the floor.

Steve takes their dishes after, “lets go for a walk.”

Falkor clearly knows that word.

“He’s not bothered at all is he, being in a new place?”

“Nah, Dustin and Sooz have put in a lot of effort training him, so they take him as many places as they can so he’s chill about stuff.”

“Huh.”

They walk for a while, Eddie only a little uncomfortable. Steve had very clearly said he was going to go and get changed and do dishes and a few other little jobs before they go, giving Eddie a ten minute grace period to frantically rub one out before they left. Eddie’s pretty sure Steve told him all that shit deliberately, since Eddie had spent half the movie trying, and failing, to stop himself rubbing scent on the couch cushions.

“Why didn’t you tell them where he is?”

Steve shrugs, randomly stopping at a curb with the dog. Sit. Wait. Treat. Then carry on.

“It’s no ones business who I work with.”

“Is that the only reason,” Eddie finds himself mumbling at the ground, feeling a little like an upset child over it still.

“Yeah. Yeah it is. Even though they’re good friends, and I really do trust them, confidentiality exists for a reason. I tell them where he is, and the next time they see me they’re going to ask how you are, totally innocent, totally just making conversation. It’s a slippery slope man, and it gets uncomfortable real quick, and that’s just a normal dude. I have at least one friend that I know is a massive fan of yours, I just don’t need it, you know?”

“Okay, yeah,” and that is fair, Eddie guesses.

“Plus...some people I work with are vulnerable, who they are and where they are...that has to stay privileged info, you know? To keep people safe. So, yeah, force of habit, I guess.”

“I...didn’t think of it like that,” and it genuinely hadn’t occurred to Eddie, that there could be risk in this, but it makes total sense now that Steve’s said it. “Sounds full on.”

“Yeah. Yeah it can be. Good though too, sometimes. When someone does good, you know?”

“Yeah,” Eddie’s still not a hundred percent sure he’s one of those, but he guesses he’s come far enough to be committed to giving it a go.

“Come on, this is what I’m here for.”

“Feels weird though,” it kind of does and kind of doesn’t, so that’s only a little bit of a lie. Eddie really likes the memory of Steve’s scent. What if he really, really likes it this time? This feels even riskier than the hair washing thing.

Chris’s angry words seem to echo through Eddie’s head, ‘this is not a sex thing.’ And Eddie does not want to be that guy.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t scented Steve before, it’s just...this is deliberate now. Eddie knows if he goes for this, it’s going to be part of the routine Steve is so keen on Eddie having.

“Okay,” Steve sits up again from his position in the middle of Eddie’s clean, neat bed, “what feels weird about it?”

Fucking Steve. Here’s the problem, lets find a solution. There’s is no solution to Steve being an asshole though. “I don’t know,” Eddie gestures vaguely, moving a step back so he’s closer to the door than the bed.

“Okay, so, want to start small? I could scent your pillows and leave you to it? Beta scent should make you feel comfortable.”

Eddie dithers a little longer, “what are you going to say to Chris if I don’t?” only sounding a little pissy about it.

“Client accepting support with nesting but currently unwilling to share scent. Or something like that,” Steve shrugs, like it doesn’t matter.

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie clambers up onto the bed, trying and completely failing to make it look natural. He goes to lie a little on top of Steve, balks, rocking away again. He tries to go for just lying next to him but it feels kind of weird. One arm stretched over Steve’s middle, a hand braced on the other side of the bed, somehow, too close. Eddie shifts again.

Eddie’s fucked like, a lot of people. He’s stood on a stage in front of thousands of people. Eddie is not shy, he does not do this. He’s better than this. Steve is just one normal guy and everyone still has their clothes on.

Steve knocks Eddie’s arm out from under him and drags him down, “just do it,” Eddie face plants against Steve, body held in an uncomfortable, and an only slightly mortifying plank. “Okay, deep breath,” Eddie obeys, Steve seeming relaxed and perfectly fine with proceedings. “If this really makes you uncomfortable we can stop.”

It doesn’t though, not really, Eddie, almost involuntarily, draws a deep breath. Okay, yeah, he remembers this, and it feels like his body does too. He relaxes in a slow wave, whole body puddling half on top of Steve.

Apart from his dick which, stubbornly, is still hard as fuck despite Eddie rubbing out like, four orgasms today. Eddie takes a breath so big his whole body fills up with it, Steve's scent clean and fresh, warm and outdoorsy. Comforting.

“There you go,” Steve’s big, warm hand comes up, rubbing gentle circles on Eddie’s back, the material of Eddie’s shirt dragging a little against his sensitive skin.

Part Eleven

[solanastark]

eyes on me

summary: an undercover mission with bucky barnes at a high profile auction means stolen tech, fistfights, and falling in love all over again.

pairing: bucky x reader

tags/warnings: avenger!gf, chaotic relationship, lots of banter and flirting, use of firearms and weapons, steve third wheeling, down bad bucky barnes

word count: 5.7k

A/N: just saw mission impossible in theaters and came up with this idea. ive always wanted to write about a scenario like this and having both characters act like undercover spies just scratched something in my brain. and also bucky in a suit, speaking a different language is just chef's kiss. i hope you guys enjoyy <3

It was a routine mission—at least, that’s what they called it. Steve was already in the target area, scoping out the market. Bucky sat strapped into the corner seat of the Quinjet, the low hum of the engines buzzing in his ears, the sharp scent of metal and oil filling the space.

The objective of the mission is to intercept a black-market exchange happening in Istanbul, Turkey. According to Steve, Hydra remnants are involved. During the briefing, y/n was able to hack surveillance and navigate a high stakes weapon auction. Undoubtedly as an intel specialist, with her knack for tech systems, Steve wanted her on the job.

Steve knew the risk of taking Bucky with them but he is the only one who knows HYDRA the most. With his combat prowess, he’s the backup they’ll want for a mission like this. Steve knows they work well together, even if Bucky’s still in denial about how much he enjoys it.

He kept his head down, focused on the briefing in his hands.

Or at least, he tried to.

But she was sitting just across from him.

She had her hair in a low bun, a few stray strands framing her face. A rare sight for Bucky, seeing her all sophisticated and feminine. She always sported a good messy ponytail during missions and makeup just tends to get replaced by grease or blood in her line of work.

Her sleek backless black dress clinged on to her body like it was liquid gold and the makeup Natasha taught her accentuated her eyes.The dress has a high slit for easy movement, revealing holsters under the skirt loaded with compact pistols and a knife strapped to her thigh for good measure.

And when she glanced up at him—just a quick, fleeting look.

She smiled.

That smile? It hit him like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t perfect or practiced.

It was easy, like breathing.

“Barnes,” she said softly, noticing his stare. There was no edge to her voice, just quiet amusement, like she was used to catching him off guard.

Bucky cleared his throat, gaze flicking away for a second, then back to her. “Yeah?” He straightened his tailored black suit.

She tilted her head, a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You okay over there? You’ve been staring at me like you’ve never seen a human smile before.”

He blinked, caught off guard by how right she was. “Maybe I haven’t,” he admitted, voice low and almost too honest.

Her smile softened, something tender flickering in her eyes. “Well... you’re staring. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

Bucky hesitated, then huffed a quiet, breathless laugh. His voice came out rough, quiet—like he hadn’t spoken in a while and wasn’t sure if he should. “Just... thinking you make it hard to focus sometimes.”

That surprised her, just for a second. Then she smiled wider, her cheeks warming, and she leaned forward just a little, as if the space between them wasn’t enough. “Hey,” she murmured, leaning in close.

His breath caught as her fingers brushed his temple, gently tucking a stray lock of his hair behind his ear. The touch was featherlight, but it burned all the same.

Bucky blinked, momentarily frozen. Her scent hit him, warm and soft, and for a second, all he could think about was her. The world seemed to narrow, the sounds of the jet fading, leaving only the warmth of her fingers on his skin.

His eyes flickered down to her lips, parted slightly as she concentrated and then it hit him.

She wasn’t just tucking his hair back.

With a small, focused frown, she adjusted the earpiece in his ear, the cool plastic pressing into place.

“There,” she whispered, voice low and professional but her lips were so close to his that it felt anything but. “Can you hear me okay?”

Bucky exhaled, blinking like he’d been underwater too long.

“Yeah,” he rasped, throat suddenly dry. “Loud and clear.”

She smiled, that soft little curve of her lips that hit him like a punch to the chest every time.

A whisper in the intercom disrupted his thoughts. “I’ll take it as a compliment by the way.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

“You should.”

-

Casting the city in a warm, golden glow. Bucky exhaled sharply as he unstrapped himself, every muscle in his body tight, coiled, ready for a fight. Hydra. Again. Just the name made his blood run colder, his pulse a steady drumbeat in his ears.

Steve met them on the tarmac, casual but sharp-eyed, dressed in neutral clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. He approached with a clipped nod, glancing between Bucky and the woman standing beside him, who was smoothing her sleek, black dress like she’d been born to play this part.

“Alright,” Steve said lowly, handing her a small comm and a folded dossier. “You both know the drill—high-profile buyers, flashy but not too flashy. The auction’s in two hours, hidden in a club under the Grand Bazaar. Victor Renshaw’s our guy. He’s well-known in the black market selling weapons tech disguised as antiques, so eyes sharp.”

He turned to Bucky, his gaze tightening. “You okay with this?”

Bucky nodded stiffly, jaw clenched. “Fine.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, clearly not buying it, but he didn’t push. He turned back to her. “Y/N, you’ll do most of the talking. We’ve got eyes on you from outside, but once you’re in... you’re on your own.”

She took a steady breath, nodding. “We’ve got this.” Her voice was calm, sure, a soft contrast to the storm raging just under Bucky’s skin.

Steve gave her a firm nod, then squeezed Bucky’s shoulder in silent support before disappearing back into the shadows.

Bucky stood there, staring out at the city lights, fists clenched at his sides. His chest felt tight, breath coming too shallow, too fast. He could feel the memories clawing at the edges of his mind—cold metal tables, the sharp smell of antiseptic, voices barking orders in Russian. The old ghosts, rising again.

She watched him carefully, her expression softening.

Without a word, she reached out and laid her hand lightly on his forearm, barely a touch, really, but it grounded him like a bolt of electricity straight through his chest.

Bucky looked down at her hand, at the way her fingers curved over the scars on his arm without hesitation, without fear.

When he met her gaze, she smiled gently, a quiet, steady warmth in her eyes that spoke more than words ever could.

“We’re here together, remember?” she whispered, low and sure, like she was anchoring him to the present. Bucky swallowed hard, his shoulders dropping just a fraction, the tension bleeding out of him bit by bit.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice rough but steadier. “Together.”

He let out a slow, shaky breath, and when she turned toward the city, ready to walk into the lion’s den, he followed—because for once, he wasn’t just the soldier. He was hers.

-

The club under the Grand Bazaar pulsed with low, thrumming bass, shadows and colored lights casting long, shifting patterns across the walls. It smelled like expensive cologne, smoke, and something darker, something sharp, like adrenaline laced into the air itself. Men and women in sleek, tailored suits and glittering gowns moved through the space with practiced ease, champagne flutes in hand, laughter curling like smoke between red lips and sharp grins.

They were in it now.

Bucky stood tall beside her, looking every bit the brooding, dangerous man with a sharp suit that strained across his shoulders. His hair was slicked back, his expression a perfect mask of stoic indifference. But his eyes? They never stopped scanning, tracking every movement, every face. Hydra. They were here—he could feel it.

She, on the other hand, slipped into character with terrifying ease.

Her dress shimmered under the lights, she smiled at him once—small, sharp, and utterly confident—before turning her gaze to the crowd, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm as they walked in.

Bucky was trying—trying—to focus on the mission, but his gaze kept pulling back to her.

She was... something else. The way she moved, the way she smiled, the effortless way she slipped between languages as she charmed information from men who didn’t even realize they were giving it away. Her laugh, a soft, polished thing, practiced for the crowd sent a cold shiver down his spine. But it wasn’t fake. Not really. There was a warmth to it, something real she couldn’t quite hide.

And when she leaned in closer to a smirking buyer, Bucky’s jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might crack.

She was magnetic. Every eye in the room was drawn to her, and Bucky couldn’t blame them. The men wanted her. The women envied her. And Bucky? He... he just wanted to keep her safe. To get her out of here. To hold her close and tell her she didn’t have to do any of this.

But she was so damn good at it.

Every time she spoke, it was like the world shifted around her. She was fluent in four different languages tonight—French, Turkish, Russian, Arabic—slipping between them like water. When she leaned in close to the auctioneer, murmuring something in Turkish with a sly, conspiratorial smile, Bucky could practically see the man melting under her gaze.

But when her eyes darted back to him just for a second, just a flicker and her smile softened, just for him... Bucky knew. She might have been wearing a mask tonight, but underneath it, she was his.

And that was the only thing keeping him from punching a hole through the nearest wall.

He watched the way she shifted her weight, the way her fingers trailed over the stem of her champagne glass, the way she leaned in, feigning interest while subtly slipping a listening device under the tablecloth.

The auctioneer was a tall, sharp-jawed man with graying temples and cold eyes that seemed to cut through the noise and glitter of the room. His suit was crisp, but the way his gaze lingered too long, the subtle twitch in his fingers as they tapped the catalog, told her he wasn’t just here for business. He was watching—calculating.

She leaned in slightly, her voice low and smooth, her Turkish fluent and almost musical. “Bu parça ne kadar nadir? Ailem yıllardır böyle bir şey arıyor. Biliyorsunuz, babam koleksiyonları için ölebilir.” (How rare is this piece? My family’s been looking for something like this for years. You know, my father would die for a piece like this.)

The auctioneer’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something darker passing over his face. His gaze sharpened, flicking from her face to her dress, her jewelry, and back to her eyes lingering a beat too long. His posture shifted, subtly more closed off, and in that moment, she knew: He doesn’t believe me.

His next words were slow, deliberate. Still in Turkish, but now with a sharper edge.

“Babanız mı? Hangi işte çalışıyordu, dediniz?” (Your father? What did you say he did again?)

Her heart skipped. She covered it with a soft smile, tilting her head, but her fingers tensed slightly against the stem of her glass. “Oh, he’s in textiles,” she said smoothly, still in Turkish, her voice warm but her brain racing.

But the auctioneer didn’t smile. His eyes darkened, suspicious.

Before she could pivot, before she could steer the conversation back to safer waters, a shadow moved beside her. A presence, solid and grounding.

Bucky.

He stepped in, his body language effortless but imposing, a casual hand resting at the small of her back, his other hand reaching out to the auctioneer’s shoulder like they were old friends.

“Afedersiniz,” Bucky cut in, his Turkish thick with an accent but passable. (Excuse me.) His tone was low, almost lazy, but there was steel underneath. “Kusura bakmayın, hanımefendi için biraz fazla soruyorsunuz.” (You’re asking the lady a few too many questions, don’t you think?)

The auctioneer stiffened, eyes darting between Bucky’s size, the gleam of metal at his wrist, the subtle threat in his posture.

“I think we’re done here,” Bucky added in English, voice quiet but firm. He didn’t glare—not quite—but his stare was steady, unblinking, until the man backed off with a forced, brittle smile.

As the auctioneer walked away, still glancing over his shoulder, Bucky’s hand lingered just a second longer at her back, his voice a low murmur near her ear.

“You okay?”

Her heart was racing, but she exhaled softly, letting the tension bleed out through her fingertips where they brushed his sleeve.

“Yeah. Thanks,” she whispered, her voice barely audible under the noise.

“Hey.” He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing her ear, his words for her alone.

“You’ve got this. Just breathe.”

-

The plan was in motion.

They’d placed the tiny trackers hidden in cufflinks, earrings, even the subtle engraving on a brooch on key pieces set to be smuggled out after the auction. Each one a breadcrumb leading straight to the Hydra network they were here to dismantle.

But there was a problem: Victor Renshaw wasn’t in the auction room.

She caught Bucky’s eye across the room, a subtle flick of her hand brushing her earring, their silent signal. He nodded, staying in position by the bar, while she gracefully excused herself and slipped down the hall.

Inside the dim, marble-lined bathroom, she tapped her comm and whispered, voice low and urgent, “Steve, I’m in. Patching into the surveillance feed now.” Her fingers flew over the tablet she’d smuggled in under the cover of her clutch, eyes scanning the grainy footage.

“Got it. Third floor, west wing. Looks like he’s holed up in a private suite—guard detail’s heavy.” She relayed the information quickly, heart pounding in her chest.

Her hands moved fast, pulling out the slim tablet from her clutch and connecting it to a hidden jack in the wall. Lines of code spilled across the screen in a blur.

She muttered to herself, tapping through surveillance feeds and blueprints, eyes narrowing as she scanned the auction inventory. Then she paused, brows furrowing when a schematic flashed on the screen.

“What the hell…?” she whispered.

A few of the weapons hidden beneath the antique cases… the wiring diagrams, the encryption patterns… They matched Stark tech. Not just inspired by—it was Stark tech. Old designs, repurposed and twisted into something lethal.

Her heart hammered, adrenaline spiking, but before she could dig deeper—

Bucky shifted his weight, eyes sweeping the room like a wolf in a ballroom. His nerves buzzed. He hated this part. The waiting. The pretending. The mask.

That’s when she approached.

Tall, statuesque, wearing a red dress that shimmered like a serpent’s scales. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Bucky with a knowing smirk. Her voice was low, her accent thick as she purred in Russian-accented English, “You look tense, handsome. Enjoying the show?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His gut twisted. Hydra. He knew it before she even reached for his wrist.

She moved fast. Too fast. Her hand darting for the button on his cufflink, the tracker. Bucky grabbed her wrist, twisting it sharply, but she retaliated, slashing at him with a blade hidden in her ring.

The room blurred. The music swelled. They twisted through the crowd in a silent fight, Bucky ducking low to avoid a swing, grabbing a champagne bottle off a table to block the next strike. Glass shattered—someone screamed, but the music kept going, the auctioneer’s voice droning over it all like nothing had happened.

Bucky caught her arm, yanked her close. She sneered, breath hot against his cheek.

“You’re too late, Soldier. Hydra always wins.”

Bucky’s eyes darkened. His grip tightened. He twisted, flipping her over his shoulder, sending her crashing to the floor with a sharp thud. The breath whooshed out of her lungs.

Bucky leaned down, voice a quiet rasp against the chaos. His words were a dagger wrapped in velvet. “Sorry, but my wife’s waiting for me.”

With a final shove, he knocked her out cold.

“Doll, you there?” Bucky’s voice crackled through her earpiece, low and tight with tension. “Hydra’s moving in. Four, maybe five coming my way. We gotta move. Now.”

Her breath caught. She turned off all connections for the surveillance cameras for less visibility. She yanked the tablet’s cord free, stuffed it back in her bag, and flipped the bathroom lock.

“Copy that, I’m on my way.”

She smoothed her hair in the mirror, schooling her features into something calm, unbothered before slipping back into the auction room like she hadn’t just uncovered something that could change everything.

With a deep breath, her heels clicked softly against the marble floor. She paused for half a second to adjust the clasp on her necklace, another subtle signal to Bucky.

He was already watching.

Bucky leaned casually against the bar, straightening his cufflinks like nothing had happened. A single lock of hair fell across his forehead, but there was a sharp glint in his eye when he caught her gaze, an unspoken I handled it.

She returned the look with a small, knowing smile, slipping seamlessly into character as she rejoined him. Their cover was intact. No one would suspect a thing.

“Did you really just call me your wife?” she teased, eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and challenge. Bucky blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before he schooled his expression into something casual. “What? I was just in character.”

Her smirk deepened, leaning in close as she whispered in his ear, “Uh huh. Sure, Barnes.”

Steve’s voice crackled in their earpieces, quiet and clipped. “Alright, you two. Third floor, west wing. That’s where they’re holding Renshaw. Be careful, there’s heavy security, and they’re jumpy.”

“Copy,” Bucky whispered, shifting beside her, his posture tense, his breath shallow. She could feel the storm brewing inside him. Y/N’s eyes flicking around the room, noting the exits, the guards, the cameras. Her hand slipped into his, fingers intertwining beneath the table, a subtle anchor. She didn’t have to say anything. He felt the warmth of her touch, steady and grounding.

Bucky exhaled slowly, nodding once. His voice, barely a whisper:

“Let’s finish this.”

They moved, smooth and practiced. She did the talking, posing as the wealthy buyer, all charm and soft smiles, her Turkish flawless as she asked a guard about a private viewing upstairs. Bucky stayed close, the quiet, watchful protector, his hand always ready, always near his concealed weapon.

They were almost there. They were just a few steps away from the stairs when another guard blocked their path, suspicious.

Her voice didn’t waver. “Is there a problem?” she asked, tilting her head with a polite smile. The guard frowned, eyeing Bucky’s rigid posture, something clearly off. His hand moved toward his earpiece.

Bucky’s eyes darkened, a subtle shift and she could tell: it was about to escalate.

She squeezed Bucky’s hand, quick and firm, her voice soft and laced with quiet command. “Stay with me. Eyes on me.”

Bucky’s jaw tensed, but he locked his gaze onto her, letting her lead.

She turned back to the guard, her smile unwavering, her voice smooth as silk.

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.”

She said with a tilt of her head, eyes narrowing just slightly. A subtle shift in her stance, a crackle of danger in her voice that wasn’t there before.

The guard barely had time to blink.

With a fluid motion, she stepped in too fast, too sharp. A sharp elbow to the gut, a twist of the wrist that snapped the comms out of his ear, a precise kick that sent him crashing into a display of ancient vases. He slumped, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She turned on her heel like it was nothing, smoothing her dress as if she hadn’t just dropped a trained Hydra agent like a rag doll. She met Bucky’s gaze, that familiar spark dancing in her eyes, and arched a brow.

“You coming, honey?”

They made their way up the grand staircase, the tension thick in the air like static before a storm. Through the ornate doors at the end of the hall was Victor Renshaw’s private suite, where the real deal was going down.

Bucky’s jaw clenched. She felt the weight of his gaze and reached over, brushing her fingers lightly over the back of his hand just for a second but it was enough. He relaxed, his breathing slowing, shoulders loosening as the mission-mode intensity found its anchor in her presence.

Steve’s voice crackled softly through the comms. “Alright, team, eyes up. Victor Renshaw is in the suite, flanked by four guards. You two keep him occupied. I'll take the flank.”

“Got it,” she whispered, her fingers dancing over the small device in her clutch, already queuing up her backdoor into the club’s security system.

The doors opened with a soft creak, and they stepped into a den of excess. Velvet couches, low lights, the air heavy with smoke and tension. Renshaw—an older man with slicked-back hair and a smug smile that made Bucky’s blood boil, looked up with mild disinterest.

“Ah, the lovely couple,” he purred, gesturing lazily. “Here for the auction, or for... something else?” She smiled, sweet and sharp, eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Just browsing,” she replied in perfect Turkish, every syllable smooth and effortless.

But her fingers were already at work, slipping her phone from her clutch, tapping into the club’s power grid, readying to shut the whole operation down.

Renshaw leaned forward, clearly suspicious. His gaze flicked to Bucky, who met it with a cold stare that could have frozen fire. The tension snapped like a wire.

The boss flicked his hand. The guards moved in.

“Now!” Steve barked over the comms.

She jammed the command into her phone—power down initiated.

The lights snapped off, the room plunging into darkness. Shouts echoed, and before anyone could recover, she was moving. Slipping behind a pillar, fingers dancing on her tablet.

“Got eyes on the vehicle systems,” she muttered. Her code flickered across the screen, locking car doors, killing ignitions, blocking any chance of escape.

Bucky and Steve burst into action. Bucky launched into the guards like a human wrecking ball, metal fist swinging with brutal precision, while Steve moved with his shield, a blur of motion.

One of the guards lunged for her, but she didn’t miss a beat. With a sharp pivot, she grabbed a chair and slammed it into his midsection, sending him sprawling. Then she ducked low, delivering a swift kick that knocked the breath out of another.

“On your left!” Steve called.

“Thanks!” she replied, sweeping a leg out and catching another attacker by the ankles. They went down hard, and she moved to cover Bucky’s flank, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Bucky glanced at her in the chaos, saw the spark in her eyes—the fury, the focus, the fire. A grin broke across his face, wild and unrestrained. “You’re incredible,” he muttered, breathless as he took down another.

She smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. “Flatter me later, Barnes. We’ve got a boss to catch.”

“Renshaw is making a break for it!” Steve’s voice rang out.

“I’m on it,” she said, already back on her device, locking down the exits and cutting the building’s external power grid, ensuring there was nowhere left to run.

Bucky and Steve surged forward, chasing down Renshaw, while she covered them, hands a blur on the keys and when one of the last guards lunged at her from the side, she swung her heel into his gut, sending him sprawling, and went right back to her work like nothing had happened.

Together, they were unstoppable.

Amid the chaos, one of the Hydra agents lunged toward her, grabbing the delicate hem of her dress just as she spun away from another attacker. The fabric caught, threatening to pull her off balance.

Before she could react, Bucky’s metal arm shot out, gripping the agent’s wrist with a sharp twist. With a quick, powerful tug, he tore the fabric free.

She glanced down at the torn edge of her dress, raising a perfectly arched brow. “Hey,” she said, voice equal parts amused and annoyed, “do you have any idea how much this cost?”

Bucky smirked, eyes flashing with a rare lightness. “Less than your life I’m guessing.”

Renshaw tore through the back corridors, cursing in Turkish under his breath. His guards had been taken out one by one, and now the only thing standing between him and capture was a steel door at the end of the hall. He bolted, only to find the door locked.

From behind him, footsteps thundered closer. Renshaw whirled, pulling a gun from inside his jacket, desperation flashing in his eyes.

She rounded the corner first, breath ragged, tablet still in hand. The boss aimed at her chest.

“No!” Bucky’s voice roared, raw and explosive.

Before he could squeeze the trigger, Bucky slammed into him like a freight train, his metal arm catching the man’s wrist and crushing the weapon beneath his grip. The gun crumpled like paper, the sound sharp and final.

Renshaw tried to fight back, clawing, swinging wildly. But Bucky’s metal fist caught him square in the jaw, sending him crashing into the wall with a thud. He slumped, unconscious, at Bucky’s feet.

She stood frozen for a heartbeat, chest heaving, staring at the scene. Bucky, towering over the boss like a dark, furious storm, his metal arm gleaming in the dim light, that protective fire in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asked, voice hoarse, eyes scanning her like she might break right in front of him.

“Yeah,” she breathed, still catching her breath. “I’m okay.”

But then—click.

Another guard stepped out of the shadows, raising a gun at her back. Bucky didn’t hesitate.

“Down!”

She hit the floor, just as Bucky lunged, his metal arm snapping up like a shield, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly off the vibranium with a sharp ping.

Bucky tackled the guard, disarming him in one swift, brutal motion, and then turned, hauling her up by the hand.

“You good?” he asked again, voice softer this time, but no less intense.

She nodded, her heart hammering, eyes wide.

His jaw flexed, and for a moment, they just stood there, hands clasped, breathing hard, the adrenaline still thick in their veins.

The club was chaotic—Hydra guards scrambled, civilians screaming and ducking under tables as the firefight broke out.

Bucky pressed his back to a column, shielding her as bullets pinged off the walls.

Y/N opened one of the backdoors, snapping into action. Her voice cut through the panic, sharp, commanding, urgent. “Get out of here! Move!”

She waved a hand toward the exit, covering them with her pistol. A few stragglers hesitated, wide-eyed, but the sheer force in her voice sent them running. “Go, now!” she barked, firing off a precise shot at a guard trying to flank them. He dropped like a stone.

Bucky felt a flicker of awe—not just at her skill, but at the way she owned the chaos, controlled it, even as the world exploded around them.

Then—movement behind him.

“Bucky, left!” she shouted.

He pivoted, blocking the incoming blow with his metal arm, the impact clanging like a bell.

She moved like lightning—knife drawn, spinning under Bucky’s guard as she plunged the blade into a guard’s thigh, dropping him with brutal efficiency. He barely had time to react before she was back at his side, reloading her pistol with a sharp, practiced click.

“You okay?” she panted, eyes scanning the room.

“Yeah,” Bucky grunted, “you?”

“Fine. Just a scratch.” She wiped a smear of blood from her cheek and cocked her head towards Renshaw retreating up the stairs.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “He’s mine.”

“Not without me, he’s not,” she shot back, fierce and determined.

Together, they moved like a unit.

As Bucky advanced toward him, she hung back just long enough to finish the job with her tech. A Hydra SUV outside roared to life, headlights cutting through the smoke—only to grind to a halt as she hacked into the vehicle system, killing the engine remotely.

“Not going anywhere,” she muttered, smirking as she stuffed the tablet away and slipped her knife back into its sheath.

Together, they surged forward. Her, knife gleaming and pistol barking in sharp bursts; him, fists flying, metal arm smashing through weapons and guards alike.

When they finally cornered Renshaw, he was breathing hard, panic all over his face.

“I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said coolly, her gun raised.

The boss smirked, cocky, like maybe he still had the upper hand. “Misunderstanding?” he repeated, stepping closer.

But before he could speak again, she kicked him square in the chest hard. He hit the floor with a grunt, and she turned to Bucky with a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

And when Steve finally burst in from the side entrance, he took in the scene. Bodies down, tech hacked, boss subdued and just shook his head.

“Nice work, lovebirds,” he muttered, radioing the extraction team.

-

The fight was over, but the tension lingered.

The three of them moved quickly through the wreckage, stepping over unconscious guards and shattered glass. Her pulse was still racing, but her focus was sharp—get out clean, get back to the quinjet.

Bucky, though... he wasn’t moving like the fight was over. His breath was ragged, shoulders tense, eyes darting around like he was still in it. His hands, one flesh, one metal, were flexing at his sides, twitching like they were waiting for another strike.

She noticed it immediately. “Bucky?” she called gently, her voice soft but steady as she slipped up beside him.

He didn’t answer at first, too locked in. “Bucky,” she repeated, lightly touching his wrist. “Hey. It’s over.”

His head snapped to her like a cornered animal, and for a second, it wasn’t Bucky’s warm gaze. It was him, the Winter Soldier.

Her stomach twisted, but she didn’t back down. Steve caught the moment too. “Buck,” Steve said carefully, moving closer, hands raised in a quiet show of support. “You good?”

Bucky’s chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths. His jaw clenched. “I’m fine,” he bit out, but it sounded anything but fine.

His eyes dropped to her hand on his wrist, and something shifted—like the world realigned in an instant. His features softened, just barely, but she could see it: the moment he realized he was safe. That they were safe.

“You sure?” she asked, gentler now. “Because if you need a second—”

“I’m sure,” he said gruffly, voice rough like sandpaper. He exhaled hard, shaking out his hands. Still, she watched him closely, worried knitting her brow.

“I just want these damn heels off,” she finally muttered, breaking the tension with a breathless, almost sheepish laugh. That startled a soft huff from him, almost a laugh if she dared to call it that.

She reached down, wincing as she tugged one shoe off, then the other, standing barefoot on the cracked marble floor. Bucky’s gaze swept over her quickly, his hand brushing her side in an instinctive check for injuries.

“You’re not hurt?” he asked quietly, voice still tight. “No,” she promised, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath. “I’m okay, Bucky. We’re okay.”

For a moment, they just stood there. Her bare feet against the cold floor, him still vibrating with adrenaline.

Steve watched them quietly, then spoke up. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll finish debriefing on the jet.” Bucky nodded once, jaw still tight, but his hand stayed firmly on her back as they moved toward the exit.

The hum of the quinjet filled the cabin, but the air was still charged from the mission.

Steve sat across from them, arms crossed but a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Bucky sat beside her, his metal arm resting on the back of the seat, his other hand tapping lightly against his knee. She leaned forward, hair slightly mussed, bare feet tucked beneath her, still clutching a tablet she’d pulled from the Hydra base.

“I’m telling you, they’re using modified Stark tech—old prototypes, maybe from the archives,” she said, flipping through the schematics she’d hacked. “Someone’s been reverse-engineering the designs, adding… stuff that shouldn’t exist anymore.” Her voice was steady, but Bucky could feel the fire simmering just beneath the surface.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked over the data. “Shield’s already sweeping through the site. They’ll clean it up, confiscate the weapons, and track down whoever’s left behind.” He sounded confident, like a leader who’d seen the worst and knew how to handle it.

But she still looked tense, biting her lip as her fingers hovered over the tablet’s screen. Bucky nudged her lightly with his knee. “Hey,” he said quietly, and when she glanced up, he gave her that small, soft look he didn’t give to many. “You did good. We got it done.”

She relaxed just a little, leaning back into the seat with a small sigh. That’s when Steve grinned, leaning forward, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Told you guys you work well together,” he teased, a glint of amusement in his voice.

She groaned, rolling her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. She muttered something sharp in Turkish under her breath. Quiet, fast, and laced with a lot of spice.

Bucky’s lips twitched into a grin as he glanced at Steve. “She just told you to fuck off,” Bucky translated smoothly.

“Oh, I know,” Steve shot back with a mock glare, arms still crossed but a grin tugging at his mouth.

Bucky smirked, and they spoke in near-perfect unison—his voice gravelly, hers biting:

“Shut the hell up, Steve.”

That cracked the tension, the cabin filling with quiet, relieved laughter. As the quinjet soared through the clouds, Bucky caught her gaze, his fingers brushing hers. They didn’t say much after that, words weren’t necessary.

For now, they had each other. And that was enough.

[shushmal]

Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

[hbyrde36]

It's Only Forever

It has been an absolute joy to write this big bang fic over the last few months, and I'm SO excited to finally get to share it with the world! I could not have done it without my amazing beta @penny00dreadful, always going above and beyond the call of duty to cheer me on, and help make this story the best it could be. Thanks as well to @hitlikehammers, and of course my official unofficial cheerleader @pearynice!

Featuring art in this chapter also by @penny00dreadful!

[Penny Art Link] and @/SissayeRys [Art Post Link]

R: Mature | WC: 4427 | | Ch 1/8 | Read on AO3

Chapter 1: As The World Falls Down

Steve was running late getting home.

Literally running, because his last ever basketball practice had gone long with everyone wanting to say goodbye to the departing seniors, and he was supposed to be home an hour ago to babysit his little brother.

Not that anyone asked if he wanted to watch the stupid nerd, It’d just come to be expected of him. He'd run into a bit of a dry spell lately as far as dating went, and grown tired of playing third wheel to Tommy and Carol, but after one too many Friday and Saturday nights spent at home, his Mom and Gary seemed to have decided he was now at their disposal every weekend to watch Dustin while they went out for their fancy dinner parties. 

Which he wasn’t bitter about, or anything. 

It’d been overcast all afternoon, the smell in the air all but promising rain, and just as he was cutting through the last backyard with his own house coming into view, the sky opened up, soaking through him to the bone in seconds.

“You’re late.” His mother said, scowling from the top of the porch steps with her arms crossed over her chest. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Sorry,” Steve grumbled. He’d forgotten to plug in his phone last night and its battery had died by fourth period. “It’s not my fault. Practice–”

“Well don’t stand out there in the rain, you’ll drip all over my nice clean floors.” She cut off his explanation, turning on her heel and striding into the house.

It was a little late for that. Water was already running from his sopping shorts down his legs, but Steve still rushed along behind her, kicking his mud-coated sneakers off by the door to try and minimize the damage.

“I’m very disappointed in you, Steven. Your stepfather and I go out very rarely–”

Lie.

Steve rolled his eyes at her back as she turned to grab her handbag off the foyer table. 

“–And you know I only expect you to babysit when it won’t interfere with your own plans.”

“Like you care about my plans,” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She looked him up and down, wrinkling her nose as she adjusted the purse resting on her shoulder. “Go take a shower and check on your brother. He's in his room. Gary left some cash on the kitchen table so you boys can order a pizza for dinner. We should be back around midnight.”

Steve nodded curtly and turned to head up the stairs, but paused, looking back over his shoulder when she called to him again. 

“Oh, and Steven?”

He managed to hold in his sigh, but only just. 

“Yes, mother?”

“Don’t indulge him too much about that fantasy game, whatever it’s called. He’ll never live up to his potential with his head stuck in the clouds like that.”

No problem there. 

Steve had no interest in Dustin’s Dungeons and Dorks game anyway.

Again, he simply nodded, and this time watched her leave, waiting until the front door closed behind her before taking the steps up to his room. 

As much as he loathed babysitting, it was infinitely better than being dragged along as a show and tell object, like he’d been in the past. A pretty trophy to prove that divorce or not, she was still the perfect mother. Look, I raised the co-captain of the swim team! The captain of the basketball team! He’s sure to get into an elite university one day, just you wait and see!

And sure, it was a lot, but she just wanted what was best for him, right? Even if it was a little… suffocating at times.

But, in the end Steve hadn’t done that—had he? Nope! Here he was, set to graduate high school in just a few short weeks, and had gotten exactly zero acceptance letters.

A “gap year”, they called it. He was taking a gap year to discover himself, to travel. That was the lie his mom and Gary would tell their friends when asked which Ivy League school their eldest son would be attending in the fall.

It was kinder than the truth, that his GPA and test scores were no match for the candidates he was up against, no after how hard he’d studied, that he hadn’t caught the eye of even one athletics recruiter. 

He was good, but he wasn’t the best—in anything. 

He couldn’t even attend the local community college with Tommy and Carol to fill his time. The deadline to apply had come and gone, with his mom and step-dad staunchly refusing to let him submit the paperwork. No son of theirs would lower himself to attending the public school equivalent of higher education. 

It left Steve in a rough spot. His chances at getting into what his parents considered a good school wouldn’t be any better in a year's time, and amidst his failure he felt like he’d been written off, his mom and Gary now focusing all their efforts on their youngest son, the one who still had the chance at a proper future.

As much as it pained Steve to admit, he actually liked the kid, loved him even, but he couldn't help feeling a little jealous about the fact that Dustin still had time. He had his whole adolescence ahead of him, while Steve felt stuck, and more than a little lost. 

It was the one shred of truth in his mom’s gap year nonsense. Steve did want to discover himself—yearned for it. Eighteen years on this earth and he didn’t have the first clue who he was, or who he wanted to be. He’d been too busy trying to live up to others’ expectations.

Once upstairs Steve showered quickly, threw on a fresh pair of sweatpants and his favorite yellow sweater, and crossed the hall to Dustin’s room. 

“Steve!” The kid’s face lit up the second he came through the door. “Hey, do you remember that campaign I was telling you about?”

Steve raised his head to the ceiling, praying for patience.

Here we fucking go already.

Dustin barreled ahead, undeterred by his lack of response. “You know, the one with the goblins and the Goblin King who comes to this plane and steals children away? Well, technically he only comes when someone wishes for it. So I guess it’s not exactly stealing but that’s part of the trick, right? And–” 

“Yeah, yeah, I vaguely remember that I guess.” Steve finally jumped in waving a hand, knowing if he didn’t Dustin would keep going on-and-on until the polar ice caps melted, and the sea level rose to the point that their house was underwater.

The kid grinned broadly. “I’ve been working hard on it every night this week, and I think it’s finally ready to play! What do you think?!”

“You want—me—to play your nerd game?” 

Dustin’s smile faltered around the edges. “Yeah, I mean, I know it would be better to play with more people, but I thought—”

“You think more players would make this appealing to me somehow?” Steve asked, incredulous. He crossed his arms, only to drop them back down to his sides immediately, shuddering with the realization that he was doing a perfect imitation of his mother.

“But, when I told you about it before you said it was cool!”

Steve sighed. He probably had said that, but in his defense he hadn’t actually been listening. 

Time for a new tactic then. 

“Dustin, you know how our parents feel about this stuff.”

“Why do you always take their side?!” The younger boy shouted.

“I-I don’t!” Steve sputtered. “They just want what’s best for you, and–”

Dustin scoffed. “That’s bullshit!”

“Buddy, come on–”

“No! You just want them to ruin my life like they did yours!"

Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever seen red so fast. He balled his hands into fists, fuming, and turned to leave without another word.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it!” Dustin called after him. “I’m sorry, Steve. Don’t go, stay and play with me… please?”

“I wish your stupid game was real. I wish the goblins would come and take you away!” Steve hissed through gritted teeth before slamming the door behind him. 

Was it childish? Yes. But at least in his effort to have the last word, he’d gotten the creatures’ name right. 

He was pretty sure.

Steve ran down the stairs, stomping his feet on every step along the way in another juvenile display of anger that he hoped Dustin could hear. 

Itching for something—anything to distract himself from the words Dustin had thrown in his face, he slid some shoes on and took the trash out to the curb for morning pick up, the rain having slowed while he was in the shower. It did nothing to slow the spiraling of his thoughts.

Was his life really ruined? 

Had he made a mistake in following his mother’s direction?

Or was it his own fault for not working harder, not being good enough? 

Was it too late to try for something different?

Steve puttered around the kitchen for a while, killing a little more time before finally calling to order their pizza, and when he felt like he’d cooled down enough to not throttle his kid brother, went back upstairs to check on him. 

“Alright, the pizza should be here in thirty, and If you want, I guess we can play until—” Steve began as he opened the bedroom door, but cut himself off mid-sentence, realizing that Dustin wasn’t sitting where he’d left him. 

“Dustin?” He called out, stepping further into the room. The kid had to be in there somewhere.

A thump over by the bed caught his attention, and Steve turned to see a sizable lump wriggling under the comforter. “Gotcha, you little shit.” He whispered, tiptoeing over as quietly as possible before flinging the covers off to reveal… nothing.

How had the shrimp pulled off that trick?

Steve scrambled around to the other side of the bed, convinced he’d find the boy crouched beside it on the floor, or even hiding under it, but he was nowhere to be found. 

“Okay,” Steve chuckled nervously. The hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention, and his upper lip was starting to sweat. “I give up, you can come out now!”

A sudden and heart-stoppingly loud crack of thunder made him jump, startled, and a flash of lightning seconds later, followed by the room falling into darkness around him as the power went out, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat.

“Shit.” 

Steve ran over to the light switch on the wall, flicking it up and down to no avail. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears, panic threatening to overtake him, but not quite loud enough to drown out the distant sound of giggles somewhere in the shadows. 

“This isn’t funny, Dustin!” He shouted in the vague direction of the sound.

A muffled bang, and a crash on the opposite side of the room had him swinging his head around again. How was the kid making it sound like he was everywhere, and also nowhere at once?!

“Aren’t you getting a little old for hide and seek?!” 

Steve lunged for the old bay window that took up almost the entirety of one wall of Dustin’s room, intent on throwing the drapes open to let in some moonlight, but before he could reach it the window burst open, letting in a rush of cool wind, sending the curtains billowing and the shadows dancing around him. 

From one moment to the next Steve blinked, and where before there was nothing but the damp window ledge, now stood a boy the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

A riot of dark, unruly curls fell around a pale, pretty face. His deep brown eyes were lined in charcoal, with a silver shimmer painted artfully above, accentuating their already otherworldly beauty. He wore a top of leather armor, like something straight out of medieval times, or one of Dustin’s fantasy novels, and skin tight pants that looked buttery soft, hugging the contours of his hips, calves, and thighs, as if they were painted on, drawing special attention to a certain rather prominent attribute that had Steve looking quickly away, his cheeks positively flaming. Slung over it all was a long cloak that glittered in the dim light. The color so dark blue that it was almost black, with a high fluted collar.

Steve swallowed hard, feeling suddenly lightheaded, like he was about to pass out.

“W-who are you?” He asked.

“You know who I am.” A deep, husky voice emanated from the stunning figure’s throat. “After all, you are the one who called for me.” 

“The Goblin King?” Steve's mouth fell open, his own voice full of doubt and disbelief.

Not only for the fact that none of it was supposed to be real. It was just a stupid game, wasn’t it? But shocked too because goblins were meant to be small, grotesque, monstrous creatures, as far as he knew, and none of those were words he’d use to describe the walking wet dream who’d just broken in through his little brother’s window. 

The Goblin King’s plush lips spread into a wide grin. 

“Not what you were expecting?”

Steve mentally shook himself. He had to focus, Dustin was missing for fuck’s sake. “What did you do to my little brother?”

“Exactly what you asked me to do. I took him away.”

“B-but I didn't mean it!”

The boy gave a gallic shrug. “What’s said is said, sweetheart.”

Though he knew it was only meant to be condescending, a thrill ran up Steve’s spine involuntarily at the pet name. He pushed the feeling aside, shouting, “Bring him back!”

The Goblin King pursed his lips, unimpressed.

Steve cleared his throat. “Um, please?”

“Go back to your life, Steve. Hang out with your friends, play the good son again. Forget about your brother.”

“I can’t!”

“Sure you can! Look, I’ve even brought you a parting gift.” The Goblin King raised his hand, which Steve was sure had been empty before, and held up with the tips of his fingers a perfectly clear flawless sphere, a little larger than a billiard ball.

“What is it?”

“A crystal.” As The Goblin King spoke he began to weave the ball through his fingers, rolling it back and forth along the surface of his hand in a way that appeared to defy gravity, and Steve fought hard not to be mesmerized by the display. 

“If you look into it just right, it’ll show you whatever you want, your wildest dreams even. But something like this?” The man paused, raising an eyebrow as he stilled the crystal and held it out like an offering. “I wouldn't give this to just anyone—say, a pathetic boy who happily spends his nights with his whiny little brother. Give him up, and you can have it.”

“No,” Steve ground out, well aware that he was being baited. And he refused to fall for it. 

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.” The King shook his head. “You’re no match for me and my goblins.” 

“He’s my brother, I have to get him back!”

“Very well.” The Goblin King tossed the crystal skyward where it vanished into thin air, and jumped down from his perch on the window sill, tilting his head as he studied Steve's face. 

Steve held himself carefully still, caught between wanting to shrink away from the other boy, and a strange desire to lean in close to him. 

“You want your brother back?” The Goblin King began, turning to point out the still open window behind him and the view beyond—no longer the night sky and the backyard Steve had known for most of his life, but something entirely different, a stretch of valley, mostly dead and barren, and just beyond that…

“He’s there. At the center of the Labyrinth, in my castle beyond the Goblin City.”

Steve blinked rapidly, taking a few steps closer to the window. He’d never seen anything like the intricate maze before. It was massive, made up of various levels of high walls, and hedges, and who knew what else. And set right in the center of it all was a tall stone castle. 

“Still want to look for him?” The King asked.

Steve chewed on his bottom lip. “It doesn’t look that hard.” 

The enchanting boy began to pace a slow circle around him, and when Steve turned his head to follow the movement, he realized with a start that they were no longer standing in Dustin’s bedroom. The window was gone—the house was gone. He was in that place, standing on the dry dusty grounds that surrounded the Labyrinth, about half a mile from its perimeter. 

“Harder than you think.” The Goblin King gestured down at Steve’s wrist, pointing at the watch he wore there. The hands on it spun wildly as he watched, then all at once came to rest at the top, where an extra hour had appeared on its face. “And time is short. You have 13 hours, one for every year of your little brother’s life, to solve the Labyrinth before he becomes one of us, stuck in the goblin city forever.”

“Forever?!” Steve gasped, raising his eyes to find only empty air. 

The Goblin King had vanished without a trace, and Steve had no choice but to start walking, the sound of his watch ticking its countdown making each step feel more urgent than the last.

As he had done so many times before, Eddie sat back on his throne, legs draped across the arm of it, sulking over the monotonous reality of his existence. 

The Goblin King.

It should have been a dream gig. 

There were parts he found enjoyable, of course, but all-in-all it was lonelier and far more boring than he could have ever imagined. He quickly grew tired of what little entertainment was provided by the plethora of creatures he was now responsible for ruling, and it didn’t take long before he’d explored every nook and cranny of the Labyrinth—his Labyrinth now—to the point where he knew it backwards and forwards, and could find his way to any place within its walls with his eyes closed, with or without magic.

Chrissy’s appearance had been a welcome surprise. Another stolen child left to rot in the Goblin City—one more in a long list of things his predecessor had neglected to mention before he fucked off to god knows where—she had been living among the citizens as one of them for years, unbeknownst to Eddie. Until the day she’d shown up on the castle steps asking to speak with The King about some neighborly grievance or another. He no longer recalled the reason for her outrage but he did remember being impressed by her.

They became fast friends, the only two humans living amongst the wild creatures of the realm. Well, former humans was probably a more accurate descriptor. Surely Eddie was something else now, considering he hadn’t been able to do magic before he became whatever he currently was, and neither he nor Chrissy seemed to be aging at a normal rate. His humanity, or lack thereof, wasn’t something he usually liked to think about too much.

It was wonderful for a while, finally having a real friend by his side, someone he could be himself with, not feeling the need to put on the act of King with her like he did with the goblins or the rest of his subjects, but eventually even Chrissy’s companionship wasn’t enough to fill the gaping void in his chest.

So here he was, sprawled on his throne, swirling a few of his crystal balls around in his hand as he stared into them, looking for something he couldn’t put words to, while watching the other world go by, when something caught his eye—a pretty face with a body and voice to match. He was playing basketball, of all things, and Eddie had never understood the draw of sports before, but he could certainly see the appeal of this particular boy in those sinfully tight little shorts. 

It became a habit after a while, to look in on him every now and then… for research purposes.  

Steve, the name Eddie came to know the other boy by through listening in, was a baffling specimen. As nice as he was to look at—and he was very, very, nice to look at indeed—he was also a bit of an entitled asshole, at his worst around his friends and in school, through classes and sports alike. He became a slightly different version of that guy at home when faced with his parents, and yet another when he spent time with his little brother, who he seemed to hate one minute and love the next as though he couldn't decide one way or the other. 

Then there was the Steve he was when he was by himself. 

Alone in his room with no one around to observe—that he knew of, anyway—Steve was quiet, contemplative. At times Eddie thought he might even be lonely? Which just seemed like a wild concept considering the boy was, more often than not, surrounded by friends and family. 

It pissed Eddie off a little, to be honest.

Here Steve was with the world laid out at his feet. A nice house, a brother who looked up to him, parents who were there, maybe bordering on overbearing sometimes but was that really such a bad thing? Born with a silver fucking spoon in his mouth, and he still wasn’t happy. He didn’t seem to appreciate any of it.

But no matter how much the other boy annoyed him, Eddie couldn’t seem to stop watching, wanting to know more—see more—look his fill, and unravel the puzzle that was Steve Harrington.

Then one day, it happened.

The thing Eddie had been equal parts looking forward to—if only to break up the tedium and escape his own realm for a while—and dreading since the beginning of his tenure as the Goblin King. 

Someone made a wish.

And he was duty bound to see the deal through. He was pretty sure he had wiggle room, but the basics were clear: steal the child, explain the terms, and if the guardian chose to play the game and fight for their child’s return, then play the game he must.

Eddie stood in the middle of his closet, discarded clothes thrown haphazardly around him, and knew he was running out of time. The goblins were anxious to get to work and do their part.

“What are you even doing in there?” Chrissy shouted from the other room. 

She’d been out there waiting for him, judging him, while he swiped on a bit of eye makeup, teasing his hair a bit for good measure, and changed his outfit at least three times, looking for just the right ensemble to help him pull this off. He sighed, looking down at himself—leggings and leathers, It would have to do. 

Eddie poked his head out into the bedchamber. “Uh, getting dressed? What does it look like!” 

Chrissy was lounging on top of his bed, her head propped up while she read over a small stack of scrolls. There were hundreds of them lying around the castle, tucked into desk drawers, shoved in corners, collecting dust on bookshelves, and Chrissy had taken it upon herself to read as many of them as she could to figure out how things worked around here so they could make the most of it. It was slow going, admittedly, Goblin being her second language and all, but she was getting there, and had already uncovered many tricks that were about to seriously come in handy. 

She shot him a sharp look, eyebrows raised.

He grumbled wordlessly, quickly ducking back into the closet to lace up his boots and throw his favorite cloak on for good measure, before finally stepping out.

“Took you long enough,” she said, throwing the roll of parchment she was reading aside. 

“Can’t rush perfection, darling. I have to make sure it all sends the right message.”

“Why, because it’s your first time going back?”

“That, yes. But also—” Eddie looked down, nervously tying, and untying, and retying the fasteners at his neck until his cloak hung just so. “I can’t believe it, but It’s him, Chris.”

“Who?”

“Steve.”

“Oh,” she squeaked in surprise. “The guy you’re always creeping on while you fondle your balls, or whatever?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I am not creeping, I am observing. How else am I supposed to keep up with the times when I'm stuck here?”

“Sure, Jan.”

“I’m going to assume that’s one of those references I don't understand because I've been here since the dawn of time.”

“The eighties were hardly the dawn of time, Eddie.”

“Some days it feels like it,” he groaned, flopping himself down on the pillowy-soft mattress next to her. “How do you know so much about pop culture anyway?”

It was a genuine question, one he'd asked many times before with no luck. She’d been in the Labyrinth much longer than he had, and yet somehow still had a better grasp of the modern outside world. 

“You have your ways of keeping up with the times, and I have mine.” She gave his shoulder a hard shove. “Now, get up and get a move on. You have a job to do, Your Majesty.”

“You don’t have to patronize me,” he huffed.

“And you don’t have to wear those ridiculous collars, but here we are.”

Eddie jumped back up to his feet, slapping a hand to his chest in mock horror. “You wound me! The clothes are the best thing about this job! They’re cool!”

“Yeah,” she snorted. “To nerds.” 

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Your extensive collection of feather boas?”

She was stalling. 

They both were.

Eddie snapped his mouth shut abruptly without another retort, swallowing hard as he backed his way to the door, wishing he could take her with him for moral support.

But Chrissy was right. He had to go, and he had to go now before he lost his nerve. 

“I-I guess this is it. I’ll be back soon with the child,” he said quietly.

She nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as he slipped out. “And I’ll be right here to make sure no one scares him too badly.”

Chapter 2: Into the Labyrinth

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worth the squeeze [s.h]

One. Worth Sticking Around For

↪︎ a Stranger Things/The Girl Next Door AU

Steve Harrington ✗ f!Reader

➺ w.c. 4.4k words ➺ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, sexual themes, nudity, skinny dipping, Steve's a lil bit of a perv ➺ a/n. I had this thought a couple weeks ago about writing a Girl Next Door AU with Steve and it was just too perfect to pass up despite my other ongoing wips. The plot isn't going to follow the movie exactly, but the main theme will be the same. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

When the most beautiful girl Steve's ever seen starts staying at his neighbor's house, he'd do anything to get to know her, even make a fool of himself for her.

[ masterlist]

“I’m tellin’ you, Robin, I’m getting really tired of it,” Steve exclaimed as he drove her home after their shift at Family Video.

“Oh yeah, must be tough going on so many dates with sooo many beautiful women,” Robin scoffed, throwing him a wry look.

“Yeah, I mean, my sex life has never been better, but it’s like, maybe I want more than just sex, you know?” Steve continued as if he hadn’t heard her, gesturing animatedly with one hand while the other gripped the steering wheel.

Robin lifted an eyebrow at him.  “You’re making it real hard to feel sorry for you,” she retorted dryly and Steve returned her flat stare with his own.

“I just wanna meet a girl that I genuinely like being around, I mean, in addition to having great sex with,” he added and Robin laughed.

“Maybe stop having sex on the first date then, Dingus,” she pointed out.

“Yeah yeah,” Steve muttered, knowing she had a point.  After his dry spell the year before, he’d been trying to make up for all the action he’d missed out on, but now… now he was starting to feel empty.  He wanted something meaningful.

Dropping Robin off, Steve headed home, turning onto the quiet street he’d lived all his life and pulled into the empty drive–his parents off on some business trip, leaving him the house all to himself.

Pushing open his car door, he noticed an unfamiliar car parked next door and frowned.  The older woman who lived there didn’t often have visitors.  Heading inside, he forgot about the car when his stomach began to rumble.  Not bothering to change out of his work uniform, he threw some food in the oven and went about taking the trash out.

As he dragged the heavy black plastic bag down the drive, a sound caught his attention and he turned to find one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever seen pulling a suitcase and garment bag out of the car in his neighbor’s driveway.  Steve’s breath caught and he gaped at her, letting his gaze linger a little too long on her backside and he let out a surprised yelp as he ran right into the trash can at the end of the driveway.

Nearly tripping and sprawling atop the overturned can, he quickly straightened before fumbling to right the can and get the bag inside it with a loud clatter.  Glancing up hastily to see if she’d noticed, he winced when he found her watching him, an amused grin on her lips before she turned away and headed back inside, leaving Steve feeling like a giant fool.

Glancing down at himself, he finally realized he was still in his work vest and let out a sigh.  No doubt he’d just blown his chance at a suave first impression and he muttered to himself as he reluctantly headed back inside, dragging his feet sullenly.

Shrugging off his work vest, he wadded it into a ball and tossed it at the stairs, leaving it lay where it landed before climbing to his room and flopping down onto his bed, reaching for the cordless phone on his bed stand while he waited for his food to cook.

“Y’ello?” Tommy Hagan answered on the third ring and Steve turned his head so his voice wouldn’t be muffled by his pillow.

“Hey Tommy, it’s Steve.”

“Harrington, my man, how’s it hangin’?” Tommy exclaimed and Steve let out a weary sigh.

“So, check it out, there’s this girl staying at my neighbor’s, one of the hottest chicks I’ve ever seen, right?  I mean, she was unbelievable–like an angel, and her smile–” he trailed off with a sigh before shaking his head angrily.  “I haven’t even talked to her yet and I already blew it!” he groaned, running his hand down his face.

“How’d you manage that?” Tommy asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“I was taking the trash out and there she was, bending over to get something out of her car and what do I do?  I trip over the goddamn trash can!  I mean, I’m only human, what am I supposed to do, not look?”

Tommy’s raucous laughter filled his ear and he cringed.

“What’d she do?” he asked once he caught his breath.

“She turned and looked at me and then went back inside,” Steve groaned.  “Oh, oh!  And the worst part!  That’s when I realized I was still wearing my damn work vest.”

“She probably thinks you’re a loser, man,” Tommy pointed out and Steve let out a heavy sigh, lifting his hand from his face.

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

It was probably karma for him complaining earlier about wanting more than sex.  Watch, now he’d probably go back to not being able to score at all.

Letting his eyes regain focus, he looked out his window and stiffened.  Next door, a light flicked on in the second floor window across from his, and the girl he’d just been telling Tommy about came into view.  Completely oblivious that he could see her, she began to undress, pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a red lacy bra that hugged her breasts perfectly, pushing them up and together.

“Oh shit–” he breathed, forgetting for the moment that he still had the phone to his ear until Tommy replied in confusion.

“What?  S’goin’ on?”

Steve pushed himself up from the bed and moved closer to the window as she reached behind her back to unclasp the bra, letting it slide slowly down before tossing it aside, her back still to him as she slipped her jeans down, her red panties matching her bra.

“I can see her through the window, she’s undressing,” Steve whispered, his mouth going dry, hoping she’d turn so he could get a better view.

He may have matured in the year since he’d graduated, but he was still a guy after all.

“Holy shit, lucky bastard.  How’s her rack?”

Steve barely heard Tommy over the rush of blood in his ears and he held his breath as she finally turned toward the window.  For one blessed moment he had a perfect view of her chest and he let out a low whistle, admiring her tits and wondering how nice they’d feel in his hands.

It was when his gaze flicked back up to her face, his eyes finding hers staring right back, that panic flooded him and he dropped the phone in his haste to duck below the window and out of sight.  Steve could faintly hear Tommy demanding to know what was happening, but he ignored the phone, slowly pulling himself up just enough to peer through the bottom of the window to see if she’d truly noticed him or not, only to grimace as she quickly pulled a sweatshirt on over her head and shut off the light as she strode out of the room.

“Shit,” Steve hissed, finally picking the phone back up and bringing it reluctantly to his ear.  “I think she saw me.”

Tommy let out a loud snort.  “Good job, man.  Now you’re definitely screwed.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” Steve grumbled, hearing the timer on the oven go off downstairs.  “My food’s ready, I’ll talk to you later,” he muttered, cursing his luck.  It was definitely karma coming back to bite him.

“Okay, later.  Keep me posted,” Tommy said and Steve hung up the phone to bound down the stairs and retrieve his pizza before it burned.  Almost as soon as he opened the oven door and pulled the pan out, the doorbell rang.

“Who the hell could that be?” Steve muttered under his breath, dropping the pizza atop the stove and turning off the oven to get the door.

Taking a moment to peer through the peephole before pulling the door open, Steve’s mouth fell open in shock at the sight of the mysterious girl from next door standing on his doorstep–the last person he’d expected to see.

Working moisture back into his suddenly dry mouth, he squashed down the surge of worry that she was only there to tell him off for being a perv, and opened the door.  Leaning nonchalantly against the door frame, he flashed her his most charming smile and ran a hand through his hair to wrangle it, bringing her attention to his best asset, hoping for a second chance at a better first impression.

“Hey there, we haven’t been properly introduced, I’m Steve Harrington,” he drawled, offering his hand.

The drive from Indianapolis to Hawkins was longer than you’d expected and when you pulled into your aunt’s empty drive, all you wanted to do was stretch your legs and collapse into bed, but you knew if you did that then you wouldn’t be able to make yourself get back up and you still had to finish unpacking your car before you could allow yourself the sweet embrace of sleep.

The spare key was exactly where your aunt had said it would be and you let yourself in, deciding to make another trip to grab the rest of your luggage.  It had been such a long time since you’d last visited, it took you a moment to remember the layout of the spacious house.  You didn’t understand why your aunt hadn’t downsized yet, especially since it was just her all alone in the big house, but you weren’t complaining about the extra space, especially since she’d offered you one of her spare rooms til you could afford your own place.

Dropping your backpack on the bed, you returned to your car for the rest of your stuff, aware of the noise coming from the neighbor’s driveway.  You barely paid attention to the young man dragging his trash out to the road as you bent over to grab your suitcase and garment bag from the backseat.

As you straightened, the loud clatter of trash cans falling over made you turn and you had to bite back the laugh that nearly sprang to your lips as the neighbor nearly fell head over heels in his distraction, his eyes quickly tearing away from you as he fought to right himself.

For a long moment, you watched him, smiling to yourself before turning back toward the house. Despite making a fool of himself, he was rather handsome and looked to be about your age.  For a second, you deliberated going back to introduce yourself, but the way your stomach grumbled reminded you that you’d barely eaten anything other than junk food all day and the call of finding sustenance was too great to ignore.  Besides, the poor guy’d just suffered enough humiliation, you didn’t wanna add to that at the moment.

Dragging the rest of your stuff up to your room, you flicked the light on as the sun began to dip below the horizon, and pulled out something a little more comfortable to put on, stripping your t-shirt over your head and unhooking your bra.  Tossing the garment away, you stretched your arms above your head, working the kink out of your back before turning to grab the sweatshirt you’d just laid out.

Glancing up to the window, you realized you could see into the room directly across from yours in the house next door, and your heart leapt into your throat as you locked eyes with the young man you’d just encountered in the driveway, watching as he hastily ducked out of sight, knowing you’d caught him staring.

Clenching your jaw, you yanked your sweatshirt on and stormed out of the room and down the stairs, ready to give the pervert a piece of your mind.  When he answered his front door, however, you faltered for a moment at his confident greeting, as if he hadn’t just been caught watching you undress.

“Hey there, we haven’t been properly introduced, I’m Steve Harrington,” he drawled.

Your brows rose slightly as you stared at his outstretched hand.  So he wanted to pretend like nothing had happened, huh?  Well, two could play at that, you thought, contenting yourself with waiting for the opportune moment to bring it up and catch him off guard.

Taking his hand, you introduced yourself, taking a moment to get a proper look at him.

He was definitely cute, despite spying on you.  Maybe your stay in Hawkins wouldn’t be so dull after all, provided Steve Harrington didn’t turn out to be a total creep.

“I’m pretty sure I definitely would’ve remembered if we’d met before,” Steve said, releasing your hand, though his warmth lingered on your palm.  “So uh, what’re you doing next door?” he asked, looking you up and down discreetly.

“It’s my aunt’s place.  She’s out of town right now, but she said I could stay for a bit til I get back on my feet.  I just quit my job,” you explained, hoping he wouldn’t ask too many questions about your former profession.

“Oh, bummer.  About your job, I mean!  Not that you’re here,” Steve added quickly, making you laugh.

“It’s okay, I was ready for a change,” you said, shrugging, shifting your weight.  “Guess that officially makes us neighbors then.”

Steve nodded, grinning.  “Guess it does,” he mused, his voice trailing off as if he were lost in thought.  

“You gunna invite me in, or make me stand here all night?” you prompted, raising an amused brow at him and Steve shook himself.

“You hungry?  I just pulled a frozen pizza out of the oven,” he offered, gesturing over his shoulder and your stomach chose that moment to remind you how hungry you still were.

“Sounds perfect,” you replied, hoping Steve hadn’t heard your stomach’s impatient rumble.  “You live here alone?” you asked, letting your eyes wander as you followed him in, Steve leading you to the kitchen.

“Nah, with my parents,” he answered with a grimace.  “But dad’s on a business trip and mom went with,” he explained, rifling through one of the drawers for a pizza cutter.

“That’s nice,” you mused, opening the fridge to peer inside curiously.

“Not really,” Steve muttered, turning to pull a couple plates from the cupboard and hand you one.  “Mom’s only there cause she doesn't trust him.”

“Ohh, I see,” you murmured and Steve let out a heavy sigh, divvying up the pizza slices onto your plates.  

“I don’t wanna be anything like him,” he said quietly and you wondered if he’d meant for you to hear or not, hastily clearing his throat and moving on from the subject.  “You want a beer?”

“Yeah, alright,” you replied, accepting the cold can he passed you from the fridge.

“C’mon, let’s eat by the pool,” Steve suggested, leading you through the large open living room and out the sliding glass door to the stone paved patio.  

His parents were clearly loaded, but earlier you’d noticed him wearing a Family Video vest, so either daddy’d cut him off, or he didn’t want his family’s money, and you briefly wondered which was the case.

Steve pulled a couple lounge chairs next to each other and gestured for you to sit, sprawling out next to you.  “So, how long do you plan on staying in Hawkins?” he asked, taking a bite of his pizza and cracking his beer open one handed.

Leaning back in your seat, you chewed your pizza thoughtfully.  “I’m not sure, honestly,” you mused, washing down your pizza with a swig of beer.  “Guess it depends if there’s anything here worth sticking around for.”

When your eyes flicked back to Steve, you watched him swallow, his own gaze quickly darting away.  “I could show you around, y’know, if you want,” he offered, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug, aiming for nonchalance and your lips twitched.

“I’d like that,” you said, picking one of the pepperonis from your pizza slice and popping it in your mouth, sucking the sheen of grease from your fingers.

When you once again caught Steve staring, his beer can half raised to his lips, hovering midair as if he’d forgotten how to drink, you decided it was time to go for the kill.

“I’m starting to think you have a staring problem, Steve Harrington.”

At your words, Steve gave a jerk, spluttering into his can in alarm and you had to bite back a grin at his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he exclaimed, thumping his chest with a fist as he coughed.

“Well, there was that time in the driveway, just now, and… when you watched me undress through your window,” you said, cocking an eyebrow at him.  “Did you get a nice show?” you asked and Steve’s brown eyes widened, his mouth falling open before stumbling over a hasty apology.

“I-I only saw for like an instant!” he argued, holding his hands up.  “It was no big deal, really.”

“No big deal?” you repeated, scoffing quietly and Steve hastily backpedaled, wincing at the offended look on your face.

“I mean, not like that.  You looked great, but I–I didn’t–!  Look, I’m sorry,” he insisted, chancing an apologetic glance at you and your expression softened for an instant before turning impish.

“So, what are we gunna do about this?” you mused, giving him a pointed look, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What do you mean?  Can’t you just accept my apology?” Steve asked warily, a frown tugging at his lips.

“You saw me.  I think it’s only fair that we even the score,” you insisted, leaning back in your chair, watching him expectantly.

“You really expect me to strip right here?” he scoffed, an incredulous note to his voice.

“You got a little show, now it’s my turn, pretty boy.  It’s only fair,” you pointed out, your lips turning down in a pout.  “Are you shy?” you mocked and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine,” he replied, pushing up from his seat and pulling his sweater over his head, tossing it at you before toeing off his shoes and undoing his jeans, dropping them to stand before you in his underwear and socks, heat licking up his neck at the way you stared, your gaze traveling over him appraisingly.

“Not bad, but I think you’re forgetting something,” you said, your lips twitching in amusement.  “I want the whole package,” you insisted, pointing to his crotch and Steve’s face flared hotter. “C’mon, I think that’s enough,” he argued halfheartedly, but your sharp look held him in place.

“Fine, guess I’ll just go home then,” you said with a shrug, making to push out of your chair.  “It was nice meeting you, Steve–” 

“Wait–!” he exclaimed, and you paused, turning back to look at him.  “Alright fine,” he huffed, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down, letting them pool at his ankles.

“You happy now?” he asked, throwing his hands up and you bit your lip as your eyes went to his package.  He was definitely well endowed.

“Yep,” you replied, playfully popping the p, your eyes returning to his.  “You know, you’re lucky your back yard is pretty secluded,” you pointed out and he snorted, standing there awkwardly, while trying not to look awkward.

“How long do I have to stand here like this?” Steve asked and you tapped your lip, pretending to think.

“I guess that’s long enough.  But before you get dressed…” you trailed off, standing up and walking closer to him, noticing the way his eyes widened and his breath hitched, wondering what you were about to do.  “Let’s go for a dip,” you finished, giving him a shove into the pool, laughing as he hit the water and came up spluttering, shaking his hair out of his face.

“What was that for–?”

Steve’s exclamation died on his tongue when he noticed you were stripping as well and he didn’t know whether to turn away or if you wanted him to look this time, though you didn’t give him much of a chance, diving into the water as soon as you dropped your clothes to the ground.

When you surfaced, you wiped the water from your face and grinned as you swam toward Steve.

“So are we even now?” he asked, a smile of his own curving his lips and you laughed.

“Yeah, I’d say so.  For now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve retorted, his eyebrows climbing.

“I mean, I’m just assuming you’ll do something stupid again,” you laughed, pushing a wave of water at him playfully.

Steve splashed you back with a smirk.  “Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” he agreed.  “So what else do you do for fun, y’know, besides torturing people?” he teased.

You couldn’t help but study him for a moment–the square curve of his jaw, his chestnut hair stuck wetly to his forehead and the dark moles that littered his neck and shoulders.  There were two on his cheek in the perfect spot for kissing.

“I uhm, I like photography and dancing, going to the movies or skating, and swimming,” you answered, huffing a soft laugh.  “Though I should probably start job searching soon,” you sighed.

“What was your old job?” Steve asked and you dropped your gaze, wondering if you should just rip off the band aid and tell him.  But you liked him, and you liked the way he looked at you… If you told him the truth it would make things weird, it always did.

Would it be so bad if he didn’t know?

You could make a fresh start in Hawkins.  No one knew your face.  There’d be no more awkward stares or lewd come-ons, just a sweet guy that seemed to like you for you and who hadn’t taken advantage of the fact that you were both naked in his pool.  Maybe for once you could just feel normal.

“It was dumb, I’m just glad I quit,” you murmured, avoiding giving him a real answer.  “I wanna make a fresh start, maybe go to college, I dunno yet.”

Steve nodded, sobering as he watched you tread water, bobbing in place, carefully keeping his eyes on your face.  “So… do you have a boyfriend?” he asked, floating closer, and you dipped below the water slightly to hide the giddy smile that tugged at your lips.

“No.  Do you have a girlfriend?” you asked, biting your lip when a dazed grin spread across Steve’s face.

“Nope,” he chuckled.  “I’d like one, though.”

“Mmm,” you mused, scrunching up your brow in thought.  “Yeah, I think you do need one,” you teased, kicking your feet lazily as you tilted your head.  “But what kind?”

“Well, for starters, someone cute, and sweet, and clever–” Steve began to list, his gaze never leaving your face as he continued to describe you.  “Definitely someone spontaneous and fun, but down to earth too, who’s not afraid to call me on my bullshit.”

You hadn’t noticed when you’d moved closer to him, your chest only inches from his, and your breath hitched at the realization, warmth spreading through you.

“She sounds pretty fantastic,” you breathed, trying to keep your voice light, Steve’s smile making you dizzy.

“Yeah, she definitely is,” he replied, his hands skimming your sides.  “Any idea where I might be able to find her?”

Unable to make your voice work, you felt yourself lean in, your gaze flicking from Steve’s lips to his eyes, breathlessly waiting for his lips to claim yours as he grasped your hips, holding you close, his eyelids fluttering as his nose brushed against yours.

A loud rustling in the bushes nearby made you freeze, however, ice racing through your veins, and Steve jerked back at the same time you did, suddenly afraid the two of you weren’t alone, only to jump as a rabbit burst from the underbrush at the edge of the property to race across the yard and you threw your head back and laughed at the yelp that left Steve’s throat.

“Oh my God, you were so scared!” you exclaimed, your laughter continuing despite the splash Steve directed at you.

“So were you!” he countered, an incredulous grin twisting his relieved expression.

“Yeah, but I didn’t scream like a girl,” you pointed out, letting out a scream of your own as he swam after you, catching you easily round the waist and a wave of arousal washed over you when you felt his length brush against the curve of your ass and give a twitch.

Steve cleared his throat, hastily releasing you before either of you could become tempted to do more.  And while part of you wished he hadn’t, you were glad he didn’t want to move too fast.

“I’ll uh, I’ll get you a towel, okay?” Steve said, and you caught the pink flush that suffused his cheeks before he swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out.

Averting your eyes for a moment, you couldn’t help but watch as he walked away, admiring his cute ass before he disappeared back inside the house.  When he returned, a fluffy towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hands, you gave him a pointed look and he huffed a soft laugh, squeezing his eyes shut as he held the towel open for you, not peeking til you were covered.

“I don’t see what the big fuss is about, you’ve already seen all of me,” he teased, his warm voice drenched in playful sarcasm.

“And it was a very nice sight,” you purred, smirking at him and patting his cheek as you passed, bending to pick up your clothes.  “Walk me home?” you asked, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, shaking his head fondly, and the two of you walked around to the front of your aunt’s house.

“Thanks for the pizza and the swim,” you murmured, stopping in front of the door.

“It was my pleasure,” Steve replied, stepping closer, his damp hair falling into his eyes before he pushed it away.

“You know you owe me a real date now, right?” you asked, wetting your lips, and Steve’s grin grew.

“How about tomorrow night?”

“I think I can fit that into my schedule,” you teased, leaning in to press a kiss to his warm cheek, wanting to leave him wanting more.  “Good night, Steve.”

“Good night,” he echoed softly, watching you disappear inside before finally heading back home, his stomach fluttering excitedly, the same as yours.

➺ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @heartbreak-sandwich @santacarlahorrorshow @sailorskunk @babydollbaron @thecreelhouse @melodymunson @corrodeddeadlydoll @stevesxyellowxsweater @destroya2005

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

So uhh I wanted to share a little headcanon(or an au of an au??) of mine about the himbois :)

I love and adore that the himbois love each other so so deeply and would literally die for each other in a non-romantic way because it shows how romance isn't the be all end all of love and that the other types of love are no less strong or no less important and it breaks away from all the allonormativity. BUT I maintain that it would be hilarious if Jon and Gerry were dating with Danny as their enthusiastic third wheel.

Absolutely nothing changes, the dynamic is the exact same except Jon and Gerry sometimes kiss and hold hands now. That's it. They don't love Danny any less for it or are any less affectionate with him. And it makes people(including their audience) so confused because they can't figure out which is dating which if any of them are dating each other at all(would there be like, video essays theorising about it?) Which the himbois get a huge kick out of.

It's kinda like that meme, I don't remember exactly, a couple getting a cake for their anniversary make the baker write their friend's name right alongside theirs except they ask to make the friends name a lot bigger because they love their friend that much

Your au is perfect the way it is just wanted to let you know

Oh I absolutely love this. Especially because it so fully fleshes with my own idea about relationships in general but specifically with these characters.

I never really liked the idea that romance per se had to be the number one relationship in your life. So the idea of a sort of platonic throuple where 2/3 were romantically involved and the third was just And Your Friend Steveing their way through this relationship was always something I was down for.

Danny, Jon, and Gerry specifically are characters where my headcanon about their romantic orientation changes for me depending on the fic. In nhthcth and in the himbois AU, I see Danny as aroace. But I had a different fic where Danny, Jon, and Gerry had this exact dynamic, just flipped as to who was involved.

It was an AU where Danny and Jon met when Jon was in university and fell sickeningly in love. Then, Danny disappeared after he visited the Theater Royale. Jon went off the fucking deep end in the aftermath, and eventually ended up at the Magnus Institute in so much of a spiral that he ended up dragging that one guy who was accused of skinning his own mum to the doctor and bullying him into cancer treatment after he passed out while having a smoke. Gerry and Jon then end up platonic soulmates who decide to live or die for each other, which one they pick will depend on what their options are in the moment.

I could never settle on an ending, but one of the potential endings was a happy one where they realized Danny was still alive. The Circus had kept him as a captive audience to a show that never ended, because they couldn’t feed on the scale they needed to and still evade Gertrude’s notice. So they nabbed a bunch of people from all over and had them join their audience. Danny was one of many, and Jon and Gerry save him from the show. After they do, it’s just:

Gerry, very secure in his place in Jon’s life but also aware that Jon’s presumed dead fiancé and soulmate just came back from the fucking dead and they sort of had life plans together: so how’s this going to work

Jon, hasn’t let go of Danny’s hand since they found him: do you know that thing where you have two hotel rooms connected by an interior door

Gerry: yeah

Jon: that but houses

Gerry: fuckin sick

The primary relationship is Jon, Gerry, and Danny platonically. Jon and Danny just also happen to be in love.

I have other fics where Jon and Gerry are romantically in love. I definitely ship them—it just depends on the circumstances. I love your dynamic in the context of the himbois au.

I have a lot of fics I’ve imagined but haven’t written that have this sort of set up, so I really really love this concept here. I don’t know if you read any of my other fandoms, but I have some imagined fics for JJK where Maki and Yuuta are platonic soulmates and also happen to be independently in gay love. I’ve got an imagined fic for BNHA where Izuku, Todoroki, Iida, and Shinsou have each other as platonic partners that they think of as their “primary” relationship, but Izuku and Todoroki happen to be dating also. I just really love this as a relationship dynamic. Thank you so much for sharing with me!

[crappymixtape]

tangled • part two

PART I • PART III • PART IV • PART V • PART VI ❝ all you’ve known your entire life is in the inside of your tower – the brick walls covered in your murals skating around you in a semi-perfect circle, the view from the very top one that would take anyone’s breath away, but how could it be beautiful when you could never leave? that is, until an unexpected someone happens upon your hidden tower and offers you a chance to escape | (  2.7k, tangled AU • fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader )

I N T O T H E W I L D B L U E 🎶 strawberries for two, tinyumbrellas

I said, cowboy take me away, fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue. Set me free, oh, I pray, closer to heaven above and closer to you, closer to you.

Flynn’s head hurt, my gods it hurt, like it’d been cleaved in two and a groan rumbled in his chest, his brow furrowed tightly as he slowly opened his eyes.

The last thing he remembered was climbing up that bloody tower hoping to find respite, but instead found whoever the hell had clobbered him over the head with something awfully heavy and, well, awful.

Blinking the room into view, everything swam into focus. An odd little room full of the necessities: a stove, a wardrobe, a table and chairs, plates and cups and silverware and the like, but there were other items too. Paint and brushes and discarded canvas, a basket full of sewing things and a tiny pottery wheel with a half finished pitcher sitting atop it and…

“Is this…hair?”

Eyes growing wider by the second, Flynn saw long locks looped over the rafters above and diving down to the floor. Over the table and around an ottoman and slipping up the leg of the chair he sat in and holding him tightly, very tightly, to the hard wood at his back.

“Is this hair??” he asked again to no one until a voice sounded from the shadows just ahead of him.

“Struggling is pointless! I know why you’re here, and I’m not afraid of you.”

Flynn shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs and properly process the situation he found himself in. Held captive. In a chair. Bound to it with hair and, oh, bloody hell.

“I’m sorry–what?” he half scoffed, confusion melting into frustration.

Something shifted in the shadows and he sat back, waiting, anticipating, heart hammering in his chest until you stepped out into the sliver of sunlight falling in from the window above.

“Who are you and how did you find me?” you worked hard to keep your voice level, frying pan still held in your hands, wanting to make damn sure this man knew who he was dealing with.

But this man. Oh, this man was in trouble now.

Mouth dropped open in a little ‘o’ his brows softened and the tiniest breath pushed from his lungs. Yes, it was an absolutely impossible amount of hair, but gods. You were unlike anyone he’d ever seen. In fact looking at you felt like getting hit over the head for a third time.

The soft slope of your cupid’s bow and the way it firmed around the tiny scowl on your lips, the long sweep of your lashes across your cheeks, hell, even the way you handled that frying pan.

“Who are you and how did you find me?” you demanded again and it shook him from his stupor as he flicked on the charm. That would certainly get him out of this.

“Forgive me,” he said, head dipping in a small nod, “I know not who you are or how I came to find you, but might I just say…hi. How are you? Name’s Flynn Rider.”

Your scowl shifted, confused, then irritated. What was he doing? Maybe you hit him a little too hard. Pointing the pan back at him you took a step forward and prodded him in the chest. Unimpressed.

“Okay, Flynn Rider, if that’s even your name,” you fixed him with a look, one you hoped conveyed you weren’t going to be tolerating any bullshit. “Who else knows my location?”

A huff of protest fell from his lips, brows pinching together and exasperated as he shifted in his chair. How did that not work? That always worked, especially with the ladies. Flynn rolled his eyes and dropped the act, struggling against his restraints. “Alright, princess–”

“Rapunzel.”

“Sure, whatever, I was running through the forest and came across your tower and–” Flynn stopped. Where was the tiara? That was his ticket out here if he didn’t have that…”Oh. Oh, gods. Where’s my satchel? Where’s my satchel??”

A most pleased look came over you and you crossed your arms over your chest, swinging the pan back and forth a little too casually and dropping it to the floor with a loud CLANG! Cheeks flushed you quickly bent down to grab it and pointed it back at him.

“It’s hidden. Where you’ll never find it,” you insisted.

“What?” Flynn grumbled under his breath and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, pulling a steadying breath into his lungs. Soft. Kind. Maybe you’d let him go. “Please? C’mon, princess.”

“No. I’m not telling you where it is until you tell me what you want with my hair! Cut it? Sell it? What d’you want!”

That could be the only reason he was here, for your hair. It was why you were in this tower, protected and safely tucked away from all of the ruffians who wanted to steal your hair. Your precious, magic, hair. The hair your Mother swore to never let anyone lay a finger on and made you promise to never let anyone else touch.

“Your hair? Gods, no! What’s wrong with you? The only thing I want with your hair is to get out of it. Literally.”

He didn’t want your hair? Surely that was a lie. Mother told you it was all anyone ever wanted from you. It was all they’d ever want from you and nothing else and the only person you could trust was Mother.

Right?

You narrowed your eyes at him and stepped up to him, “You’re telling the truth?”

“Yes!”

The look on his face was earnest enough and he certainly seemed desperate to get his satchel back. The one with the sparkly gold tiara in it. The one that most definitely meant he was a thief, but you needed someone to take you to see the lights and well, you didn’t have much choice. This was it. Your one chance.

“Alright, Flynn Rider. I have a deal for you,” you said, taking a step back pulling aside the long drape of fabric on the far wall to reveal a beautifully painted mural of the night sky full of brightly shining dots. “Do you know what these are?”

It was beautiful. A masterpiece. Artfully crafted and coming to life through an incredible use of color and movement and brushstrokes of–

“Of course I know what those are,” Flynn huffed, shaking the look of astonishment from his features, “Those are the lanterns they release once a year for the lost princess.”

Lost princess?

You tried to keep your expression neutral, ignoring the images the tiara had pulled forth in your mind, and straightened up tall, walking back to Flynn’s chair.

“Yes. The lost princess, everyone knows,” you didn’t, but he didn’t need to know. “You will act as my guide, take me to these lanterns and then return me home safely. Only then will you get your precious satchel back.”

Flynn tipped his head back and barked a laugh. “Sorry, princess. No can do,” he said through a few last little chuckles, “The kingdom and I are sort of…at odds with one another, so that won’t be happening.”

A flicker of anger simmered in your chest, being treated again like you didn’t know the half of it. Like you were an idiot. Like no matter what you did it was never going to be good enough.

Folding your arms over your chest you fixed him with a look, lips twisted around a frown, “Listen. Something brought you here, Flynn Rider. Call it what you will, fate, destiny, whatever you might believe in, but we are at an impasse and I think we can help each other.”

The smug look on his face melted the longer he looked at you and it shook the firm stance you’d taken. Those striking hazel eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the way his gaze held yours. You sucked in a breath, steady.

“And–and I’ve made the decision to trust you–”

“A horrible decision–”

“But trust me when I tell you this…” You leaned down to press your hands to the tops of the chair arms and tried your best at intimidation, “You can tear this tower apart, but without my help you will never find your precious satchel.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes for a beat, his breath warming over your cheek with how close you’d pushed into him and your pulse fluttered in your neck. A warning, curiosity, something a little more until he broke.

“Okay, princess–”

“Rapunzel,” you corrected. Again.

“Sure–lemme get this straight. I take you to see the lights and you give me my satchel back?”

“That’s the deal.”

He held your gaze a moment longer, waiting, anticipating you breaking under the long, drawn out silence that was stretching thinner and thinner through the air, but he didn’t know who he was dealing with.

“Gods, fine!” he cracked, chin dipping to his chest in defeat as he grumbled a string of curses under his breath. “I’ll take you to see the stupid lanterns, but if I don’t get my satchel back–”

“You will!”

“I better.”

“You will,” you said again and his features softened a touch at the earnest sound of your voice.

He guessed he trusted you too. Somehow.

I wanna walk and not run, I wanna skip and not fall, I wanna look at the horizon and not see a building standing tall.

“You comin’, princess?”

Looking down out the window to the ground made you dizzy. Made you second-guess everything. Made you scared. It was so far down. Much further than it had ever looked before, further than every other time you’d tossed your hair down to Mother.

“Of course I’m coming!” you shouted back, your frustration fizzling out with the distance to the grass below.

Swallowing down the nerves that had bumped up into your throat you tossed your hair over the hook like you always did and held tight, feet perched at the edge of the windowsill.

It’s fine. You’re fine. You can do this. You can do this.

You pulled air into your lungs, deeply, closed your eyes and pictured the way the ground would feel under you. The way you could dip your fingers in the river. The wind in your hair and the sun on your skin and when you leapt from the tower you left your stomach somewhere with your paints and pottery wheel and sewing.

A squeal pitched high in your ear and it took you a moment to realize it was coming from you and when your feet finally hit the meadow floor, the force of it tripped you forward into something solid.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–” Flynn dashed forward to meet you, catching you before you hit hard and his heart stuttered at the way you felt pressed close to him.

Clinging onto two fistfuls of leather vest and tunic like your life depended on it, you suddenly realized – you’d done it. You made it. Out of the tower, out from under Mother’s ever-watchful gaze, out into the world.

Free.

Heart hammering in your chest, you were sure it would crack your ribs as the world swam back in around you. The birds in the trees, the burble of the river, the softness of the breeze against your cheek and the warmth of Flynn’s hands wide at your waist–

“Wait–what–I’m fine, I’m fine,” you insisted pushing against him, pushing away from him, “–I’m fine.”

“Oh–o–okay. Sure, sorry,” Flynn stuttered, confused at your sudden protest to his helping you and held his hands up in defense.

Your eyes watered at the bright rays of sunlight falling on you, your arm moving to shield the view with the crook of your elbow, and when you finally acclimated a rush of colors struck you.

Brilliant, green grass beneath your feet, flowers yellow and orange and pink swaying and waving hello, slips of blue water flowing swiftly between the riverbanks and glittering in the afternoon sun. The corner of your mouth tugged up into a small smile, wiggling your toes against the cool dirt, the feel of it lifting your smile bigger and bigger until an astonished laugh fell from your lips.

“I did it…” you marveled, clasping your hands over your mouth. “I did it!” you shouted again, flinging your arms out and spinning, hair fanning out behind you in waves. Spinning and spinning and spinning.

And for the first time in a long time, Flynn felt something bloom deep in his chest. A feeling he thought wasn’t possible anymore. A feeling that split a crack in the wall he’d worked so hard to build, the one that was supposed to keep things out. Things like you. Pure, joyful, beautiful things like you.

“Alright, alright. There’s plenty of time to frolic, princess–”

“Rapunzel,” you corrected for the millionth time.

“We got a long way to go, c’mon,” Flynn waved an arm toward a small gap in the cliff, the one Mother always snuck through, and dread pooled at the pit of your stomach.

A long way to go. As in, out there. As in, away from your tower, your home, everything you owned with only a frying pan in your hand and panic pinched in your chest.

As he reached the way out, Flynn turned back to make sure you were still following, but instead saw you standing frozen just a few yards away. His brows knitted together. “You coming?”

“I’m a horrible daughter, I have to go back,” came out just above a whisper and Flynn took a few steps toward you.

“What?”

“I can’t go.”

“Sure you can, just use your feet,” Flynn teased a little, but tears were welling up against your lashes and that feeling hit him again, but he steeled against it. He didn’t owe you anything and the only thing holding him back from getting out of this place was the fact you still had his satchel – the one you promised you’d give him once he took you to the lanterns.

Your tears fell freely now and Flynn’s hand twitched at his side, wanting to sweep them softly from your cheeks, his feet betraying him and pushing him a few steps closer. He pulled in a breath, No, Rider. Not now.

“You know,” he started, tutting at you gently, “I can’t help but notice you seem a little at war with yourself here. Protective mother, roguish stranger taking you from your tower, but trust me. You’re way over thinking this. Will this disappoint your mother? Yes! Will you break her heart? Definitely.”

“What?” you gasped, break her heart??

“Yes, a horrible thing to do. Just horrible,” he tutted at you, folded his arms over his chest and let out a sigh of resignation. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m letting you out of the deal. Alright? Let’s get you home. I get my stachel back and you get to please Mother dearest.”

“Wait–no, no no,” you shook your head, “That wasn’t the deal. How do you know she’ll be disappointed??”

The words were tumbling from your mouth, stuttering and fighting against yourself as you buried your head in your hands. Quieted your mind and tried to calm down. And then it hit you.

“No! I’m seeing those lanterns!” you looked right up at Flynn and gave him the most decided look you’d ever mustered and he let out the loudest groan.

“Oh, c’mon!” flinging his hands up in defeat he gave you the most pathetic, pleading look, “What’s it gonna take to get my satchel back??”

“The lanterns, Flynn!!” you walked right up to him and poked a finger into his chest, hard.

Expression faded from his face, brows and mouth firm lines, unimpressed, stuck and all but conquered.

“I’m not doing this for you. You know that right?” he said, aiming to at least knock you down a peg, but the triumphant look you gave him was enough to tell him he had no idea what he was dealing with.

“I know. Now scoot,” you shoved at his arm, pushed him toward the hanging vines over the secret path out and he begrudgingly picked up his pace again.

“Don’t ever tell me to scoot again.”

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[steifel]

STEVIEPOP HEADCANONS NOW PLS

Okokok

-so for a long time Steve and Evie would joke about how both of them have a big crush on Soda but would never do anything because they really do love him and hes with Sandy.......... Then Sandy leaves

-then one Evie is at the DX distracting the boys and she leans over and kisses Soda

-Soda is shocked he looks over and sees Steve nod though so he keeps going

-i have always always head cannoned Soda as polyamorous because he had to much love inside of him to just love one person. So he is so happy to join an existing relationship

- usually Soda cuddles in the middle especially when he's had a hard day

-the gang found out when Pony came home from school and found all 3 of them in Sodas bed together (they were asleep)

-the whole gang had a lot of things to say mostly because they were worried about the safety of the 3 of them being in a poly relationship in the 60s

-after that though the gang is just supportive

-when everyone is hanging out Soda lays with his head on Evie's lap and his legs on Steve's

-they go on drive in dates because nobody can see them being together

-they also go to make out point together a lot

-when they go out everyone thinks that Soda is just third wheeling

-but Soda is 100% an equal partner in the relationship

-Evie loves to go to the DX to bother "her boys"

-evey night when Steve and Soda get home Evie is so exited for them to get there

-she gives both of them so many kisses istg

-if they ever chose to have kids Soda would be really nervous because after Sandy the thought of his girl possibly having another man's baby terrifies him. But as soon as she gets pregnant he genuinely doesn't care at all he's just happy.

-over all they love each other so much and it's genuinely the perfect relationship if you think about it

[notenoughdramaaa]

Oh hey, I realized I never formally introduced myself to the fresh batch of Tumblr users, so here I am, several years late, but what else is new?

I don’t have pronouns or a name because Not Enough Drama isn’t a person, it’s a state of mind. I’m an Economics major with a minor in Psychology, which means I spend 90% of my time overanalyzing people's questionable life decisions and the other 10% overthinking my questionable life decisions.

Yes, that profile picture is actually me. Someone once accused me of "hiding behind a statue to be an asshole," so I decided to put my actual face out there. Am I officially allowed to be an asshole now anonymous person? Or do I need to submit paperwork?

In terms of sexuality, I’m like coffee creamer: half and half. Half gay, half straight, but let’s be real, the gay side has been winning lately.

I’ve been writing since I was 12, and against all odds, I’m still bad at it. Expect a lot of fanfics, way too many discussions about fanfics, and a general inability to write short summaries from this profile. Right now, I’m trapped in my Marauders Era, so this blog is basically a shrine to Starchaser (Jegulus) and Wolfstar, enter at your own risk.

✨ Fun Facts About This Walking Disaster ✨

Took ballet as a kid and still manage to trip over flat surfaces. Talent? Probably.

I have a deeply concerning inability to back down from a challenge. One time, I ate an entire rotisserie chicken in one sitting just because someone dared me to. 0/10, do not recommend. I saw God that day, and He was laughing. At my face. Rotisserie chicken was my Vietnam. Never again.

Favorite word: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, because if you’re gonna have a favorite word, go big or go home.

Obsessed with Ovaltine. Aggressively obsessed. Expect me to mention it at least once a week.

📖 What I’ve Inflicted Upon the Internet:

Finished Fics:

Mary, Remus, and That Third Wheel Inspired by the song "Me, You and Steve" by Garfunkel and Oates. Mary McDonald has the perfect life: incredible friends, a perfect boyfriend (Remus Lupin), and everything’s going great, except for one small, tiny detail: Sirius Black. No matter what sweet moment Mary and Remus try to have, Sirius is there, lurking, making things awkward. It’s cute, it’s funny, and kinda a mess, but I promise it’s worth a read!

A Couple of Liars Inspired by a Tumblr prompt: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin end up in couples therapy… except they’re not a couple. They don’t even know each other. But once they realize they’re both in the same session, they make a game of it: How far can they go before the therapist figures out they’re total strangers? Spoiler alert: They go pretty far.

A Bed by Any Other Name Regulus has hypercalcemia, and his body’s slowly falling apart. The only thing that can save him? Surgery. The problem? He needs someone to look after him. So where does he end up? Sirius’s place, of course. Regulus might have a tiny crush on Sirius’s husband, Remus, but things take a turn when he meets James Potter, who’s absolutely obsessed with Marcel Proust and overly romantic gestures. It’s complicated, it’s messy, and it’s so much fun.

Regulus Black and the Day He Messed Everything Up Regulus, at 16, is tasked with retrieving the most powerful Time-Turner ever created—except he screws it up. Now, he’s 15 years in the future, face-to-face with Harry Potter (who looks suspiciously like James). Regulus uncovers shocking truths: Sirius is in Azkaban, and his own death is coming. Now, he’s on a mission to rewrite fate. No pressure, right?

Black Velvet (James Version) Summer 1950: James Potter arrives in Memphis expecting heat and misery—until he meets Regulus Black. A boy with a honeyed voice and a dream bigger than this small town could ever hold. They fall fast, recklessly, but love like theirs? It comes with a price.

Takeout for Two and Other Things I Forgot: Based on a Tumblr post: James got hit by a car and lost his memories—including the fact that he’s been dating Regulus since high school. Regulus, feeling guilty, decides to disappear from James’s life, thinking it’s for the best. But when James checks into the hospital where Regulus works, it’s all he can think about. Not exactly how Regulus planned for things to go...

Currently Torturing Myself With:

Barefoot Where The Gods Can See: Regulus didn’t come to Greece to fall in love. He came for ancient stones and quiet libraries, for dusty museums and a dissertation that might finally make his family feel like he’s enough. What he didn’t expect was James Potter, sun-kissed skin and smiling like a literal Greek god, who brings him figs in the morning and sees right through his walls. Regulus, who has spent his whole life being cautious, has no idea what to do with that kind of warmth. Somewhere between ancient tragedies and homemade baklava, they begin to rewrite what it means to belong.

Black Velvet (Remus’ Version): The reason Remus was late is because he didn’t want to go. After the Jagger Disaster (capital D, don't ask), he physically cringed every time he was assigned a rockstar. Unfortunately, writing for Rolling Stone meant he couldn’t exactly escape them, and now, they’d stuck him with Sirius Black. Yes, that Sirius Black. Except Sirius is… not what he expected. Remus swore he wouldn’t fall for rockstar. He really thought he meant it.

Coming Soon to a Meltdown Near You:

[radioactiveparker]

A Proposition To Make Amends - Steddie X Fem!Reader (Smut) *Sneak Peek*

You sighed in defeat. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"You have my blessing." His smile turned to a smirk, his tone lowered to the rasp he always used in the bedroom. "Besides, it could be kinda hot."

There it was again. That burning desire deep within your core. The feeling hadn't really gone away. You almost always had a smouldering passion for him, but he managed to reignite it with a snap of his fingers. Steve couldn't help but smile at the fucked out look on your face; eyelids heavy with desperation and lips parted, just begging for something to slip between them.

"You see that Eddie? She wants to fuck you."

Eddie couldn't stop the feeling stirring within him. The look on your face and the way your nipples perked through your shirt had him squeezing his legs together like a fucking teenager. Try as he may, he couldn't deny that you were hot.

"I swear to God Steve, If this is a fucking prank--"

"It's not." You assured him, standing from your seat and making yourself comfortable on his lap.

You straddled him, resting your hands on his shoulders before calling Steve to sit beside him. Eddie stared at you in confusion when you pulled Steve in for a kiss, suddenly feeling like a third wheel. He felt like a perv watching your tongues swirl along one another and the way you would suck on Steve's like it was a cock. Just when he was about to call it quits, you slowly began rolling your hips. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sweet relief, resting his head on the back of the sofa and enjoying the view. You moaned as Eddie grew harder beneath you, giving you more friction on your aching clit. You pulled away from Steve, putting your full attention into grinding on Eddie. 

"Fuck, that feels good."

"You wanna take your shirt of, baby? Show him those perfect tits?"

You nodded drunkenly, raising your arms above your head so Steve could pull your top off. Eddie groaned almost instantly at the sight of them. He cupped one tenderly, feeling the flesh burning beneath his touch. He sat forward pressing harsh kisses along your neck and traveling down until he reached your breast. He sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, lapping it up and teasing it with his teeth. You gasped at the feeling, even more so when Steve mirrored his actions, first painting hickeys along your neck until he popped your other nipple in his hot mouth. You cupped the back of both their heads, guiding them with your movements as you continued to rock your hips against Eddie's.

"Shit, I'm gonna need you to fuck me." Eddie strained with a bruising grip on your hips. 

"You hear how desperate you've got him baby?"

~~~~~

Read it here

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding. Part 4.

Warnings- Angst, fluff, danger and a fan crush moment. -----------------------------------------------------

“Romanoff?” “Tony get your ass here Y/n is in danger” “What?” “Just get here!”

“Tony, is everything okay?” Bucky asks, noticing the worried look on Tony's face. “What did Natasha say?”

“Nat said they are in trouble, more like Y/n is in danger.” Tony replies.

“What happened?” Steve asks immediately, a bit of panic seeping into his voice, as he realized you and Natasha are in danger. “Where are you going? What’s going on?”

Few hours ago...

“Y/n talk to me” “Nat I'm fine”

“Come on!” she says, grasping your hand, pulling you along. “Let's just walk and talk...”

“Okay, fine…” you agree, letting her guide you along. As you two make your way down the sidewalk, Natasha pauses and turns to you, her expression serious. “Y/n, I know you well enough to know, you are thinking too much. Talk to me babe” You smile, happy at the fact that she knows you so well. “I should have told him, where I was being treated, I hid from him and lost him for good…”

“No, you did not lost him, ok? it was our decision for his own safety, hell we would have done it for Bucky too.” “He is freaking Captain America!!! Nat, he can take care of himself, even if we know it’s the other way around. If he wants to be with someone else, I won't stop him” “He loves you, you both are just going through a major misunderstanding…” “Nat I'm not perfect for him! He deserves someone perfect, like him...” you exclaimed, cutting her mid-sentence. “Did he told you that?” Nat snaps at you. “No…” you mumble, pouting at her, for snapping at you. She just rolls her eyes over your dramatics.

“Then don't jump to conclusions, stay on the ground before doing something stupid!” “Yeah, okay” you respond, feeling a bit tense as you anticipate her next move.

You stop walking, staring at her. Natasha is a smart woman, but god she had no patience for bullshits and over-reactions. But one thing is for sure, everything she says, is true and never ever argue with her.

 “Are you going to keep on staring or what?!” she asks not bothering to stop, or look at you. “Coming, god you can be scary at times!” you raised your hands up in surrender, as she raised her brows at you.

 After some few minutes of silence, you talk again, “So how are things with Bucky?” You can swear on anything, that you saw her blush and choke on air at the same time!

“What did you see or hear?” Nat asks, looking straight ahead, avoiding your gaze. You just smirk at her.

Before you could continue, a guy ran towards you both and pushed Nat in the alley. “What the hell?!” You yell as a man suddenly grabs Natasha and drags her into an alleyway, surprising you both. You quickly aimed your gun at him “Let her go, now!”

“What? Natasha who is with you?” The man holding her was looking in your direction, but not directly at you. “Hey, I said let her go!” You had a firm grip on the gun, ready to shoot, if required.

“Matt?” “What? Do you know him?” you ask her, not lowering the gun. “Y/n, I know him, put the gun down.” “What, are you sure?” Natasha nods and you put your gun back down in your pocket.

The guy name Matt, lets her go and gives a sheepish smile to Nat. “Matt what are you doing here?” she asks him. “I need your help…and” “Wait, how did you know it was me?” you furrow your brows in confusion at her question. “Your perfume that's how I knew you were near…” he answers rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait her perfume? Who and what are you?” you ask looking at him with utter confusion, almost feeling like a third wheel.

“I’m a very good lawyer and you are? He smirks. “Assassin!” you answer proudly.

Nat rolls her eyes, at your antics. “Y/n wait, this is Matt, DD, remember I had told you? and Matt this Y/n fellow avenger and…”  “That's him!” you ask cutting her mid-sentence, “The blind kickass vigilante?” you ask, totally surprise to meet the infamous lawyer finally. “Sorry by the way…” you say quickly, realising you are going ahead in your fan zone.

“It's ok.” he tells you with a smile, before turning to Nat, “You told her about me?” getting serious. “Yes she is my best friend, I tell her everything.” Nat replies with a smirk and a proud smile. “Since when did you started to make friends?” Matt asks in disbelief. “Does not matter to you…” Nat scoffs. “Yeah right!” Matt raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky hair.

You shake your head, getting some control over your fan crush, for the man wearing red tinted glasses.

“Umm...sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I supposed he wants your help with something?” you remind them.  “Yes, right thank you, come this way...” Matt smiles at you, gesturing you and Nat to follow him.

“Not to sound rude, where are we supposed to go and why?” Nat asks in a stern voice, getting serious now. “I was on my way for work, I heard some guys talk about planting a bomb, somewhere here and if my senses are right, that bomb is there. Right at the end of the alley, inside that abandon building” He replies with a serious tone.

“How did you know its abandon?” you ask getting curious.  “Senses” both Nat and Matt reply in unison. “Sorry…” you shrug, not sure whether you offended him or both.

As you three enter the building, you split. With Nat searching the ground floor, you and Matt start looking on the first floor. Most of the walls were collapsed, debris fallen everywhere.

Out of instinct, you helped Matt to walk, making sure he didn’t fall or stumble on anything.

“Sorry, I know you are a vigilante and can take care of yourself, I…”, Matt smiles cutting you off “It’s really nice of you to help me. Yes, I like to be independent, but you helped me out of instinct not because of pity. And I don’t mind a beautiful girl like you, helping me.” He smiles, offering you his arm, which you accept with a red face.

“You are blushing” “No, I'm not...” you bite your lip to hide the smile forming on your lips. “I can hear your heartbeats” he tells you, laughing softly. “Your senses are very admirable…” you smile. “Thank you.”

You both kept looking, from one room to another, before finally entering the last room.

“I don't feel right about this room…” Matt says, getting bit tensed. “Your senses acting up?” you tease, to lighten the mood. Matt laughs heartedly, he looks so cute, “No I think it's in here…” “Well let's keep on looking, or else you might need to get your senses checked. Tony and Bruce can help you.”

“Tony will kill me…” Matt says, as he starts looking around, by poking his stick. “You know him?” you ask, looking in one of the boxes piled up.

“Yes, long story for another day…” he says still looking. “Asking me out already?” You ask, coming to his side. “I don't mind, do you?”

Before you could answer, Matt's pokes a box and it falls on the ground with a loud thud. The box was full of bricks, Matt asks you, what the noise was and you answer, “Bricks. Why keep a box full of bricks?” “Yes, everything here is empty, except for this box…”

“Shit” you both say in unison and look at the place where the box was before. There was the bomb. The weight of bricks, had kept it off. Wires were connected to a box with code pad.

Without a second thought, you both sat on the bomb with half asses.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” “Keeping the bomb off, what are you doing?” “This is no time for being funny, get off now” “If either of us gets off, we are gonna die. The bomb has stopped under our shared weight…”

Some minutes later, Nat comes up looking for you both.

“Guys did you find anything?” She sees you two sitting together and she raises her brow. “Yes we did…” you answer. “What? where is it?” “You are looking at it!” this time Matt answers with anger evident on his face. Seriously why are people snapping today?

Matt explains everything to Natasha. She tries to defuse the bomb, but is unsuccessful. With no other option she texts and calls Tony. 

“Tony is on his way.” Nat tells you both, with a hopeful smile. “Now we wait…” you say sarcastically, to which Nat gives you a smile and Matt is still angry.

Nat makes herself a seat, using few of the empty boxes and sits comfortably.

“Matty smile…” Nat jokes and you try to suppress a laugh, while Matt just ignores you two.

“You know… whatever happens or may not happen… can you try to be less grumpy and smile? You look cute when you smile...” you tease Matt, even though you can see the corners of his lips turning into a smile, he stills acts angry.

“Why did you?” “Why did you?” You both ask each other the same question.

Matt remains quiet and you answer his question, “Matt I have fought worst people, aliens, heck gods and robots. This bomb is nothing.”

Matt was about to say something, but you don’t let him speak, “Don't blame yourself. Even if you had not asked for our help, I still would have been in danger, in some other mission. My job comes with danger, so there's no escaping it. I trust Nat, Tony and everyone else. Nothing will happen to us, Matt.”

Matt starts to relax a bit, “You are good with words…” “Thank you.” “She is good in lots of ways…” Nat winks at you and you give her a ‘what are you trying to do?’ look. “Is that so?” Matt chimes in. “Don't tell me, his senses pick that up?” you laugh.

Back at the compound...

“Come on, metal man, we have to go now!” Tony says, his voice a mix of urgency and concern. “Don't call me that” Bucky warns him. “Are you coming or not?” Tony asks with a raised brow. “I'm coming, they both need us.” 

“Tony wait, I'm coming with you.” Steve tells him. “Steve, please...” Tony replies, clearly feeling torn between wanting to have Steve with him, and knowing that he doesn't want to risk another fight breaking out. “I need you to watch the compound, in case we need anything, I’ll let you know. Trust me on this.” “No, let Bucky stay; I have to come please…” Steve begs and Tony's resolve wavers, as he sees the desperation in Steve's eyes.

“Fine suit up.”

“No! She needs me, not Captain America.” 

A/N: Seriously Charlie Cox is so cute and hot..!

(Comment, feedbacks and reblog are highly appreciated. I hope you all enjoy.)

Part 3 - Part 5

TAGLIST- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian

[manwrre]

It’s bordering on two weeks since Hargrove’s arrival at Hawkins High, when Steve realizes he’s crushing on the guy. Like—‘doodling hearts in the margins of his books and racking up a list of things he likes about him’ type crushing.

They’ve barely interacted after that night at the party. Outside of social gatherings, they just run in different circles; Steve, filling his time with Robin and occasionally third-wheeling Nancy and Jonathan, while Billy hangs out with the more popular crowd.

Their schedules also don’t overlap despite the blonde taking a number of senior-level classes, with the exception of gym and lunch.

The list though, is still so painstakingly long. Ego-stroking-ly lengthy. Embarrassingly indulgent, all on his behalf.

Steve would much rather nosedive into the quarry, than divulge too deeply into it with anyone.

Especially around or to the guy’s actual face, at the risk of Billy’s head becoming too big for his body (even though Steve thinks he’d make an adorable bobble head). Or you know, worse— like him, getting absolutely brained in front of everyone.

Which must say a lot about him as a person because apparently, this is his type. Beautiful, angry, conceited boys.

Regardless, there are some objective mentions on his list though.

Things that the general public would agree on, like Billy’s Michelle-Pfeiffer curls; loose and wavy but so, so golden.

His eyes are a close second, of course because Steve’s seen a lot of bright blues but Billy’s remind him of the vacation he’d spent in Aruba, as a kid. Remind him of a horizon-kissed vastness and warm water lapping at his ankles on a private beach.

The public also agrees that Billy’s got a banging body. He’s thicker than most because he actually gives a shit and ‘works out religiously’ but it’s not all muscle. His abdomen and thighs are firm but his pecs and ass have the right amount of give. A perfect amount of softness.

Steve would know because he’s had to will away many boners at the sight of them.

And Billy’s funny in a witty, sarcastic way. He grins toosharptooprettytoobright and dangerous. He’s smart too, like taking mostly AP classes smart and he’s smug about it all because he knows he’s hot shit. Of course, the bastard is self aware. Cocky. Steve likes him so much. Wants him so bad that it’s dizzying, sickening.

So yeah, there’s stuff that everyone can agree on but then….then, there’s whatever this is.

This being the two penny-sized indents at the base of Billy’s spine. Symmetrical and just defined enough for average eye to discern.

When Steve sees them for the first time though, he promptly drops the basketball in his hands. In front of everyone. During fucking gym class. Purely out of shock.

He catches himself within the same breath and quickly looks away.

Swallows.

Ignores the pointed look that Patrick sends him for flaking out, mid-pass, like some kind of freak and looks around cooly.

Because Billy Hargrove has dimples of venus.

Affectionately dubbed a sign of beauty by Michelangelo. Famed after the Greek goddess’ simulacrum. Called dimples of Apollo on men, which suits Billy all the more, in Steve’s opinion.

The sun child.

Flushed with life. Deserving of avid worshippers. A being deserving of wax poetic. Glittering, dazzling, vibrant and the Camaro, his chariot.

And he knows this because dimples are like, his freckles. His glasses. His braces. They’re a niche, little thing that he finds just devastating. Achingly cute. Nancy has a pair of them near her laugh lines that he would kiss everyday and prod at, endeared.

So he ambles on through practise a little out of breath and red in the face with his newfound knowledge.

Watches Billy jog over to the locker room with everyone else at the end; skin slick and sweat pooling at the divots of his waistband. Tempting.

He stands back and feigns trying to catch his breath, his hands on his knees. Eyes the younger boy’s retreating form from up through his hair. Imagines hooking his thumbs into the depressions of his flesh.

Relishes in the thought of splaying his hands across the width of his waist.

Feels his mouth go dry and a rush of white heat surging south.

Licks his lips absentmindedly as his cock aches to life and makes the decision to skip the locker room schtick, save anyone realizing he’s sporting a half chub.

Instead, he grabs his backpack and heads out to his car. The parking lot is mostly empty by the time he gets there and devoid of anyone interested in him enough to wave him over. He tosses his stuff into the backseat of the Beemer and speeds off before anyone can catch up to him.

It’s a short drive to his house but he spends it envisioning Billy in all sorts of compromising positions. Thinks about the flush on his skin when he plays and the heat in his eyes— wonders how easily he gives in; loud-mouth turned soft and pliant at the faintest hint of pleasure.

He barely makes it inside before shucking his bag off and stripping himself bare of sweat-sticky clothes. In the same breath, he’s fisting a too damp hand around his cock and hissing at the near painful throb. His only relief comes from the coldness of the door against his back as he slumps against it.

Precum beads at the flushed head and he gathers it all on the upstroke to ease the glide. Squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that honeyed galaxies explode behind the lids and he can’t think.

Can’t think about the consequences of jerking off to someone he sees damn near everyday. Doesn’t care enough to avoid the impending embarrassment.

Why would he? Instead, he thinks of Billy laid out beneath him, all pretty and flushed and glittering; his eyes wet with unshed tears and ruddy lower lip between his teeth as he looks over his shoulder at him. Imagines the roughness of his voice and his muscles all pulled taut as Steve knocks the air out of his lungs with each slam of his cock.

He fucks into the tight ‘o’ of his hand, already so goddamn close and conjures up the image of twin dips. Wants to paint pearlescent white across the bronze expanse of Billy’s back; let it pool where he is favored by the Gods.

The thought has him biting back a moan as he grinds into the slickness of his hold. The heat in his gut expands so greatly, so suddenly, that his hips flex with the intensity of it. Until finally,

it snaps.

Like a star beneath the pressures of gravity; with all the strength and ferocity of a supernova. And he’s spilling all over his hand in a few stiff, jerky thrusts and breathing out a low, garbled “Fuck, Billy— shitshitshit.”

And God, he’s so screwed.

[yasministration]

congrats on 1k!!! could you please do steve harrington with dialogue #3 and prompt #4? that would be amazing :)

Steve Harrington

Thank you bae :)) Join my 1k celebration here!

"It's not a double date, we're just third and fourth wheeling." & Realising you don't hate each other at all.

You felt as though your eye was nearly twitching, playing with the fries in front of you as you stared at Nancy, cuddling into Jonathan's shoulder and giggling at the unfunniest thing he was saying. You fake laughed along with them, eyeing Steve, who sat stiffly next to you. He caught your eye and you both shared an awkward smile, immediately turning back to face the flirtatious couple. Nancy put a hand on Jonathan's chest, who looked at her proudly, as though he had done something to impress her. You made a face at them, only for Nancy to finally look at you and Steve, noticing the lack of chemistry you shared. Why did she think that of all people, Steve would be your perfect date for the night? King Steve, who always made it a point to flirt with your friends whenever you were around, or who always tried to one-up you no matter the situation. King Steve, who would always scoff at you since you befriended the enemy. Or at least, Billy Hargrove.

"Oh come on, this is a double date, I'd expect you guys to try to make some better conversation here." Both you and Steve scoffed at the same time, muttering things under your breath. "It's not a double date Nance, we're just third and fourth wheeling." Steve let's out a half-hearted laugh, nodding along before adding "Yeah and I bet if I took a look under the table right now, we'd be doing a lot more than just that." Both you and Nancy gasp, but for different reasons. She's becoming red in the face and shuffling away from her boyfriend, but you've turned to look at Steve with raised eyebrows in admiration of his boldness. "Gross! But he's right, we should leave you guys alone." You're glad for the excuse, and you both quickly slip out of the booth, ignoring Nancy's attempts to call you back to the table.

You and Steve stop when you're outside the diner, chuckling slightly. "What kind of hosts are they, am I right?" You say, trying to fill the silence in the air. "Hosts who were probably interrupted while having sex today." You cringe, looking back to see Nancy's in Jonathan's arms again, this time uninterruptedly kissing in the otherwise empty booth. "Good thing we left when we did." A hum of agreement comes from Steve, who returns his attention to you, running a hand through his hair. He notices how you shiver when a gust of wind hits you, your hands digging deeper into your pockets. "You're cold, take this." he hands you his jacket "Least your date can do." You both grin, and you take the denim jacket from his hands, pushing your arms through the holes.

The denim fits loosely around your shoulder but you sigh in satisfaction, welcoming the warmth. It's only when you see that Steve himself is trying to warm himself from the breeze that you remember an important detail. "Hey, I have the keys to Nancy's car!" A devilish grin spreads on Steve's face and he puts his hand out once again, and before you know it, you're getting payback on your friend, even though you know she'll be going home with her boyfriend. Steve immediately turns the car heater on, and adjusts the radio before he's driving away in a direction you're not very familiar to.

You can't help but stare as he sings along off-pitch to some bad music from a local band, smiling to yourself before you join him, opening Nancy's car compartment to steal her mint gum. "Ooh, me, me!" You laugh at Steve, who's waiting with an open mouth, and drop the piece of gum into it. He hums as he chews it, savouring the flavour. As though he could feel your eyes on him, he turns his head to face you, a glint in his eyes you haven't seen before. "You know, you're not too bad Harrington." You state, turning back to face the road ahead. "Yeah, I'm pretty aware of that."