#third and final part

[homiesexuallaj]

Settling Down

Pairing: Bucharest! Bucky Barnes x reader/Winter Soldier! Bucky Barnes x reader

Genre/Warnings: Bucky’s first name “James” is used a lot, Bucharest! Bucky Barnes, Civil War! Bucky Barnes, canon divergent au, takes place before Part Two, fluff, smut, friends with benefits core, nightmares, slowly figuring out life, genitalia against genitalia, grinding, thigh fucking, fingering, unprotected p in v, aftercare <3, HYDRA mention

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Part One || Part Two

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It's been about five months since your initial escape from the Siberian HYDRA facility. Most of those months had been spent traveling through the Russian city-states and slowly moving down south before finally settling down in Romania. You and Bucky milled about in Romania, trying to find somewhere quiet enough to settle down but busy enough to blend into. That somewhere was Bucharest. You'd found a little corner in the city to settle down in, somewhere that wouldn't overwhelm your senses but would hide you from the vast majority if someone came looking.

Settling down was... hard, at times. There were pros and cons at the beginning of your new life. Pros such as how easy it was to find a rather affordable apartment based on what little you and Bucky had between the both of you, and how easy it was to find jobs that suited both your needs and your wants. You yourself had gotten a job at a local library as a receptionist and occasionally putting books back in their shelves. Bucky had gotten a job somewhere stocking things in the back, leaving him to have the daily minimum of contact with other people.

Cons of settling down and living somewhere new, somewhere not in the middle of a forest, was how loud it really was. With no carpet, rugs, or really any furniture at first, there was nothing to soften the sounds from outside. Cars were constantly driving through the streets below, the loud and occasional honks scaring you both. The voices of people walking the sidewalks below and the stomps and thumps from your surrounding neighbors left you both constantly on edge, fearing that HYDRA had found your hiding spot.

Both of you dealt with nightmares as well, reliving the torture and fear that was inflicted upon you in the underground base. Bucky often awoke with a start, sitting up and holding out the knife that he kept holstered around his right thigh. When he came to, his heart thundering in his chest, he looked around to see no one there. The only other person in the bare bedroom was you, looking up at him with wide eyes. When you were startled awake from your own nightmares, you didn��t have such a defensive approach. You often woke with a stuttering heartbeat and adrenaline coursing through your veins, tears streaming down your face. In your fearful, primal state, you forgot where you were and scrambled up from your sleep spot on the floor to a nearby corner. You shuddered and sobbed, holding your knees close and covering your head with your arms. Upon hearing approaching footsteps, you’d hold your palms up, begging for mercy, please.

Bucky, thankfully, knew how to approach the situation. He knew how you felt in those moments, as he both helped you out of this state many times and experienced the situation himself often. He’d get your attention and bring you into his arms, whispering how it’s okay, you’re safe. When you stopped shaking, Bucky would bring you back into your combined blankets and pillows and lay you down. He kept a hand on you as you settled down, promising to stay up and keep watch.

Dealing with weather was hard too. There weren’t windows in the Siberian base and it was underground so no weather. No rain. No snow. No thunder. So your first thunderstorm was quite the experience. It happened in the middle of the night. Loud, window rattling booms startled you both awake at the same time. Bucky sat up, hand splaying across your chest to keep you down. After making a round, or three, around the apartment, Bucky figured out the sound was coming from outside. He vaguely remembered storms from his past, the way the thunder would rattle his childhood home’s windows and how he would watch the rain streak down the windows. Bucky, calm now, would show you his discovery. He’d hold you up to a window and show you the outside, pointing out things he remembered.

Despite showing you that weather was a normal and okay thing, you didn’t get a wink of sleep during your first few thunderstorms or heavy rainstorms.

You both settled down slowly, so slowly. But it was easy with the semi-normal routine of a job. Slowly, the apartment became a new safe space as you added the necessary furniture, copying things you’d seen in magazines or from passing glances into your neighbors’ open apartments. Your shared apartment was no longer blank walls or empty floors, now there were actual places to sit instead of the floor and stuff to use instead of whatever you found around. And the bed was nice, even if you still thought it was too soft. It was like you and Bucky discovered a miracle after sleeping on the bed the first night. Neither of you had to stretch away the aches and pains every morning after sleeping. Like woah! Is this how everyone feels?

Along with sharing the singular, new bed in the only bedroom in the apartment, you and Bucky shared a lot more other things. Like food, drinks, blankets, pillows, clothes, the bathroom, and even sometimes showers (cause water conservation and all). All off which slowly evolved into sharing something a little more. Something more… primal, intimate even.

It had started when you’d accidentally cut your finger while chopping something up for dinner. Just a small cut. Nothing too bad. But Bucky had insisted that he help patch you up. So you found yourself sitting on the bathroom counter, finger cleaned and wrapped, with Bucky standing between your parted legs. He held your injured hand with his flesh one and your cheek with his metal one. You watched as his eyes flickered between yours before he leaned in, connecting your lips. Bucky pulled away abruptly, apologies building up on his vocal cords, but you pulled him back in for more.

That’s how you ended up in bed with Bucky more than once. Despite sharing a shower and seeing each other naked before, both your hands shook as you pulled up shirts and unbuttoned jeans. This was new territory, figuring out what made each other tick and what didn’t. It was easy, but nerve wracking. Especially since you kept avoiding the topic of sex. You’d almost gotten there a few times, but always held back as you and Bucky shared nervous glances before backing away with heated cheeks. The idea of the action of sex, of your genitalia touching, was a boundary neither of you really knew how to cross (because grinding didn’t really count, right?).

Thankfully, the intimacy never impacted your relationship and comfort in each other. If anything, it allowed you two to grow closer and trust each other more. The ability and trust to take what you needed, when you needed, was something you could give each other. It was nice.

Even now.

Home alone and you can’t stop thinking of Bucky, or as you knew him, James. James was always on your mind, no matter the time of day. Which had led you to make two mugs of tea on this chilly, Romanian day. You knew a nice, warm cup of tea would help Bucky relax after a day of heavy lifting.

You didn’t hear the front door squeak open over the whistling of the tea kettle on the stove, nor the almost silent latch of the deadbolt locking into place. But as you poured the steaming water into two mugs, your ears picked up on the soft thudding of boots walking down the short foyer and into the living room. You listened as something slid against fabric and then thudded to the ground, and then as the footsteps came closer.

Two arms wrapped around your midsection, startling you a bit.

“Well, hello to you too, James,” You greeted, unwrapping the tea leaf packets from the paper that held them.

James grumbled out a quiet “hello” as he moved the hair from the right side of your neck. The graze of his gloved hand caused goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Before you could continue greeting him, James shoved his very cold face into your very warm neck.

You shrieked and jumped away, or tried to as his arms kept you in place, and you dropped the tea leaf packets onto the counter.

“James!” You scolded as he buried his face deeper into your skin. “Your face is cold!!”

“Quit squirming,” James mumbled lowly, voice vibrating against your skin.

You gave up, knowing your chances of escape are futile. You picked up the discarded tea packets and dropped them into the two mugs, watching as the clear water took on a green hue. You dropped a hand down to one of James’ forearms and gave it a comforting squeeze, rubbing your thumb over the fabric of his jacket.

“How was work?” You asked, glancing to the side at his face but his black baseball cap blocked your view.

He grumbled something, pressing both his body and face closer to you.

You hummed in response, giving James his seemingly mandatory cuddle time.

“Missed you,” James said after a minute, pulling away from your neck just a fraction but coming back in to pepper kisses against your skin.

“I missed you too,” You responded, still rubbing your thumb over his covered forearm. “I- oh!”

Just as you started to speak, James both pulled you into him and pressed into you more for just a second. It was just enough to feel the stiffness that pressed against the zipper of James’ jeans.

You gripped his forearm as James’ peppered kisses against your neck turned into open-mouthed ones, leaving your neck cold and wet. You bit your lip as heat started to bubble under your skin. Your hold on your own composure crumbled as James added teeth and tongue, a whimper passing through your lips.

“Need you,” James mumbled between bites.

He unwrapped his hands from your midsection and you watched as he peeled off his leather gloves and set them on the counter. His hands were back on you, making their way down your hips and under your shirt, goosebumps erupting on your skin in their wake as the man’s hands smoothed up your sides. James’ hands found your breasts instantly, thumbing your hardening nipples over the soft fabric of your bra.

“Need me, Sergeant?” You asked, voice tilting a little bit.

You learned awhile back that James was in a war. He didn’t remember which one, but he remembered he was a Sergeant. This memory had earned your companion a new nickname, one he very much liked hearing from your lips.

James growled, pinching your nipples in retort, making your cry out. He dragged his large hands back down your sides and around to your front.

You felt a tug at your jeans and the sound of the zipper being pulled down. A few more tugs and the waist of your jeans slackened as they were unbuttoned. You felt your companion’s hands dip down under both your jeans and underwear, and your skin tightened with goosebumps as the fabric was pushed down to your mid-thighs. You whimpered again as you felt two, warm, fleshy fingers dip between your thighs and part your sensitive folds, dragging up from your entrance to your clit.

“So wet already,” James murmured, sucking down on a spot on your neck.

You sucked in a breath as James’ two fingers circled your clit slowly. You gripped the wrist of his left hand, which settled on your waist. Tight whines escapes your vocal cords, head growing dizzy as you forgot to breathe.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” James reminded you, knowing that you got caught up in the moment too much sometimes.

You let out your breath, throwing your head back to rest against James’ shoulder. You moaned and whined as James continued his ministrations, still kissing the skin of your exposed neck as well. Heat rolled and boiled underneath your skin, simmering hot in your lower abdomen.

“Fuck- James,” You moaned as your companion sped up his fingers.

You could feel the hot stickiness leak down from your center and make a mess between the tops of your thighs. You never could figure out how James made such a mess of you when you couldn’t even do it yourself. It was your world’s biggest mystery.

Your legs shook as your body temperature rose. In an effort to ground yourself, you reached your right hand up and back to grasp at James, smooshing his face into your skin, and your left still gripped his left wrist.

Just as tension began to build in your lower abdomen, James pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact and opened your mouth to protest but paused as you heard the familiar and exciting clink of a belt being undone. Your mouth started to water with excitement and you moved to turn around-

“Stay,” James ordered gruffly.

You obeyed.

James’ belt jingled as he undid the rest of his jeans and shoved them down just enough to get his stiff cock out. He placed his cooling, left hand on your hip and with his right he maneuvered his cock to settled between your thighs.

You both groaned at the contact, the feeling of him sliding against and bullying his way between your soaked lips. You gasped out as the head of his cock nudged and glided over your clit.

Once James’ pelvis was pressed right up your ass did he then sink his body back into yours, stuffing his face back in your neck and hugging around your midsection with his strong arms.

He pulled his hips back as much as he could in this position before sinking back in between your thighs. James started off with a slow pace, groaning at the feel of your warmness. He licked and nipped at your neck, soothing the area with open-mouthed kisses. Then he sped up, setting a steady pace that had your hips knocking against the countertop.

You held your right arm against the cabinets at your head, guarding yourself from knocking your head into the wood. And your left hand grasped at James’ jacket, desperate to hold on to him in some way.

Steadily, the tightness in your lower abdomen built up again. And oh so desperate for release, you ground your hips back into him, moaning and cussing from how good it felt.

Just before your peak, you managed to squeak, “fuck- James- James, I’m close. So close. I’m-”

With another thrust and nudge against your throbbing clit, the tension in your lower abdomen snapped. You came with a cry and James’ name repeatedly on your tongue.

James rode you through it, squeezing you closer to him as he sucked yet another mark into your neck. He didn’t relent as you started twitching from oversensitivity, chasing after his own pleasure now.

“James, I-“ You stuttered out, tongue heavy and brain foggy.

“No, you can take it,” James growled against you, keeping up his pace.

“No, James, I- I need more,” You managed to get out through your ragged breaths.

“More?” James asked, almost teasingly. “Doll, I’ll make you cum as many times as you want. I-“

You cut him off, “No. James. I need you inside.”

“Inside?” His hips stuttered, knowing what you meant.

“Please,” You turned your head to the side to catch James’ blue eyes that shone underneath his black baseball cap. “Please. I- I need you to fuck me, Sergeant.”

There was that nickname again. The nickname that made his chest feel light and that caused his dick to pulse. He couldn’t deny you now.

With barely any hesitation, if any at all, James picked you up from where he had you around your midsection and carried you to your shared bedroom. He dropped you on the bed, the springs protesting cause of the sudden weight.

You turned around, watching as James shoved his jeans down more and stepped out of them. You eyed his cock, shiny with your slick and the red head dripping with precum. You mouth watered and you almost thought about taking back your demand to have James’ cock in your mouth instead. But you didn’t have much of a choice as James pulled your jeans and underwear off you, shoving them to the ground to join his pair.

“Up,” James ordered with a tilt of his head.

You obeyed, backing up the bed until you reached the pillows.

You watched as James shed his jacket and hat, and practically tore off his two shirts, leaving his full body on display. You observed his scars and watched as his muscles rippled as his moved. As he crawled up to you, his metal arm’s plates clicked against each other. You thought about begging him to turn you around and put you in a chokehold with his metal arm, smiling as he squeezed only enough to make you light-headed. But your thought was interrupted as James undressed the rest of you, throwing your remaining clothes to the side of the bed.

He pushed you to lay down, his large, right hand splayed between your breasts. James sat between your spread legs and dragged his fleshy pointed and middle fingers against your center, gathering up your messy slick. He trailed down, eyeing you before pressing a finger into your entrance.

“James, I want-“ You try.

“Gotta open you up, doll,” James reasoned. “I’m too big for this small cunt.”

He sunk down to his knuckle, pulling out before easing back in.

James had fingered you before, so it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. But he was right. If he didn’t open you up with his fingers first, he might split you in two.

You gripped the sheets below you, moaning as your lower muscles sucked James’ finger in.

“More please,” You begged once you’d gotten used to the one finger.

James pulled out and lined up his middle finger and slowly sunk both fingers in, knowing that this was always a stretch.

You screwed your eyes shut and gripped the sheets harder at the stretch of two fingers that sunk down to the knuckle. As James began to move, the sting of the stretch turned into pleasure.

James watched as you took his two fingers well, gripping your squishy thigh with his left hand. The plates of his medal arm shifted and clinked as if they had a mind of their own, as if they anticipated the future events.

Once you’d relaxed under his touch and responded well to any subtle change in his fingers, James deemed you ready.

“You ready?” James asked, still pumping his fingers inside of you.

You opened your eyes and focused on James thick cock, its head still dripping precum down onto the sheets. You felt a shy heat burrow into your cheeks and you looked up at James with apprehensive eyes.

“Nervous?” James could tell. He could read you like a book.

You nodded.

“It’s just me, sweet thing,” James purred, his fingers slowing down. “I got you. And hey, I’m nervous too.”

“Really?” You asked, breath stuttering in time with the soft thrusts of James’ fingers.

“Really,” James nodded. “I’m only ready if you’re ready though, doll.”

“I’m- I’m ready,” You decided, heart hammering behind your ribcage.

“Okay,” James nodded.

He pulled his two fingers out slowly, moving that same hand to rub your slick against the taut skin of his cock. James moved closer to rub himself against your sensitive center, eyes flickering between your face and where you two touched. Once his cock head notched against your entrance, he looked at you, waiting.

You nodded.

Before he moved, he gave you his left hand to grab onto.

You did with both of your hands, which shook with nervousness.

Then, with his right hand gripping the base of himself, James moved forward just enough until the head of his cock popped in.

You hissed, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Okay?” James asked.

“Hurts,” You whimpered, a shake to your voice.

“It’s gonna hurt,” James told you. “I’m sorry. You wanna keep going?”

You nodded.

Slowly, ever so slowly, James sunk in. It took a couple of stops, check-ins, and reassurances before James was buried to the hilt in you. His chest moved with even breaths as his right hand gripped your hip. You were both pelvis to pelvis now.

“The hardest part is over, doll,” James murmured, sitting up as he watched you. “I’ll move when you’re ready.”

You gave yourself a few moments, waiting as the sting of the stretch died down into something a little better. Your breath was still a little ragged due to both nervousness and the situation. You still held onto James’ left hand and listened as the metal plates of his left arm shifted and adjusted against themselves.

“Okay,” You finally breathed out. “Ready.”

James nodded and moved to hover over you. He shifted inside you a bit, causing you to flinch. His blue eyes watched for face, looking for any apparent sign to stop.

“You’re alright,” James murmured, his lips grazing against yours. “I’ve got you.”

James started with a slow pace, getting you used to the unnatural feeling of being as close as humanly possible. His lips connected with yours and he drank in your whimpers and whines.

At the feeling of his tongue making its way over your bottom lip, you opened your mouth and let him in. You groaned at the taste of him, letting go of the sheets below you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, gripping your companion as best you could. You could feel yourself relaxing against James, moans finally slipping past your lips as you let go.

James sped up a bit. He gripped your thigh with his flesh hand, moving them to wrap around his waist so he had more leverage to move. Your companion leaned down more, moving to hold you close with his right arm and bury his face in your neck. He breathed you in, breath stuttering with each of his thrusts. James couldn’t help but moan at the feel of you, how your short nails dug into his skin and how the stickiness coated his pelvis with every push into you. He set a steady pace, but couldn’t help to grip the pillow your head laid on with his left hand cause he knew if he went any faster it might be too much for you.

“Oh fuck, James,” You moaned out, stuffing your face into his neck.

“Doing so good, doll,” James reassured you, biting his own tongue as he felt a pressure build. “You feel so good.”

James kept the steady pace, listening as your skin clapped against each other. He groaned, nipping at the skin of your neck and gripping your ribcage from behind with his right hand, as that arm was wrapped around your back.

The heat spiked in your lower abdomen at the feeling of your companion’s large hand gripping you. You nails dug into his back, catching on the rippling muscles.

The tension still built in James’ lower abdomen, building until the point where it was almost too much. His thrusts sped up just a tid-bit, growing sloppy as he tried to hold his limited composure.

“Fuck- doll- my sweet thing- I’m gonna-” James sputtered out, his grip on your side tightening. “Inside or out?”

Despite your fuzzy brain, you barely heard his question. It took a moment before it fully registered in your brain.

“Inside,” You told him, tightening the grip your legs had around his waist.

“You sure?” James checked, barely hanging on.

You nodded, holding him close.

Just like that, James’ composure crumpled. He thrusted roughly into you, groaning out as his teeth clamped down on your neck. He practically sobbed out, breath catching in his throat as he cussed through his teeth.

You could feel him throbbing inside you, spilling thick seed into your deepest part.

James slowed down little by little, finally coming down from his orgasmic high. He stayed inside you, jerking with overstimulation and sensitivity. He held you close, unclamping his teeth from your neck. He gave the area a couple soothing kisses before pulling away and out of you.

You could feel fluid slipping out of you, no doubt making a mess down on the sheets.

“Messy,” You mumbled, glancing down to James’ softening, cum covered cock before closing your eyes and relaxing down into your pillow.

James settled down beside you on his back before pulling you over into your side and into him. He let out a content grumble, rubbing his hand over your back.

“You okay?” He asked, voice rumbly in his chest under your ear.

“I’m okay,” You told him, settling against his cold metal arm and wrapping your own arm around his abdomen.

James went quiet for a moments before speaking again, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” You reassured, patting his chest. “You know that.”

“Yeah,” He let out a small chuckle. “But I still gotta say thank you, doll.”

You only hummed in response, snuggling into your large soldier. But with a start, you sat up as you remembered something.

“Your tea!” You met James’ startled blue eyes, but they danced with amusement when he realized what you were talking about.

“Doll, we can worry about that later,” James shook his head as he pulled you back down. “Just let me hold you.”

“Okay,” You relented, letting James pull you back into his warm body.

You two laid there for who knows how long, just basking in each other’s presence as the sun slowly slid down the sky.

[wishfulsketching]

Some not so serious doodles about the idea where Silco survived and Warwrick!Vander found him. I did these as fanservice for ME! Especially the clothes thing

(have fun trying to figure out the reading order of the third sketch dump)

[egophiliac]

once again, don't think I'm not still obsessing over 7-12

(eventually I will get back to being less scribbly, whoops)

[chrliekclly]

charden echolalia

[artist-rat]

(ocs) more creatures :) this time blessed beast shapeshifters

[somerandomdudelmao]

[itsthatlake]

“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver.

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ACE!!

Support me on ko-fi! ♥

[illuminchim]

“Perhaps Your Highness has believers here who still offer worship.”

Tian Guan Ci Fu Vol. 6

Part 1, part 2

[austiebug]

A read a fic a few months ago where sat was luci's teenage mistake baby but born before asmo and the triplets, thus explaining how he's fourth oldest and 'youngest' at the same time. But now I can't find it. If you have any leads please contact the tip line. Thank you.

[strangersteddierthings]

Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

-

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

[boywhoswaiting]

Doctor/Jamie - We Hug Now

[frostgnawdraws]

failure and futility

for day 2 of campfire fest! prompt: third eye (and i guess could also count for explosion, or a lack thereof lol) @outerwilds-events

[moeblob]

[turbo-tsundere]

Gng you MUST draw Kaito I am BEGGINGGGG gang 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

Do I? :D Who knows, maybe I might one day. I certainly do have some Kaitos lurking in my neverending wip-stash already.

(No context, but each image is its own thing. Wish I could share more but they're either too messy or half-done, but showing them would kinda spoil the surprise.)

His hair breaks my brain so much. And I keep forgetting his goatee and then wonder for an hour what's off about his face (I have the same issue with Gonta's eyeglasses tho lol)

[keepswingin]

open heart (ii)

The waiting room is too loud.

(part i | part iii)

It's not something he's ever put much thought into when he's only ever there for moments - horrible news to a family that's already suffering enough, thankful news for a mother whose sole child was everything to her. It's simply another moment, a glance down at the clipboard he's carrying, a glance up at the worried faces waiting for him.

He's usually good at compartmentalizing.

It's hard not to take home all of it, but he's good at being able to not hold onto the things he truly can't do anything about. The cases where he thinks there was something else he could've done, the ones that keep him up at night, those are the ones where she's there to comfort him, to remind him that he did the job he promised to do to his utmost best.

Zayne swallows past the lump in this throat. It's stuffy in the waiting room, and smells of coffee and bleach. His eyes flicker to the receptionist desk across the room where his co-workers are murmuring among themselves, casting concerned glances his way every few minutes.

He's sure the entire floor knows what has happened by now. He doesn't know if it makes him feel better or worse.

There's a handful of other people mulling around the room with him. An older man who stares blankly at a crossword book that's seen better days. A mother's arm wrapped around her young daughter's shoulders as she blows her nose into a wet tissue. A teenager pacing back and forth to his girlfriend's chagrin, fingers raking through his hair. There's dried blood sticking to the strands, spots of it on the side of his neck, stained onto his shirt.

Zayne stares at the spots for a long moment, nearly entranced. Then he looks down at the blood that still covers the hand that had held hers, smeared across his palm when he opens it.

There was so much blood. As soon as he had laid eyes on her in that bed, the sheets turning dark, his collogues rushing her through with an urgency reserved for only the worse cases, he knew.

He knew none of them were sure if she would make it or not.

He stares down at his hand and wonders if there was anything he could've done. She wouldn't have listened if he asked her not to chase whatever lead she had found, would've found a worse one to follow with someone else. She would've laughed if he reminded her to be careful, hugged him tighter when she got home.

She would have...

He could have...

Zayne squeezes his eyes shut.

Someone clicks on the coffee machine in the corner. It clanks to life with a hiss. A phone rings. The doors open as a stretcher is pushed through. Voices clamor over each other.

And Zayne waits.

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

I'm slowly making my way through a new project- editing the entirety of the album PUNCH by Autoheart to the Life Series.

I was originally planning to post all of the edits in order of the songs on the album, but I instead made the Lent one first and am too excited to keep it in my drafts any longer while I work on the first four songs of the album (especially since we're coming up on finals seasons and the amount of time I'll have to work on these is gonna plummet so fast). So instead, I'll be posting them as I make them and make a masterpost of them all in order at the end.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this! I'm really proud of it and a lot of work went into it.