#(and Steve ticks all the boxes)

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

thinking about steve in that first scene in nancys bedroom back in season one. thinking about how goofy and flirty and charming and playful he was being. thinking about him being like that with eddie, and how eddie would react to that version of steve. the whole talking in a silly voice, acting as that stuffed bear, the whole “bad steve :( don’t do that to miss nancy :( “ and “you are beautiful nancy wheeler”.

eddie plays dnd, even more so, he DMs dnd games, he stands up on tables in cafeterias and makes big theatrical scenes to rant about issues he has strong stances on — that man knows how to put on a show, and enjoys to watch one too. see: immediately accepting erica into hellfire as a replacement after seeing her go on one of her tangents, showing off her attitude and how she isn’t afraid to get in your face to get her way. he LOVESS that shit. lives for it. seeks it out. so when steve starts getting like that around him he would just crumble immediately i just know it.

[missingexaltation]

This got way longer than I thought it would. Basically, a 'Wayne centered' steddie mini fic.

I love the dynamics that we could have had with this mini family, so this kind of threw itself together.

Wayne's seen Eddie with the girls he brings back home. Well, he sees the backs of their heads as Eddie walks them out early in the morning, past a Wayne who's thoroughly exhausted from the night shift.

Eddie always knows he's there, always offering a shrug and apologetic grin before practically skipping back to his room. Rarely the same girl twice, that Wayne could tell, but (more often than he'd thought possible, and doesn't he feel like an ass for assuming) dressed in that white and green cheerleader outfit.

Not that Wayne judged. He and his brother, Eddie's dad, had both been the same back in the day. The popular girls seemed to love a boy from the wrong side of town, and (unlike his old man) Eddie was a good guy under it all, so Wayne knew he was treating them girls right. If only for the night at least.

The surprise was that it was girls he was bringing home.

His friend Danny, who'd given Eddie the part time job at Thatcher's, had called it years ago. Said that Eddie reminded him of his brother, and that Wayne had better get prepared for the boy's teen years because it was gonna be rough. Sure enough, the moment Eddie turned thirteen Wayne had come home to find him packed up and ready to be thrown out.

God bless Danny Harris and his foresight, because Wayne had had a nice little speech prepared for a year or more, ready and waiting. And Eddie had soaked it in, those big ol' brown eyes grateful, relieved and full of tears as he unpacked again.

So sure, the girls were a surprise, but he let it go. Assumed the kid was happy with both, or either, and if he wanted to talk about it then he knew damn well that Wayne would listen. He'd done the difficult part already, the rest just details and semantics, and Wayne certainly wasn't going prying into his nephew's love life. It was safer anyway, for him to stick with girls for now. Or however long.

It wasn't until after the most horrific week of Wayne's life where he noticed things had changed. Eddie was home, a free man, an innocent man, and for his troubles had been relocated (with his uncle) out of the trailer park and into a nice, quiet and expensive part of Hawkins. Courtesy of some official-looking government suits.

They'd taken Wayne aside, given him some bizarre, bullshit story, and it wasn't until a few days later that he'd noticed his bank account was overflowing with compensation money. After the week he'd had, Wayne knew enough to keep his mouth shut, and life had seemingly carried on as normal. Neither he or Eddie had to work again, if they didn't want to.

Seeing Richard Harrington's boy in their new kitchen was more than a surprise. To his credit, the boy was cooking some breakfast thing or another, and trying to encourage Eddie to get his ass in gear for school. He didn't notice Wayne either, but Eddie sure did.

He remembered Danny's advice. 'Don't treat the boys any different to the girls, Wayne. Eddie'll pick up on that.' So he just waved a good morning and went to bed.

A few days later the Harrington boy was back again, herding Eddie out of the door as Wayne was coming in it. Noting the time, a gentle 'don't be late, boy' as the door swung shut, and that was it until the evening and Eddie was traipsing in from school. His mama's big brown eyes eyes looking at Wayne like a wild animal trapped in a corner.

Eddie had said nothing, hiding his face with his hair, looking for the world like he wanted to say something, until he yammered out some excuse and fled to his room to hide.

'That Harrington boy seems nice. Polite.' Wayne offered later, over dinner. Conversationally. Lightly. Apparently enough to cause a reaction, and as he'd never seen Eddie so red-in-the-face embarrassed he decided to drop it. Just a shrug and a nod in response.

He didn't see the Harrington boy for a long time after that. But he kept an eye out. The changes in Eddie were remarkable. Contrary to popular belief, he was a pretty quiet kid at home (guitar aside), but now he was reflective. Moon-eyed and lost in his own head. Practically floating from room to room and always with that damn smile on his face.

He realised that he'd not seen (or smelt) any of Eddie's drugs since they'd moved into the new house. A call with one of Rick's buddies confirmed that Eddie was out of the drugs game (finally, thank Christ), so he could only assume that this dopey, lovelorn version of his nephew was a consequence of something else.

Or someone.

It occurred to him that in all the time he'd known Eddie, having raised him and loved him and taught him as much as he was capable, that he had never seen his boy in love before. And now, noticing Eddie swapping out his electric guitar for his acoustic, seeing the sunshine glimmering under Eddie's skin and beaming from his smile, it was overwhelming. Adorable.

A couple of months ago he'd thought his boy was dead, or hurt, and it had damn near devastated him. And now here Eddie was, alive and very much flourishing. Learning some song (by ear) that he wouldn't have been caught dead listening to a few months ago. Having giggly, hushed phonecalls on their new landline when he thought Wayne was out of earshot. Constantly smiling, an actual genuine, happy smile instead of his usual theatrical, false grin that he used to throw Wayne off the scent.

He'd confessed all of this to Danny, one night when Eddie was 'out with friends for the night'. Despite everything he'd hoped, he'd never thought Eddie had had much of a chance. The world was too grim and constricting, especially Hawkins. He'd done the best he could, loved that boy with all he had, and prayed it would be enough to give Eddie the best start he could offer.

He'd heard the things the other kids called him, he'd witnessed Eddie trying to get stains out of his clothes, or sewing up holes caused by being shoved to the ground. He'd held Eddie close in his arms and let him sob it out after a really tough day. He'd patched Eddie up when things got really bad, and had quiet words with his teachers. By and large, it all washed off, and come morning he was always ready to face the world again.

So yes. He'd told Danny everything and he'd cried. Real happy tears, though, and Danny was real fucking nice about it instead of making fun of him. They'd been friends since school, after all. Hell Danny had known Eddie most of his life too. Like the uncle Wayne should have been, in a life where Eddie's parents had been capable of raising him themselves. They'd celebrated with a six pack and toasted to what was hopefully Eddie's big turning point.

It took Eddie a few weeks longer, but he eventually brought it up himself. Kid was nervous, obviously so, but nothing out of the norm. (last time he'd been so nervous, he'd been summoning the courage to tell Wayne he was repeating his repeat year).

'So me and Steve are like a thing.' He said, just blurting it out like he'd been overthinking it. Wayne had paused, finished his bite of casserole, to give him a moment to think. 'He treat you good?' He asked.

If he'd not seen the way Eddie headbanged to his music, he'd have been concerned with how eagerly Eddie nodded his head, almost giving himself whiplash. As if his enthusiasm was the factor that was going to convince Wayne of his veracity.

'Well. Tell your boy he's welcome here anytime. I need to see what his intentions with my boy are, after all.'

Eddie had made a face, like he was disgusted, but also gleefully pleased. Like Wayne had passed whatever test he'd been set.

'I'm gonna marry him one day.' He'd declared, sighing dreamily. 'He's so fucking perfect, you know?'

'Language.' Wayne admonished, and chuckled to himself. 'And no, I don't know. On account of you hiding him away every time I'm home. Bring the boy around, let me get to know him.'

And so he did.

And, a few years later, he followed through on his declaration and married the Harrington boy.

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[bigfootsboytoy]

Robin is positive that Steve isn't straight. At first, she thought she was projecting. Maybe she just wanted to share another aspect of herself with her best friend, but no. She's very confident now. The way Steve acts sometimes makes it so obvious. He's listened to her talk about how scary it is, being a lesbian in a town like Hawkins, and he talks to her about it like he undertands, even if he doesn't realize it. She roped him into watching a movie with a gay couple in it, and Steve's eyes lit up seeing two men kiss on screen. He once cracked a joke about going on a date with a guy that sounded far too sincere to be a joke. She knows, deep in the depths of her very soul, that Steve is a little bit queer.

And she could prove it if she could just figure out what his type is

She's been doing research, real genuine research into what male celebrities are considered hot. Finding movies with said supposedly hot men and making Steve watch them with her. But there's nothing! No reaction, not even the slightest blush when Harrison Ford was sweaty and shirtless right before his eyes. It isn't until she gets him to watch Rocky Horror that she finally catches something. Tim Curry in all his fishnet-clad glory brings a flush to Steve's cheeks. One that gets even worse when the character dons a leather jacket halfway through. It isn't much, but it's enough.

She mentally tallys everything about Tim Curry in that movie. Dark eyes, curls, makeup, tights, and especially the leather. She tries not to get her hopes up too high, knows that Tim Curry was wearing feminine clothes and makeup in the movie, so maybe Steve was just thrown off and confused, but it's a start at least. She makes a new list of movies, and pays close attention to his reactions.

The real breakthroughs come with The Lost Boys and The Breakfast Club. Lost Boys had been planned, one of her choices designed to illicit a response from Steve. Lots of pretty boys, some with dark curly hair, some with big dark eyes, and quite a few wearing leather jackets. Steve had been interested, that was for sure, a lot more than he had in the other movies she'd shown him. The Breakfast Club was a surprise. It had been one of Steve's picks, and Robin hadn't even been paying close attention. But it was impossible to miss the way Steve's eyes shot to the screen every time John Bender was speaking.

So, Robin has an answer. Steve Harrington liked bad boys. Men with dark hair and dark eyes, clad in leather with attitude for miles. Not what she had been expecting, but she's delighted, to say the least.

The delight only grows when Eddie Munson comes into their lives, and she gets a front row seat to Steve Harrington's Big Gay Meltdown. Eddie ticks off all Steve's boxes. Dark curly hair, big brown doe eyes, leather and denim from head to toe, and he has the attitude. But he checks off other boxes too, ones Robin hadn't even realized existed. He checks off the 'great big nerd' box. Because when she thinks about it, yes. Steve surrounds himself with exclusively nerds. He checks off the 'good with kids' box effortlessly, to the point that Robin almost screams when she hears Steve telling Nancy about his six kids and a winnebago dream, because Eddie basically already has part-time custody of Steve's weird gaggle of gremlin children. He tickes off the 'queer as fuck' box too, if Robin's judgement is any good, and she was pretty sure it was. The bandana in his pocket seems like a pretty good sign, if the zines she had smuggled on a family trip to Indy were to be trusted.

Eddie Munson is perfect for Steve, in every way possible, Robin is sure of it. So needless to say, shes thrilled when Steve finally, FINALLY pulls her into the crappy little bathroom at Family Video and asks her how she realized she was gay. This is going to be the start of a beautiful little journey for them both, Robin is going to welcome it with open arms.

Part 2

[steveseddie]

limited time offer

steddie | rated: t | wc: 2,3 k | tags: vol. 2 missing scene, pre-relationship, eddie munson needs a hug, hurt/comfort

click here to read on ao3

Steve starts doing headcounts. 

After what happened with Max at the cemetery, Steve starts going over a list of names in his head, checking off each of his friends once he makes sure they haven’t been taken by Vecna- like ticking off boxes on a very fucked up grocery list.

He starts with Max every time. By now she has probably noticed the way his eyes constantly dart to her or the way he visibly relaxes when he notices the headphones still hanging from her neck, but at least she hasn’t said anything about it. 

Next is Nancy- the sight of her eyes rolled back into her head still too vivid in Steve’s mind. Then is Robin, Henderson, the Sinclairs-

After Skull Rock, Steve adds Eddie’s name to the list. He doesn’t know if they can be considered friends yet but he is part of their group now and Steve isn’t letting anyone else from his group almost die again at the hands of Vecna.

It’s only been a few minutes since Steve last did one of his headcounts- sitting outside the RV making homemade bombs.

But as the battle draws closer, Steve grows more and more anxious about losing one of his friends so after toasting to killing Vecna slash Henry slash One, Steve’s eyes roam the field where they’re preparing for battle while going over the list in his head.

Max and Nancy sawing off shotguns. Check. 

Robin pouring gasoline into a bottle. Check. 

The Sinclairs building spears. Check. 

Eddie and Dustin building shields- and sparring? Check. 

Steve breathes a little easier after that. 

His eyes linger on the last pair. He can’t hear what Eddie is telling Dustin but he can see the way they’re both smiling. 

That is until Dustin turns his attention back to his shield and Eddie’s face crumbles, his smile disappearing completely as his expression turns anxious and terrified. Steve watches as he takes a few shuddering breaths, his hands flexing at his sides. Even from a distance, Steve can tell they’re shaking. 

Steve sighs. He knows how hard it is- being hurled into this interdimensional monster fighting bullshit. This is Steve’s fourth time dealing with it and he can’t say that it gets any easier. And for his first time, Eddie already had it worse than any of them. He’s been alone for most of it and he also has people coming after him on top of everything. 

This whole time Steve has been waiting for him to snap, for him to say fuck it and run off, for him to start screaming or crying but he hasn’t done any of that. He’s still here- scared shitless but here, trying to put on a brave face. And Steve knows all about that so he can see right through Eddie’s act. What he doesn’t know is what to do about it. If this was one of the kids or Robin or even Nancy, Steve would know but he hardly knows Eddie and he doesn’t know what he needs. 

He looks like he needs a hug. Steve saw Eddie’s face when Henderson hugged him at Skull Rock, the relief written all over it. When the kid pulled back, Steve felt the urge to walk up to Eddie and hug him next, even if the only contact they’d had at that point was when Eddie pinned against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck.

Steve wanted to hug him again in the Upside Down- every time Eddie flinched or curled in on himself when Demobats screeched in the distance or lightning painted the sky red, but Steve was half-naked, covered in blood and goo and he didn’t think Eddie would appreciate any of that. 

He wanted to hug Eddie at Max’s house- trap his hands between their chests so he would stop running his fingers through his hair, scrubbing his hands down his face, aggressively wringing his fingers together so hard his knuckles cracked, but Eddie might’ve punched him for doing it in front of everyone when he’s supposed to be cool and metal.

He doesn’t look cool or metal right now. He looks on the verge of tears and Steve is shaking with how badly he wants to walk over there and hug him, tell him that everything will be okay but Steve has a job to do. 

They all do. 

Eddie seems to realize it at the same time. After one last shaky breath, he goes back to his shield, leaving Steve with no choice but to turn back to Robin and focus on his own task. 

***

It’s not until they’re getting ready to leave that Steve does another headcount. 

Max and Erica are inside the Winnebago, loading it up with weapons and supplies.

Nancy and Robin are going over the stages of their plan to make sure they thought of everything.

Sinclair and Henderson are trying the walkies, checking the batteries and making sure they’re on the right channel.

Eddie is-

Steve frowns, his eyes roaming the field one, two, three times but he still doesn’t see Eddie anywhere. 

Panic starts bubbling up inside him at the thought of anything happening to Eddie. 

Don’t go there, Steve tells himself. Maybe Eddie needed to take a piss and went to find a tree somewhere. Maybe he just needed a minute away from everyone.

Or maybe Vecna got to him. Maybe it’s already too late and Eddie is the fourth victim and all they did was for nothing.

He tries to remain calm as he looks for Eddie but his heart is beating frantically. He checks inside the RV first and when he realizes he isn’t there, he goes around it, planning to go into the woods next if he doesn’t find him there either. 

But he does- he finds him crouching on the ground with his back against the RV, his face buried in his hands, framed by a curtain of hair.

“Eddie?” Steve asks warily, still unsure if Eddie might be trapped by Vecna.

But then Eddie jumps, whipping his head up and staring at Steve with wide, scared eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, Harrington!” 

He holds his hands up in front of him. “Shit, sorry, I thought-”

“That Vecna got me?” Eddie scoffs. He taps his knuckles against his temple. “Nope, just me up here.” His hands fall to the space between his legs. They’re shaking. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, shoving his own hands in his pockets when he feels the urge to grab Eddie’s and hold them until they’re not shaking anymore. 

Eddie breathes out a humorless laugh. “Dude, I’m so fucking far from okay.”

Steve grimaces, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Right, of course, that was stupid.” 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Eddie shakes his head. “No, not stupid, sorry. I’m just on edge, man. This whole monster fighting thing.” He waves his hand vaguely. “It ain’t for me.”

“I thought that’s what you did in that dorky game of yours,” Steve says, hoping to distract Eddie with a joke. 

Eddie snorts. “It’s really fucking different when you can actually, you know- die.”

“You’re not gonna die, Munson,” Steve says with a frown.

Eddie shakes his head repeatedly. “Oh, I have a baaad feeling, Stevie, a feeling that I ain’t gonna make it out-”

“Fuck that, man,” Steve hisses. The thought of something happening to Eddie or any of his friends making anger bubble up inside him. “You can’t think like that. We got this, okay?”

Eddie sighs, lifting his gaze to meet Steve’s eyes. “How do you do it, man?”

“Do what?”

“How are you so,” he gestures at Steve, “calm about this shit.”

“It’s not my first time,” Steve shrugs. “My first time I was scared shitless, but I made it out okay and you will too,” he says as confidently as he can, but Eddie doesn’t seem convinced. He’s no longer looking at Steve but down at his hands as he nervously wrings his fingers together, his leg bouncing rapidly. His hair falls like a curtain around his face but Steve can still see the tears gathering in his eyes. 

Eddie looks like he’s falling apart at the seams, and once again Steve wants to hug him. Only this time they’re alone, they’re not covered in blood or Upside Down goo and they’ve come a long way from Eddie trying to slash his neck open with a bottle so Steve thinks fuck it and takes a step forward. 

“Come here.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He frowns. “What?”

“Get up,” Steve says. Still frowning, Eddie pushes himself to his feet. “Now come here.”

“Where?”

“Here.” Steve holds his arms open and Eddie’s eyebrows disappear behind his bangs. “I’m giving you a hug.”

“You’re- what?”

Steve shuffles his feet. He feels stupid, standing there with his arms open while Eddie stares at him like he grew a second head. The back of his neck feels like it’s burning, the heat slowly spreading to his face. “You- you just look like you could use a hug.”

Eddie breathes out a startled laugh. “Holy shit, this is by far the strangest thing to have happened to me ever, and considering the days I just had, that’s saying something.”

“Munson,” Steve mutters but Eddie ignores him. 

“Steve Harrington wants to give me a hug?” Eddie gasps, clutching his chest. 

Steve huffs. “Yeah, and it’s a limited-time offer so are you gonna come here or are you gonna be a dick about it?”

“Well, if His Majesty insists,” Eddie jokes with a hand flourish but his tone lacks any lightheartedness. He’s nervous, fidgety. Despite his words, he hesitates, shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. 

So Steve takes matters into his own hands. Literally. He closes the distance between them with two long strides, grabs Eddie’s shoulders and pulls him in.

Eddie goes stiff, and for a moment, Steve worries that he’ll pull back but then he lets out a soft noise and melts into Steve, shaky hands coming up to grab his waist. 

“You’re going to live, Eddie,” Steve whispers, one of his hands moving to cup the back of Eddie’s neck. He shudders in his arms. “We’re going to win and we’re all going to live, okay?”

Eddie tucks his face into his neck. It’s Steve who shudders this time. “If you say so, Stevie.”

Steve makes a stubborn noise. “I do,” he says, squeezing Eddie a little tighter. He ignores the whine Eddie lets out or how it makes something hot burn in his belly. He focuses on Eddie’s arms wrapping around his waist instead- like he fears Steve might pull away. 

He doesn’t.

“You just have to trust me, okay?” Steve says, absently playing with the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck, feeling him go limp in his arms. Pride surges through Steve at being right. Eddie clearly needed a hug. 

“Okay,” Eddie whispers, sounding a little more confident. 

Neither of them let go. They stay like that for a while, just holding each other, Steve’s fingers still moving in Eddie’s hair. 

“Steve?” Eddie says, breaking the silence after a few minutes. 

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what? You’re a good hugger, dude, I’m enjoying myself,” Steve teases but the truth is that he means it. He likes hugging Eddie, he wishes he didn’t wait this long to do it or that he didn’t need to let go of him soon, before their friends come looking for them. He knows what Robin will say if she finds them like this- she has yet to shut up about Eddie calling Steve big boy and how Steve momentarily forgot how to function because of it.

He forgets how to function now when Eddie giggles, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “You keep surprising me, Harrington.”

“Get used to it, Munson,” he says as he finally, regrettably, pulls back. He keeps his hands on Eddie’s shoulders. “’Cause you’re stuck with me, man.”

Eddie blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, squeezing his shoulders. He gets an idea. “After we’re done, I’m taking you out for a drink. I think we’ll both need one.”

A smile plays at the corners of Eddie’s mouth. He seems infinitely more relaxed now than he did when Steve found him. “What- like a date?” He asks, clearly trying to make a joke even if his eyes dart a little nervously over Steve’s face.

Already missing the way Eddie’s arms felt around his waist or how his fingers felt in Eddie’s hair, Steve stops himself from brushing it off as a joke. He can’t, not when the idea of going on a date with Eddie makes his stomach fill with butterflies. With a smirk, he shrugs. “Guess you’re just gonna have to live long enough to find out?”

A nearly hysterical laugh bursts out of Eddie but his eyes sparkle like the idea of going out on a date with Steve doesn’t make him want to run off into the woods. “Guess so, big boy,” he says, making Steve’s cheeks heat up. “Let’s go make that Vecna fucker pay then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with a big grin. “Let’s kill that son of a bitch.”

And with that, they head back to their friends. Eddie isn’t okay, he probably won’t be until this is over but now there’s a spring in his step and his hands aren’t shaking anymore.

And when his eyes meet Steve’s on the rearview mirror as he drives them to the Creel house, Eddie gives him a big dimpled smile- the first one to reach his eyes since they found him in that boat house. 

Steve is happy to have hugged him. He can’t wait to do it again- because he needs it, because they made it or just because this time. And then hopefully many times after that. 

[sidekick-hero]

First Love, Second Chance

(steddie | teen (for this part) | tags: exes to lovers, canon divergence (Eddie lives), future fic (set 2001) | Part 1)

Steve stood at the entrance, his hands buried deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched slightly against the winter chill still clinging to his skin. The woman at the front desk greeted him with a smile so bright it could've doubled as a flashlight. "Mr. Harrington, what a pleasure to have you. You can leave your coat with me, and Joanne over here will lead you to your table. We’ll be starting in ten minutes, but feel free to get settled and order any drink you’d like — it’s included in the entrance fee."

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sheer enthusiasm in her voice. That’s a well-practiced customer service smile, Steve thought, as he shrugged off his heavy coat. He’d bet the contents of his one-bedroom apartment downtown that she was already dreaming of the moment she could get out of here, change into something comfortable, pour a big glass of wine, and let her face relax into something more human.

Steve knew all about jobs that drained you down to the marrow. He was a kindergarten teacher, after all. The difference was, at least his work came with the occasional hug and finger painting masterpiece. Besides, he’d spent enough time hiding behind his exhaustion to know that it wasn’t just the job. Robin had been right — he was hiding. And here he was, exposed under the bright lights of some cheesy blind date event, about to sit across from a stranger and try to pretend he was open and available.

He handed his coat to the smiling woman and turned toward Joanne, who had been pointed out to him. "Hi, I’m Steve Harrington," he introduced himself, offering a smile that he hoped didn’t look as forced as he felt. "I was told you’d show me to my table."

Her eyes flicked over him, not too obvious, but not quite subtle either. It had been a while since anyone had looked at him like that. Most days, his life was a blur of finger paints, snot stains, and explaining why sharing was important. Flattering, he thought. Strange, but flattering.

Joanne’s lips curled into a friendly smile. "Of course, Mr. Harrington. Let me check my list real quick to see where we’ve put you." Her finger, perfectly manicured, scanned down a clipboard. She paused, then grinned. "Ah-ha! Found you. Follow me, and I'll take you right to your seat."

Steve followed her, his steps feeling heavier than they should. He could almost hear Robin’s voice in his head, teasing him: Just go, have fun, stop being so damn serious, Steve!

Right, Robin, he thought. Fun. As he moved through the room, he tried to shake off the creeping dread. He was here, wasn’t he? That had to count for something.

The room was a maze of small tables for two, clustered together in narrow aisles, each one its own little island in a sea of forced intimacy. Steve found his table, the one they’d assigned to him, and sank into the chair with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Okay, step one, taken. He glanced around, noting that his blind date hadn’t arrived yet. He wondered who they’d paired him with, what kind of person would be willing to spend hours - potentially very awkward hours - with a virtual stranger.

Robin had practically shoved the registration form in his face, a little too gleeful about the whole thing. He remembered the questions — his past relationships, his hopes and dreams, what he was looking for in a partner. The usual stuff, he supposed. But then there was the unexpected question: was he looking for a man or a woman? It had caught him off guard for a moment. Progressive, he’d thought. Robin assured him the agency was very queer friendly, so he’d ticked both boxes, “men” and “women.” Why not? Life was complicated, and so was he.

He flagged down a waiter and ordered a beer, then let his eyes wander around the room as he waited. He watched the faces of the people around him, wondering if they felt as lonely and unlovable as he sometimes did. Or maybe not. Maybe that was just him, and the ghost of Eddie, still riding shotgun in his mind, his voice as dramatic as ever.

Five years together — his “formative years,” as Robin liked to call them — had left their mark. It didn’t matter that they’d been apart longer than they’d been together; time had a way of playing tricks like that. Some days, it felt like Eddie was still right there with him, leaning in close to whisper old secrets and inside jokes, making him laugh at the worst possible moments. Other days, it felt like he’d been gone a lifetime, the memories fading at the edges like an old photograph.

Steve took a sip of his beer, letting the cold liquid steady his nerves. He was doing this, trying. Maybe this one would stick.

Steve’s eyes drifted around the room, lingering on faces, searching for clues. He spotted a woman nervously tapping her fingers against her wine glass, a man adjusting his tie for the tenth time, another couple already deep in conversation, leaning in like they’d known each other for years. And then, just as he was about to turn back to his beer, he saw him.

His heart stopped. Or maybe it just skipped a beat — whatever it was, it felt like a punch to the gut. Eddie Munson.

Part 2

A few words about this: I wanted to try something new, so I'll be posting a new part here every day until it's done and then I put it on AO3. This actually started as backstory to my @steddiesmuttyseptember (follow this awesome blog for smutty goodness!) fill for make-up sex but now I'm at 5k and still no sexy times. Also, is exes to lovers make-up sex? Anyway, I'm loving the trope so I do what I want 😅

Part 2 will be up tomorrow, I promise.

[buckets-and-trees]

Devour: ACID

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: ACID Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x f!Chef!Reader Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A month since SALT and three weeks since FAT, your situation with the mob boss who bought your restaurant is still evolving in unexpected ways - including an unexpected episode after work tonight.

Content Warnings: explicit smut, oral: female receiving, analingus: female receiving, vaginal penetration/fucking, some light drinking, mob boss Bucky is kind of dom

Logistical Notes: I had planned for this to punch the ticket for week 10 of my Hot Bucky Summer 2023 collection for the prompt "Long day at work?" and so this is late for the @buckybarnesevents event itself, but I'm a completionist and am marking it off on my personal list for my own satisfaction. Also ticking off the U3: "Kink: Concubine" square of my Bucky Barnes Bingo, Round Five card for @buckybarnesbingo.

Additional Notes: @mlibbydp and @goldylions were so benevolent in doing some beta work on this so HUGE AMOUNTS OF LOVE TO THEM for what they both contributed to the piece and to me personally. This chapter is much longer than the previous two and just as part two evolved their relationship, part three makes some more significant moves and ... I needed the notes on making sure this still felt like Devour. Also... @biteofcherry you might see something interesting in here that's definitely included because of a throwaway comment you made earlier this summer.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you walked out into the garage, there was a black luxury SUV idling near the exit with Sam Wilson leaned up against it. Seeing you, he slipped his phone into his pocket and pushed off the side of the vehicle.

“Hey, Chef,” he greeted you with a grin.

“Really?” you sighed. “Now?”

He shrugged. “Please?”

“And is that you asking nicely, or him?”

“You know I just do what he says.”

You huffed. “You don’t always do what he says, but he knows you’re the most charming one and I wouldn’t refuse you.”

Sam laughed as he opened the door to the backseat. “Don’t let the charm fool you, honey, if you said no, I’d throw you in the back regardless, it would just be less fun for you.”

You knew that, too, which is why you simply got in without a fuss. Bucky, Sam, the rest of his men? They were all mobsters running mob business, dangerous beneath the surface.

As the door closed behind you, you looked to the front to see who was driving, then clucked your tongue. “He sent both of you?”

Steve smirked. “Buckle up. And of course he sent us. You don’t think he trusts just anyone with his girl, do you?”

Oh. You bit your bottom lip and looked away and out the window, a small warmth stirring in your belly. As inconveniently annoying as this ordeal seemed to you in this moment, there was that piece. Being his. You were starting to feel it.

You had told Bucky that second night in the restaurant that you needed more than gifts and sex.

He had taken your word seriously.

There had been walks in the park, an auction, brunch on his yacht, a gallery opening, a rooftop wine tasting, even a dinner party at Sam’s place where he ended up proposing to his girl. You had enjoyed all of them, but except for the night at Sam’s, the time with Bucky had been last minute – sometimes there was a text, but most times it was him showing up or – like tonight – someone sent to fetch you without notice. He seemed all too aware of your schedule, so none of these instances were logistically inconvenient, but with it happening once more again tonight, you couldn’t help but notice this pattern of behavior was clearly becoming a habit – being summoned. In general, you didn’t mind, you saw that he was demonstrating that he wanted to spend time with you, but if you were his girl, you didn’t want to be treated  like one of the droves of people who were at his beck and call and certainly not like a concubine kept solely for his whims.

The SUV slowed and pulled up to the curb of an incredibly unremarkable building that spoke to money for how unremarkable it was – the kind of money that demanded magnificence but privacy. You’d never stepped in a place of residence quite like this before – you hadn’t even stepped out of the car yet, but even in the darkness you already knew.

Both men slipped out of the front seat. Sam opened your door and offered his hand to pull you to the sidewalk. “No frowns needed tonight,” he said.

“Says you.” You didn’t realize you were frowning.

Sam grinned, then headed around to take the driver’s seat just as Steve appeared at your side.

“I’ll walk you up,” Steve gestured for you to enter the building with him.

“This is his place?”

“One of them,” Steve responded.

You took a deep breath and followed him in.

Sharp looking doormen, green marble floors, golden elevators.

Chatting with Steve was always easy, and it was no different on the fifteen-floor ride up to the penthouse at the top of the building. However, you did feel a touch of nerves as this was your first time at Bucky’s place. You weren’t quite sure what to expect but were keen to learn more about this enigma of a man by seeing where he lived.

And there he was, ready to meet you as the doors of the elevator opened, hands in his pockets, tired smile on his face, but his blue eyes dancing with excitement, and that stirred the storm of butterflies immediately in your stomach. He reached out a hand to pull you into him.

“Thanks, Steve,” he said, though he didn’t take his eyes off you.

“Sure thing, Buck.”

Once the elevator closed, Bucky brushed his fingers over your cheek, cradled your head in his hand to tilt your jaw up, and then his lips were on yours, your back pressed up against the wall. Within moments you were breathless.

In the intervening weeks since seeing him at the restaurant he’d also kept his physical contact minimal, only a few light touches, an arm around you when it seemed natural for the occasion, except for two lingering kisses. One of those instances was after a walk in the park when he’d kissed you full on in the afternoon daylight, then deposited you into the car he’d arranged to take you directly to work, where his heated kiss had distracted you throughout your shift. The second was three nights ago, the last time you saw him, and that had been only a ghosting of his lips against your ear, along your jaw, and then a soft kiss pressed to your mouth before withdrawing and leaving you at your door, but it had gotten your whole body humming for him and haunted you as you went to sleep and in your dreams.

This, after so long, so much wanting, was like a wave crashing over you. You moaned softly, you let him pull you in, melting against him, and you nearly let him sweep you away, but then you pressed insistently against his chest.

“James.”

“Yes?” he did move back, but only enough to look into your face fully.

“What is this?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“So, you just summon me?”

You knew he didn’t miss the tenor of agitation in your tone because he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the smirk before he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture at your shoulder. “I was hungry for you,” he said, completely undeterred. And as his lips moved solely along your throat, your core begged you to forget the conversation you were attempting to have.

“Why?” you barely managed to ask.

“You know why.”

“Do I?”

Bucky pulled back again, frowning this time, but you put your hand on his face to soften his reaction. “Steve and Sam said I’m your girl, but…”

“I told you you were mine. Surely over the past few weeks, you can’t doubt that.” His stare into your eyes was steady, straight.

You didn’t doubt him.

You did need to hear those words said just that way though. You didn’t know how much you had needed to hear them.

It gave you the surety to say what you needed to say to him. “I’m not just another girl. No more summoning me, Barnes. I’m not one of your people, I’m not your plaything.” With your hand now resting on his chest, you let your fingers brush soft strokes up and down over his heart. “If you want me, want all of me.”

He hadn’t interrupted your statement. He’d let you finish without argument. You could see the way his face changed, and the shift of the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch. He drew you in closer, encircling his arms around your waist. “Oh, I want everything, don’t doubt that.” He brushed his lips softly on your forehead. “I was only waiting for you to want this.” 

Your chest tightened at those words, but the next moment you couldn’t think because then he kissed you again.

And that kiss, though brief, was thick with heat, and when he pulled back he said, “I see your point about the summoning. Just know that I was eager to have you around at any opportunity.”

You smiled because he smiled. “I can forgive you for that – I guess I can be a bit irresistible,” you teased. Somehow his confidence made you feel steady enough with him to be direct, to be flirtatious, to simply be around him.

He brought a hand to your cheek again. “I’ll mend my ways, but let’s be honest… a little bit of you likes it – the spontaneity of it.” His smile turned to a truly wolfish grin.

You sighed but rolled your eyes playfully. “Maybe a little.”

He stepped away, taking your hand. “Come. You can have a tour later.”

Rather than asking where you were going, you simply let him lead you through the grand apartment. You didn’t take in every detail, but it was big without being too big. Rich and luxurious without being cold or opulent. There were sleek lines, but also elements of warm and comfort folded into the power that was also clearly on display. But your focus was on the way he held your hand and led you through his domain. He had no question that you would follow.

Were you so easily his?

No.

Your mind wasn’t made up.

You weren’t all in, but you weren’t reeling to run away.

He stopped in front of a mahogany door and looked over his shoulder at you. You arched your brow.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Alright.” And you did.

He opened it, and you let him lead you inside, through a room, clearly walking you past some furniture. You heard the sound of a fire in a fireplace, then you heard another door opening, and he ushered you in front of him and through that door. “Take your time,” he said softly, lips against your ear. “I’ll be waiting.” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, and then he was gone, shutting the door behind you.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a large jade green-tiled shower enclosed with glass and four gleaming gold showerheads. Turning around, you couldn’t help a soft giggle falling from your lips. The lavish bathroom was sheer perfection. Showering after your shifts at the restaurant was ritual for you. You toed off your shoes and began peeling off your clothes. Off to the side of the palatial shower, there was a gorgeous clawfoot tub, and next to that a plush navy settee with what looked like some silky things set out for you. After inspecting the knobs and heads of the shower, you got them running, adjusting them to the perfect water temperature easily, and stepped under the streams, a sigh falling immediately from your lips.

One of the shelves was stocked with some of the skin and haircare products you used, some you hadn’t but certainly knew the name and reputation of (but hadn’t indulged in for yourself), and the other shelf was stocked with men’s products. It reminded you of the significance of where you were – in his home – and the element of intimacy it evoked, being naked where he had been and would frequently be again. Where he likely would be naked with you. You bit your lip. You pulled down the bottle of his shower gel, popped the top open, and inhaled. You hated how much you already loved that smell.

No, you didn’t.

You inhaled deeply again, then set it back on the shelf.

After that, you set to reveling in the flow of the water over your body, and got to washing, unsure of the time, only focused on the smooth feel of the soap and textures over your skin, feeling more and more relaxed, and ultimately refreshed and clean.

Once you had shut off all four showerheads, you reached for towels more plush than any you had ever used in your life and dried yourself off before wrapping the large bath sheet around your torso. You padded over to the settee to discover a short black silk robe waiting for you.

And nothing else.

You shook your head but grinned. “Audacious bastard,” you whispered.

But you didn’t bother with anything else.

At the vanity there were more hair, face, and body care products and tools clearly stocked for you – again some familiar and some you’d only dreamed of, none of this really a shock given your experience with this man. You weren’t certain how long you’d taken in the shower, having lost track of time, but here you suddenly did find yourself trying to take more time, a small fluttering of nerves in your stomach, because though he'd had his way with you in the kitchen of the restaurant and discreetly pulled an orgasm from you at the table in the dining room, this would be different.

Tonight, your body would be his, no restrictions. There was no worry for privacy, no limited amount of time.

There were also emotions now.

You had set the terms – that you needed to be more than a body to him – and he’d met them, courting the rest of you these past weeks, and putting the physical on the back burner.

He had made his intentions for tonight expressly clear.

And you wanted him, too.

But you were still nervous.

When you put your hand on the doorknob, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking one deep breath to steady yourself. Then you stepped out and into the next room, which – to no surprise – was a grand and spacious bedroom. Bucky was sitting on a couch in front of the fireplace you’d heard earlier, but immediately set a book aside and stood when he heard you. You were happy – and feeling a little more heat in your core – to see he was out of his earlier clothes and down to only a pair of silk pajama bottoms.

“How was your shower?” he asked, standing up and beckoning you over.

“The shower was glorious. You’re a bit wicked to only leave me a robe, though, aren’t you?”

He placed a kiss to your forehead and motioned to get comfortable on the couch while he moved over to a small bar cart nearby to get you a drink. He shot a smug over his shoulder. “I plan to get lucky.”

You snorted. “You brought me here late at night, kissed me like you did earlier, sent me to shower, left me only a very slinky silk robe to wear, and then greet me again looking like this,” you gesture at him, “fixing me a drink, and you call that ‘planning to get lucky?’”

He shrugged, his smug grin only growing. “Do you think there’s any way in hell I’d be where I am if I hadn’t strategically hedged my bets? Absolutely I plan to get lucky. I make sure I don’t give luck any reason not to go my way.”

You didn’t need alcohol. He was beyond intoxicating. He had been from that first night.

“And I’m assuming I don’t get a choice of drink tonight, either?”

He looked at you again. “I let you choose a lot of things, but I want you to try this. I think you’ll like it.”

You bit your lip and tucked your legs up under you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and facing him as well as where he would return to sit once finished mixing your drinks. His back was to you now, and you were not surprised he seemed to want to keep his preparation a mystery at least for a few more moments.

“Long day at work?”

“Work?” You weren’t expecting such a normal inquiry about it.

“Yes,” he chuckled, “work, my beautiful, talented chef.”

He handed you a wine glass with clear liquids over ice, garnished with fresh mint and slices of lemon, while he had what looked to be a whiskey smash in his other hand. You took an experimental sip as he sat close to you, angling his body to face you, resting his arm over the back of the couch as well. The citrus and mint blended with something floral and…

You swished the contents of your drink in your glass before taking another sip. It was bright and refreshing and not quite the evening night cap you would have expected.

He watched your face, gaging your assessment as he sipped his own drink.

“What is this?” you asked.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” you countered, “but what is it, James?”

Your name on his lips ticked the corner up in a half smile. “It’s a Hugo cocktail.”

“It’s not a predictable choice for the middle of the night.”

“It wasn’t my intention to bring you hear and tuck you in straight away.”

You laughed. “There’s no question what your intentions were. We established that.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You’re not picking up on all my intentions.”

Your brow furrowed. Then you let out a little yip of surprise as he pulled you closer, you clutching your wine glass to keep from spilling the drink.

He had already positioned himself close to you, but this was even more intimate. You were nearly in his lap, and he did pull your legs up to drape across his thighs.

“Now tell me about your day.”

“Oh, you were serious.”

His hand settled on one of your bare thighs, just next to your knee.

“If I didn’t want all of you, I would’ve fucked you in the foyer and let you go home. I want this, too. Now talk.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but you smiled. This really was him – demanding but not inflexible, and certainly giving you more than you expected.

So, you did talk, just as you had been really starting to the more he had brought you around to spend the time with him these last weeks. However, there was no getting around that this was more intimate. No others around, no distractions, no functionality of a thing you were doing together, only the two of you.

His line of inquiry was genuine, and he listened intently.

Almost too intently.

You were his singular fixation, and you knew he was thinking of nothing but you as you spoke.

And his fingers brushed idly over your thigh as you conversed.

The soft, repetitive motion wasn’t distracting at first, but it wasn’t long before it was an overwhelming tease of what wasn’t happening.

The physical touch you hadn’t experienced at his hand in weeks.

He was asking questions about how some of the new members of your kitchen staff were integrating, and all you wanted him to do was glide that hand down between your thighs.

You sipped at your drink, and as you continued to talk, you let your other hand drift to rest on his arm still draped over the back of the couch, and your fingers traced along a vein on his forearm. Although it was difficult not to let your eyes drop to his bare chest, you kept his gaze. If he was going to continue talking like this proximity and the lack of clothing between you both wasn’t affecting him, you were determined to match him.

Finally, he moved his hand from your thigh, but it went straight to your waist to curl just above your hip. “Kiss me,” he said.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips hungrily to his without hesitation. He set his drink to the side, then grabbed yours to do the same. With both your hands free, neither of you wasted another moment. Your hands went to his neck while one of his hands traveled slowly up your spine, the other holding your face. As impatient as you were for him, both of you kissed to savor, but there was no rush to it. His lips moved against yours, your tongues explored together, tracing, memorizing, exploring. It wasn’t enough, the tenor moving from savoring to consuming, and you shifted, moving into his lap.

He broke off the kiss briefly, turning his head to the side, but his left hand remained firmly against your back, keeping you close, and you rested your forehead against his temple. His other hand reached to the side table, and he plucked one of the slices of lemon and some mint from your drink. Curious, you lifted your head away. He brought the mint leaf to your mouth first, pressing it along your bottom lip. Then he pinched the fruit against your lip. The mint played with the acid of the citrus deliciously as he kissed you again, this time each of you nipping and licking intermittently through the kisses. Your hands explored the broad planes of his chest now, and his hands raked up and down your sides, thumbs skimming over the side swells of your breasts.

Keen for more, you pressed your body closer to him, pushing your core directly against the hardness of his cock. Rocking your hips, you drew a debauched moan from him that made you swell with pride and made your pussy ache even more for him. You needed him, each moment driving that need exponentially now.

The thick arms and broad chest you were getting to explore freely for the first time held only some of the rippling muscles that made it seemingly easy to push up off the couch while still holding you close with one arm, and it made a broken whine escape the back of your throat. You wrapped your legs around his torso, and his other hand squeezed and held your ass against him as he moved you from the seating area across the room to the bed. He tossed you down on the mattress, then pushed the silky robe – which was naturally already askew – off your body and flung it away. You pushed yourself back a bit more on the bed, and he was only a half second behind crawling up after you.

He pushed your legs wide open, and dove immediately for your dripping cunt. You laughed, a little flushed, but also more than ready for him to bury his face between your thighs. You let your head fall back against the soft bedding, closing your eyes. Then you yelped as there was a sharp slap to your pussy instead of his lips on your folds. You jerked up to look at him, and the devilish grin on his face, the darkening of his eyes made your heart stutter.

“Don’t laugh, Chef, I told you I was hungry for you. Keep your eyes on me,” he said.

You took a deep breath, leaned back on your elbows, and gave him a solemn nod.

He pressed kisses slowly along your inner thigh, his deep blue eyes locked on yours. The fluttering in your stomach rose steadily, your pussy desperate for his attention. When he planted his lips in the crease of your thigh, he left his mouth there. A broken whimper leapt from your throat, and you pushed your hips up. 

He pushed your hips back down with one of his large hands and moved his mouth the opposite direction and bit at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you yelp.

“Please,” you murmured.

“Eager for me?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation.

“Good.”

And then he worshiped your cunt, kissing it with as much fervor as he had kissed your mouth, and you moaned openly, no worries over anyone but him hearing you here. You didn’t look away, completely captivated because this was also a new level of intimacy that you felt both ready and unprepared for. Receiving oral sex from other partners had never felt so purposeful. This man in this moment was so avid in the way he was pleasing you, making you watch him, you brain was having a hard time recalling if sex with anyone before him had ever been so intense. You didn’t think it had – that first night when he’d demanded it from you in the kitchen, the next time he’d coaxed you into a few moments of pleasure in the dining room, and now inviting you here to have you without restraint – each encounter had been unlike anything before.

The pleasure was overwhelming as his lips and tongue licked, sucked, flicked your clit, delved into your folds, and he kept a keen eye on your every reaction. You began to feel lightheaded with the mounting waves of bliss, your toes curling, breaths coming in short gasps until your head fell back because you simply couldn’t look at him anymore, couldn’t do anything but feel, ready to fall over the edge because of him again.

But then he pulled his face away, jerking you back from that edge of ecstasy and you would have whined, but he was already manhandling your hips to flip you over. One of his rough palms smoothed slowly and firmly up your spine, applying delicious pressure, but you still felt the lack from the orgasm he’d dangled then withdrawn. “James,” you moaned. “James, please.”

He drew his palm slowly back down your spine. “You’ll have me, Chef, don’t doubt that.”

You whined again, but he pushed your thighs apart and slotted himself again between them, holding you splayed open for him with his broad shoulders. It was a little uncomfortable, stretching your legs, but you settled and breathed through it anticipating what was coming next.

His tongue teased at your clit for a moment, then slowly licked up and between your folds to dive into your cunt, lapping inside, and you shivered. But then one of his hands pushed at your ass cheek and his tongue continued moving up, and you gasped and tried to move away when the tip of his tongue teased your tight, puckered hole.

“Easy,” he said softly but firmly, his other hand moving beneath you and hooking at the juncture of your thigh to pull your hips back flush against him. He pressed a kiss to your round ass cheek.

“I’ve never,” you admitted enough, he knew what you meant. He kissed the same spot on your ass cheek, but then he shifted, and you felt him moving up over your back, his body pressing lightly against you until he was up at your shoulder. He pressed a kiss there, and then looked at you.  

“Then I won’t give you more than my tongue tonight, but you know I’ll make you feel good, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He smiled, then left the ghost of a kiss to your temple and slipped back down behind you.

Resuming his exact same positioning, his left hand curling under to anchor at the juncture of your leg, his right pressing you open to expose your ass, you pressed your cheek into the pillow and took a deep breath. You reached your left hand down to meet his, and he twined his fingers reassuringly with yours as they sought him. Then his mouth pressed in, and his tongue darted out, swiping over the tight ring of muscle.

“Just relax and feel,” he instructed.

You concentrated on breathing and then the new sensation. Unexpected. Then a different kind of pressure, then pleasure. It wasn’t awful as had always been insinuated. It was debauched more than anything else, and he soon had you moaning and panting and wriggling back against his tongue which alternated between lapping at the hole and teasing in and out. It was when you pushed hard back against him that he pressed a kiss again there and pulled back.

“I know what you like.”

It wasn’t a brag; it was a statement of possession that sent a shiver through your body. Because he was right, and you couldn’t deny that.

“Now come here,” he said, pulling you by your hips up to kneel, presenting for him. “Such pretty folds.” His fingers circled your clit, then slipped briefly inside your cunt, drawing a happy gasp from you.

He grabbed his thick member and brushed the tip up and down over your sensitive parts a few times as you pushed up on your elbows, your back arched in a beautiful bow for him. When you looked over your shoulder at him, he finally sunk his cock into you. His hips pushed forward against you slowly until he was completely buried inside you, filling you, pressing so intimately into you. Fully sheathed, he stayed there for a moment, and he ran his hands over your hips and your lower back, caressing, relishing in the fill. He pulled back slowly, but only a couple of inches, then pushed back in, clearly wanting to relish in this for a moment. You had no desire to rush him either.

When his hands gripped your hips, you dropped your forehead to rest your forearm on the mattress, and then he began to fuck you, building a steady rhythm. He built up bit by bit, and you both let words and sounds fall out of your mouths as the physical feelings increased in intensity. Having been so close twice, when he finally moved a hand to rub expert circles into your throbbing clit, your body quickly responded in releasing your orgasm, and your spasming walls pulled him right along with you, and he came with a shout over your moans, a stuttered thrust, and then he continued a few more pushes, his hot spend coating your walls.

He wrapped an arm around your stomach and pressed kisses into your back, and you curled up into him with a hum of contentment.

When he pulled out, he reached over to the bedside table to retrieve a waiting damp hand towel – you shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d prepared to this detail – and then cleaned you up and then him before tossing it away. He stroked your back once more, then scooped you to your side, and pulled your naked and spent body to him so he could spoon up against you. You put your arm over his, and he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Stay?” he murmured simply into your ear.

This you didn’t answer immediately. You let your chest fill and empty with a few breaths, weighing your answer between your head and your heart. But neither of them fought to leave.

“Okay,” you finally breathed.

He settled in even closer, then reached for the sheets to pull up over the both of you. “I told you that first night that you would warm my bed.”

“Don’t be smug,” you protested.

“I’m not,” he insisted, and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder, “I’m only pleased I’ve finally got you here.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

next part: HEAT

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 24

Part 1 Part 23

Will stays on the periphery of the shopping trip, trailing behind Nancy and Jonathan as they drag bear traps, nails, and ammo up to the counter. He imagines the Demogorgon writhing, both feet stuck in the traps, imagines its head blown clean off by Lonnie’s gun, imagines driving a nail straight into its heart like it's a vampire.

He never thought violence could make him feel like this – vindicated. Victorious. Whenever Mike and Dustin snuck horror movies from Family Video, Will always had to turn away from the gore. Even when the person deserved it. Even when it was against a monster.

But the Demogorgon had stolen him, had stolen Eddie, still has Steve in its grasp and he wants it to pay.

The clerk gives them all a suspicious look, Will most of all, before asking, “what’s all this for then?”

Nancy and Jonathan trade looks, like Will isn’t behind them at all, before Nancy replies, “monster hunting.”

Apparently satisfied, the clerk shrugs and tells them the total. It’s more than they usually pay at the grocery store for a whole week’s worth of food. He sees Jonathan cringe, even as he forks it over. 

They carry their purchases away, Nancy handing Will the box of nails. He clutches them to his chest as they make their way to where Jonathan’s car is in the parking lot. 

“You know, last week, I was shopping for a top I thought Steve might like. It took me and Barb all weekend,” Nancy says, carefully placing the bear traps into the trunk. Will didn’t realize Nancy and Steve were boyfriend and girlfriend, didn’t realize they knew each other at all, past the way everyone in small towns sort of knows of everyone else. “It seemed like life or death, you know? And now–”

“You’re shopping for bear traps with Jonathan Byers,” Jonathan says. He says his own name like it’s a joke. Will doesn’t like it.

“Yeah,” she says, laughing a little as Jonathan haphazardly throws the ammo on top of the rest of their purchases before slamming the trunk closed. “And I don’t know if I even want him to like me like that anymore.” 

Will can’t imagine having someone like Steve – nice, cool, an action hero – and not wanting to be liked. 

“We got into this fight the night he disappeared,” Nancy continues, laugh coming out sharp and wet this time, all the humor sucked straight out. “And I was so mad, but now I just hope he’s alive.”

Jonathan turns away from Nancy, looks directly at Will, says, “yeah,” with a fervor that makes his cheeks warm. 

“He’s alive,” Will says.

No one asks why he’s so sure. Will’s glad. He couldn’t explain it if he tried. Just knows somewhere deep inside that Steve is alive. He’s waiting for them to save him this time.

Barbara’s car is in the driveway when they get home. She’s dawdling on the porch with Eddie and an older man that must be his Uncle Wayne.

Eddie looks both more at ease with his Uncle by his side, and more keyed up than Will’s ever seen him. He’s twitching in his toes, like he’s waiting to take flight; gravity barely keeping him on the surface of the earth. 

He settles when Will gets out of the backseat. He feels it like a tug – the need to get back to Eddie’s side is almost an itch on his bones. Eddie meets him halfway, pulling Will beneath the wing of his arm and pulling him in. 

Will’s breath comes easier than they had since they separated, like two pieces snapping back into their rightful place.

“Who’s this?” the older man asks gruffly, still standing on the front porch.

Will’s heartbeat stutters at the stern expression, but Eddie just beams, skipping up to him and flourishing his hand grandiosity between the both of them. “Uncle Wayne, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Will Byers. He kicks ass,” he says. “Will, this is my Uncle Wayne. He’s nice, I promise.”

Wayne looks him up and down, eyebrows furrowed before easing, the corners of his mouth ticking up in what must be a smile. “And your other two friends?” he asks.

Eddie points with his free arm. “That Big Byers, Will’s brother,” he says, talking over Jonathan’s quiet, “it’s Jonathan. He points at Nancy, and with much less enthusiasm, finishes, “And that’s Nancy Wheeler.”

Wayne looks between all of them, his eyebrows furrowing like angry caterpillars. “Where are all of your parents?” he asks before turning to Will, “especially yours. If I’m not mistaken,  they fished your body out of the water”

Will’s gut churns. He and Eddie trade wide-eyed looks. “I died?” he asks, voice trembling.

“Well, obviously not!” Eddie says, squeezing Will’s shoulder tight enough to twinge. “You’ve been with me the whole time, baby Byers.”

Wayne’s still looking at him, like he’s trying to see through his skin and analyze his skeleton for human parts. “Either way kid, where’s your Mom?” he asks. “Have y’all called Joyce?”

Will shuffles, looking over his shoulder at Jonathan. “She wasn’t here when we got in,” he says, looking down at his scuffed sneakers. “She’s been spending a lot of time with Chief Hopper. Maybe she’s with him?”

Wayne sighs. “Can I use your phone, boy?” He asks the question pointedly toward Will, so Will leads the way to the phone, everyone else trailing behind nervously.

Wayne dials out, lets it ring, before saying. “Hey, Flo, It’s Wayne.” He hums in response to whatever she says, the way adults always do, before continuing. “Right as rain, but I need you to radio the Chief for me.” Will can barely make out Florence’s muffled voice, but the words are lost to the phone line. “He’ll want to hear this. Trust me.”

Wayne does that same barely upturned smile. It wrinkles his eyes up, though. Like it’s a real one even if it’s small. “Thanks, Flo. Tell him to meet me at the Byers house.”

He hangs up the phone on Florence’s muffled response. 

Wayne looks around, as if only just taking in the wreck of the house, eyebrows ticked up, scrunching up his forehead. He doesn’t say anything, though. Just asks, “this house got any coffee in it?”

Jonathan goes to make a pot, and they all settle back around the table, waiting for the Chief to burst down the door. It doesn’t take long.

The door slams open, hard enough that Will thinks it might leave a hole in the plaster. “Wayne?” he calls.

“In here!” Wayne calls back, sipping his coffee calmly like the Chief of Police isn’t yelling his name.

The Chief strides into the room like he has a right to it. His eyes settle on Wayne first, looking pissed off, before his eyes flick around the table, from Barb, to Nancy, to Jonathan, to Eddie, and finally, landing on Will and staying.

He goes pale, like Will’s a ghost someone invited for morning coffee. He shrinks into his seat, as Hopper yells, “Joyce?”

Then his Mom is there. She looks tired. Her hair is mussed, clothes wrinkly, bags under her eyes. Eyes that immediately settle on Will. She stops breathing, goes still as a corpse before bolting to his side.

She pulls him from his chair with enough force that they both go tumbling to the laminate. “Baby, baby, is that really you?” she asks, crying. She’s smelling his hair like that will tell her. Like he doesn’t still smell like sweat and dirt and ash. “Oh baby, you came home.”

Will burrows into her chest, sobbing. Part of him hadn’t been able to stop hearing her yelling his name as the Demogorgon growled, had been terrified that it’d gotten her, despite what Steve had said. 

“I was so worried, sweetheart,” she says, garbled enough to almost be unintelligible. “I heard those awful noises and the gunshots, and then you wouldn’t talk to me, baby.”

She clutches him impossibly tighter. Will wriggles enough to free his face so he could breathe. Jonathan is kneeling behind her, hands settled on both their shoulders, crying in a way that Will’s never seen before. 

He never wants to leave this moment.

But then the Chief yells over the din, “can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

It goes quiet except for Joyce’s crying, like no one wants to be in the man’s crosshairs. Finally, it’s Eddie who responds. “You won’t believe this, Hop.”

Will pulls out of his Mom’s arms. She keeps them latched onto his ribs, but lets him sit up on his own. He looks over at where Eddie’s still seated at the table. His jaw is firm, resolute under his Uncle’s steadying hand. The Chief is glaring down at him, nostrils flaring in his customary anger before he takes a steadying breath, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Why don’t you give me a try?” 

Part 25

[plussizeficchick]

Lovers Rock | Eddie Munson x Chubby! Reader

Summary: Eddie really likes reader, reader really likes Eddie, will they, won’t they? Loosely based on the TV Girl song, brief misunderstandings, brief mentions of masturbation, suggestive undertones. (Had this in the drafts for a while.)

Eddie had never felt more jealous of Steve than he did right now.

He had you, a cute, chunky little bunny practically hanging off of his arm and couldn’t be asked to give you a shred of attention?

Not that you seem particularly bothered, you’re too busy looking around. For what, he doesn’t know, but you somehow make just standing there sexy.

Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. He’s always had a thing for plump girls and you ticked all his boxes. You liked DnD, you didn’t judge his music taste even if some weren’t your favorite. And you were hot as fuck.

He remembers the first time he jacked off to the thought of you. He couldn’t look you in the eye for a week, and it didn’t help that for the past few months, you seemed to have put more of an effort in your appearance. (i.e. Eddie’s never seen you show so much skin and he’s fighting the urge to paint every inch in his cum.)

Nevertheless, he makes his way over to you both and he feels his heart skip when your eyes light up at the sight of him. “Hey, Munson.” You beam at him, and just like that, you made coming to this shitty party worthwhile. He smirks at you before pulling you into a hug, lips kissing your ear as he whispers, “Good to see you again, princess.” You feel a shiver run down your spine, his words making their way to your core. You’d had a few drinks and shared a joint with Steve on your way here so you were feeling nice and loose.

You shift your grip from Steve’s arm to Eddie’s, effectively trapping him in your ironclad grip. “Wanna get outta here, this shit sucks.” You mutter into his ear. “What about Steve?” You shrug off his concerns, eager to spend time alone with him. “We got a ride here, plus he said he might stay tonight.” Eddie nods in understanding before guiding you both out of the party. You make it to his van and after a few tries, you’re both out of there.

— —

Eddie put on his and your favorite mix, you both screaming lyrics at the top of your lungs. After a while, Eddie stops and just stares at you though, taking you in. It’s rare he gets to see you so carefree and the sight just makes him fall in love with you all the more.

Why did you have to be into Steve?

He’d never burden you with his feelings, but fuck there were some times it became too much to bear. Times he wanted to just say “fuck it” and tell you how he felt, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair to you, and that he’d rather suffer in silence than never have you at all.

You were stuck though.

Steve swore up and down that Eddie was into you and honestly, you thought so too. It was why you had put so much more effort into your appearance. Wearing shorter skirts, lower cut tops. Jeans that hugged the curve of your ass, blouses that showed the cute pudge of your tummy. You thought you were being flirty, always asking to listen to his music, touching his arm at any given chance, you were honestly doing your best here. You figured that this would be your best opportunity to just be upfront with him. So when you pulled into his uncle’s trailer park, you decided to lay it all out.

“Eddie, do you like me?” He looks at you confused as he turns off the engine. “What kind of question is that? Of course I like you. You’re one of my closest friends.” He looks at you with sincerity. You’d think it was sweet if that was what you wanted to hear. “Why are you asking that?” Eddie questions. You shake your head, turning in your seat to face him. “It’s just, I like you a lot Eddie and Steve said you might have a crush on me? I don’t know, maybe he was mistaken-” You’re cut off by Eddie abruptly grabbing your hands, his face almost surprised. “I did- I do! I just, I thought you were into Steve so…” He trails off at the sound of your chuckling. He feels his stomach drop at the sound and is about to pull away when he feels you holding on to him.

“Sorry,” You giggle, wiping a fake tear from your eye at the thought. “It’s just, what ever gave you that idea?” You ask. He looks sheepish as he relays his reasoning, “Well I noticed you kind of started dressing up more recently and you hang around us a lot more often than before. So I just thought…” He trails off again. You feel a snicker but hold back as you hear Eddie sigh in frustration. “Sorry for laughing, it’s just, I thought I was being super obvious with my feelings for you, but now I see it was having the opposite effect.” You sigh. Eddie looks at you, confusion written all over his face. “I was doing all of that for you. I was hoping that it’d push you to ask me out, but instead it just made you think I want… Steve.” You shudder in disgust. It coaxes a laugh out of Eddie and you’re sure you’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.

“So you’re saying, you’re into me?” He asks for clarification. You nod, a sweet smile making its way to your chubby cheeks. “And you’re into me?” You mimic. He nods before cupping your face with both hands. He looks you in the eyes, a silent question and you answer by leaning in, pressing your plump lips against his. It’s a sweet, clumsy first kiss, lips molding into each other. You feel the coldness of his rings against your warm cheeks and it somehow makes the kiss feel even better.

You part after the need for air becomes necessary, resting your foreheads against each other. “Thank God we sorted that out. I thought I’d have to walk around in nothing but a Hellfire club shirt before you’d say anything.” You chuckle at the thought. But Eddie starts to picture it and he’s not laughing.

“Hey, um, d’ya think I could see that right now?”

[emasstars]

little things

silly headcanons about the greasers | fluff

a/n: @cau-lee-flower215 wanted me to tag them!

ponyboy has a pen collection. every year for his birthday, his parents would get him a new one. for a while, he definitely had a phase where he would only write with a quill. stored away, somewhere in some cabinet, it’s still there.

johnny loves animals with every fibre of his being. he will stop walking to pet a stray animal, and he doesn’t care if it has rabies or ticks or anything. he especially loves when he’s sleeping out in the lot, and a cat comes to cuddle up with him.

dally is a picky eater. his food cannot touch, it needs to be made a very specific way, and he will not eat the food if it does not fit his standards. when they go out to eat, he will always order the same food. he will order it off of the kids menu if he has to.

sodapop secretly writes poetry, and hides the papers in a shoe box in his nightstand’s drawer. he only writes when no one is home, placing some sort of magazine or news paper on top so no one thinks to check ever again. he cannot go through that embarrassment another time.

darry, similarly to how ponyboy used to collect pens, used to collect coins. every time he’d see one on the ground, he’d pick it up and add it to the jar he’d keep them in. if it was a particularly nice-looking coin, he’d put it in some frame and leave it on his desk.

two-bit tried to join band in school, but wasn’t allowed because all he could play was a harmonica. by now, he brings it anywhere he goes. if the time is right, which he argues it always is, he will pull out and play an awful tune that pierces everyone’s ears, and makes them yell at him to stop.

steve cannot dance. it does not matter the kind of dancing you request he does, someone will get hurt. very likely, it will be him. one time, at one of sodapop’s birthday parties, he tried to dance but accidentally twisted his ankle and got sent to the er.

[frost-queen]

To his liking (Reader x Steve Raglan /W. Afton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

A/n: This is my first time doing something for this fandom. I hope it is any good as I didn't have much time for my regular request so I whipped something up. Summary: In need of a new job you find yourself at Steve Raglan's office hoping he would find a job for you. [part 2 & part 3 & part 4]

Your knee trembled nervously. Sweaty palms rubbing against your legs. You had read the posters in the little waiting room numerous times. All silly adds with cheesy lines. Your gaze drifted to the left where an elderly lady was typing loudly in her computer. Her face hidden behind the big box of a screen. The smell of her coffee adding a new scent to the already muffy smelling room.

You seated yourself better, feeling that your bottom had been hurting from sitting on that darn wooden stool for what seemed ages. Four wooden stools lined up against the walls in order to wait. Beside the stool on your right was a small table with old magazines. At least dated from five years back. Looking back around you started to wonder why you were even her. Yet the answer was very clear.

This was your last chance. Your last chance at making a change. Rubbing your sweaty palms over your legs again, you let yourself slouch down in the chair. Just a few more minutes and you might call it off. Simply get up and walk out as you weren’t getting anywhere. Waiting for ages. Waiting for that wooden door to finally open and allow you to meet your future.

The clock ticking almost tauntingly by the minute. It was agonizing to wait this long. It was almost as if they were testing your duration. See how long you would stand with it before throwing in the towel. Sighing again you moved your bottom to the back of the stool, leaning forwards. Palms in your hair. The lady behind her desk kept typing loudly without a care or notice of you.

This was it. You had enough. Leg shaking nervously. You jumped up with a deep breath. At the same time you got up, opened the wooden door. No one standing in the door opening. It made you stare at the door wondering if anyone else before you would head out.

A slim figure wearing glasses opened the door more standing in the opening. – “Y/n Y/l/n just who I was expecting.” – he said moving a bit back to create an opening. Somehow you kept staring at him. He chuckled waving you over. – “Come, come don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” – he teased with half a smirk.

Walking up to him you saw the lady behind the compute follow your movement with her head. Her expression dull and neutral. Pausing briefly in the door opening you looked up to the man. He smiled invitingly at you. With one soft breath you entered more as the door got shut behind you. – “Please, sit.” – he offered gesturing at another one of those uncomfy chairs. You sat down looking around his office. He walked behind you across towards the coffeemaker. You kept your gaze in front of you, pressing your hands between your legs.

A name clip standing on his desk. Raglan it read. Steve Raglan. – “Coffee?” – you heard him call out. Humming loud you snapped out of your little thought bubble. – “Oh uhm no thank you.” – you answered moving your hands away. Raglan went to his desk, sitting down across from you. He set his coffee mug aside. He leaned a bit back taking a file from his desk. He opened it leaning fully back.

Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his finger over his beard and mouth. You kept a close eye on his expression. His seriousness when his eyes trailed over the words. The way you felt a bit shy around him. He took a soft gasp of breath leaning forwards to the desk, laying your file down. – “I’m going to be honest with you Y/n… may I call you Y/n?” – he asked looking over at you.

You nodded hesitantly with a flush in your cheeks. – “With your record of work, it won’t be easy to find someone that would like to hire you.” – he said making you swallow nervously. – “Yelling and cursing at a parent.” – he read out loud with a slight shake of his head. – “Calling them a pervert and kicking them in the…” – he stopped as his gaze went up to you. – “Delicate area’s.” – he added waving his hand down his stomach to show you.

“That is unacceptable behaviour Y/n.”  - he went on picking up your file again. – “He had it coming.” – you mumbled. Raglan curling up a smile. – “I’m sure he did.” – he responded as it startled you that he had heard you. – “I’m not hear to judge you Y/n but that wasn’t your first fall-out.” – he looked down at your file, flipping a page.

And another one. – “You have a history of being violent.” – his gaze flashed up to you. Was there a hint of a smile on him? Did your violent history amuse him? He placed the file down again leaning forwards as he folded his hands before him. – “It’s not going to be easy for you Y/n.” – his words echoing like doomsday in your mind. Were you done for it?

“So you got nothing for me?” – you asked trying to hide your fear of having nothing. Raglan licked his lips leaning back in his chair. – “I’m afraid so.” – he replied watching you closely. You broke. Leaning back to look up at the ceiling with the deepest sigh. You were ready to get up and walk out. What use was staying here if he had nothing to offer you.

Raglan picked up on your urge to get up and walk out. He got up making you freeze half way from getting up. You watched him go around the desk to come lean against the edge on your side. It made you sit back down eager to know what he wanted to say.

He stroked his beard thoughtfully. – “I might have something for you.” – he started sparking up your interest. – “The hours are brutal and the pay-check even worse.” – he went on. – “I don’t care.” – you said eagerly grabbing onto the railing of the chair. Raglan smiled. – “Ever heard of Freddy fazzbear’s pizzeria?” – he asked. You shook your head. – “It was a big thing in the eighties.” – he added. – “Before it got shut down.” – he finished looking down at you.

He looked briefly over his shoulder to your file on his desk. – “I read in your file you played dress-up for kid’s parties a few years ago.” – you hummed loud to acknowledge him. Raglan chuckled softly removing himself slightly from the desk. His hand grabbed for your chin, tilting your head back. His eyes locking with yours.

Somehow you didn’t push his hands away. Actually finding it mesmerizing how they held you. – “How do you stand against masks?” – he asked. – “Although it would be a shame to hide that pretty face of yours behind one.” -  You felt your cheeks burn up from his words. – “What do I have to do?” – you asked as he let go of your chin. – “Dress up.” – he spoke plainly. – “I…I thought the place got shut down?” – you asked to be sure you had heard him correctly.

 “You’d make a fine addition to the… family.” – he answered deflecting your question. – “The kids will love you.” – he muttered to himself. He took you by your hands making you stand up. – “What do you say Y/n do you plan on staying?” – he asked holding your hands dearly.

Having no other option you accepted. It didn’t sound that bad. Dressing up for some kids. As long as there weren’t any rude or perverse parents to test your temper. Raglan curled up a sinister smile.

-----------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Oh My, Good Lord

Day #25 - Gareth | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/Di (OC), Background Steddie | Tags: Future Fic, Retired Corroded Coffin, TikTok Trends, Who Can You Traumatize If Not Your Friends?

Gareth watches the analytics tick upwards and he's getting concerned. It was meant to be a joke. Now, it's breaking containment. 

Nobody has ID'd him yet, not as far as he knows, but there are lots of comments that mention that he looks familiar. So, it's coming. His tattoos are on full display, so he might as well be showing the world his fingerprints.

They're gonna figure it out. 

And as soon as that happens, it's gonna get picked up by TMZ and then Eddie's gonna know and never shut the fuck up about it.

He should delete it. 

Quit while he's ahead. 

But, Di likes it. Says he looks good, and that she wants to show off her sexy husband. She's the one that put it to that popular sound clip and uploaded it to an account unattached to either of them. Just for fun, and it was fun, at first. Now it's threatening to really go viral and there'll be no escaping identification if that happens.

So, he's standing by. Hoping it'll have its brief moment in the algorithm and then fizzle out.

It's not like it's that racy. He's showing less than he showed every night for decades onstage. But he still feels exposed. The before, the kind of dorky kid that was in Hellfire Club, that's how he feels inside. Not whoever that slicked-back hair guy is.

Gareth's phone buzzes on his desk, and he picks it up, and it's a text from Eddie:

Got something to tell me, kid?

Gareth isn't sure what he's talking about, but then a photo is attached and yep. There it is. A screenshot of his viral video.

This you?

Well, shit.

He hovers in the text box, and he knows Eddie can see that he's dithering. Before he can make a decision, his phone is ringing. He'd just as well face the music now, there'll be no avoiding it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

He's never gonna live this down. No way in hell.

"Shut up," Gareth says by way of greeting, and Eddie just laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

"Kid," he finally says, "does Di know you did this?"

"Di filmed it and uploaded it. Yeah, she knows. I was an innocent bystander."

Eddie laughs, "Just wait until Goodie finds out."

Gareth grabs a fistful of his own hair and tugs. Goodie won't ever let it go. Gareth may have to move to another continent to escape him. Eddie will make fun, but it won't be anything on what Goodie'll unleash.

"Do not tell him, Eddie. I swear to god. How'd you even find it in the first place?"

"Steve. It showed up on his for you page, and he yelped like he'd been struck by lightning."

"Do I at least look good?" Gareth asks.

"Uh, well, I had to tell Steve to either mute his phone, put on headphones or, you know, just stop watching it on a loop. One or the other. The music was driving me crazy."

Gareth laughs. He's under no illusions that Steve Harrington actually thinks he's attractive, that's absurd, but there was something mesmerizing about it. That seamless quick cut from one version of him to the other. The stats show that people are looping it, for sure. How, even to himself, it was crazy to watch how he changed how he looked. Like he might not have been the same person at all.

He was, though. Yeah, Di made him up to be extra dorky for the before, but she also did some magic on the after, both in real life and with some sort of filter on top. But both worked together to make him look pretty damn different than he does on a daily basis. He falls somewhere in between the two. Not that goofy, but not that attractive, either.

But, he can almost look like that. It's been a funhouse mirror of a weird thing to realize. 

And now Eddie knows. 

Fuck.

He finds Di in the kitchen, folding towels. 

"Eddie knows."

She looks up, meeting his eyes.

"Eddie knows what?" Di asks, folding another towel and putting it on top of the large stack on the kitchen island as she grabs the next one.

"About the tiktok," he says, and she laughs. Fucking cackles, and he smiles, because if she's that delighted there's no way he can't be, too.

"How'd he find it?" she asks.

"Steve," Gareth answers, "because the universe hates me."

"The universe wouldn't have given you that face if it hated you," she says, leaning forward and squeezing both of his cheeks between her fingers. 

He's old. A dad. Of adults. 

He was in a band, and they retired. That's how old he is. That his band stopped because they were so old they didn't want to be on the road anymore. 

Now he's a tiktok thot. 

The front door opens and slams closed, and Gareth looks up, expecting Eddie. It's not Eddie. He wishes it were Eddie.

Goodie's got his phone up, that seven-second clip of music playing on a loop.

Gareth hangs his head, "How'd you find out?"

"The kids called. Wanted to know when Uncle Gare got hot," Goodie says, "I'm traumatized. Is this a midlife crisis?"

"If it is, it's Di's," Gareth says.

"She did this?!" Goodie hollers, "She's the one that unleashed this evil onto the world?"

"Yep. Keep playing that, you're making me money." 

Goodie pauses, then slumps down onto the couch, the music abruptly cutting off, "Well. If it was Di."

"Oh, when she does it, it's fine? But if I'd done it, that'd be gross?"

"Of course. She did it, and that's funny. If you'd did it, it'd just be sad."

Gareth ignores him. Then has a thought.

"So, Uncle Gare is hot, huh?" Gareth asks, unable to resist poking Goodie just one more time.

"Stop. I beg of you. Those are my children and they both need to find Jesus for saying such things."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Based off this tiktok. It just felt very Gareth-coded to me, and, well, here we are. The fake tiktok video screen in the header is made from a picture from Gwydion's insta where he dressed up like Gareth.

[reallyromealone]

Ok ok can you PLS do a part 2 of that ‘resilient’ Eddie fic I NEED to know what happens😭 (If your requests are open) -🥮

Title: resilient

Chapter: 2

Fandom: stranger things

Pairing: Eddie Munson x male reader

Warnings: mentions of rape, angst, omegaverse, mpreg, reader goes through it, breakdowns

Notes: this took way longer than expected

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

"uncle Steve!" (Sons name) giggled as he was lifted by the older alpha "you ready to hang out today!" Steve said to his god son who nodded "yeah!" The boy said as (name) handed Steve a cute backpack "you be good alright ducky?" (Name) squished his sons face playfully and kissed his forehead "I will!"

(name) was thankful for his dad, Hopp doing anything he could to help his grandkid and used the daycare that came with being the police chief for their kid till he gets to kindergarten.

Though Hopp would have liked if his kid and grandkid moved back with him, (name) would be able to save better.

"(Name) I know you want to be independent but think about saving money, that money can be used for anything (sons name) needs or wants" hopp reasoned with his son and (name) fidgeted with the mug "you really want me back don't you?" He asked quietly, the older man nodding at his pup and (name)s eyes watered "I just want my pup to be safe!" He said and Hopp felt his heart ache at his son and set the mugs down and held him close as (name) sobbed "don't worry (cute childhood nickname) I got you"

"We moving?" (Sons name) asked curiously as he sat in his grandpa's lap, hop letting the little guy take some of his fries, (name) letting his dad buy them dinner "I need some help so you guys will be moving with me, you think you can help me squirt?"

"Yeah!"

Eddie was a mess.

His... His sweet (name)...

"Holy shit dude, are you alright?!" Dustin wanted to gag at the smell of alcohol as Eddie sat on the floor, eyes tear stained "he was raped, he was raped and I just fucking treated him like shit" Eddie said emotionless as he stared off "he was pregnant with my kid, did you know that? No fucking doubt he's mine... He's literally me"

Dustin halted as Eddie let his head fall onto his knees, holding back a sob.

"I need to go to Hawkins..."

(Name) was banned from helping move their belongings, assigned to keeping his pup company and ordering lunch "papa get chicken chunk" (sons name) whispered and (name) smiled "sure baby" he added it to the order along with pizza, wings and drinks (and garlic bread for Robin). (Sons name) was excited to have a bigger room just for him, (name)s childhood room turned into the pups bedroom with a cool (cartoon/game) bedspread from his grandpa and (name) got the guest room, all his trinkets I'm there. "Chicken chunks? Aren't you already my little chicken chunk, half pint?" Hopp teased as the pup stuck his tongue out playfully at his grandpa, the adults smiling at this interaction.

Dinner, bath and bedtime were all it took as (name) sat alone in his bed staring up at his ceiling as the sound of the clock in the kitchen ticked.

Here he was.

Back Home, in his childhood home with his dad and pup.

Sitting up be walked to a small shoe box he brought in himself, opening it to reveal trinkets, photos and letters, picking up a photo of everyone together and happy as teens.

He glared at nancys annoying face, he saw her a few times around Hawkins when she visited family but never interacted with her and she didn't interact with him, she ruined his life and he kind of hoped she would drop dead.

(Name) didn't grocery shop with his son, he didn't need the boy hearing how people talk about him being a single parent, the snide comments and rude remarks as he tried to make himself invisible under the florescents as his sneakers tapped against the older linoleum.

"Did you hear? Eddie "the freak" Munson is back"

"Yeah, he's like super rich, maybe I can get a sugar daddy"

"But spending time with the freak? Is it worth it?"

(Name) froze as he looked at the nutritional values of two cereals, throat closing up at this information he heard.

Eddie was back?

Why?

He tried not to think about the letters, the emails and messages or the letter he had gotten in the mail a few days after the last email he sent from Eddie's lawyer's, threatening legal action if he doesn't stop trying to contact Eddie with the threat of a restraining order, he took that as Eddie's answer to the concept of meeting his son.

Snapped from his thoughts and continued his shopping, trying not to let anxiety flood him.

He was probably visiting his uncle, the uncle who despised (name) with every fiber of his being-- even publically shaming him for his "whorish behavior" when he saw (name) not long after the breakup, solemnly believing that the fetus inside of (name) was the product of his "cheating" thus till the rape investigation came to light and Eddie had long been gone from town everyone thought he was a cheating slut.

Yeah (name) totally toootally moved on from that, the Alpha who treated him like one of his own turning and Screaming at him to the point of (name) nearly drooping.

Totally...

He wonders if the band came with, thinking of how many people he has to avoid... He wonders if Dustin was with him.

His little sisters friend-- well once friend, Jane burning all communication with Dustin after the young beta made his bed.

He should call her sometime... The girl currently at university with his step brother Will, will was crushed that his best friends did that to (name) and just cut ties with the whole group-- save for Steve and Robin.

"(--me)" "(--ame)!"

"(NAME!)" (name) snapped to look around, when did he get home? The Omega was putting away groceries as his dad looked concerned "I take it you heard?"

"I- yeah... I did..." (Name) said meekly as he fiddled with a container of coffee "do you... Do you think you could pick up (sons name)? I need to start dinner" their code for "I really need time to process and don't have the capacity for anything else right now" and the older alpha pat his sons back "I got you bite size" he said as he went to go get his grandkid "you know no matter what, I got your back right? You can depend on your dad"

"Thanks dad..." (Name) said with a soft, sad smile before he was alone in the house to think.

"Maybe I should go on that blind date Robin was talking about"

[is-emily-real]

In Love With The Boy

Richard couldn't care less that his son was gay. Quite the opposite, actually. He’d had his fair share of dalliances in his day, and he was glad Steve got to be open about that part of himself.

No, Richard Harrington had a problem with who his son chose to date.

“I don’t like this,” he said as he leaned against the doorway.

Helen touched up her lipstick in the bathroom mirror. “Like what?”

“This whole situation with the Munson boy.” 

She fixed him with a glare. “Now, you swore to me that you’d love our son no matter what.” Even after all this time, she couldn’t drop her drawl when she was ticked off.

“No no, it’s not that. I just don’t think Eddie’s a good idea for Steve.”

“Oh. Well, can’t help love, I suppose.”

“I’ve heard some rumors about him from Darlene.”

“Baby, Darlene’s older than Moses. You ain’t gotta listen to her.”

“I do if I don’t want my coffee poisoned. That woman’s mean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Eddie’s perfectly fine. Steve’s happier than he has been since he and Nancy broke up, and we are not going to ruin that for him.”

He put his hands up. “Alright, but I’m allowed to not like him. Father’s intuition.”

“What was it my daddy said the day we got married?”

“When he told my great-aunt I was dumber than a box of rocks or when he called me a no-good papist bastard in front of the priest?”

“Exactly. And it’s been twenty-three years since then. But,” she sighed, “if it makes you feel better, we can come home a bit early tonight, and I’ll talk to him before he leaves.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Thank you. If we hurry, we can get seats by Alan and Brenda.”

Helen flashed that beautiful smile that’d caught his heart so long ago. “No, sir. You and Alan are trouble together.”

------

It was a lazy date, but one Steve wouldn’t give up for the world. He and Eddie were curled up on the couch, a movie playing in the background that he didn’t give a damn about. Instead, he was distracted by the feeling of the man in his arms.

These moments were so different from how Eddie portrayed himself. Out in the world, he was larger than life, eccentric, untouchable. But here, under the blankets, he shared his softest smiles, undid him with the lightest touches. He told Steve stories he’s never told before, shared the little details of his experiences and questioned the meaning of the universe. He drew the same from Steve, until there was nothing in his life that he would hide from these intimate moments.

He traced the scars along Eddie’s sides. If Robin was his other half, Eddie was his compliment, fitting around his curves and edges just so. They moved with each other in intricate patterns, calming and encouraging in turn, bringing out the best and tempering the worst. He adored Eddie and felt adored.

No one had ever made him feel that way before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked.

He hummed, pressing a kiss behind his ear.

“Where do you see us in the future?”

“Wherever. As long as you’re there, I’m happy.”

“Really? Anywhere?”

“I’d follow you to the moon if you asked.”

Eddie smiled. “I followed you into hell, so it’s only fitting.”

Steve laughed. “Of course.” He took a beat to consider it and continued, “I mean, we can get a little house somewhere and have a couple pets, babysit for the neighbors, grow a little garden. I’d like that.”

“I would too.” He flipped over so their chests pressed together, faces mere inches from each other. Eddie had a mischievous grin on his lips. “I get to pick at least one fight with someone on our street.”

“What for?”

“Blood feuds are the staple of suburbia, sweetheart. How am I to be properly domesticated if I can’t have that basic right?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if it comes to blows, I’m not bailing you out.”

“What if they really deserve it? Not even then?” He pouted, giving him those puppy dog eyes he couldn’t resist.

“You’re a menace.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Yes, but I’m your menace.”

Steve pulled him close, basking in Eddie’s smile as he kissed him soft and slow. A few years ago, he wouldn’t have imagined that he’d be here with the whole world in his hands, content to let the hours pass by as they clung to one another. 

He was safe. He was home.

Eddie drew back, fondness in his eyes as he posed the next question. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

His heart soared. “You mean…”

“Marry me, as soon as we can. Even if we have to run away.” Eddie slipped off the silver skull ring he always toyed with and held it out. “I’ll save up for wedding bands, I swear.”

He almost couldn’t get the words out, the way his heart pounded. “God, yes,” he whispered. The warm metal was snug on his finger, and then, then he was being kissed like the Earth was on the verge of collapse.

They held each other tight, joy and need spinning into something desperate that kept their lips moving against each other, hands tangled in clothes as they let gravity overtake them. Steve felt it snare around his heart, hook them together in a way he’d never protest. 

He never had to let Eddie go again.

The crunch of tires in the driveway cut through his bliss. “Shit!” Eddie squeaked. “You didn’t say they’d be home early!”

“Maybe it’s just someone turning around.” The car came to a stop and cut off. “Son of a bitch.”

They sprang apart, rushing to make themselves presentable. His mother’s heels clicked up the steps.

Eddie’s eyes were as wide as saucers. He grabbed his wrist. “Hey. I love you, okay?”

One short nod. “I love you.” 

The key rattled in the lock. He took a breath, composing his face into casual coolness before the door opened. 

“Boys!” his mom called, wrapping him in a hug. 

“Hey,” he replied, “how was tonight?”

“Oh, it was fine. I’m just a bit tired today, so we figured we oughtta come on home.” She frowned. “We did miss dessert, though. I think I’ll have a slice of pie before bed. Come have some, Eddie.”

She had him by the arm before he could protest. He threw a panicked glance over his shoulder, but Richard’s grip on Steve’s arm stopped any interference. “Steve told me you’ve got family in Tennessee. What part?”

“Just outside Savannah, ma’am.”

“You don’t want to get involved in that.” Richard let him go. “Let’s talk in my office.”

Steve felt like he was going to puke. He followed his dad down the hall, carefully sitting in the armchair across the desk.

Richard fell into the desk chair with a sigh. “You and him are seeing each other, correct?”

Cold sweat dripped down his spine. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

His dad pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why couldn’t it have been a good one like Tommy?”

Steve wasn’t normally this slow on the uptake, but it took a few moments for the dots to connect in his mind. “What?”

“You understand that you being with a man is going to make things harder for you, right?” He nodded. “And him having murder accusations worsens it.”

“Obviously false accusations.”

His dad smiled wryly. “Not the way a lot of people in town see it. And your mom went over those NDAs with a fine tooth comb. They’re watertight.”

“Hold on, are you mad that I’m in love with a guy, or are you mad that the guy is Eddie?”

“The latter, and I’m not mad, just disappointed.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. “I’m not losing my only son because of who you fell in love with.” 

The confusion must have been apparent, because he continued. “Your mother and I love you, and nothing’s going to change that. We just want to make sure you’re safe and he’s treating you right.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, um, yeah. Sorry, this… this is not how I expected this to go.”

“You know how to be a gentleman, and you shouldn’t tolerate any less from him.”

“He’s been perfectly sweet. Why— Why are you not freaking out about this?”

Richard gave him a look. “Have you ever really thought about how we call Terry your uncle even though he’s just Mark’s roommate and we’re not really related?”

“Well, yeah, they’ve lived together for fifteen… Oh.” The final piece clicked into place.

“Yep. Kinda saw it coming, to be honest. You’re a bit vain for your own good.” He shrugged. “You boys are being safe, right?”

“Dad!”

“And not just with the sex stuff. You can handle yourselves in a fight?”

Steve, despite never having won any fight against a human person, nodded. 

“Good.” He stood and walked around the desk to wrap Steve in a brief hug. “You’re my son, and you’ll always be welcome here.” Just as briskly, he let go.

“Thanks,” Steve winced at the sound of his voice cracking.

Helen’s voice rang out warmly. “Good night, Eddie! Drive safe!”

He took that as his cue to step out. In the hall, he found Eddie, face pale and eyes wide as they flicked back and forth from his parents’ bedroom and the plate in his hands. 

Eddie turned to face him with a haunted look. “I’m scared of your mom.”

Richard clapped him on the back. “We all are, son. You boys don’t stay up too late.” With that he walked down the hall, shaking his head. Eddie was smarter than he looked. Maybe it’d be good for Steve to keep him around.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀𝐧 𝐎𝐥’ 𝐅𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐎𝐟 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐲

Bucky had been away for a long, long time, and your heart ached with missing him. Although, the time apart had allowed you to plan a surprise that would rock his world once he walked back through the door of your home, and into another era.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — CW!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Tooth rotting fluff, alcohol consumption, Bucky has a housewife kink

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — I got so inspired by this idea that I ended up making a playlist for it.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — HERE

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 — @allcapsbingo 𝗢𝟰 — 1940s — Masterlist — @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗜𝟱 — Time Travel AU — Masterlist

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

A dream come true was something you could only ever hope for – that one day you would have all of what your heart had yearned for. You wished the same for Bucky. 

While it may not have been possible for all of Bucky’s dreams to become a reality – that flying car was a little bit harder to achieve on your own – you, however, had a pretty good hunch that what you had in store for him as soon as he came home, would be pretty damn close to ticking a few boxes. 

Your apartment, once a dream of your own and entirely yours, had taken on a new life of a golden era. Warm tones from beige and brown, to cream and gold, filled the space in an assortment of features and nicknacks, from the upholstery to the very furniture that sat proudly in your living room and kitchen. 

The research behind such a bold move had paid off in many ways – not only were you standing amongst Bucky’s dream home of the forties, you were revelling in the feel of the swishing fabric of your dress. Simple in its design and comfortable in its proportions – thank you sewing machine, you thought happily. It embodied the very essence of a nineteen forties housewife; something Bucky had let slip as a fantasy, though, as progressive as the ages himself, he realised that was just that, a fantasy. 

One that you were going to bring to life, just for a day. 

Your peep-toe heels clicked over the tiled floor of your kitchen as you swayed your hips, a mixing bowl in hand while the radio you had found at an antique store played The Andrews Sisters. A plum pie, a delicacy that Bucky’s mother had made for his birthdays in his youth – a treat to spoil both him and Steve, much smaller but no less innocent – baked away in your oven, filling the room with the sweet scent of spiced fruit and pastry. 

Bucky had been away on a no contact mission for weeks now, and your heart ached from missing him – the loss of his smile and bright eyes, paired with the soft voice you had come to associate with comfort, with home, had been hard. Nonetheless, you kept yourself busy with the planning behind this surprise. 

The kitchen was completely transformed. Cupboards were filled to the brim with dishes that would have made his mother swoon. A wooden phonograph was placed on the coffee table in the living room as the centrepiece of your plan, perfectly in view from the kitchen. Low, quiet jazz, complementing the voices of the sisters, played from the aged horn and you hummed along.

Your dress flowed from your waist as you stepped around your kitchen, and you ignored the strange, new restriction of wearing stockings and a garter belt – you wanted to make this as authentic as possible, and if Bucky reacted well, it would make it all worth it. 

Strong, sugary smells filled the air as you opened the oven, your plum pie was baking away and turning golden brown, and you grinned as you watched the pastry bubble in the heat. “Almost there,” you sang happily, and you closed the oven. 

A trumpet solo played over the radio and you danced in place for a moment, letting the music carry you and take you back to the smell of the Barnes’ kitchen – the vision of Winnie working away with Bucky at her heels with Becca, and the sound of old cartoons on the television in the background. 

It was his home, and now, you had breathed life into it once more. 

Heavy footsteps suddenly sounded at the door, the jiggle of the doorknob followed soon after, and you gasped, hastily placing the mixing bowl down onto the counter. The door opened with a loud creak, and, “Baby! I’m home! Oh-”

Silence followed the shocked exclamation, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly. You adjusted your hair and smoothed the skirt of your dress in your nerves. 

“Baby? What the hell?” A solid thump of a bag hitting the floor followed his question, and then he walked down the entryway, where he paused again – he must have seen the phonograph. “What- Where the hell did you get one of those–? Sweetheart, where are you?”

“In here–the kitchen,” you called back. You bent your knee slightly and tilted your head, battering your lashes; the effect instantaneous. Bucky rounded the corner, absolutely flabbergasted, but once his gaze landed on you, he froze in place. His mouth fell slack in shock and his eyes widened. “Welcome home, honey,” you cooed, smiling with blood red lips.

“Doll,” he breathed, looking you up and down; taking in the fabric and length of your dress, the tight nylon stockings that were held up by a garter belt, then, your heels. “Oh, fuck.”

“Now, James, that’s no way to speak in the presence of a lady,” you teased, waggling your finger. “Behave now, or you won’t be getting any of my pie.”

“I- What?” Bucky sputtered, blinking rapidly as though to clear his mind of the hallucination. “What? Are you–are you for real? This isn’t a dream?”

“Honey, if this was a dream,” you said, sauntering forward, making sure to watch his expression. “Could I do this?” You leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek – the stain of lipstick staying on his tanned, scruffed skin. His fingers brushed over the spot with a sharp exhale. “Would you like a drink–some whiskey?”

Bucky shook his head in disbelief and moved to step closer, but you placed a hand on his chest; blood red nails, matching your lipstick, were sharp in contrast against the black of his tac suit. “You’ve had a long day, love. It’s time for your wife to take care of you–would you like some scotch, or whiskey?”

“I’m dreamin’,” he breathed, awestruck and in a state of utter disbelief. “No way this is fuckin’ real.”

You grinned. That Brooklyn twang had come back full force in his voice, he had slipped and he hadn’t even realised. “Oh, it’s real, husband. You go on and sit down, let me take care a’you.”

“Husband,” Bucky murmured. You winked and pointed at the dining table that was set to cater for two, the decorations extravagant and homely. “Husband.”

The liquor cabinet, restocked just for this occasion, tinkered and clinked as you grabbed a set of glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “I have missed you so, honey,” you sighed, pouring the amber liquid into both tumblers. “It’s not the same ‘round here without my man to keep me warm.”

Bucky choked. “Oh, doll, ‘m back now, yeah?” 

“I made you your favourite for dinner,” you continued, smiling as you placed the glass full of whiskey in front of him. “Roast and all the fixings–can’t have my man starved now, not after he works so hard.”

“You spoil me, darlin’,” he praised, a boyish smirk on his lips. “My best girl takin’ such good care a’me.”

In lieu of an answer, you turned your back and strode into the kitchen, sashying your hips as you went. The timer by the oven went off just as you rounded the corner, and you paused to take a deep breath – Bucky loved it, you had surprised him in the best way possible. 

Plating the roast went smoothly and you were sure to give Bucky double the portion – even in a fantasy the man would be starved. “Honey, would you care to lower the lights?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied, almost breathless, and the lights in the dining room dimmed. You heard him sit back down in his chair with a heavy sigh. “What the fuck,” he muttered, but you could hear the grin in his voice – he was happy. 

You rounded the corner with his plate. “Here you are.” The plate, brimming with food, seemed to light another fire inside of him, and he whistled as he looked at the steaming roast. “Just you wait, honey,” you rushed, booping him on the nose and making him blink in surprise. “A gal needs her own plate.”

Bucky chuckled as you turned tail back to the kitchen and returned with your plate. You sat opposite him and grabbed your glass of whiskey, raising it for a toast. “To having my husband home, ‘cos damn it all, I miss the oaf,” you said, a light laugh in your voice. 

“To comin’ home to my wife, the one I love with all a’me and who makes the best roast this side a’the Brooklyn bridge,” he cheered, clinking your glass with his own. 

Dinner passed without a hitch. Bucky had eaten through his plate like a starved man, as you expected, while you worked through your serving at a more sedate pace. You couldn’t help but smirk and giggle when he made noises of pure satisfaction and contentment at your cooking. 

Finally, Bucky slumped back in his seat with the biggest grin on his lips and you couldn’t help but stare. “What you lookin’ at, darlin’?”

“Just the love of my life,” you sighed happily, placing your chin in your hand. “Most handsome fella I ever did see, you know.” To your utter shock, Bucky blushed and ducked his head. “Oh, don’t you go telling me no one’s been sweet on you?”

“Stop,” he groaned. “This is jus’ so much–you’re even talkin’ like the dames back then.”

You winked. “Honey, what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t know what my husband liked? A’course I know I’m talking like those dames.” Rising from the table, you collected the plates and cutlery, much to his protest. “No, you just sit and relax. I’ll take care of this.”

The timer in the kitchen went off again and you hurried over, placing the dirty dishes in the sink to deal with later. You peered into the oven and felt another sense of pride swell in your chest – golden brown pastry was cooked to perfection with bubbles of plum juice and sugar bubbling in the gaps between the scored lattice. 

“What smells so good, darlin’?” Bucky asked from behind you, and you gasped in fright, spinning quickly enough to send the skirt of your dress whirling. “Whoa, easy, sweetheart. Jus’ me.”

“Don’t you do that again,” you scolded, narrowing your eyes at him. “Next time you’ll have your pie privileges taken away.” 

Bucky pouted and cocked his hip to lean against the counter, crossing his arms so his left arm clinked and whirred as the plates set. “You’re no fun, doll. C’mon, indulge your husband jus’ this once, yeah? I work so hard, after all.”

“You can wait for me to get the pie ready, you brute.” Bucky laughed and stepped out of your way, content to watch you organise the counter so the pie could rest and cool. “Will you fetch the icecream from the freezer, honey?”

“Sure.” The hum of the freezer was quiet and you waited, waited, then, “You made ice cream?”

“I did.” You beamed as Bucky placed the container on the counter, your homemade vanilla ice cream finally set and sweet enough to devour. “Thank you, honey.”

Bucky kissed your temple and leaned against the counter again. “You almost done with that pie, darlin’?”

You nodded once. It was a fiddly process, but finally, the pie sat on the cooling rack. “There we go,” you hummed, staring proudly at your baked plum pie. “I can’t wait for you to take a bite, my love. I followed an old recipe.”

“Now ain’t I a lucky fella,” Bucky said, that twang in his voice so strong you could have sworn you had rewound the decades. “Such an ol’ fashioned gal. C’mere.”

Flesh and metal hands found yours and pulled you into the middle of the kitchen, just as the radio played a familiar tune, “Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again; it's been a long, long time.”

You placed your hands on Bucky’s chest and smiled at him, and he placed his hands on your waist, swaying you in place as the music played a solo. The two of you danced slowly in the kitchen, in one another’s arms, happy and content to be back together. 

Bucky brought you closer and you linked your hands around his back as best you could, standing as close as possible to him. Kitty Kallen continued to sing, “Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I can't remember when; it's been a long, long time.” 

There was a low hum in your ear, and you blinked. Bucky was humming along to the song, holding you close and swaying slowly side to side – a romantic embrace of the ages. He hummed and lowly sang the words, “You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you, or just how empty they all seemed without you.”

Together, you both hummed the final lines of the song, holding each other tight. “So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, and kiss me once again; it's been a long, long time.”

You pulled back from Bucky and cupped his face in your hands. “Welcome home, baby,” you whispered, and you kissed him on the lips, pouring all your love for the man before you into it – the yearning for him to be close, and to be one with you. 

Bucky smiled into the kiss and held your hips in his hands. His grip was tight and you squeaked against his lips as he lifted and turned with you in his grip, placing you onto the kitchen counter away from the pie. “And ain’t I glad to be home, sweetheart.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫��𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[dharmasharks]

I read so many neat fics this summer thanks to the @ficreadingchallenge and managed to black out my bingo card! Not only did I finally get to stories that had been languishing in my TBR for literal years, but I discovered tons of delightful fics in genres I wouldn't have sought out otherwise.

Thank you mods for organizing this, I’m already itching to do it again. Bingo card below the cut, plus my unhinged ramblings about the 24 fics I got to read. (Mostly Stucky, but also a smattering of Sambucky, MattFoggy, a Winterhawk, a Captive Prince, and a Catwin.) 

WIP: on the shore of the wild world by verger_de_pommiers

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 19k | Civil War AU

In which a fierce little Steve shelters wounded union soldier Bucky in his remote cabin. Gorgeous prose, immersive historical detail, and tender protectiveness. I lucked into finding this as it was posting (it’s now complete!) and felt like the author had been reading my dream fic journal because it ticked so many of my very specific boxes!

No powers AU: Broken But Mending by Lissadiane

MCU | Bucky x Clint | M | 15k | Modern AU

Bucky is a recovering war vet who starts rebuilding his life one instagram post, coffee, and plant at a time with some motivation from Clint Barton’s weekly sex advice column. Spoiler: the advice isn’t so much about sex as it is about trying again, and accepting that we’re all scared and scarred and worthy of love anyway. Read this on a day where your heart needs a big hug of happiness. 

Secret relationship: Don't Ask by AnnaFugazzi

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 21k | WW2 

I’ve seen this fic recced a lot for wartime stucky but was admittedly apprehensive because it’s canon-compliant and we all know where that train gets off, ya know? This is not a lighthearted premise either: Steve and Bucky get outed and because they’re a propaganda machine, the Howlies are ordered to keep their relationship a secret, despite their intense discomfort—all told in a devastatingly effective outsider perspective from Gabe. I appreciate that the author didn’t shy away from depicting unflattering (and hard to read!) period-typical attitudes, including those Gabe and Morita would have faced in the service.

Newest fic in the tag of your choice: Cabin Fever by missbeizy

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 5k | Cabin PWP

Missbeizy never fails to deliver on beautifully written stucky smut that caters to my tastes, so when I got that notification you better believe I jumped on it stat. Even in their shorter fics, they always build up a lovely setting and tension, which makes the eventual hot, hot sexy times feel even sexier. (All their stucky fics are *chefs kiss* — Foothold and Number of Years are my favorites.)

Mission fic: (With eyes shut) it's you I'm thinking of by Yavannie

MCU | Sam x Bucky | E | 3k | Partners with Benefits

Gosh only knows I enjoy a dynamic where it’s easier for two closed-off people to communicate physically than to actually talk! About their feelings! Good stuff!

Found family: Only the Good Die Young by ZenaidaMacroura / @zenaidamacrouras1

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 23K | Shrunkyclunks

There’s banter both awkward and charming, sweet sweet crushing, and a whole cast of wonderful characters who care so much (even when it’s hard). I love the dynamics between everyone in paramedic!Bucky’s crew and the way they look out for each other.

Pets: no years of silence in the shadow of regret by Ginny_Potter / @hipsterdiva

MCU | Steve x Bucky | G | 9k | De-serumed Steve

I don’t usually have the strength for post-EG fic, but look at me now, I read three this summer! Here, Steve is irrevocably changed by everything he’s endured, and he suffers for it in the most perfectly Steve-ish way: very, very quietly. Such a satisfying balance of grief and hope as Bucky tries to bridge the distance Steve’s put between them (and his acquired pet, The Dog) in order to protect himself from the possibility of loss. 

Mythical creature AU: all this and heaven too by spinawren

Captive Prince | Laurent x Damen | M | 15k | Selkie AU

I may never get over how perfect a Lighthouse keeper / selkie AU is for these characters. There’s Laurent, whose sense of self-preservation is so integral to his sense of self that giving love feels like giving a part of himself away—because it means giving up your armor. And Damon: unwaveringly devoted, who knows that love isn’t taken, it’s a choice you both keep making. I want to live in the lush world of this fic forever. 

Oldest fic in the fandom: Genie In A Bottle bykupcake_goddess

Dead Boy Detectives | Cat King x Edwin | E | 2K | Missing Scene

Edwin was hot for that hot cat guy and they should have kissed about it. Fanfic is great.

Fake dating: The Constellation of Touch by what_alchemy

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | 19k | Pretend Relationship

What’s juicier than fake dating your best friend? Fake dating your best friend while actually going through a messy (law partnership) divorce! Featuring: wonderful Nelson family dynamics, a singular bed, and the intimacy of getting to know the person you thought you knew best all over again. I’ve read a lot of gorgeous depictions of the way Matt experiences the world, but these might be some of my favorites. 

Author’s oldest fic: the wrote and the writ by stewyonmolly

MCU | Steve x Bucky | G | 10k | everybody lives, nobody gets serumed

You know when you read the first paragraph of a fic and go, “yes ha ha ha YES,” like a sicko, but what you’re really sick over is the author’s style? That’s how I feel about this fic. I would eat the dialogue if I could! While it includes one of my favorite soft premises (everyone home safe in post-war Brooklyn, the end), Bucky doesn’t come back unscathed. But Steve–and this is a wonderful, wonderful Steve–never dances around Bucky’s amputation and Bucky never coddles him back.

Parallel universe: Except it Abide in the Vine by spitandvinegar

MCU | Steve x Bucky x Sam | M | 27k | Multiverse Shenanigans 

If you’re afraid of the summary just know that there is a place for every Steve and every Steve in its place, which is with a Bucky (and/or a Sam)!!! And by golly are there a lot of Buckys to love in this one, including a scrappy 616!bucky with the most pockets and everyone’s favorite cannibal, Sweetpea. There are plenty of melty exchanges (and breathtaking art!) but my favorite multiverse moments are always when a WS!bucky gets to see a small Steve again. I could read it a million times and it would never be enough. 

Free space: When I Put Away Childish Things by hansbekhart

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 14k | Prewar

One of the most vivid and immersive prewar settings I’ve had the pleasure of reading, which is saying something, because I have read a [redacted] quantity of prewar stucky. The narrative structure is so powerful and effective, even if you already know what we’re building toward. The author also has my new favorite take on Bucky’s enlistment status, which felt nicely refreshing (and this is a 10 year old fic!) given the otherwise ubiquitous fanon.

Space AU: We'll meet again in Brooklyn by Gfawkes / @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 33k | Scifi AU

Amazing dystopian premise and world building featuring the bravest small nurse Steve and a devoted and self-sacrificing soldier Bucky. They’re both so loyal to each other but also to their separate friends and teammates.

Werewolf AU: you touch me within and so i (know i could be human once again) by notcaycepollard

MCU | Sam x Bucky | E | 12k | werewolf!bucky

In this canon-adjacent-verse, Bucky is freed from Hydra’s clutches, but they turned him into a (very soft and sweet) werewolf who just needs to be cuddled and petted and maybe bossed around a little bit. Sam is understandably beside himself…and also up to the task. 

Vampire AU: the blood is the life by obsessivereader

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 3K | vampire!bucky

When Bucky keeps sneaking off to bite a lot of strange young men, Steve’s biggest concern is, “Why not me????” I love the trope that the super soldier healing factor makes them great vampire companions.

Short fic: give up on trying to save us by returnsandreturns

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | <1000 | Hate Sex

They’re rival lawyers, they banter, they are not going to have sex with each other again except that oh no, yes they are! What’s not to love!?

Slow burn: Steve Rogers, PA by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

MCU | Steve x Bucky | T | WIP | Hunkyclinks

Hopefully you all are reading this one already because it’s a freakin delight all around. The premise is incredible and very funny, but there is also action and wound tending and my favorite thing ever, which is Steve and Bucky always managing to know each other better than anyone.

Holiday fic: Teshuva by JHSC

MCU | Steve x Bucky | T | 6K | Recovering Bucky

I could not find it in me to read a holiday (lbr: Christmas) fic over the summer, but ‘tis the season for atonement, y’all! That’s right, Yom Kippur is upon us, and this was a really lovely read on Bucky coming to terms with his memories, his relationship to his mother, and what it means to seek forgiveness. 

Medieval AU: The Tale of the Silver-Armed Knight by BeaArthurPendragon

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 5K | medieval AU

I had never come across a medieval fic in my journeys before, so this was a fun scavenger hunt. I managed to stumble my way into some sexy, sexy treasure by way of smithy!Steve measuring knight!Bucky for a special suit of armor. Amazing historical detail including—and I am very serious—D/S dynamics that felt so period appropriate. 

Video edit: Evidence by @bromcommie / vivelarevolution

MCU | Bucky Barnes

Why are you reading this rec list (or whatever this is) when you could be watching and reblogging this fucking edit! Are you watching it yet? Are you??? OP’s perfectly matched dialogue, parallels, and transitions will destroy you and you WILL thank them for it. (Thank you, Max.) The build up from the quiet of Bucky’s therapy session to the blurred violence between Bucky, the Soldier, and everyone he’s been in between is beautifully gutting.

Inspired by another fanwork: [Podfic] If They Haven't Learned Your Name by quietnight

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | Post-CATWS

I’m far from the first to praise quietnight’s incredible voicework and podfic production, but holy heck, I’ll do it anyway. I have a hard time getting into audiobooks, and have never had a problem feeling fully immersed in their works. Silentwalrus’s story deserves all the praise it gets, too. A lovely balance of humor and heart, action and character work. 

Fluff: Invisible Ink by ctimene

Daredevil | Matt x Foggy | E | 16K | Tattoo Parlor AU

Hard to write a rec that isn’t just keysmashing and squealing sounds but OKAY FINE I’ll try. This ‘verse manages to parallel canon in ways that are both delightful and heart twisting, with all of Foggy’s heart, kindness, and snark translated to tattooing instead of lawyering. And they were still avocados! And also: sexy. Really, extremely sexy.

Time travel: Some legends are told by chaosmanor, rufferto

MCU | Steve x Bucky | E | 26K | Neolithic Wanderings 

In which Steve will go to any length to find Bucky, including 4 thousand years into the past (while wearing a very short tunic). I absolutely devoured this and was beside myself with delight over its uniqueness and all around nerdery—so many amazing and specific historical details.

Domestic: t'aimer sur les bords du lac by burning_brighter / @burnin-brighter

MCU | Steve x Bucky | M | 17k | Post-EG

Lovely and soft wish fulfillment: put those boys in a cabin until they can get the rest they deserve…and also talk about their feelings! I loved how careful they were with each other until they slowly found their footing again.