#escort!steve

[piratefishmama]

For One Night Only | Part 2

Eddie remembered a lot about Steve Harrington, so to get this fresh new perspective on him… it was wild. He remembered a jock, the king of Hawkins High, the king of Hawkins in general, women wanted him, men wanted to be him, or in some cases men also wanted him. Rich, popular, kind of a jackass at times but never mean enough to warrant dislike. Would have never associated with Eddie’s kind, but yet there he was, comfortable on Eddie’s hotel bed, one long leg crossed over the other as they moved on from pleasantries to business.

Steve wasn’t there as a social call, no matter how fun it might have been to catch up. He had a job to do, and Steve was good at his job.

“Alright, considering our history, or what little of it we have, it might be a good idea to use it if asked on the carpet how we met, I can spin a story about us being secret high school sweethearts who recently reconnected as friends if you want, really big you up to the paps.”

“As lovely as that idea is since high school me would have been thrilled to have been your secret sweetheart” Steve grinned “shut up, I was a nerd with a crush leave me alone” the snigger that followed only made Eddie smile, it wasn’t a hurtful laugh, and Steve’s smile was just to radiant to be mad at. “I said shut up!”

“Shutting up” the smile stayed though as he mimed zipping his lips. Adorable bastard.

“Anyway, as lovely as that idea is, too many people knew us in high school, if the press got word that it was a lie from one of our mutual past acquaintances, eh it’s a hornets nest I don’t wanna poke. Too many what ifs, but we could say that we went to school together, it’s true, we could say that we reconnected recently and… y’know, hit it off…”

“We are hitting it off.” Steve mused, tapping his finger to his chin in thought. “I like it, easy, close to the truth, very little room for mistakes. So I’m to be your date, not just a friend joining you for the evening?” That was what the invite had requested but… Steve was clearly amusing himself by making Eddie squirm a little.

“Mmmhm, yep. Steve Harrington, my date, Can time travel just exist already?”

“Haha, why?”

“Teenage me could do with a visit right this second to tell him Steve Harrington is gonna be our date someday.”

Steve covered his mouth as he laughed so sweetly, the picture of perfection as always. His nose scrunching just a little as he laughed. “Were you always this cute, Eddie?”

“Mmhm, once upon a time, I was even cuter, I swear.”

“I’ll believe you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“I know, thousands wouldn’t, but I’ve always been a sucker for cute brunettes with big ol Bambi eyes, can't help but believe everything they say.” Eddie hadn’t felt his cheeks warm in years and yet there he was, hiding behind his hair, his complexion turning as red as a fire hydrant, stupid pale skin.

Speaking of brunettes, and incredibly convenient subject changes for the safety of his own composure. “Wait, YOU’RE who Nancy knows!”

“You know Nance?”

“She’s our manager now, man, gets us all the best shit! I met her in a bar after she totally blew off the journalism thing, something about sexist work environments and bosses who wouldn’t know a real story if it slapped them directly in the face. They kept giving her fluff pieces.” Nancy Wheeler, a fluff writer, the audacity of anyone who ever made that assumption. “Now she’s the most badass manager in metal history. I swear to god she’s made many a producer pale in fear at the very mention of her name.” She read all the fine print, with a goddamn magnifying glass. She’d made a grown men cry multiple times, it was badass. “She’s the coolest.”

Steve’s smile was so fond Eddie could have swooned just having it aimed at him, even if the fondness wasn’t for him, it was beautiful enough for it to be swooned over anyway. “She is, cool. I’m glad she found her people.” Even if they no doubt made a funny looking group, little not so primp and proper Nancy Wheeler among a bunch of metalheads. It fitted, in a strange kind of way, she’d always wrangled Mike easy enough.

“How did you uhm… y’know… it’s probably none of my business and I keep changing subjects so stop me if I keep jumping around I’m still a little flabbergast from seeing you at my door but uh… how’d you—y’know… what’s this uh… the whole thing like?” Steve tilted his head like a confused puppy and Eddie just kind of wanted to melt into the floor. “The escort thing.” He added on, for clarification.

“Oh, uhm. Chrissy? Chrissy Cunningham, cheer captain of ’86?”

“I know her, she and Gareth have this—”

“Thing! Yes, she talks about him regularly with Robin.” Robin? He doesn’t think to ask, Steve and Robin, Robin… who would be associated with Steve a Robin whom Steve would just mention as if expecting him to know. He only knew one Robin from those days, and he didn’t even really know her.

Just kind of… existed near her in band for a few months until his style of music pissed the teacher off enough to kick him out. Couldn’t be that Robin, right? Not important.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that and expect me to keep it a secret that’s brutal of you.”

“God, tell him, please, I didn't even know who he was but she keeps talking about him and waiting for him to ask her out. Eventually she’s just going to pin him against something and kiss him so—”

“Tell her to do that but god wait until I have a camera please!” Eddie Munson was not against begging, his grin wide and eyes shimmering with gleeful mischief. “It’s reciprocated, totally and completely one hundred percent reciprocated, he is so gone on that girl, it’s adorable.”

“I will let her know, at least now I know he's one of yours and a good guy." Gareth was the best guy in Eddie's opinion, like a brother to him, not that the others werent too, but... Gareth had known he was gay since Hawkins High. Just him and Uncle Wayne in the know, and he'd always been there to support him, Gareth was good. "Anyway… we ran into each other in this café that I’d gotten a part time gig at in Indy, she looked good, healthy…” he didn’t need to say that Chrissy had had a problem. But she had, and that problem began with ‘M’ and ended with ‘other,’ hers to be specific. “She was already doing it, loving it, I was dubious, asked if she was okay, if she needed help, but no she was loving it, thriving actually, and well… I like making people feel good, both emotionally and physically” oof that was a tone that went straight to a place it shouldn’t do “why do it for free, y’know? She got me set up and the rest is history.” He enjoyed himself.

He loved his job, his love language had always been acts of service, he liked making people feel good, liked making them feel wanted, feel loved, feel seen and heard. Eddie couldn’t help himself “ever do anything… y’know…?” He really wished he could help himself sometimes.

“Sex related?” The red in his cheeks only deepened, Steve didn’t seem offended, or upset, in fact his smile only warmed, eyes crinkling at the corners, gods above and below he was beautiful, how did anyone survive after a night with him, having to let him go? “Sure, like I said, if I’m good at something, why do it for free?”

“Even with…” Eddie motioned to himself

“You?”

“N-No! No, Men—wait sorry—that’s—that’s none of my business” he turned away to move, to pace, so much energy in his body suddenly there with nowhere to go “none of this is any of my business, I don’t usually ask these kinds of—I mean it’s really wrong of me to even ask this sort of—" Steve was just there so fast, hands on Eddie’s biceps, holding him in place, Eddie hoped he couldn’t feel him almost vibrating out of his skin.

“It’s okay, Bambi” Eddie’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s, his wide and unblinking, like a deer in headlights in the face of Steve’s so warm and understanding, Bambi really did suit him, Steve thought, his left hand lifting to rest on Eddie’s cheek as if to ground him, it worked. God it worked. “Ask all the questions you like, but maybe save some for later, we don’t have long before we have to go.”

“…Later you’ll be leaving though...” he didn’t want Steve to leave. He didn’t want his next time seeing Steve to be part of a lottery, would he come next time? Would someone else who Eddie didn’t recognise appear in his place?

“We’re hitting it off, remember? I’m sure there’s going to be an afterparty we can both be caught sneaking away from to hang out, right?” Eddie kind of felt like he was flying. He felt like a teenager again, a nerdy, virginial teenager. He refused to acknowledge that little goblin voice telling him that Steve was actually probably just doing his goddamn job, he was on the clock dammit. He just wanted to have this. “You can ask me questions then, I promise I’ll stay.” He didn’t have anywhere else he needed to be.

“…Yeah… if that’s okay with you.”

“More than. Now how about you introduce me to the rest of Corroded Coffin, we all need to be on the same page before we get there.” Work now, catch up later. “Sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can ditch the after party to hang out.” Eddie giggled, an honest to gods little giggle. He really did feel like a teenager again, only Steve was looking at him. Holding him. Grounding him. Steve Harrington was seeing him.

Teenager Eddie would have shit a brick.

“Alright, I’m warning you though, I think you let Tommy H. stuff Jeff into a locker once so don’t expect a warm welcome.” Steve grimaced a little but nodded. He was a different person now, but that wouldn’t erase the mistakes he’d made as a stupid teenager. Plenty of bridges to rebuild and apologies to give. Jeff wouldn’t be the first or the last.

“Bring it on, Bambi.” Eddie could only hide behind his hair again, bashful and flustered.

Part 4

[steddiehasmywholeheart]

Just thinking about an no-Upside Down au. Teacher!Steve, escort!eddie, SFW, both mid-twenties. Never met Eddie.

Steve has trauma from the way his parents treated him, and nightmares from the mall fire he was in. He usually manages this by hanging out with Robin and having sleepovers once or twice every week as long as she's single, or her coming over for evenings and keeping him safe for a few hours while he naps. It's not the best sleep in the world, but it gets him by.

But then one day, he realises she's going on holiday. For 2 weeks. And he has no idea how he's going to sleep. He can't won't take any medication because of a bad experience, and nothing but someone he trusts being there ever helps him get a good night's sleep. Even if he tried to get a casual fuck over the weekend, the chances are he'll have a nightmare and scare the shit out of them. That's happened one too many times and he refuses to do that again.

He's watching TV one night when the characters on screen start talking about escorts, and suddenly, the idea doesn't seem too crazy. Fast forward a few days, and after a lot of research, he finds himself making the call. He knows it's a lot of money, especially on his salary, but if it helps, it helps, and he knows he hates going a week without some decent sleep, let alone 2. He's bound to get a migraine, and he can't afford to miss work for that.

So, he books in with a male escort, voice shaking and hands sweating, but determined all the same. It's his only hope of surviving.

The week Robin leaves is exactly as hard as he expects it to be, and by Friday he's almost too tired to be nervous. But when he gets home from work and showers, some jitters return, getting much stronger when there's a knock at his door, 7pm sharp.

The guy standing on the other side of the door is utterly gorgeous. Tattoos, leather jacket, messy long black hair, and just a hint of a self-confident swagger that Steve is sure he's muting in an attempt to be professional. Steve just stands there, trying not to let his jaw hit the floor or his eyes pop out of his head. The guy's - Eddie's - smile, isn't helping.

Initially, Eddie flirts a little, trying to put Steve at ease. And it should work. But for some reason, it doesn't. Maybe it's because this is a guy that Steve would fuck, but tonight, he just needs to sleep, and somehow that feels even more vulnerable. But Eddie quickly picks up on it and backs off, talking to him in a soothing tone, and Steve quickly feels himself unspooling, settling into having Eddie in his space.

The rest of the night passes easily. They eat takeout, chill on the sofa, chat, and before Steve knows it, it's 10pm and Steve's eyes are burning. Eddie just lets the conversation settle, smiling gently and letting Steve make the first move. Letting Steve know he's still in control.

Its nerve wracking to go through his evening routine with a stranger he's paying to be there (though for what he still hasn't decided. He'd told the agency cuddling, but that seemed such a big ask right now), waiting in his bedroom for him, but Eddie makes that easier once again. When Steve emerges from the bathroom, he's met with his metal attire neatly folded on a chair, wild hair now tied up in a messy bun, and the man himself in sausage dog covered pjs. He can't help but laugh, Eddie's triumphant grin sending flutters through him.

They settle into bed, and Eddie does ask what Steve wants, but the words don't come. So, Eddie just holds his arms out, and with Steve's consent, gently guides him into his chest. His large, warm, safe chest.

For the briefest moment, Steve remains tense, breath not coming as easily as he'd like. But then he's melting, fingers curling into Eddie's soft pj top, a sound dangerously close to a whimper threatening to crawl up his throat. And Eddie just holds him tighter (though not too tight), murmuring softly in his ear, his voice low and ever so slightly raspy, sending shivers down his spine.

Steve doesn't want it to end. It's perfect. With Robin gone, he hasn't been touched intentionally in a week, and even before that, it's more likely that they're sitting on each other's laps or something. He can't remember the last time he was just held.

"Easy, big boy, I've got you," Eddie murmurs as Steve clutches onto Eddie's shirt even more tightly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He knows he's delusional from the lack of sleep, because right before he drifts off, he thinks he can hear real concern and care in Eddie's voice.

[ickypuppi3]

can’t stop won’t stop thinking about late thirties harringrove and somehow a billy and max interaction happened

[elixirfromthestars]

Boulevard Confessions

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Reader 

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

Word Count: 3.6k

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

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

for ambiance 🎶

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you should have stayed home. 

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

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

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

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

Your stomach contents were threatening to come up again. 

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

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

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

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

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

It was something you and Bucky especially bonded over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where was Darla taking him?

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

Your heart dropped to your stomach when reality sank in. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew you needed to make a quick getaway. 

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

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

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

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

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

There was something dark bubbling an envious brew within you. 

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

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

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

“ What was what about?” You feigned innocence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ That’s impossible.”

“ How so? I just won’t go.”

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

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

“ You don’t mean that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ We’ve already had our first kiss.” 

“ Doll we—oh, we have…” 

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

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

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

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

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

You. Every bit of you.

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

Especially if it goes farther than a kiss.

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

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[super-cosmic-library]

I need more sex worker!Steve fics. I don’t care if he’s a porn star, only fans streamer, stripper, prostitute, alpha/omega companion, escort, etc. just make him a working boy. Maybe he got into it because he needed the money, but he stays in it because he genuinely enjoys it. It gives him confidence in his body and it’s something he’s good at, which he’d never thought he’d find a job like that because everyone around him (his parents, the kids, his exes, even Robin at times) always made comments about him being just a pretty face and not being smart enough. He finds fulfillment and financial freedom from his parents in his job.

Enter Eddie, who starts out as a client of Steve’s, but doesn’t treat him like the rest of his clients do. Who acts like he’s got a great brain, not just a great body. Who wants to chat with him and actually listens to his thoughts and feelings and makes them feel valid and worthy of voicing. Who’s pretty much gone for Steve the moment he opens his mouth as says something snarky to him.

Overtime, Eddie becomes one of Steve’s favorite regulars, and he knows it’s not a good idea to develop feelings for a client, but each time he sees him, his feelings get harder to deny. So, Steve wants to drop him as a client, but Eddie (who in this au is a rockstar) is his best paying client, and Steve really can’t afford to let him go. So, Steve just tries to be a professional and keep his feelings in check to the best of his ability.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been trying to romance Steve. Sure, he knows that he pays for Steve’s affections, but he is so far gone enough to believe that what he and Steve have is different (and he’s right). He brings Steve gifts, writes him love letters, takes him on dates, and sometimes when they’re out together, they don’t even have sex. Eddie wants to prove to Steve that he cares about him for more that just his body.

And when they finally do get together, Eddie doesn’t want Steve to quit his job (which Steve had previously feared any partner he took would want him to) because he knows how much it makes him happy. Anyway, they live happily ever after.

[piratefishmama]

Beware The Thorns | Part 1

(a NSFW multi-part ficlet)

“Who was that Eds?”

“Mind your business, shithead” Eddie pocketed his phone, he recognised the number the moment it flashed up on his work phone, a device he always had on him regardless of where he was, he could be at a FUNERAL, and he’d have that phone on him.

In this instance however, it was merely a family dinner. Well… family and the Henderson’s, so yeah. Family. He’d excused himself upstairs and answered as soon as he was out of earshot.

Evidently, he’d been followed.

“I heard you say you loved them… are you seeing someone?” Eddie tried really hard to not be insulted by his tone, a weird mixture of disturbed amazement, with just a dash of disbelief for flavour. Was it that much of a stretch to see him dating someone?

Was it that unbelievable to the person he’d practically grown up with, that he could find someone who’d like him?

Maybe it was. Didn’t mean he had to like it; his job had kept him away from actually… dating anyone.

“Maybe I am, again, mind your damn business.” Of course they didn’t know what he was, what he did to earn his money, he’d spun some lie years ago about an online business because ‘rockstar’ had to… actually have evidence, he had an actual legitimate website to keep the lie going, nothing ever really went through it, but… it worked to keep the questions at bay.

Nobody asked, and he didn’t tell, he was a grown ass adult, he didn’t NEED to tell anyone.

Dustin sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat, good… he’d have never gotten anything out of him anyway “fine, fine don’t tell me… don’t tell meee, your only brother.”

“We’re not even relat—”

“The best man at your future wedding.”

“Since when was I getting marri—”

“The Wan Kenobi to your Obi.”

“What the—”

“I am happy for you though, the both of you! I hope you’ll bring him home someday, I’m sure we’d all like to meet him” Eddie’s eyes widened… he’d never… fuck … he’d never said anyth— “What, you think you’re all crafty? C’mon Eddie, you can’t even sit normally.”

“The fuck has that got to do with anything?!”

“Y’know… gay people… they can’t sit properly… in chairs…? Is that wrong?” at least that proved that Dustin could be uncertain about some things.

“You’ve been on that stupid app again, haven’t you?” He had the decency to look guilty at the very least. “The fuck have I told you?”

“It’s dumb and addictive and I should stop, BUT IT’S HELPING ME LEARN!”

“It’s filling your head with bullshit! Fine, I’m gay, what the fuck ever. Go back downstairs for the love of all that is holy, and just give me a minute to process that you’ve been theorising my sexuality based on how I sit, and don’t you DARE tell anyone.”

“Oh, c’mon Eddie! You’re old enough to come out now, you have your own place, your own business! Plus, we all love you, no judgement here, this is a judgy free zone.”

“I will rip out your larynx and shove it up your ass if you even THINK of telling them.”

“But… how will you know if i’m thi—okay I won’t say anything, i wouldn't say anything. Not my place.” Eddie had levelled him with a look, a single, rage squint look, a look which promised imminent pain if he did not take his nosy ass and remove it from his presence, and he’d accepted that look for what it was. A promise.

Not just a threat.

“I’m gonna have to go early, my… my boyfriend, will be home tonight, the ridiculous idiot never has food in so I’m gonna go sort that out.”

“You’re buying his food for him? Eddie… that’s… he’s not just using you for money is he cause that’s really bad.”

“No dumbass, he’ll give it me back.”

“Right away?”

“YES, right away.”

“Not just promises he doesn’t intend to keep?”

“Dustin, I will brutally murder each and every one of your characters in graphic detail within five minutes of every campaign for the next year if you do not—”

“Okay!” Hands up in surrender, Dustin took a step backwards, a threat to his precious characters was no laughing matter, even if Eddie would struggle to make that kind of threat happen, the risk was there! He still had to ask “is… is he good though?” Of course, Eddie could threaten all he liked.

Dustin was his little brother, or as good as! It was his job to be insufferable.

The question however, made him think, he could pick any of them, any one of his clients to mould this imaginary boyfriend from, maybe mix and match, bring him to life from attributes of all of them, that’d be fine right? Nobody but Dustin really knew he was dating so… he wouldn’t be introducing them to him.

Perfectly coiffed brown hair… a warm smile… big, strong hands, a constellation of pretty moles dotted in places Eddie knew far too well. There was no amalgamation of faces, no mixture of personalities to make the perfect one, just a soft smile, warm hands, broad shoulders, muscle, and perfectly soft, thick brown hair… his favourite.

“Yeah… he’s… he’s great, Dustin… you’d like him” big strong softie he was, and it was so easy falling into the role of his boyfriend too, he’d been paying for that package for what felt like forever, he felt like he knew the man inside and out, like the back of his own hand.

He was the only one to have paid for that package continuously for over more than a few months, even Hagan only paid for it every now and then, never continuously. He thought Steve would have gotten tired of him by now but… It’d been two years.

Some people expected MARRIAGE after two years in a relationship.

Steve Harrington seemed to want him more and more by the day and the surprising thing, was that the thought didn’t invoke the same level of panic that he were SURE it would if anyone else were to have those wants, those needs of him.

He felt… comfortable with Steve, safe with him. Like he could show hints of himself, the real himself without the fear of losing him, of putting him off.

“You look so dopey smiling like that, y’know? You must really like him, huh?” He’d been smiling? Fuck… “Well… anyone who can make you smile like that just thinking about him is alright by me, I’ll cover for you, you can go sort his food out if you want.”

This was fine… totally completely fine. Would be better if Dustin could actually keep his mouth shut but alas. Dustin had a history of foot in mouthisms that'd gotten them into trouble after trouble after trouble years on the trot.

Eddie probably shouldn't have continued to tell him stuff, but that was his little brother so. He had to.

“Uh… yeah… yeah I like him. Thanks, I’ll… grab my coat, just tell em I feel sick or somethin so I’m goin home” he didn’t say goodbye, Dustin probably did that for him, just grabbed his coat and snuck out like he used to do as a teenager when he simply couldn’t be bothered dealing with his fathers drunk ranting about queers being put in cages.

He did have to come to one very unfortunate conclusion after that conversation though. After seeing Steve instead of a mishmash of faces, after being unable to put a random face to the title and spin it as truth.

Feelings were there. Real feelings. The mushy shit. The wants for more that he couldn’t have. The Pretty Woman syndrome without the corny and frankly rushed happy ending.

It couldn’t continue anymore, what he had with Steve had to end. Feelings… real feelings… he couldn’t have real feelings for his clients. It put his whole career on the line, his way of life gone in an instant all because his heart had to go all gooey for someone who probably didn’t even give a real fuck about him.

This was fine.

After the evening was done… he’d end it, terminate their contract. It was for the best. Steve deserved better than him anyway.

Part 3

[dodger-chan]

AO3 is down? Okay, well here's about 900 words of a story I don't think I'll ever finish

Edit: now on AO3

The Alibi

Clearing Eddie Munson’s name went against every instinct Jim had honed in his years as a cop. Munson was bad news. A drug dealer. A born criminal, in and out of Hawkins Police custody since he was a kid.

Admittedly, no small number of those early detentions were more about trying to track down his father than anything Munson had done himself. He’d been an uncooperative shit, though; always insisting he knew nothing while sporting bruises fresh enough to prove his old man hadn’t been gone very long.

If Jim hadn’t known for a fact the kid was completely innocent of the three murder charges. If he hadn’t been told by Henderson, both Sinclair kids, the good Wheeler, and Harrington and his girlfriend that Munson had been instrumental in beating back the monsters beneath Hawkins. If Jane hadn’t looked at him with loving expectation, hadn’t been so sure her old man would make fairness and justice align, well, Jim wasn’t sure what he would have done. It wouldn’t have been this.

This being escorting the Harrington kid to the hospital to sneakily convey the plan to Munson, and then ruin his life.

Ruin Harrington’s life, that is. It might save Munson’s. 

----------

Jim recognized Wayne Munson from all the times he’d come down to the station to claim his nephew. Wayne looked older than Jim remembered him. Eddie, pale with blood loss and handcuffed to the bed, looked younger. He didn’t know the officer standing guard in Munson’s room; a new hire while he’d been in Russia.

“It’s family only,” the officer instructed. Jim frowned at him.

“I'm not here to visit.” Jim wasn’t the chief anymore, but he still knew how to talk so the lower ranks would listen. “I’ve found Munson’s alibi.”

He shoved Harrington forward. The kid reached a hand out towards Munson, looked at the guard and stopped. He stiffened his shoulders and placed his hand on top of Munson’s. Not a bad performance.

“I thought the cops would ask me about our last date on Friday. But they didn’t come around.” Harrington kept his eyes down, but spoke to Munson. “Why didn’t you tell them? Did you think I’d lie about being with you?”

“Maybe? The whole ‘no one can know’ thing seems pretty important to you.” Between the handcuffs and the IV drip, Munson couldn’t really shrug. “You still take girls out. You took a girl to the game that night, even.”

Harrington had said Munson would figure out the plan quickly, that they wouldn’t need to feed him very much information. Jim hadn’t expected he’d not only get the gist of the plan but be able to fish for useful information as well. He was impressed.

“And took her home right after so I could meet you.” Harrington raked a hand through his hair. “You know the girls are just for show. So no one suspects. I don’t… I don’t sleep with them anymore.”

“That’s enough.” The officer looked between the two young men, then at Jim. He obviously wanted to take Harrington out of the room and interrogate him properly, but wasn’t sure he could leave his murder suspect. 

“Munson’s not going anywhere,” Jim pointed out. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you call Chief Powell.”

The officer nodded in deference to Jim’s air of authority. He left, taking Harrington with him to keep the boys from discussing their stories any more.

It clearly hadn’t occurred to him that Jim might help them get their stories straight. Ideally, he’d speak to Munson alone, but presumably the elder Munson cared more about keeping his nephew out of jail than the truth.

“Right, so after your club meeting-” Jim started. Munson interrupted him.

“I drove to Steve’s place. I parked my van in the woods so none of his neighbors would see it. Like I always do.” Munson rolled his eyes. “I got there first; let myself in the back. Steve got there maybe five minutes after me. We had a fight, about Steve taking girls out. Again. I will spare you and Wayne exactly where that led, though I expect the police will request all the details, perverts that they are.”

“You got all that from ‘date last Friday?’” Jim asked. It was almost exactly the story Steve had told him. Not the same words, not the same point of view, but the same events. 

“No, I got it from ‘last date, on Friday,’” Munson corrected. Jim wasn’t sure why the difference mattered. “So our last date, but like it happened on the Friday before Spring Break.”

Jim frowned, confused. Wasn’t Harrington pretending to be dating Munson? He looked over at Wayne, who seemed as lost as he was.

“I thought you broke up with that boy?” Wayne was apparently lost in a very different place than Jim was.

“I did, though, under the circumstances, I may omit that detail. Unless Steve is planning to say I dumped him before I left that morning?”

“He isn’t.” Harrington had asked if the alibi would sound more believable coming from a current or ex-boyfriend. Jim had thought a break-up the day of the murder sounded too convenient. Not that either would have been credible enough to clear Munson’s name if the Feds weren’t around to put their thumb on the scale. Harrington’s story was more to get them to place it on the side of Munson being released rather than blackmailed into a plea agreement.

“Then I guess he and I are officially back together.

[ikarakie]

tw / roofies

after corroded coffin goes big, sometime in the mid 90s, they go on tour. mostly in smaller venues and little dive bars, but eddie fucking loves it. drags robin and steve along with him as his 'managers' (see: freeloaders) mainly because he wanted his boyfriend with him and knew he couldn't keep birdie away from him for that prolonged period of time. it would be cruel.

mid-way through the tour, they perform in a bar. eddie likes to mill around after, chat to fans, get a drink, sign things, peacock a little. this time is no different. until robin comes up to him, noticeably alone. he asks where steve is at the same time she does. not fucking good.

they both scour the bar, and eddie's about two seconds away from ripping his hair out when robin grabs his arm and points to a booth in the corner. it's filled with girls, all in battle vests and dark eye makeup, and nestled between two of them on one side is steve. he's slumped over, head rested on the table, pillowed by one of the girl's hoodies. there's an empty glass beside another half empty one, both seemingly water. he rushes over.

they're a bit surprised to see him. when he asks after steve, they regard him with fucking suspicion. he has to show them the polaroid he carries around with him to make them soften. they explain they'd spotted him looking a bit dazed, and called him over. he'd told them he thought someone, somewhere, had slipped something in his drink and he couldn't find his friend, and so they'd squished him between them to keep him safe. eddie feels his heart burst, especially seeing the little corroded coffin pins on all their jackets and bags.

he gently shakes steve awake, presses a kiss to his temple and hands him off to robin, who carefully escorts him to the back exit where their van is parked. thanks the girls, profusely. they try to wave him off but he refuses to leave until he has all their names, has signed at least one thing for each of them and taken a photo with them on their camera.

years and years and years down the line, he still mentions them in interviews. by name. gushes about how they're the original corroded coffin fans, how dearly he loves them, and how if anyone is allowed to gatekeep in his fandom, it's them. every time he sees them at barrier for a concert he fucking lights up and calls them out. they're hailed by fans as minor celebrities, even. only they, steve (who calls them each every holiday and has actually become fucking friends with them) and robin know why they're so close.

[nburkhardt]

Was at Disneyland today and had a thought:

Disney cast member Steve being the one to escort Corroded Coffin & family around the parks. He’s trying very hard to stay professional and not give into Eddie Munson’s flirting.

He manages to make it the whole day with it, even if he really wants to. Steve isn’t ashamed to admit that he finds Eddie hot (he especially loves the pet names that fly out of the man’s mouth “hello honey pie!”)

The real problem is the next day, because of course the band has a multiple day pass. Normally Steve switches between jobs/areas, he was supposed to be working with Robin at Haunted Mansion, even already wearing the uniform when he gets told that he was requested by the band (more importantly: Eddie requested him)

Luckily he has another uniform with him and changes, apologies to Robin about her having to work with Keith again before heading to meet up with the band again.

But at the meet up point, he finds only Eddie there. With a lousy excuse for the other guys not being there. (they didn’t want to spend another day watching Eddie flirt, they went to Knott’s Berry Farm instead)

Steve is still professional though, because he doesn’t want to lose his job (Robin would kill him, especially since she keeps getting paired with Keith when Steve’s somewhere else) So, instead of out right flirting, he does give change up the normal gimmick/speech and at the end of the day, pretends not to see Eddie slip his number to him.

(It comes out months later on twitter. Fans go wild and try finding Steve at the parks not realizing he and Robin no longer work there. The two of them being folded into Corroded Coffin’s PR team instead.)

~

… please don’t ask me what cast members do when they escort people around. I’ve never done that. I just saw a few groups of people with one and thought “that would be a fun fic idea” and well, I’m heading home now and decided to write this out hahaha. If anyone wants they can use this!

Taglist under the cut! (Also in the replies)

@spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @zerokrox-blog @bookworm0690 @flustratedcas @carlprocastinator1000 @marvelmwah @solliesolesito @navnae @i-less-than-three-you @grimmfitzz @strangersteddierthings

[sleepynovalunosis]

steve harrington in the bridgerton era. duke, outlived by his parents. sneering in any direction of social events, until he meets you. he shares a dance with you, feeling light and airy inside, for the first time in a long time. he can't help the way his jaw clenches as he watches you share dances with other suitors, hastily downing whatever drink he has in his hand at the time. it becomes routine, each social gathering more intimate than the last. he picks your brain about each of your interests, your hobbies, all while his fingers are woven between yours, leading you on the dance floor.

you can't withstand his charm, succumbing to his more than friendly comments. you can't help the way that you touch yourself at night, exploring your body for the first time, strictly due to thoughts of him.

not seeing him until each social gathering becomes unbearable, and the two of you seem to agree on that. so, the next time you see him, you rush off to the garden. it's entirely risky, but you don't care; and neither does he. he swears to protect you, devotes himself endlessly while he's on his knees between your legs.

the layered fabric of your dress is bunched up into your scrunched hands, draping as you let go to hold his head. "ah-!' you gasp, his nose bumping against your clit as his tongue works flat against your pussy. he nips your thigh to quiet you, succeeding, which earns a whimper from you.

"are you aware of how long i've wanted to do this?" he asks, and you shake your head. your brows are scrunched together, desperate to hear more. "ever since i've met you," he murmurs against your thigh, his large palms wrapping around to knead the back of them. it nearly makes your knees buckle, your head thrown back against the foliage as you try to get your bearings. "all i could think about was making you mine. all. i. could. think about." he punches out, his grip tightening. "it's all i've wanted as well," you breathe, trying to steady it. he glances up at you, lips slick and cherried, eyes wild with adoration and lust. "say that again," he demands, and you happily oblige. "all i've wanted is you," you manage, "all of the other-other suitors, i've never even given them a second thought. only you. i could only pray you'd want the same."

he groans lowly, trying to stifle his noises. his cock tightens against the fabric of his pants, throbbing with the thought of deflowering you. "you're only mine." he says, and you nod rapidly. "i'll see to it. nothing less than absolute bliss." he delves back between your thighs to work on your clit, delicate pressed kisses against it. you take your fist to your own mouth, teeth digging harshly into the flesh of your knuckles. "for the rest of your life." he finishes, immediately lapping at your pussy, ensuring that you finish for him. you gasp and pant as you unravel for him, and he tugs you closer into him by the backs of your thighs, nearly knocking you off your feet. you reach your hand quickly behind you, pressing it against the garden hedge to balance yourself.

he looks up at you, smug, yet caring. he knows no one has ever done that to you, and no one ever will. besides him. forever.

"duke harrington-?" suddenly freezes you both, and he rises to his feet, nearly knocking you both over in the process. he steps out from behind the hedge, raising a hand to wave of reassurance. "where on earth have you been? have the festivities not been to your liking?" lady danbury teases, her usual skepticism present in her tone. "certainly not," he assures her, a wide grin. "i simply needed some fresh air. rather stuffy in there, i suppose." he nods, clearing his throat. you can only glace to your side, seeing him stand in the visible cutout of the hedges. "well, do come back then! you'll miss all the fun." she insists, extending her arm for escorting. he nods once more, turning to face you, giving you a sly wink before exiting.

[iheartdoll]

Audio recommendation 9

Friend helps out virgin friend

Lifeguard on a break (I can't avoid you thinking of Billy, but this is King Steve to me all the way)

Rewarding a good student

Cute barista is actually a dom

Less talking, more eating

Cum on my fingers

Old treehouse

Throat and just throat-working for him

Long distance boyfriend gives advice to your fuckbuddy (this has so much potential for a story)

Fucking the police (literally)

Pegging your best friend

Be loud, I want them to hear you vibe

Male escort (!!!)

Family reunion won't stop us

I am back!! I'm sick right now, so I haven't had any classes ergo I'm here posting a long ass list of audios. As always, thank you for liking and reposting <3

Masterlist here

[buckyalpine]

Hey honey ! It’s 🐚 !! I have a request for you 🙈🥰 I love tough men that are assholes but turn soft for this one sweet girl ! And I was thinking Mafia Bucky and his rival’s daughter . He starts hooking up with her with every intention of her father finding out and being furious . But she’s none the wiser . She’s sweet and gentle with him even when he’s rough and rude . He always leaves the minute they’re done ,leaving her all alone and naked in her bed but she’s never bitter about it. After one particular night though , where they had sex in his place , she fell asleep , too worn out from Bucky being particularly rough . He took a moment to see her as something more than his nemesis daughter and he had to admit she was ethereal. Always sweet and kind . So much different than him and Bucky realized he might be falling for her . Especially with the way she was clinging to him in her sleep and how she never treated him like he was the bad guy . When he woke up she wasn’t there but everything changed after that night . The sex was gentler and so were his touches and kisses . He wasn’t just hooking up with her . He was making love to her without a word about this new change in their situationship . Until one night he had her in his arms , unafraid to cradle her cheek and kiss her forehead , telling her how he is in love with her and asking her to forgive him for the way he treated her

18+

Okay I’m dropping a bunch of WIPS for this. Bruh the request alone gave me butterflies I love this trope so much. Goddamnn. 

This starts with very fuck boy asshole type Bucky. I made him a dick in this, deal with it, don’t cry about it, he redeems himself. See how the request says men that are assholes. I live for it. Bucky. Is. An. Ass. Hole. And a sweet baby by the end. 

Also I don’t trust google translate but that’s what we have to work with, I am so sorry. 

“You’re making this harder than it has to be Stark” Bucky sipped his drink, leaning back in his chair while Tony’s jaw clenched, wishing he could just put a bullet in between his rivals eyebrows. Bucky swirled the whisky in his glass, the ice clinking against each other while Tony rejected his proposal again, tensions growing higher with each passing minute. 

“You’re not getting control over the South” He gritted through his teeth, ready to end the meeting one way or another until the door clicked open. You poked your head into his office, quickly padding over to his side, ignoring the broody men that surrounded the office. 

“Dad, I’m going out with Wanda, we’ll be back late, is that okay?” You never left the house without telling him where you were going first, it was a rule he made for you when you were younger but you stuck to it even years later. You knew he always worried about you. 

Tony frowned at your presence, not because he didn’t want you there but because he could see the other men stare at you, their eyes raking up and down your body like fresh meat. The dark material of your dress hugged your body perfectly and the thigh high slit wasn’t helping. 

“Be safe” He pecked your forehead before sending one of his men with you, “Barton, drive her there” He shot the men in his office a death glare; he was patient over many things but you were not something they could fuck with. Ever. Bucky cocked an eyebrow noticing Tony’s shift in demeanor, he was protective over his little princess. He smiled to himself with this new information, why fight for the south side when he could he could ruin something more precious. 

“This meeting is over” Tony stated, nodding to his men to escort Bucky and the others out. He narrowed his eyes at the way Bucky shrugged, casually downing his drink without making a counter argument, leaving a bit to easily for his liking. 

Bucky climbed into his SUV with Steve by his side, his mind going back to you. Tony’s sweet baby. His protected princess. Steve also frowned at the way his friend accepted defeat, but he didn’t ask questions, noticing the way Bucky bit his lip, the wheels in his head clearly turning. The fucker had something in mind.

“You’re thinking something, I can tell” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look while Bucky shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from his best friend. 

“I need a drink” 

The Club

Bucky sat at the private booth of the club, his mind calculating how he could over throw Stark without having to get his hands too dirty. He already had one idea in mind but that was more to satisfy himself. It wouldn’t get him his territory but it would get him something...better...He sipped his drink, sitting up slightly, seeing a familiar figure across the club, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Isn’t that her” Bucky’s eyes landed on you, watching your hips sway on the dance floor, laughing with your friends, completely in your own world. It couldn't have been more perfect, you were right there, practically served to him on a silver platter for him to take. 

“Who” Steve turned around to see who Bucky was looking at, his eyes growing wide when he realized who his friend was eyeing. “Starks daughter?”

Bucky nodded, setting his glass down, making his way over to you before Steve or Sam could say anything else. 

“Why is he not on a leash”

“I knew I should have gotten him neutered” 

The blonde shook his head, running a hand over his face while Sam snorted, both men watching him make his way over to you. You were now seated at the bar, sipping on some water to cool down while your friends stayed on the dancefloor. 

“Hey doll” Bucky sat on the stool beside you, both of you tucked away in the quieter corner of the bar area. He could tell by the way you smiled shyly, you’d be easy, a few flirty words and he’d get what he wanted. 

“Hi” You blushed at the handsome mob boss, his blue eyes sparkling as he smirked at you. He bought you a drink, luring you into him like a siren. You found yourself getting lost in his charm, listening to his velvety smooth voice. Truthfully it was nice to talk to someone for once. Most guys avoided you, knowing you were the daughter of Tony Stark. 

It was easy for him. His eyes flicked to the way you looked at his lips, inching closer towards him, your sweet innocent face gazing at him. He didn’t have to do much are you were already preening like a kitten. He had you exactly where he wanted. The air shifted when his hand grazed you thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. You didn’t pull back, letting his hand climb higher, leaning into his touch, your heart racing, craving more of him. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop” His voice was low, his lips brushing by your ear. Your breath hitched when his hand tilted your chin up to meet his eyes again, nearly whimpering when his hand squeezed the soft flesh of your thigh. 

“So needy” He smirked while you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, letting him take you by the hand to the private bathroom of the club. As soon as he locked the door, his previous charm dropped. His eyes darkened, his hands immediately all over you, pushing you against the marble counter of the sink. His lips smashed onto yours, tongue and teeth, not giving you a chance to breathe.

He sucked dark bruises on your neck, trailing the across your collar bone, pulling the front of your dress down to free your breasts. He lifted you onto the counter with ease, latching onto your nipple, tugging it between his teeth, smirking at the way you cried out. 

He parted your legs, ripping your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket. Your pussy dripped, clenching around nothing at the sound of his belt buckle and pants unzipping, moaning when he pulled your thighs to wrap around him, his cockhead prodding your entrance. He didn't bother prepping you, his mind focused on stuffing his cock into you and fucking you senseless. 

“Shh, better keep quiet unless you want others to hear how I’m about to fuck you” He growled against your skin, shoving his cock into you with one stroke. He gave you no time to adjust, snapping his hips against you, his hands gripping your ass while your hands flew to clutch around him, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to keep your screams down. He slammed against your g-spot, your arousal squirting out of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly building higher and higher as he fucked you harder. 

“I-I’m gonna-” You couldn’t formulate a sentence, clawing at his blazer, his cock filling and stretching you, ruining you for anyone else. “Please-

“Don’t-don’t talk, just take it” His voice was low, teeth gritted as he focused on ruining your pussy. You felt flustered, your body on fire each time he touched you. You felt yourself melt into him, letting him toy with your body. His fingers gripped onto your ass, slamming you into him to meet his strokes. He wanted to fill  you up till you were so full of cum, it’d drip and stain onto your bed sheets. All of his fucking cum painted on your pussy while you went to sleep, pretending to be an innocent little princess like you didn’t just take your dad’s rivals cock in the bathroom of the club. 

Your eyes rolled back feeling his cock stroke your g-spot, the roughness of his hands on your body making you climb higher, you clung onto him, your body pulled taut, a sob escaping your lips before muffling your cries by biting down onto his neck as you came. Bucky smirked to himself, pounding you harder, chasing his release. He didn’t even have to touch you and you were coming undone for him, wrapped tightly around his body, your pussy sucking him back in. 

He could feel pleasure crawl down his spine, his cock growing harder, something about getting to fuck his enemies daughter made him more feral than ever, his cock bursting with cum, endless thick streams shooting out of his sensitive tip.

“Fuck” he hissed, pumping his load into you, groaning as he pulled out, his cum dribbling out of you, spilling onto the sides of your thighs. You looked dazed, lipstick smeared, panting, your body limp against him. He tucked his cock back in, not looking back twice, leaving you a panting mess as he exited the bathroom. You stood on shaky legs, trying to steady yourself before grabbing a damp tissue to clean yourself up.

You splashed some water onto your face, your mind reeling over the way his touches made you feel, touching up your makeup before going back down to find your friends, his handsome face flashing in your mind throughout the night. 

***

“Can you explain what it is you’re doing here” Steve watched his friend carefully, his hair disheveled, shirt untucked, a lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt when he joined them again, a satisfied smirk on his face. 

“She’s probably a spoiled brat anyway” Bucky shrugged, unbothered about the type of person you were or how you felt about any of this. He wanted to see Tony’s face if he knew he had fucked his daughter, balls deep till she was walking around with sticky thighs, her soaked little cunt dripping all over her bed with his cum. He smirked to himself over the way you moaned for him, biting him to keep yourself quiet, the way your body responded to him, so needy and desperate. You were the opposite of your father; easy and none the wiser. If he couldn’t get what he wanted from Tony, he’d take the next best thing. It’s not like he wanted you. He just had to use you. 

The club wasn’t enough. Now he had you in his hands, he wasn’t going to let you go until he you were ruined. He used the meetings that took place in your house to his advantage, quietly sneaking off down the hall way to find you. Your heart jumped seeing him leaning against wall as you made your way to your room after eating breakfast. 

“Haven’t stopped thinking about me, have you” He smirked, cornering you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours. His hands came up to grasp your face, eyes locked with yours “You gonna let me cum in you?” 

You let out a shuddered breath, and that was all he needed, dragging you over to your room and tossing you onto your bed. 

“Take your clothes off” His cold blue eyes bore into you as you timidly unbuttoned your blouse, your hands shaking, already feeling exposed at the way he watched you. He wasn’t going to wait for you, striding over to the bed, his hands firmly gripping the material of your silky blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons flying onto the floor. His hands grabbed at the hem of your skirt, pulling it down before quickly tossed your bra and panties aside. 

Your face heated up at the way he slowly crawled on top of you, the scent of his cologne throwing you back to the way he fucked you at the club, pulling pleasure from your body so easily. 

“Please” Your soft eyes pleaded with his and his ego shot through the roof, getting to fuck you right on your bed. He nudged your thighs apart while marking you with his mouth. 

“Always ready for my cock” He hummed, smearing your slick around, shoving two thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them till you were withering and nearly screaming, your arousal leaving your sheets wet. 

“James please” You looked at him with glassy eyes while he sat back, unbuttoning his pants, freeing his cock just enough so he could fuck you. He rubbed his cock onto your clit before shoving it into you, pounding you relentlessly as soon as he was fully sheathed inside you. 

Your body moved to wrap around him, your legs tight around his waist and arms clinging onto his shoulders. All you could do was moan and chant his name, his cock was practically in your throat, thrusting into you till your bed scrapped against the floor. His chest swelled with pride as soon as he felt your walls start to convulse and flutter, you were so responsive to him. 

“Cum, fucking cum on my cock” His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, your pussy immediately clenching and throbbing around him, silent screams leaving through your slack jaw. His grunts grew louder, thrusting harder into you until he couldn’t hold back, determined to make a bigger mess than before. 

“Take it, fucking-take it, take my cum” He grunted, groaning as his hips stilled, staying as deep as he possibly could while he poured his load into you. His cum spilled out of you, soaking the sheets, your greedy sopping hole, still fluttering even after he pulled out. 

Perfect. 

You were still hazy, blinking when you felt his body weight off the bed, sitting up slightly to see him already making his way towards your door. 

“Oh-bye!”

Bucky clicked the door shut before you could even finish, leaving you bare and alone in your bed. You fell back against the sheets, your body worn and exhausted. You didn’t mind the soreness that you felt all over, sleep washing over you as you thought about his honeyed voice, those blue eyes, rough exterior. There was more to him even if he didn’t show it. 

It went on for weeks. You were his perfect little cum dump, taking load after load, whenever he wanted. Your room. The kitchen. On the floor. He almost found it pathetic, how easily you let him back into your warmth when he never looked back at your twice after. It didn’t matter though. He got what he wanted. 

Gala night 

You sighed, sitting by yourself while everyone else mingled with their respective groups, you’d never been a fan of parties but you didn’t have much of a choice. You had to make an appearance at the gathering hosted by one of your families allies though you didn’t understand why. No one had even noticed you. 

Well not exactly no one. 

Bucky’s eyes lingered on you as he watched you across the room from his table. You hadn’t spoken to a soul all night, nervously fidgeting with your fingers, sipping on you glass of wine, the red liquid staining your lips. You wore a dark green dress, your legs on display with the thigh high slit and the sweet heart neckline showing off your perfect cleavage. 

“Y/n” A son of your fathers friend wandered over, his hungry eyes flicking from your lips to your chest and up and down your legs. He noticed that you were alone, deciding to use the chance to get what he had been craving. He pulled up a seat beside you, sitting close enough so his legs brushed against yours. 

 “John” You smiled softly, internally wishing you had just stayed home. He had asked you out a number of times before and you always politely turned him down. Bucky narrowed his eyes at the blond who kept inching closer and closer to you, his hands trying to linger on your skin, lips whispering in your ear. 

“You look beautiful. Did anyone accompany you?” He knew the answer but that didn’t matter. You shook your head and he grinned “You know you could have asked me sweets, I would have been happy to” He moved his hands to rest on your knee, slowly moving up to your thigh. 

Your body jerked back, pulling away as if his touch burned your skin. His touch didn’t feel like Bucky’s. His eyes grew cold, it irritated him that you were so sweet and pathetically innocent yet unfazed by his attempts to seduce you; you’d never given into him.

“I-I appreciate that but I wanted to come alone” You didn’t want to upset him though you were very close to dumping a glass of wine on his head. Bucky’s jaw clenched at the way your body froze, discomfort evident on your face as he continued to try and paw at you. 

Bucky didn’t like you.

Or care for you.

But you were still his to ruin and he wasn’t going to let someone stop that. 

Is what he told himself as he shot out of his seat making his way to your table while Steve and Sam gave each other amused glances. Your eyes lit up as you saw Bucky taking long strides towards you, pulling you out of your seat and wrapping his arm around your waist without looking at you once. His eyes were trained on the blond that wordlessly glared back at him, not willing to argue with the mob moss as he walked away with you. 

“I want to leave” You whispered up at him, craving to be touched by him, and forget the feeling of Walkers hands on you. 

“Let’s get out of here” He tugged your wrist, dragging you into his SUV, tossing you in the back. You waited for him to get in, snuggling into his side when he slid in beside you, gasping when he gripped your cheeks, smashing his lips onto yours. There was nothing but tongue and teeth as he claimed you, biting and nipping at your lips, his hands grasping your waist to pull you closer. 

“Home” He nodded to his driver before practically pulling you onto his lap, closing the divider as he sucked on your pulse point. He never brought women over to his place, given his line of work, he didn’t take the risk. But right now, his needs over threw that logic as he told the driver to take him home, ready to take you apart on his bed.

He hardly let you breathe the entire car ride, his tongue laced with yours, fingers tugging your hair, while your hands came down to grasp at his shirt. He broke away when the car stopped in front on the driveway, his hunger to have you wrapped around him growing stronger. 

“Come here” He pulled you out of the car, carrying you in with your legs wrapped around his waist. He took you straight to his room, kicking the door closed, holding you up with one arm before locking it and setting you down. He threw his suit jacket off before turning you around and unzipping your dress, letting it fall and pool around you feet, leaving you in your underwear. 

He groaned at the dark sheer lace that hugged your body, cupping your perfect breasts, your sweet pussy hardly covered by the tiny material of your panties. 

“On your knees” He commanded, unbuttoning his pants, pulling his cock out, rubbing the tip onto your lips, making them glossy. You licked off his precum, moaning up at him while he gripped your hair back, the other hand holding onto your jaw. “Open” 

He shoved his cock down your throat, guiding your face up and down his length,  throbbing as you gagged and choked on him. His thumbs swiped over the tears that spilled down your cheeks, moaning at how wrecked you looked. 

“So fucking perfect, sucking my cock like a the little slut you are” He groaned, “otsosi mne, printsessa”

Every whine and moan that you made went straight to his cock, twitching, dribbling arousal down your throat. He pulled you off, not willing to just cum in your mouth, not when his balls felt heavy, his cock desperate to be inside you. He carried you over to the bed, dropping you and ripping your lingerie off before stripping all his clothes off and crawling on top of you. 

You let out a soft gasp at his complete bare form. He had never taken all his clothes off before, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander from his thick muscular thighs, dripping cock, perfect chest and handsome face, he was beautiful all over. 

“James?”  You blinked as he paused between your legs, the greedy side of him desperate to taste you, something he had denied himself thus far. Until tonight. You always smelled so sweet. He was going to make sure he touched and claimed every part of your body. “James, what are you-ohmygod!” 

You gasped as he dove into your folds, his mouth unrelenting, sucking and swirling his tongue while he shoved two fingers into you, pumping them in and out, making your moans grow louder. He looked up at your squirming form, your head thrown back, thighs trembling and squeezing around his head. 

“I-I’m gonna-fuckfuck-please-P-PLEASE”

He smirked against your clit, slapping the side of your thigh before sucking with more pressure and shoving a third finger in you, throwing you over the edge. Your juices spilled out of you, soaking his face, your scent and arousal covering his beard. 

He didn’t give you any time to recover from you high, grasping your ankles and flipping you over, shoving your face down and bringing your ass up, his cock rubbing up and down your cunt. 

“moya malen'kaya shlyushka“ He mumbled to himself, spanking your ass making you cry out. “Take it princess” He spanked you again, rubbing the sting away before grasping the soft flesh, squeezing it in his hands. 

“Bet he would have loved to have you like this, hm?” 

“Who?” Your brain couldn’t function, focused on his length pressed against you, 

“Your little boy toy who wanted you attention so badly, ty shlyukha“ His fingers gripped tightly, humping and rutting his cock against you while you mewled, desperate for him to do something, “You ever let him put his cock in you?”

“N-no” You whined, as his hand gripping your ass further, guiding his cock to your fluttering entrance. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as he slammed into you, pulling your hips back to meet his thrusts, groaning at the way you cried out at the stretch. The sounds of his skin slapping on yours echoed through the room, nearly drowning out your muffled cries. 

“Yeah, you know why baby? Cause your my little slut, my fucking cum dump” He wanted to ruin you so fucking badly, your pussy would never be the same, his hand snaking down to tug your hair for leverage to fuck you harder. “That’s all your fucking good for, to take my loads, give me something warm, tight and wet to cum in”

“F-uck! JAMES” He fucked you at an animalistic pace, moving to grip onto the headboard, his brows furrowed, keeping your face buried against the mattress. 

“Such a well fucked hole, look-look at how you’re greedy cunt is swallowing my cock” 

“P-PLEASE JAMES!” You had tears in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure, the overstimulation consuming your body. You could hardly focus on anything, your hands blindly searching for something to hold on to. You could tell if you wanted more or less, your belly tightening again, ready to cum for a second time. 

“Shut up and take it” He growled, his hips snapping wildly, the headboard cracking under his grip. Your tears spurred him on, his cock growing harder, ruined on his bed, crying out for him. He moved one hand to shove his fingers into your mouth, moaning when he felt your pussy clench, shoving them deeper.

Your body always responded to him perfectly, he couldn’t hold on any longer, his balls heavy and tight, ready to fill you with his cum. 

“Ready for my cum, princess? Open that little pussy up for me, m’gonna fill you so much, it’ll squirt out of you, make my cock creamy princess, dirty messy slut” You could feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your sensitive walls, your arousal making his balls wet eat time they slapped your clit. “Say it, say you want my fucking cum”

“I want your cum!”  You slurred out, waiting for his warmth to flood you. 

“Who, whose cum do you fucking want” His head was thrown back, cock starting to twitch, the tip swollen and sensitive. 

“Yours daddy” 

That did it, you were too fucked out to even register what you had just called him but Bucky hear it loud and clear. It unleashed something in him, giving you 3 harsh sloppy thrusts before he couldn’t hold off any longer. 

“Shit-FUCK-hng fuuuckkkk” His movements stilled, his cock throbbing, spilling his cum into you. He gave you a few more sloppy thrusts, emptying himself before pulling out and pushing his sensitive cock into you again, rolling you over so he could see your fucked out face. He had to stop himself from lapping up your soaked pussy with his mixed arousal, his cock ready to fuck his cum back into you as it dripped out. 

“I’m not done with you”

****

Your body was limp on the bed, panting, soreness and bruises littering your skin. He had thrown you around in every position, pulling pleasure from your body as if it satiated his hunger. He pumped you full of his loads, not leaving one part of you untouched, his hands, tongue and cock caressing your body. 

After the last round, he had gotten up to splash some water on his face, his body covered in sweat, his spent cock soaked in your mixed arousal. He wasn’t a stranger to rough sex but even he felt worn out, having thrown you around like a ragdoll to his content, cumming in you until he couldn't anymore. 

As he walked back, Bucky blinked, seeing your curled up form on his bed, snuggled in his sheets. 

That wasn’t part of his plan.

He didn’t intend on letting you fall asleep. 

He couldn’t help but slip under the covers, too exhausted to think about if this was appropriate or not, waves of sleep crashing over him. He swallowed thickly when you shifted in your sleep, snuggling into his side, seeking his warmth, your arm hugging his waist, head resting on his chest. He tried to shuffle over but you clung onto him in your sleep, tucking yourself against him as much as you could, letting out a small whine whenever he moved. 

Your body felt to soft and warm on him. He had never taken the time to really look at you, but as you laid on his chest, his eyes flicked across your face, taking in your features. 

Your lashes fluttering against your cheeks. The pout of your lips. The soft curve of your jaw. There was no doubt you were beautiful but there was also something ethereal. Angelic. 

Almost...precious.

It almost felt wrong for him to touch something so sweet and delicate. 

He could smell the soft scent of your shampoo. 

His eyes drifted to the bruises that covered your body. 

The ones he marked you with. 

The ones he never paid attention to before. 

The ones he should have kissed and massaged- no. No...No?

You were nothing more than a means to an end...but he couldn't stop himself from stroking your skin, while holding you close. His hand trailed down softly to trace down your spine, making you shiver, nuzzling against him further. He couldn’t understand how even in your sleep, you were sweet. Trusting. You wanted to be wrapped in his warmth. He thought about the way you looked up at him when he tugged you from the party. The way you stayed on his lap the entire care ride home. 

He thought about how he left without looking back each time but you were always so warm whenever he came back. Soft. His body moved on its own, pulling the sheets up to cover you, pressing a delicate kiss onto your head. 

What was going on with him. 

The next morning

He blinked awake, frowning at the coldness of the bed. You had left at some point during the night, so quietly he didn’t even notice. He felt....disappointed. He wasn’t even sure why. He missed the way you fit in his arms. The way you slept so soundly while cuddled up with him. 

Something changed after that night. He sought your warmth, not just your body. He wanted to feel you wrapped around him, your arms clinging to be closer, your adorable little disgruntled sounds whenever he shifted while you slept on his chest. The way your voice soothed him. It wasn’t hooking up or just fucking anymore. It was softer each time. More sweet words. Lingering touches. He’d stay longer just to hear your honeyed voice, talking about anything, it didn’t matter. He knew this was no longer just him trying to get back at your father. 

He had fallen for you. 

He never thought he’d be capable of that type of affection, yet with you he had his first taste of sweetness and he didn’t want to let go.

A few weeks later - His room 

“Come here” He pulled you close to him, his hands softly caressing your body feeling every bit of you as he laid with you on his bed. He peppered soft kisses onto your face, making up for all the times he should have kissed you before, your skin felt like soft silk on his lips. 

He pushed himself into you slowly, for the first time, feeling all of you wrapping him in your warmth. He’d been inside you so many times before but now he actually felt you. Your sweet body under his, trusting him to take care of you. 

He couldn’t hurt you, you were so precious. 

His hands gently held onto you, rocking his hips slowly, savoring every second. 

You knew something was different. He knew something was different. 

“James, don’t stop, p-pleaase”

“I won’t stop baby, I won’t”

“Don’t let go”

“I’ll never let go malyshka, prekrasnaya printsessa” 

He was making the softest sweetest love to you and you clung onto his body never wanting it to end. He held you gently as you came undone for him, slowly thrusting into you as he reached his high. His touch was so delicate, you would have almost missed it. 

He didn’t say a word about what had just happened. 

He thought he could ignore it, go back to how things were but when he was still throbbing in you, unable to stop how much he was cumming for you, it was impossible. His body weight fell on you, still grinding and rutting his cock, moaning into your neck. He nearly sounded like he was in pain, overstimulating himself with your sweetness. 

“James?” You cupped his face, making him look at you, your thumb caressing his scruffy cheek. “Is everything okay?” 

“You feel good baby” he whispered, resting his forehead onto yours. “You feel go so good” 

“James what’s wrong” Your voice was more firm this time, cocking your head, waiting for him to tell you what was on his mind. His eyes were glassy, pushing some of your hair back, his thumb stroking your forehead. 

“You’re an angel” He gazed down at you, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat, how did he ever think about using you. 

“Baby, where’s this coming from?” 

He stroked your hair, his heart sinking at your confused expression. He didn’t even know where to start.  “I- he huffed in frustration, how could he look you in the eye and tell you what his intentions were. “I-I don’t deserve you” He shook his head, biting his lip, unable to meet your eyes. He rolled you both over so you rested on his chest, your doe eyes waiting for him to continue. 

“Why?” The flash of hurt that crossed your face made his heart jump, he never wanted to be the cause of your pain. 

“Because angel, you’ve always been sweet. Kind. Affectionate. I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I left you on your on every night when I should have held you. Made love to you, not bruised you skin” 

His voice had slowly dropped to a whisper, his heart racing. You could see tears well in his eyes, his hands trembling on your skin while he rubbed your back. 

“You’re precious angel, I can’t believe I ever treated you otherwise. You deserved love from the start” He let the tears roll down his cheeks, full prepared for you to up and leave, he knew he wasn’t worthy of you at all. And yet...he couldn’t stop the next words that slipped past his lips. 

“YA tebya lyublyu” You blinked up at him while he smiled softly, sniffling, cupping your cheek, brining you closer to him “I love you”

“You love me?” You could fee your heart hammer in your chest, as you inched closer, your nose bumping against his, your thumb wiping his tears.

“I do moya sladkaya malyshka” He kissed your forehead, then nose, and the softest kiss to your lips. “Please forgive me babygirl, please” His eyes were pleading with you, ready to give you the world in your hands if that’s what you wanted. You nodded, snuggling into his hold while he wrapped you tight, hoping he’d be able to have you just like this for the rest of his life. His sweet girl. 

“I love you James”

“Say it again baby” He whispered, wanting to hear those words from you over and over again. 

“I love you” you smiled against his skin, while he kissed your head. 

“My sweet doll” He adored you so much. “Say it again”

After secret dating and sneaking around for as long as you could

Now given that Bucky is your fathers rival, you can imagine it isn’t exactly the easiest thing to bring up. Tony is not immediately on board. At all. 

Until he sees you both one day when you both think no one’s looking. He’s a little taken aback at how soft Bucky is for you. Who knew such a jackass could also be such a gentleman. 

Your both outside in your garden; you thought your dad had gone out for meetings for the day. Bucky has you on his lap, feeding you berries with kisses in between each bite. He can’t take his eyes off you, nose nuzzled against your cheek, cuddling you under the warm sun. He can’t stop smiling and looking at you with heart eyes, his hands playing with your hair. 

Clint snorts, watching Tony narrow his eyes at you both while watching you from his office. He so badly wants to shoot Bucky because again, how dare this cocky jack ass come to his house and woo his babygirl, fuck no. 

But also...

You looked so happy. 

“They’re cute, huh” Clint joined Tony’s side, smirk down at your both. 

“Shut up”

He wants to go down and tell the mob boss to get his hands off his daughter but you laugh and snuggle into Bucky further. 

“It’s been months boss, she’s the only one he’s been with, I hate to say it but it looks like he really loves her. And she loves him” 

“Why do you know this”

“You’re not the only one who keeps tabs on her, she’s everyone little princess” Clint rolled his eyes, knowing the way all of Tony’s men cared for you like their own. Tony grunts, leaving to pour himself a taaaallll glass of whisky. 

He wasn’t Bucky’s number 1 fan but for his little princess, he will allow it. There’s no doubt that Bucky loves you almost more than him. If you were a princess at home, Bucky treats you like a queen. You’d always be protected. Cared for. 

Bucky comes directly to Tony all on his own, asking for your hand. Yes, its an outdated practice but he respects Tony and wants him to know his intentions are to love you and take care of you. He knows how much it would mean to you for father to say yes. 

It’s a long discussion. Lots of differences put aside. Alliances formed. 

Tony still thinks Bucky is a jackass but he can’t help but smile at the happy squeals he hears down the hall when Bucky goes straight to you to ask you to marry him.

A sweet intimate wedding. Not exactly small, but only people you both care for are there. Steve and Sam spend the entire time at the altar with shit eating “I told you so” grins. 

(Tony’s wedding present is the south side) 

Your first son, Steve Anthony Barnes is spoiled beyond reason by literally everyone. Steve and Sam compete with Tony and Clint and it’s done nothing but get on your nerves because you’d need a second house with how many presents he gets for no reason at all. 

Your baby girl, Rebecca Samantha Barnes is daddy’s little princess. (Bucky will never, ever in his life admit he now understands how Tony felt over you. He kicks himself every so often and spoils you as much as he can) 

The twins, Clinton and Natalia can only be left together for so long before they get up to mischief. Which is every minute of the day. Steve confirmed that dealing with illegal shipments was less terrorizing. Everyone agreed. 

And of course with each day, Bucky is still head over heals in love with you. 

Tags:

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[harmonictechnicality]

model!steve and voice actor!eddie

part 2 here | ao3 link here

Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.

Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit. 

… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.

But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.

“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”

Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.

“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”

The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?

He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.

Fucking yay. 

Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.

“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.

Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”

“Right.”

“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.

The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.

“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”

Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.

But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.

Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.

“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.

Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”

Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.

The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.

“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.

Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.

“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”

“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back. 

... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.

“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.

‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.” 

Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.

Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”

“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”

“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.

Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.

They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur. 

It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.

“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.

Steve nods. “It is.”

“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”

“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”

Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”

“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”

Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”

He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.

While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.

Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.

There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.

The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne. 

Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.

Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.

Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence. 

It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.

Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.

Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…

His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.

The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”

And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.

Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.

God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.

The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.

“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.

Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.

Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”

Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.

Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”

“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”

“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”

“Not like that one though.”

“No?”

Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”

They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.

And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.

Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.

It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.

But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.

This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[ynscrazylife]

You know what I really miss? Avengers x teen!reader headcanons, there use to be so much avengers content and practically dominated tumblr🥲

It would totally make my WEEK if you would make some classic mcu avengers(before infinity war) x teen!reader x Peter Parker(romantic) headcanons just about reader having powers and what it’s like living with the avengers 💕

-possible your new 👾anon?

let’s do this 💪 and YES you’ll be my first emoji anon!! @ anyone else, feel free to claim ur emoji!!

avengers x teen!reader headcanons

The Avengers are definitely reluctant to add another teenager to the team. Having Peter is great but has been a big adjustment, as they had to train him and protect him, less they face the wrath of Aunt May.

However, you were a compelling case, with your extensive abilities. You didn’t have many other options as to where to go and you hit it off with Peter right off the bat, working very well together as a pair. So, they took you in.

Tony worked with you on designs for your suit, Natasha and Steve trained you in combat (which meant you were going on morning runs with Steve and Sam. How fun . . . Though Sam could be convinced to give you piggy back rides, and you became Clint’s personal arrow-picker-upper. If you had powers, Wanda would definitely help you manage them.

Peter was naturally in tune to science, which meant you hung around the lab with him and Bruce a lot. It became a nice time to get your homework done, as Bruce would definitely help you with that. Sometimes you acted as Bruce’s and Peter’s assistant with their experiments.

Bruce was also a very good listener and your go-to person to vent to about your life’s problems (when Peter wasn’t around).

One of the conditions to be on the team was that you didn’t lapse in schoolwork, so they were very on top of that and your grades. Tony even offered to go to parent-teacher meetings. Any one of them were ready to go to your teachers or principal if anything happened.

Natasha would routinely check in with you to make sure that you weren’t being bullied.

Pepper also became a motherly figure, as she cared very much about you and Peter. She’d offer you a Stark Industries internship.

Movie nights were chaotic, but absolutely the best. It was hard for anyone to agree, so the team had a system where they’d rotate who got to pick the meeting. Sam and Peter were also not allowed to make popcorn after many unfortunate incidents. Most of the time you fell asleep late into the night and one of the Avengers carried you to bed (they’d never admit this, but that also became an argument).

It was during a movie night when Peter realized he liked you romantically. You fell asleep during a movie, your head on his shoulder. Peter swore he never experienced something so precious before. He was adamant to keep your peace, glaring at anyone who dared to talk.

The team found your growing romance to be adorable and often teased the two of you about it. The only people who didn’t tease you were Bruce, Pepper, and Thor (because he didn’t really understand how to effectively tease).

If Flash messed with you, Peter was always on top of it. He’d always protect you.

Steve was also always making sure that you knew right from wrong. He’d give long speeches about how it wasn’t right to smoke, drink, do drugs, etc.

Then Thor gave you Asgardian alcohol once, not realizing how bad that was considering you’re both human and underage. That was a mess. Peter having to hold your hair back when you vomited and multiple Avengers escorting you to bed. Thor got an earful about it.

Clint was one of the ones who better understood you, seeing as he had experience with his own kids. He was always good at mediating and defusing the tension.

Laura also adored you, you were her favorite babysitter for the kids. Whenever they went on date night, they’d drop the kids off at the tower, and you would watch them (Peter would help when he wasn’t on patrol).

Patrolling with Peter was also very fun. More often than not he’d convince you to take a break, then swing you up on top of a roof to watch over the city and the sky.

On multiple occasions, KAREN would rat the two of you out to Tony, but he was never mad. He just wanted to know all about the “date”.

Prom was also very fun. Honestly, the whole team would want to come pick out outfits with you and Peter. They took many, many pictures on the night of. Peter also teared up when he saw you. He thought you were stunning.

Of course, you guys had a curfew, but it was alright. You and Peter had a fantastic night. All he wanted to do was dance and hold you.

You had Happy wrapped around your finger. You could really convince him to drive you anywhere you wanted to go.

You also managed to get an internship at the Sanctum Santorum, learning more about magic under Doctor Strange and Wong’s guidance. The Avengers weren’t particularly thrilled, as they were worried about you being hurt, but understood your want to explore.

You really wanted to see all the areas of being a hero. Clint taught you archery and Natasha taught you how to be a spy. You’d listen to Natasha and Clint’s spy stories for hours. Peter would have to pry you away.

Peter always insisted on having date nights and would go all out, making every date special. He’d do anything to make you happy.

And so would all the Avengers. They loved seeing you smile, it brightened up their whole world and made the team stronger.