#bachelor party for steve

[childlikegoblinqueen]

Micro Writing Notes:

When the obvious inspo song for a chapter gives no inspo so you start listening to silly music instead

[inklessletter]

i was talking with a friend about bachelorette parties and I was telling them how I would have a terrible time if they hired a stripper or something like that because of my irredeemable shyness, crippling demisexuality and overwhelming social anxiety, and they asked "even if they looked like harrington and was wearing the scoops uniform?" and I didn't know how to speak anymore but I managed to tell them "especially in those circumnstances."

i was telling the truth, i don't think i would do well anyway, but now i can't stop thinking about stripper steve wearing a scoops uniform at eddie's bachelor party

please help.

[mfjenks]

I think it's a common thing for a man to act gayer than ever (if it's even possible in Oliver's case) a couple of days before his straight wedding. The way Oliver talks about dancing topless on the table with Ron Howard and seeing his nipples? "Old married couple" with Charles? This whole touching Olicharles drama??? How much they can't live without each other??? I love my boys. Oliver you will never not be iconic

[shieldslinger]

truly they are just Like That and Are The Worst

[medusapelagia]

The bachelor party

[Omega Stripper Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Rating: Mature]

Who the fuck organized this fucking bachelor party?

Or even better, why the fuck did he come?

It is Gareth’s bachelor party and the boys have insisted on going to a strip club.

“It’s tradition!”

The party boy is laughing while putting bills in the blond omega’s underwear.

The girl has the biggest tits that Eddie has ever seen, but that’s not exactly Eddie’s preference, so he gets closer to the bar counter, asking for a beer.

“First time?” a blond girl asks him.

“How do you know?” he asks with a smirk. If there is something Eddie is good at is flirting. And flirting with the bartender seems quite harmless. She is probably used to it.

“Well, your clothes are… peculiar, for a place like this.”

He looks around and finally notices that he and the guys are the only ones wearing jeans, all the other customers are wearing clean suits.

“There is a dress code?”

“Not really. It’s more like… we have a certain type of customers.”

He takes a sip of his beer and nods “We are here for Gar.”

“Who? The boy with a big pacifier tied to the neck and a t-shirt that said ‘Buy me a beer the end is close’? That guy?”

READ MORE ON AO3

[hawkinsbnbg]

Eddie, at his bachelor party: I want my wife :(

Gareth: Dude, this is your bachelor party.

Jeff: Yeah, a few hours without Harrington won’t kill you.

Eddie, taking out his phone to gaze longingly at Steve’s photos: You don't know that :(

[eddiesxangel]

(legal age btw m not weird 😞)

dilf!eddie knowing he shouldnt be messing with a younger girl (18+ ofc) but he js needs relief after his wife left him

also may i please be 🎈 anon if not taken? ty <3

HIIIIII 🎈this got away from me

Omg ok he’s like late 40’s maybe 50. He’d be in the bar with Steve, Dustin, Mike, Lucas, you know the guys, having a celebritory/depressed drink bc the divorce had been finalized that day. Maybe you’re there for your friends 25th birthday and somehow you start flirting with Eddie and he would 100% think you’re pulling his leg bc that’s what he’s use to.

His ex was really the first relationship he had been in, they got married younger bc they were head over heels but then real life gotten in the way and they grew up and apart.

He cannot believe this hot younger girl is talking to him, he’s so out of his wheelhouse, but Steve is there to talk him up.

You “awe” when they tell you he’s newly single but that only makes you want him more. So when you suggest you take the party back to his place he’s fumbling for his keys at the opportunity. He hasn’t had sex in over two years, bc his ex wouldn’t let him touch her.

You rest your hand on his upper thigh on the short car ride back to his new home. He has a small bungalow, seriously a bachelor pad. He was not expecting company so the place is disorganized but you don’t care because your lips are attached to his neck the second he closed the door.

“Holy shit” he lets slip because is this really happening? Yes it is, he feels your hands slip up his thighs to where his hard on is starting to take form.

You run your hands all over his body, his thick arms, his small beer belly, his tense shoulders.

“You should relax, let me help you” you lead him to the couch after he takes off his leather jacket for the first time of the night and you can see more of his tattoos. You bite back a moan when he takes a seat, man spreading just inviting you to take a seat in his lap.

Your lips find his neck, you try to leave a mark but there are so many tattoos you can’t see the bruising.

Eddie still can’t believe he is with you in his house but he’s going to take advantage of every second of it. So unexpectedly he picks you up and walks you over to his bed.

With more confidence in himself he tosses you on the bed and you land with a giggle. He has you naked and on your need for him within minutes of entering the bedroom.

After he thinks you’re about to suck the soul out of his body he pushes you off and spreads you open needing to taste you. Your young tight wet pussy is like a drug. You feel his large lips sucking your clit into his mouth. He loves the feeling of your long nails gripping his hair taught. He lets out a growl into your pussy and your cumming on his tongue instantly.

He fumbles for the condoms he thankfully just bought, and when he finally penetrates you your holding him so tightly to your body you e become one.

His hips are rocking into you so good, he’s pounding into you, you can’t think. You’re so fucking. Happy you chose to come home with him, never have you had sex this good. How did his wife give this up? You don’t know but you’re sure glad because you get to experience him now.

“Eddie please!” He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. He wasn’t even sure you remembered it, he’s having trouble remembering yours if he’s being honest but he didn’t care. Your pussy was magic.

“Fuck babygirl, this pussy so tight so good” you feel his hand gently wrap around your throat, holding you in place as he watches your tits bounce with each thrust.

Your pussy is getting tighter and tighter as your orgasm creeps up on you. He needs you to cum before him, he be damned if he comes first.

The praises falling from his lips has you clenching down on his cock, and Eddie can finally let go. His cum fills the condom as he continues to fuck into you until he’s satisfied.

Once you’ve both caught your breath you get up to leave, Eddie feels sad when you start getting dressed but you insist he gives you his phone because maybe you can do it again sometime.

His stomach did a little summersault when he sees the text from the unsaved number with your name attached, and he doesn’t think he will ever forget your name again.

[holylulusworld]

Best bridesmaid ever

Summary: You always dreamed of letting your dirtiest fantasies become reality. Your bridesmaid makes it happen.

Prompt filled for: @anyfandomgoesbingo: Square 16: Bachelor (ette) party

Pairing: fem!Reader x Nick Fowler, Ari Levinson, Lloyd Hansen, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Warnings: consensual non-con/dub-con, 18+ only, fake attack, implied kidnapping, gangbang, multiple partners, taking turns, unprotected sex, smut, doggy style, pussy slapping, creampie, oral male rec, titty fuck, cum play, anal sex, voyeurism, mentions of sex tape, mentions of callboys/prostitution, masturbation, lies, dark!fic, plot twist, open ending

Words: 4,1 k

Please read the warnings before reading the story. The story contains triggering content.

The room is crowded with your best friends. Your bachelorette party is in full swing. Still, you’re not in a cheery mood. This should be one of your best days, but it isn’t.

You put on a fake smile and try to not ruin the night for your friends too.

“Naughty, naughty,” you giggle as you unpack your best friend’s gift. She gifted you a bunny vibrator. “I will marry to have a dick around, you know.”

“A boring dick fucking you all vanilla,” she winks at you. “This is for emergencies.”

You sigh, deeply. Penelope isn’t wrong. You can’t deny that you are bored most of the time you have sex with your fiancé. He doesn’t put much effort into satisfying your needs but is a nice guy.

“You need a good fuck before you marry that boring loser,” she smirks darkly, making the others chuckle. You roll your eyes at her comment. Yes, your fiancé is boring and all vanilla, but you love him.

“That is enough,” you get up and glare at Penelope. “I know you are jealous of my relationship but that’s no reason to talk like that about him. Especially not at my bachelorette party.”

“Bitch,” she gets up to push you toward the couch. “I should take my gift and leave.” You frown deeply. Pennie never talked like that to you before.

“Maybe it’s time to teach her some manners.” You gasp as five masked men storm into the living room. They get guns out and aim them at your friends. “Come over here, little bride.” One of them aims his gun at you. “Right. Fucking. Now.”

You whimper but slowly move toward the man. He smirks and grabs your arm to drag you out of the room. “Guys, we got the honey pot. Let’s start the party!”

More men stream into the room. They pounce on your friends, but four of them follow the one dragging you with him out of the room.

“Party time,” the man purrs in your ear. He tugs his gun away and rips your dress open. “Look at this, my friends.”

“Who are you?” You try to wiggle in his grip and slap against his shoulders. ”Get off me, bastard!”

You hear your friends; they scream and holler as the man guides you toward the bedroom at the house you rented for your bachelorette party.

“Oh, sunshine,” the man purrs and dips his head as you try to find a way to escape and save your friends. “We will get inside of you, all of us. You are fair game for our cocks.”

This must be a nightmare. The men slam the door shut, locking it as you tremble under their gazes.

“I want her cunt first,” the man throws your ruined dress over his shoulder. He smirks and cups his crotch when you try to cover yourself. “You can take the lingerie off on your own, or I’ll rip it down your ass.”

Your eyes round when the men unbuckle their belts in sync. You sniffle and shake your head.

“Last warning, sunshine,” the first guy taunts, and steps toward you to grasp for your bra and rip it open. “You’ll see, if you follow orders tonight, you’ll not get hurt. Now, panties off.”

You shake your head, and he sighs deeply.

“Fine, turn around then,” he grabs your neck, holding your throat in a tight grip. You slap him and try to scratch him, but you end up on the bed, face first. “Fuck me, that’s a naughty whore.”

The man grips your ass, spreading your cheeks to get a better look at your crotchless panties. “I guess she’ll get fucked with her panties on, guys.”

“Hurry the fuck up, Hansen,” one of the other guys finally speaks. “I got a raging hard-on and don’t want to go for the bridesmaids. I want to ruin the bride.”

“Please…don’t,” you choked out a whimper when Hansen moves his hands over your ass. His hand slip between your legs to part your pussy lips. He hums as your slick covers his fingers. “I’m going to marry.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Hansen slaps your pussy, once, twice, three times. “You will stay like this and wait for my cock to fill this needy hole. And after I’m done with your hole, my friends will have a go too.”

All you can do is bite the cushion and close your eyes. If this is a bad dream, you will wake soon and go back to your life.

“Shit, look at that perfect pussy,” one of the other men says. He slaps your ass, making it sting as it feels like it’s made of metal. “Thank me when I compliment you.”

“Barnes, relax,” a third guy grunts. “She will take your dick soon enough. I want to know if Hansen is all talk or if he can fuck like a stallion.”

“You hear the other three men step closer to the bed. They unzip their pants, and you sniffle again hearing the guy named Hansen unzip his pants too. His cock slaps against your pussy lips seconds later, making your body go stiff.

“Get away from me,” you scream and try to crawl away, but Hansen grabs your legs and drags you toward the edge of the bed. He grasps for your arms, holding them behind your back.

“Give me the handcuffs,” Hansen grunts. “I gotta tame that beast of a mare. She’ll feel me in her bones for days and maybe her ass too.”

He restraints your wrists behind your back, smirking as you sniffle silently.

“Relax that cunt,” he purrs and runs his erection up and down your slit. “It’s a nice little cunt, and I’d hate ruining it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you plea. “I’ll do anything you want to.”

He teases your entrance with the wide head, smirking as you try to wiggle away. Hansen slams home in one go, showing no mercy. You are soaked, and it helps to take his huge cock.

“Aw, there we go, sunshine. Can you feel your tight little cunt pulsing around my cock?” He grabs your restrained hands, and slowly starts rocking his hips.

The other men groan hearing tiny whimpers leave your lips. You hear one of them shuffle behind you. He steps next to Hansen to watch him ruin your cunt.

Hansen roughly fucks into you; he groans and drops his hands to slap your ass with both hands. His arms suddenly wrap around your body to bring you upright. He cups your tits, squeezing the plush flesh painfully hard.

You wiggle again and try to buck him off, but it’s no use. He ruts into you and taunts you with love confession. “I’m gonna marry this cunt, guys. It’s official, I’m in love.”

“Get off me,” you choke out a moan. He’s a bastard, but damn him, his cock hits that spot making you keen with deadly accuracy.

“No can do, sunshine,” he purrs and wraps one hand around your throat. You are helpless in his arms and can only watch one of the other men crawl onto the bed. He winks at you before kneeling on the bed to give your exposed cunt a few kitten licks.

“How does she taste, Rogers,” the man slapping your ass earlier asks. “I bet she tastes like a whore. Our whore.”

“Shut up, Barnes,” the man licking your cunt grunts. He kneels in front of you to grope your tit. “Yeah, I’m going to fuck you too, doll. Maybe missionary so you must watch me claim your body.”

“Mirror,” Hansen grunts. His thrusts become sloppy and you only hope he won’t cum inside of you. “Now!”

Two more men come into your vision. They rip the curtains hanging opposite the bed down, revealing an oversized wall mirror.

“Watch yourself get ruined, sunshine,” Hansen tightens his hold on your throat. He pushes into you, always hitting your G-spot now. You don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.

She looks like a whore getting railed by the masked man. Drool runs down your chin, and your eyes are glassy. “Fuck…no…nggh…” You try to hold the tidal wave back. The last thing you want is to gush all over the bastard’s cock.

“That’s you, sunshine,” he tilts your head to kiss you roughly. The mask scratches your face, but the worst is, that you tighten around his length, milking him dry. You sniffle, and whimper feeling his seed fill your abused cunt. “One done, Y/N. Four more to go. And after we all had our fill, we will start all over again.”

He laughs at your shocked face and pushes you off him. You land on the bed with a loud thud, fearing you won’t survive the night.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” the man named Rogers grabs you by your neck and forces you to kneel on the bed. “I want to fuck those tits first.”

“Kneel on the ground for your new husband,” Hansen grabs your arm and pushes you to the ground. You struggle to kneel with your hands still bound behind your back. “Good little cockslut.”

“Perfect,” Rogers smirks as you try to slowly move away from him. “None of this now.” He walks around you to slap his hands between your legs. He scoops a large amount of Hansen’s cum, humming as you whimper at the slightest touch.

Rogers hurriedly faces you again to smear the cum all over your tits. He hums a melody while playing with your nipples. “Rogers loves a good titty fuck,” Hansen kneels behind you to slap your ass. “Be good, and he will shoot his load before your tits are sore.”

“I—” You shake your head but have no choice but to let the man named Rogers roughly grip your chin. He smears Hansen’s cum all over your lips before greedily kissing you.

“Let me fuck those tits, doll,” he purrs and pushes his cock between your tits. He cups your plush flesh, pressing them together as he starts rocking his hips. You drop your head and watch his cock moving between your tits. Your mouth opens and you lick over his tip when he moves closer to your face. “That’s it. Be good for me.”

“Fuck those tits faster, I want her to suck me off, or her ass,” another man grabs the back of your neck. “Lick his dick, now.”

“Shit, Fowler,” the man fucking your tits grunts. “Yes, that’s so much hotter.”

“Fowler is a kinky bastard,” the last man laughs. “Wait for my cock, sweetness, Levinson will split all of your holes and ruin you forever.”

“Shut up,” Barnes grunts. He gets his dick out to run his gloved hand up and down his length.

Rogers moves his hips faster. “I want to fuck her pussy now.”

Your eyes widen at Rogers’ words. Before you can react his cock slips out from between your tits, and you get thrown onto the bed. He immediately crawls between your legs, spreading you with his hips. “Yeah, that’s how you will watch me fuck you, doll.”

Rogers impales you with one forceful thrust. He ignores that you try to wiggle your hips or that you call him a bastard. He silences your protests with his lips, almost smothering you as he starts rocking his hips. “You’re ours from now on. Not a bride but our whore.”

His lips move down to your neck, and lower to your tits. He bites your nipple, forcing a scream to tear from your throat. Rogers is a cruel lover. He bites and nips at your plush flesh, leaving marks as he fucks you deep and hard.

He speeds up with every squeak leaving your lips. Your eyes roll back as he suddenly grabs your hips to slightly lift your hips. Rogers holds you in a tight grip while violating your pulsing cunt.

“Shit, did you see that?” Barnes growls. “She gushed all over his cock like a whore.”

His load shoots into you right after you clenched around him like the whore they turned you into. “That’s it, doll. Now you know the drill.”

Rogers pulls out, leaving you tainted and panting for the next man to use you. “On your belly, ass up,” Fowler doesn’t give you the chance to take a breath. He flips you over, forces you on your hands and knees, and is on you before you can react.

Not that you’d be able to fight him.

“What do you say, Barnes?” Fowler runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs. “Ass and mouth? Let’s fill her from both ends.”

You moan but bite your tongue. Fowler slaps your ass, grunts, and calls you a slut as you dared to make a noise.

“Shut up, you don’t have a say in this,” he mocks you. “This body is ours to use. Now talking back.”

He opens the handcuffs. Fowler takes his time, gently kneading the pain out of your skin. “Barnes?”

“Mouth,” Barnes grunts. “I hope she’s good at sucking dick. I dreamed of having her lips wrapped around my dick.”

“More ass for me,” Fowler laughs as you hold your breath. “Relax, sweetness. This ass will love my cock. It’s made to take it.”

You nod and tap the bed twice. Fowler immediately grabs you by your hips to press his crotch into your ass. He grinds into you while Barnes takes off his clothes.

Barnes lies on his side, lazily stroking his cock. He watches Fowler push your face into Barnes’ crotch, smirking as you eagerly rub your face into his pubic hair. “Good little whore,” he praises. “Now open up for Bucky.”

“Barnes!” Fowler hisses. “We said no first names!”

“Fuck you! I want her to suck my dick, not for you to complain again. Get your dick inside her ass and let me and my pretty doll have some fun!” Barnes gently pats your head, encouraging you to relax and open your mouth for him.

You move a little closer to Barnes and press your knees and the palms of your hands into the mattress.

Barnes watches the man behind you open a bottle of lube. He grunts as you shyly glance at his erection. “All for you, doll.” He lazily strokes his cock, waiting for Fowler to make his move. “I bet you will look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks at his praise. You dart your tongue out to lick over the wide heat. He shudders feeling your tongue touch his sensitive tip.

“Stop playing around,” Fowler pushes against your shoulders to press your face into Barnes’ crotch. “Swallow his cock while I shove mine into your tight little arsehole.”

“Hey, she was so good to me,” Barnes complains loudly. “Right doll. You wanted to suck me good.”

“She’ll be even better with my cock up her ass.” You hear a commotion in the room. The fifth man, Levinson barks orders at Hansen and Rogers. You blend his voice out and only listen to Fowler who lubes one finger to play with your tightest hole. “Such a nice little hole for me to use.”

You whimper and bite your lower lip. It’s a new sensation feeling Fowler’s finger push into your tightest hole. He groans behind you. “Did you ever take it up your ass?” He taunts while moving his finger in and out. “I bet you didn’t.”

“Who’s toying with her now,” Barnes snaps at Fowler. “She’s a big girl and can take it. Right, doll?” He purrs the pet name. “You want him to fuck this naughty hole.”

For a moment, the room was silent. All eyes are on you, and the men watch you slowly nod.

They don’t need to know that you’re about to fulfill your darkest desires. The ones no one else could fulfill.

“I knew she was going to take all of me,” Fowler slaps your ass. You squeak and lean over Barnes’ crotch to lick over the head. He holds his cock in a tight grip, offering it to you like a present. “Now, open up for Barnes while I stretch that hole.”

Barnes cups the back of your neck and holds his cock with his free hand. He guides you down his cock, slow but his hold on your neck is tight enough to tell you he won’t accept refusal.

“Slow, doll,” Barnes moves his hand to the back of your neck. He pats you and purrs your name. “I’ll help you do it right.” He pushes your head into his crotch, forcing you to swallow him whole.

“Yeah, he’s good at guidance,” you choke around Barnes's cock. He smirks as you struggle to breathe right. “I’m better, though.”

You let Barnes guide your head up and down his length, ignoring the other men growling your name, along with profanities. You’re too far gone. Body and soul tainted by the men using you for their pleasure, you’re ruined and know it.

Fowler grips your waistline, fingertips digging into your flesh. He lubes his cock, groaning as his eyes drop to your well-fucked cunt. Rogers and Hansen’s cum runs out of your abused hole. “What a good whore you are for all of us.”

“Fuck her already, I’m still waiting for my turn,” it’s Levinson who raises his voice. “If not, I’ll take over and rip that tight little hole open.”

“Get fucked,” Fowler loses his patience. He grips your ass to spread your ass cheeks. Fowler spits onto the crack of your ass, huffing as Levinson steps toward the bed to watch you suck Barnes’ dick. You bob your head, desperate to feel his cum on your tongue.

The pressure you feel the moment Fowler pushes his cock into your tightest hole is something you’ve never felt before. He slowly moves back and forth, still, it’s a wide and uncomfortable stretch. You hear him groan and feel his hands grip your hips to push all the way in.

“Shit, she’s stuffed to the brim,” Hansen comments. He watches Barnes and Fowler use you to their liking, griping his cock to jerk off. “I could go for another round when you are done, guys. Her ass looks inviting.”

“I bet,” Fowler pants as he gives you shallow thrusts, “she stretched that perfect hole with a plug. Right, babycakes. You knew I’m into fucking ass.”

You moan around Barnes’ cock, unable to answer Fowler’s question. You’re their sex toy to use, and nothing else. You can’t move your head, because Barnes guides you up and down his length while Fowler thrusts into your ass.

They work in unison as if they had done this a hundred times before. Their cocks fill your holes, pushing as deep as possible and you get lost in your darkest fantasy. You close your eyes and let yourself fall.

“She’s there, in her little headspace, fuck,” Rogers’ says. “Slow down, make her feel all of it.” He dips his head to watch Fowler stretch your arsehole. “Make her hole gape. I want to go for a ride later too.”

“Shut up, Rogers,” Levinson barks. He stares at your naked form trapped between the others. Levinson is ready to drag them off you to get his turn, but he will wait and have the grand finale. “It’s my turn first!”

“Shit…I’m gonna cum,” you groan around Barnes. He cups the back of your neck again, holding you still when his cum shoots down your throat. “She’s perfect…” He slips out of your mouth, letting you breathe.

You don’t have time to think about his cum on your tongue. Fowler pushes against your shoulders, holding you down to rut into you. His cock slams into your tight hole. You whimper and beg him to slow down, but he won’t. Fowler is determined to fill you up.

“Butterfly?” Levinson asks, and you shake your head. “You’re such a good girl. We never had someone taking it like you did.”

“Please.”

Fowler grabs your hips. He shoves himself as deep as possible inside your ass and stills his hips. He comes with a shout of your name and slaps your ass with both hands.

It’s over as fast as it began. Fowler slips out of you and pushes your broken body onto the bed. You whimper but believe they will give you a break.

“Aw, butterfly, it’s my turn now,” you groan feeling another pair of hands grab your body. The man drags you off the bed and places you on the ground. “Hansen, help me.”

“I’m not your fucking sidekick,” Hansen grunts.

“I told you,” Levinson growls and points at you on the ground, “help me. I want to give her the best. My cum!”

“Fine, fine…” Hansen pushes a pillow under your head. He spreads your legs and presents your cum-leaking pussy to Levinson. “Satisfied?”

“Not yet,” Levinson steps toward your trembling body. He looks down at your naked form, smirking darkly as you stare up at him. The man is just like you, stark naked. “I hope you are ready for me, butterfly.”

You lick your lips, still tasting Barnes’ cum on your tongue. “Yeah…” you whimper and wait for his move.

“Good girl.”

Levinson grips his massive cock. He looks you in the eyes and starts stroking his cock. Moans leave this beautiful man’s lips as he stares at you. His grip tightens around his cock, and he fists himself faster.

Levinson has been on the edge since the moment his eyes landed on you. He wildly jerks his hips and imagines how your cunt will feel around his cock.

“Y/N,” he shouts your name and paints your body with his cum.

The moment his cream ends up on your skin, your body sizes up, and you cum untouched, whimpering as you don’t know what just happened.

“Guys, that was awesome,” Penelope coos. She smirks as the men she hired to spice the party up get dressed. “We all enjoyed your service.”

“Anytime, ma’am,” one of the callboys she paid to give your bridesmaids a good time says.

“I hope the bride got her money’s worth too,” Penelope giggles. “Five men giving her all she ever wanted. Phew…”

“Five men?” The callboy asks. “Ma’am. Every man you hired is within this room. We don’t know the others. We thought you hired someone else for the bride.”

“What?” Penelope stutters. “No. I only called you. I—I didn’t hire anyone else…”

You wake on a soft mattress. A silky nightgown covers your sore body. “Morning, sunshine,” Hansen greets you with a wink. He took the mask off, revealing the mustache you felt more than once against your clit last night. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Penelope outdid herself hiring you,” you grin. “You followed the script. I really enjoyed all of you and your service.”

You roll to your side to watch Barnes sip on his coffee. “You too, Barnes.”

“Bucky, doll,” he winks at you. “I think after I fucked all of your holes you can call me Bucky.”

“I hope Penelope paid you well. This was…phew…” you sit up to look around the room. You frown, as you are not at the bedroom of the house you rented for your bachelorette party. “Where are we?”

“Oh, that,” Nick Fowler laughs. “You see, we are not the callboys your little friend hired. We kind of hijacked your party to get back at your fiancé.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry, we got the script and the guys your friend hired to fuck you gave us all the information we needed.”

“I don’t understand,” you gape at Steve who steps inside the room. He holds the script you handed to Penelope before she hired the callboys in his hands.

“Your fiancé fucked with the wrong person, so we wanted to fuck him over but,” Ari laughs at your shocked expression. “Imagine our surprise when we found out that you wanted to fuck some callboys and send your fiancé the video.”

“He cheated on me,” you snap at Ari. “He never made me cum and dared to cheat on me. I wanted to fulfill my fantasies and get back at him at the same time!”

“I knew I liked her!” Lloyd exclaims. “See, we should do her a favor and send the tape to her now ex-fiancé. He’ll freak out, but she’s safe with us.”

“What?” You huff as the men start chatting about your fiancé, how you came on their cocks, and anything in between. “Guys, where are we?”

“We brought you somewhere safe,” Ari says and turns his attention back toward his coffee. “Don’t worry, butterfly. We like you, and will always make you cum. Just relax, lean back, and enjoy how we dismantle your ex…”

Read more: Their bride (Snippet 1)

Tags in reblog.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part one

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a, angst???

A/N: Been sitting in my docs for awhile! Based off Invisible by Taylor Swift - I have a couple parts ready to go not sure where i wanna take this but we'll see!

Part Two

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The city’s rhythm feels like a heartbeat, pulsing with the lives and stories of the people who live here. And for you, it’s not the towering buildings or bustling streets that make New York feel like home. It’s the people you share it with, the friends who’ve become your family, each with their own history and quirks, all somehow meshing together into this messy, beautiful dynamic you’d never trade for anything.

It started with Bucky. You met him on the playground when you were kids, both too stubborn to share the swing set. That was years ago, but you’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s been your constant, the friend who showed up at your house with snacks when you had a bad day, and the one who stayed up with you during endless nights of stargazing and silly conversations about what the future would hold.

When junior high rolled around, Steve joined your little duo. Steve, with his easy smile and that unwavering loyalty that made it impossible not to trust him. He fit right in, like he’d been meant to be part of your lives all along. Steve became the one to balance you and Bucky out — he was the one who kept the peace during your bickering, who had a shoulder to offer when one of you needed it. Steve quickly turned the two of you into an unbreakable trio.

Then came high school, and with it, Natasha. She was a transfer student, quiet and intimidating at first, with a sharp wit that kept everyone at arm’s length. But somehow, the three of you managed to break through that exterior. By senior year, she was as much a part of the group as you, Bucky, and Steve. Natasha’s the friend who knows everyone’s secrets, who has a knack for noticing things no one else does. She’s tough and unyielding, yet she’s also the one who brings you soup when you’re sick, who stays up late to talk through your problems — even when you don’t want to admit you have them.

College came, and your little circle expanded further. That’s when you met Sam. Sam was the life of the party, someone who could make anyone laugh and always knew the right thing to say. He was the friend you went to when you needed cheering up or a reality check, someone who wasn’t afraid to call you out when you needed it. With Sam came Wanda Maximoff, quiet but kind, with a gentle presence that somehow grounded everyone. She slipped into the group as if she’d always belonged there, the one who remembers little details and checks in on everyone. Wanda’s the friend who sits with you in silence when you’re upset, offering comfort without needing words.

You love them all — each one has carved out their own space in your life and heart. But then there’s Bucky.

Bucky is different. He’s been there the longest, woven into your memories and heart in a way that’s impossible to untangle. Somewhere along the line, he went from your best friend to something more, though he never seemed to notice. Bucky is everything you love and everything that frustrates you; he’s the guy who makes everyone around him feel like they’re the only person in the room, but he’s also the one who never stays attached to anyone for long.

He’s the smooth-talking charmer who flirts with every girl in sight, the perpetual bachelor who’s never been one for serious relationships. And while that should make it easier for you to keep your feelings hidden, it doesn’t. Because every time you see him with someone else, there’s a part of you that aches, wondering if he’ll ever look at you that way.

And yet, despite all the years and all the chances you’ve had to move on, you stay. Because Bucky is more than just a friend; he’s your home. You’re his confidant, the one who knows his secrets and his struggles, the one who’s always been there. It’s a role you wouldn’t give up for anything, even if it means watching him fall for everyone but you.

So, you keep your secret, tucked away behind the laughter and the years of memories. Because as much as it hurts sometimes, you’d rather have Bucky as your friend than risk losing him altogether.

The smell of pizza fills your tiny New York apartment as Steve brings in the last box from the kitchen, setting it down on the coffee table with a grin. “Alright, who’s ready to lose at Mario Kart?”

“You mean, who’s ready to lose to me,” Natasha chimes, grabbing a slice and settling on the couch, challenging smirk in place. “You all know I’m the reigning champion.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Sam teases, snatching the controller out of her hands with a wink. “I’m about to wipe the floor with all of you.”

You laugh, wedged into the corner of the couch beside Bucky, who’s flipping through channels like he’s in his own world. “You’ll be singing a different tune once I lap you three times,” he says, voice casual, eyes on the screen.

“Talk all you want, Barnes,” you reply, nudging his shoulder, “but you’re not gonna win tonight.”

His eyes meet yours, that lazy, amused smile you know so well. “Bring it on, doll.”

Natasha elbows you, muttering, “You two better save the banter for the race, or I’m taking both of you out first round.”

Your friends’ laughter fills the room, echoing off the narrow walls that have seen a hundred nights like this, crowded with the people you’ve come to think of as family. Wanda arrives a few minutes later, holding a tray of cupcakes she’s decorated herself. “Special edition, fall flavors,” she announces proudly, setting them down in the kitchen. “Pumpkin spice, because I know how basic you all are.”

Steve scoffs but grabs one immediately. “Did you just call me basic?”

“Take it as a compliment,” she teases, leaning into Sam, who gives her a quick side-hug. “Means you have taste.”

In the middle of this, Bucky slings his arm across the back of the couch, close enough that his hand almost brushes your shoulder. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, feel the way your pulse picks up—things he’d never notice.

“Why don’t we just skip the race and go straight to the part where we talk about how I’m a hero and you’re all my loyal sidekicks?” Bucky quips, popping open a beer and flashing a grin that could melt steel.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, trying to ignore the way your heart flutters. “In what world do you get to be the hero?”

“In my world,” he replies with a wink, leaning in closer. You catch Natasha’s look over the rim of her drink, one eyebrow raised as if to say, See what I mean?

The hours pass like they always do, a blur of laughter, arguments over who cheated and who didn’t, Wanda’s cupcakes disappearing one by one, and Steve trying to prove he can actually beat Nat, despite his track record saying otherwise. It’s only when the clock hits midnight that everyone starts to wind down.

As they get ready to leave, Natasha gives you a long look. “See you tomorrow?” she asks, her tone casual but her eyes full of something else.

You nod, managing a smile as she heads out with the others, leaving just you and Bucky to pick up the empty cans and plates. He nudges you as he gathers them up. “Another night, another victory,” he says.

“You were lucky, Barnes,” you say, rolling your eyes.

And maybe he’ll notice one day—how much it means to you that he’s here, that you’re the one left cleaning up with him every time the night winds down. But for now, he just laughs, flashing that grin of his that you can never get out of your head.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous of my skills.”

“Skills?” you snort, tossing a pillow his way. “All I saw tonight was a lot of luck.”

He catches the pillow mid-air, grinning. “Keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

There’s a lull as you both continue gathering up cups and plates, the quiet feeling comfortable, familiar. Every late night ends like this: just the two of you, unwinding after hours of laughter and chaos. You’re stacking plates by the sink when he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms with that easy, relaxed posture he gets when it’s just the two of you.

“So, what do you think of Kate?” he asks, out of nowhere.

You freeze, not quite sure how to answer. She’s… fine. In fact, she’s more than fine. She’s exactly the kind of person who should be with Bucky—smart, confident, and with a wit sharp enough to keep up with him.

“She seemed nice,” you manage, “I only met her the one time near the end of summer break” avoiding his gaze. “Why?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “I dunno. We’ve been talking a bit, and she’s… I don’t know, different.”

Different. The word sits heavy in your stomach, weighted with the implication. You force a smile, willing yourself not to overthink it. “Different’s good, right?”

“Yeah, it is.” He nods, looking thoughtful in a way that makes your heart sink, because this—this is new. You’ve watched him brush off a hundred girls, seen him roll his eyes at the idea of commitment more times than you can count. But he’s not brushing Kate off, and that terrifies you.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “if you’re planning to bring her around, at least let me so I can order extra pizza because 3 large pizza’s arent enought with Steve around”

Bucky chuckles, ruffling your hair in that infuriatingly casual way he’s always done. “You’re the best doll, you know that?”

The words are simple, playful, but they pierce all the same, a reminder of just how invisible you are to him in that way. “Yeah,” you say, a little quieter, “I know.”

[thefreakandthehair]

a little fluff for @starrystevie's birthday! hope it's the absolute best day! ✨

Eddie misses Steve.

It's equal parts cute, and maybe a little pitiful because it's only three days in Chicago for his friend's Bachelor Party, but it's already been two days and he misses Steve. Bandit digs his claws into Eddie's thigh as he makes biscuits and begs for pets, curling up comfortably next to Eddie's lap and leaving Steve's side of the couch overwhelmingly cold and empty.

"I know, kid. I know," Eddie coos, scratching their cat behind the left ear as he purrs.

He's glad that Steve had been able to get the time off from work to go, and he's glad that Steve's made friends on his recreational basketball league, and he's not jealous. At all. Not even a little bit.

... Okay, maybe he is a little bit jealous that Brandon gets to see him sweaty and gross in the June heat, running around doing whatever jock-activity they've planned in the backyard of their rented house all weekend, but who can blame him? Steve never gives him a reason to feel insecure so he knows this isn't about Steve. It's not rooted in anything even remotely related to him or their relationship— it's all about Eddie and the nasty voice in the back of his head that pulls out a bullhorn and screams not good enough on a loop.

Condensation from the beer in his free hand drips down his wrist as he rests his elbow on the arm of the couch. It's not the first time he's felt this way, and Steve himself has admitted to feeling the same way from time to time, so he knows that it'll pass. He just needs to focus on something else: DND campaign planning, sketching, writing, cracking out the ol' guitar. He could rewatch Howard the Duck for the hundredth time, or maybe even Labyrinth—

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

Eddie's phone buzzes on the coffee table and he fully expects it to be Gareth or Jeff, or maybe Robin. They have plans later that night, both of them missing Steve and all. What he doesn't expect is a series of text messages and 19 photos from Steve.

How funny. It's been five years since they'd become EddieandSteve but seeing Steve's name and smiling photo on his phone sets his little hummingbird heart aflutter even still.

steve 👑: it's so goddamn hot here steve 👑: we're playing cornhole now and just threw a football around steve 👑: sweating all the beer and vodka out as a I go, that's healthy, right? don't worry, I'm drinking a shit ton of water.

Steve includes a selfie of himself, smiling closed-lipped with a baseball cap on backwards and the neck of his tee-shirt drenched in sweat. Eddie wants to lick him dry and that's a thought he'll never tell a living soul, probably not even Steve. No, no definitely not Steve. He'll never live that one down.

steve 👑: oh, and fishing was good! we made some bets on who could catch the most and then who could catch the biggest. I tied for first place for the biggest and I caught 17. brandon got 20 so he won that bet. I'm only letting it go because it's his bachelor party lmao

Eddie swipes to the next photo, one of Steve and Brandon holding their two biggest catches. Steve's sunglasses are sliding down his nose, no doubt from the sun warming his glistening skin, and he's smiling wide against the railing of a boat. As much as he misses him, Eddie can't help but mirror his smile. Call him lovesick or 'down bad', as Robin says, but seeing Steve happy makes him happy.

He continues swiping and reading the little blurb attached to each photo, some of which don't even include Steve but Eddie appreciates them all the same. They don't include Steve, but it feels a lot like Steve trying include Eddie in the weekend. The last picture is one of the entire group, all dozen or so guys lined up on the ship. Brandon stands in the center surrounded by the rest of the group with Steve shuffled in no meaningful spot but to Eddie, Steve is the center of every photo, every moment, everything.

Eddie starts to type a response when his phone dings again. This time, Steve sends a voice message and Eddie presses play so quickly, he nearly knocks poor Bandit off his lap.

Hey, takin' a break from cornhole. I won, by the way, had to make up for losing to Brandon in the fishing bet.

Steve laughs and Eddie's stomach flips. Robin's right. He's down very, very bad for this man.

But I just uh, I miss you, and I know maybe that's sorta lame but I do. The party's great and all, but I can't wait to get back home tomorrow. Tell the kid I said hi. I love you, Ed.

He replays it a few times and shamelessly taps Keep so it doesn't disappear before sending his own voice message.

It's no more lame than me sitting here with Bandit sharing how much we miss you, so you get a pass. I mean, you get a pass on everything all the time, but don't let that go to your pretty head, okay? I'm so fucking glad you're having fun and sowing your jocky oats, but selfishly, I can't wait for you to get home. I'll make it worth your while.

He huffs air through his nose and laughs low in his throat.

Oh, and Robin's coming by in a little bit so I'm gonna grab a bottle of wine. Don't be surprised if you get a FaceTime call later. I love you too, Stevie. So goddamn much.

Eddie sure does miss Steve, but it stings a little less knowing that Steve misses him, too.

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@thezombieprostitute

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory

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[childlikegoblinqueen]

Results!

I present to you … tipsy (drunk) Hunter.

Steve whistled low and long. “Well? That's …classified information.”

“ You’re classi'fied N'formation.” Hunter snort laughed.

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 19

Hey guys! See? I can be consistent some of the time and I promise this one will be out once a week until it's done.

In this one we get the fallout from the last chapter, Vickie takes charge, and Steve and Eddie talk about the cracks appearing in their bands.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18

~

And of course the incident went viral, because there had been someone filming a bachelor party and caught the exchange in the background.

Fans rallied around the band especially when the two dudes could be heard saying the band was making shit up.

And despite Vickie keeping a deft hand on the situation, charges had to be filed. She called the band into the bus, having flown out the night before.

“Right,” she said, clasping her hands and leaning her elbows on her knees. “This was a scary incident and I was able to steer it in the right direction. But if you had told me right after it happened I could have gotten ahead of it.”

The members of the band just looked at her in shock.

“It’s just a problem we’ve always had,” Spence said. “It happens so often it’s just a part of being The Fallen, you know?”

Vickie cocked her head to the side. “You do understand that you’ve come normalize to assault, right?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “We knew it was bad. Of course we did. But we thought it came with the price of fame.”

“Famous people have to put up with a lot of bullshit,” she said shaking her head, “but assault is not one of them. They’re people too, they aren’t objects to be used and consumed by their audience and then spat out.”

They all shifted in their seats uncomfortably and avoided looking her in the eye.

“I think we all learned from this experience,” Robin said. “We learned the new hoods work, we learned to tell Vickie when something goes down, no matter how small we think it is or if we think it was handled. Because that’s why I didn’t say anything. Hopper had the guy delete it from his phone so I thought that was the end of the matter, only for it to appear online anyway.”

“And I learned,” Vickie finished, “that as unique as you guys are, you still experience the common problems most famous people have.”

They talked a little bit longer and everyone came away from the meeting feeling better about the incident going viral.

It did have the unfortunate side effect of Eddie being aggressively protective whenever the two bands would go out. Which would be fine, if it was just ‘Abbadon’ he was fiercely protective of, Steve being his boyfriend and all.

But nope.

Because Eddie didn’t want questions about why he was only protecting Abbadon, he went full mama bear. Barking at some chick that got too close to Azrael’s hood when she was flirting with him. Slapping away some guy’s hand that looked like it was going for Astraeus’s mask. He even got between a guy with a phone and Asmodeus. Who looked like the one guy in the band you wouldn’t want to fuck with.

That was when Steve decided to talk to Eddie about. Because they both had security and no one had gotten past Hopper since that first time.

“Hey, baby,” Steve said softly, slipping into the hotel room.

Eddie jumped and almost fell off the bed. “Stevie! Are you supposed to be here?” He scrambled to get back on the bed.

Steve joined him on the bed and slid as close to him as possible. “If anyone asks, I’ll just say you thought you were having a medical emergency but it was a false alarm.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I think that would cause a bigger stir than me sleeping with an EMT, sweetheart.”

Steve laughed and crawled up onto his lap to kiss him senseless. Eddie let Steve slowly lower him on the pillows as they made out.

“How much time have you got before you’re missed?” Eddie breathed, grinding their bodies together. “I really need you.”

Steve knew they would be taking a huge fucking risk, but he needed his boyfriend, too. He needed be filled up and worshiped. “A while,” he panted into Eddie’s mouth. “I want you to fuck me, please?”

Eddie groaned because that sounded like heaven to him. “Anything for you.”

Steve’s shirt was off and Eddie’s hands instantly came up to his belt to start unbuckling it. Steve sighed at the release of pressure against his zipper as Eddie pulled it down.

“Look at you, honey,” he panted, “you aching for me?”

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together to stop the moan from escaping his lips. Then he stood up and scrambled to get out of his clothes and Eddie took the opportunity to do the same. Soon they were lying together with Steve on top, kissing.

The sex was slow and tender and everything Steve needed in that moment and he felt Eddie did too. Once everything had been cleaned up and they were lying next to each other did Steve speak up.

“I think we have a couple of things to talk about,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “About Brian and Gareth, and you biting that fan’s head off tonight.”

Eddie sighed and held Steve closer. “I’m sorry about tonight. It’s just after that incident with the assholes and Astraeus, I guess my protective instincts that drove me to pick up lost sheep in high school went into overdrive.”

Steve nuzzled Eddie’s neck. “Which I do get, but let me tell you of the four of us, in character Asmodeus really is the last one you need to defend. He uses his mask as a way to be braver then he is normally and will absolutely knock a guy out and then freak out about it later.”

Eddie chuckled. “I already have a good idea of who’s who, but thank you for cinching for me that Simon is Asmodeus.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. “Yeah, that one was a gimme, I’ll admit. But who do you think are the other two. You have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”

He thought for a moment, really trying to put all the clues together. “Spence is Azrael and Shane is Astraeus. For the sheer fact that they make the least amount of sense and thus throw people off.”

“Right in one,” Steve confirmed with a kiss. “And yes, that’s why. Our personas are deliberately not like who we are in real life. I play more to my feminine side more as Abbadon because I’m your stereotypical boy next door.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “You’re way more than that, sweetheart. But I get what you mean.”

Steve sat up and pulled his knees up to drape his arms around them. “Did you want to talk about what happened with Brian and Gareth about the tour. I kept meaning to bring it up because there would be odd little moments where the tension would suddenly ramp up between you guys and it would be days before it went away. It seems like it’s only gotten worse since we’ve gone on tour.”

Eddie sat up too, and moved away from Steve, crossing his arms sullenly. Steve let him. He knew this was a prickly subject and if Eddie didn’t want to talk he wasn’t going to make him. So he waited him out.

Sure enough a few minutes later, Eddie let out a put upon sigh. “Yeah, okay. It’s gotten so bad Chrissy is talking to the label about what would happen if we broke up on this tour.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathed. “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip and nodded.

“I remember Brian saying he thought not letting Gareth on this tour was wrong,” Steve said, “but that everyone including Gareth disagreed.”

“He made a promise,” Eddie said softly, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face between his knees. “No drinking, in therapy, and having actual fucking progress on both the alcohol dependence and the abandonment issues and he’d get to tour with you guys.”

Steve raised a eyebrow. Eddie had said things like this before. That even though Gareth wasn’t a fan of Steve he had posters of Abbadon in his house and especially his studio. As he hadn’t seen it, he had to take Eddie’s word for it.

“And then he went on that bender when no one could find him...” he murmured, remembering that night.

“Yeah,” Eddie let out a shuddering breath, “thank god both Dustin and Gareth are the same flavor of nerd.”

Steve cracked a small smile.

“So he shouldn’t have been able to come,” he reasoned.

“Yeah.”

Eddie gripped his hair as he continued. “It’s in our contract. Everything has to be agreed on by all four members otherwise it doesn’t happen. We’ve lost out on some major opportunities because one of us held out. Did you know that the latest Batman movie wanted to use ‘Jaded Hearts’ for their soundtrack?”

‘Jaded Hearts’ was about a bad break up Jeff had. He thought things were going well, even bought a ring talked to her dad about proposing. And then suddenly she turned around and said things weren’t working out between them and just moved out of state. No rhyme or reason to it, just left.

“I didn’t,” Steve admitted.

“Yeah...” Eddie’s voice cracked on the bitterness of it. “Gareth didn’t want to because he thought it would cheapen its meanihng. While Jeff, the guy that wrote the damn thing was freaking out that they wanted his song in a movie about his favorite super hero.” He grimaced. “Jeff’s still salty about that one.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. Yeah, he would be too.

“So what was Brian’s reasoning for waiting until Gareth was out of rehab?”

Eddie let go of his hair and let his feet slide off the edge of the couch they were on. “Addiction is a mental illness and we wouldn’t punish any of us for needing physical therapy if we broke a limb or whatever.”

Steve let his eyelids flutter shut. He felt that. He did. Both Simon and he had parents that were alcoholics. Hell, his own mother did cocaine. Addiction was a disease, but not one that should be catered to like that. He opened his eyes and saw that Eddie was curling in on himself slowly but surely.

He grabbed Eddie by the wrist and pulled him into his arms.

“What’s going on with Gareth scares me,” Eddie murmured as he soaked up his boyfriend’s comfort.

Steve let out a deep breath and said gingerly, “I think Shane is a sex addict.”

Because while Shane hadn’t been late since their little intervention, he just got better at hiding his hookups. He figured he was the only one who knew because Hopper and Robin hadn’t said anything about it.

Eddie looked up at Steve, his big brown eyes wide in confusion. “I thought he was getting better at showing up on time.”

“Oh he shows up on time,” Steve muttered darkly. “But sometimes he shows up smelling of cheap cologne and expensive wine, like he hasn’t been to bed yet. And like with you and Gareth, what’s going on with Shane terrifies me, too.”

Eddie snuggled in closer. “Fame is a cruel mistress and she is giving our friends the beating of their lives.”

“I think after this both bands should take some time off,” Steve murmured, “and just be people for a minute or three. Three records in three years is insane for even the most seasoned bands and I think Corroded Coffin could really benefit not being in each others’ pockets for a bit.”

Eddie sighed and really thought about it. He nodded. Even if the other members said no, Eddie was willing to just walk away from it all. Go solo maybe. Because after twelve years of nonstop running he was starting to fall apart.

The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact Steve was by his side and he understood what he was going through.

“Yeah, baby,” he said, “let’s do that. Maybe you and me will travel the world a bit, really see it, instead of a blur through the windows of a tour bus.”

Fuck did that sound perfect. No band, no obligations, just him and Eddie and an adventure of a lifetime.

“Sure thing, rockstar,” he whispered. “Let’s do that. Plan a trip of Europe or whatever and just see the sights for a change. And not just the sites that would be good publicity either. The wacky museums, the weird curio shops, five hundred year old bars.”

Eddie sat up and looked him in the eye. “Wait, what? You’d really be interested in doing that? I mean, I’d love that. But none the guys like that shit. Not like I do and you’d want to do that kind of stuff with me?”

“Of course I would,” Steve said and then kissed him deeply. “I love that kind of shit too. And yeah maybe I didn’t always, but Robin has been a very good influence on me.”

Eddie laughed. It was so free and happy, Steve wanted to bottle it up and keep it for shit days.

“Maybe we should bring her with us,” he said with a grin. “That way people will be less suspicious about you and me going on a trip and reading too much into it.”

Steve let out a sigh, his mood a little dampened by the fact this couldn’t just be a romantic getaway. But then again, he really didn’t want to leave Robin home for that long, either. He kissed Eddie.

“Yeah, Eds,” he said sweetly. “Let’s do that. She’ll love it.”

~

Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: CLOSED

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10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina @garden-of-gay

[apomaro-mellow]

I wanted to write church fucking again but it turned more into church love-making

Steve was long past caring if anyone heard them. The only thing on his mind was taking Eddie deeper and deeper. This place was built with Eddie's money anyway. And it wasn't really a building to practice any religion known to man. As Eddie had put it, the first and only thing being worshipped here was them and their love.

And to Steve there was honestly nothing more sacred.

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

"Do we really need to do the separation thing?", Eddie asked. He didn't whine. He definitely wasn't whining as Steve packed his bag.

"We're only doing like 5 traditional things for our wedding and this is one of them", Steve said, zipping up a duffel bag.

He gave Eddie a kiss on the lips, one that was too short considering he wouldn't even be seeing him for another twenty-four hours, let alone kiss him again. He chased after Steve's lips only to have his beloved pull back.

"You're going to make me late. Robin's already honked once", Steve said.

"Mmm, she can come up and rip you from my arms if she wants you so bad", Eddie said, pulling Steve into his hold and falling back against the bed.

"You know she will. And she'll have the spray bottle and everything", Steve warned, but doing nothing to stop Eddie from groping his behind.

Steve was able to break away before Robin got pushed to that point and leave to stay at her place until the wedding. Eddie let out a sigh that was equal parts dreamy and forlorn. He did his best to keep his mind off of not being around Steve and his friends had the ultimate bachelor party planned. But he couldn't help but think at times how much nicer it would be with his Stevie there.

"Technically we're both bachelors, so we could've had the same party", Eddie reasoned.

The others wouldn't hear it and kept him sufficiently busy until they all passed out around 3 am. At 5 am, Eddie woke up walked over to the church. He took out his key and unlocked the door. Inside was completely empty. But Eddie had saw to the renovations himself to make sure it was up to par.

He sat in the first pew and let out a sigh. In just a few hours, he and Steve would be standing in front of this altar, vowing themselves to each other. Eddie would have done it anywhere, the courthouse, a friend's backyard, their sacred bedroom. But Steve's upbringing wouldn't allow him anything less than a church. Thankfully, Eddie had enough 'fuck-you' money to find an abandoned one and have it built back up just for the two of them. And perhaps any other queer that wanted an unofficial ceremony.

Eddie himself rarely looked to Jesus for answers and was just about to ask what he was even doing here when the doors opened again. And who should walk through it but the answers to any question he ever had.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

"Awaiting salvation. And here you are", Eddie smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for...well, for you, I guess", Steve said as he walked down the aisle and took a seat in the same pew as Eddie. But at a distance for polite friends and not two men who were getting married in a few hours and already knew each others bodies.

"Why are you all the way over there?", Eddie smirked. "You think we need a chaperone or something."

"I came to get a moment of peace and quiet before the storm today is going to be", Steve said. "And you are anything but peaceful and quiet."

"You just said you were searching for me?"

"I meant that sometimes searching for one thing can bring you another." Steve smiled as he shook his head a little, a memory coming back to him. "My mom always said 'when you ask God for patience, he doesn't give you patience. He gives you a situation where you need to be patient'."

"You sure your mom wasn't praying to a genie? Or a monkey's paw?"

"I'm just saying that I came to a church for peace and instead, I see my fiance."

Eddie scooted closer to Steve. "Sounds to me like His Mighty Heavenliness is throwing down a challenge. Can you be quiet around me Steve?"

Steve knew he couldn't. And Eddie knew he couldn't. Nor would his fiance's big ego even allow Steve to even attempt to be quiet. Eddie wouldn't stop until this place was filled with his echoes. But he held steady.

"There's not even a comfortable place to do it", he said.

To which, Eddie jumped up and went over to the altar, normally it would have a cloth draped over it, but when Eddie pressed down, there was a bit of give, like it was cushioned. Steve didn't even have the presence of mind to ask why because Eddie was already palming himself through his pants, beckoning Steve over with a finger.

Let it be known that marriage didn't stop Steve from being a slut. It was just reserved for his groom-to-be.

So he loved on Eddie and let Eddie love on him, in an embrace that felt more rapturous than any praise he'd given in a church. This was what ecstasy was. Steve knew deep in his soul that he was born for this, to share this with Eddie.

Hours later, dressed to the nines and promising themselves to each other in front of an audience, Steve couldn't stop thinking about his body draped over the altar. Eddie had said more than once that he worshipped Steve's body but the same was true for him. When Eddie slipped the ring onto his finger and kissed him, Steve felt like he was being smiled on by Heaven.

A man like this loving and promising eternity, how could be anything less than a blessing?

[morganbritton132]

Can just picture Eddie posting videos from back in the 80’s and everyone going so wild thirsting for Steve that Eddie starts feeling some type of way even though that’s his husband lol

Eddie has never been insecure about his relationship.

Don’t get him wrong though.

It is annoying when you’re closeted in your hometown and have to watch girl after girl shoot their shot with your boyfriend. It is irritating when you take your boyfriend to his first gay club and every five minutes someone tries to interrupt you dancing with him to try to grind on your boyfriend. It is borderline rude when you’re married and on a date, and your waiter tries to slip your husband her phone number.

Eddie gets it – Steve is too hot for his own good – but he isn’t insecure.

He bagged Hawkins’ most eligible bachelor right after the worst week of his entire goddamn existence. Steve had a front row seat to a lot of his lowest of lows and still made out with him. Eddie had been happy to just fool around with his old high school crush but then Steve had to go pull the rug out front under him and get disowned for telling his parents that he was in love with him.

So, yeah.

There are always people thirsting after Steve but Steve Harrington wears his love so completely and openly in every ounce of his being that Eddie has never had any doubt who it’s directed towards. He is not insecure.

However.

Some of these people need to calm the fuck down.

Eddie posts a clip of Steve and Dustin bickering at each other from an old home video that he must’ve borrowed from Jonathan and forgot to give back. It from before Eddie’s time with the party.

The greater context of the video is that someone was throwing a going away party for Dustin before he left for summer camp, but it’s very clear that Steve did not know this when he walks into the house. He very clearly showed up post-workout.

In the clip, Steve is complaining about Dustin not telling him about the party and Dustin is telling him that he did tell him (“That’s not true. I told you to come here at six and bring me my flashlight. What else would I have meant?”). Eddie captioned it something like, “Some things never change.”

It’s a pretty innocuous video about two brothers giving each other a hard time but then if you read the comments, you will feel the need to go to church and repent. All the comments are about Steve’s spandex-y workout shorts. All the stitches are people trying to enhance screenshots of the video to see the outline of Steve’s dick, and really it’s – “Jesus H. Christ.”

Eddie ends up deleting the video because, “He’s seventeen in it, sickos.”

[carriedawatermelon]

Doing some little kinktober ficlets because why not. Please find the first installment of soft Ronance filth, which in this case is not actually that filthy, below.

Prompt: Seven Minutes in Heaven

Someone bumps into Nancy for about the hundredth time, a shoulder jostling her own near the wall of the living room, which Nancy uses to brace herself. At least the girl—Megan, third grade, sixth grade, a few years of ballet and most recently, second period US history—apologizes, genuinely. 

“Sorry, Nancy. Too many people.”

“Too many people,” Nancy agrees and tries for a smile, which maybe works as she gets one in return. 

And there are too many people, and there’s too much noise, and Nancy knows the occasional, protesting throbbing behind her eyes is going to become a full-fledged headache soon, but still, she stays. She stays and makes her way successfully out of the living room and into the kitchen. It’s still too crowded but only with people moving through, grabbing beer and whatever godawful punch is on the counter as they pass into the backyard or the living room or the den, where a whole other mass of bodies has congregated to talk and flirt and try to pretend like this is a normal week-before-graduation party. 

It’s why she’s still here, that last part. Because it’s the week before graduation, and she’d been sitting with Hopper and Steve talking logistics two days ago and realized that the enthusiastically offered invitation from Becky, who like Megan, she’d known for most of her life and also hardly knew at all, would be the last one she ever got. Shit, she’d thought, absently correcting Hopper’s patrol map to accommodate for the newest construction. Shit, this is it. 

She’d had that thought many times over the last few years, in a life-or-death way. It was jarring, to have it in the way she was supposed to, in the way that pretty much every other teenager in Hawkins and if John Hughes was right, everywhere else in America, had it, too. 

“Steve, switch with me for Friday,” she’d said, and he’d done it, and now Nancy is leaning against a kitchen counter, wincing as something lukewarm soaks through the back of her pale yellow button-down and watching as her classmates do exactly what they should be doing the week before summer break. 

She doesn’t feel angry that they’re pretending, the way she had with Steve. Well. She does feel angry. She always feels angry. But for the most part, it’s not with the people around her. For the most part, it’s on their behalf. On Barb’s behalf. On her own, even, when she can let herself. 

They’ve all suffered. They’re the ones who stayed or came back, the crowded party at this point consisting of most of what remains of Hawkins High, grade irrelevant. Nobody is trying to kick anyone out, and nobody’s policing the door. 

As of about two weeks ago, curfew had been lifted. Officially, the army finally managed to secure the area after the earthquake. Unofficially, El had demolished a weakened Vecna, the party offering her backup in the real world and the upside-down and the space in between. The work that’s left is still left, but it’s eliminating stragglers and maintaining vigilance, and El and Will both have a kind of ease and confidence that makes the rest of them feel hopeful, that made Nancy feel like she could switch a patrol shift to Steve to go to a party. 

“Nancy,” someone shouts from the door of the kitchen. Ally, eyes bright with a plastic cup in one hand, shakes her shoulders. “Come play spin the bottle.”

In a small mercy, she’s being dragged toward the den before Nancy is forced to provide an answer, laughing an “Okay, okay, okay!” 

In a bigger mercy, her body is replaced by one that makes Nancy’s shoulders relax, a genuine smile break across her face. 

“I was going to ask if you wanted to sneak out back and smoke, but I’d hate to stop you from a game of spin the bottle with Hawkins High’s most eligible bachelors.”

Robin’s grin is big, her hands shoved into the pockets of her black jeans, an oversized green t-shirt tucked into the front under...Nancy’s favorite jean jacket. 

“Thief!” 

Robin’s grin grows. “Fair’s fair.”

And, well, Nancy can’t exactly argue. Robin’s black jacket is in her possession—currently neatly folded in the passenger seat of Nancy’s car—where it’s been since about two weeks after their first encounter with Vecna and where Nancy intends for it to remain until…until. 

She scowls anyway, pushing back from the counter and making her way to Robin, who stiffens for a second at Nancy’s hug before relaxing into it, wrapping her arms around Nancy’s shoulders and holding her close. The jacket smells like the detergent her mom uses and a little like Nancy’s perfume, but underneath is all Robin, lavender and cloves and the cigarettes her mom smokes. She can smell weed, too, and she pulls back a little to look up at Robin, who’s looking down at her with a faint blush. 

When Robin told her, fingers twisting and face paler than usual on the couch in her basement, that she likes girls, she’d put herself as physically far from Nancy as possible in the shared space. Nancy, heart broken as she listened to halting, stuttering sentences so far from the Robin she had grown used to, had tentatively scooted closer, lifting an arm in offer. Robin had hesitated for a second and then collapsed into her, crying while Nancy reassured her. Now, with Nancy’s constant encouragement, she’s getting better about touch, about initiating it and accepting it.

Of course, it is different now, but that’s Nancy’s fault. That’s because Nancy, as she has let herself admit for the past six or so weeks with increasing acceptance, wants to kiss her. She hasn’t yet and doesn’t now, but she does reach down and lace their fingers, tugging Robin toward the sliding door to the back. 

“There’s a Robin/robber pun here somewhere but I can’t quite get there,” she admits, happy to see that the crowd of their peers thins significantly after the deck.

Robin snorts, follows easily as Nancy begins pulling them past small groups of people and toward the grass. It makes her bristle, still, the relative quiet in the largely dark yard, and Robin squeezes her fingers like she understands, because she does. The house and the summer night give enough light to navigate well enough, and Nancy has her eyes on a set of lawn chairs that seem to have been abandoned by a group now moving back toward the house, but as she moves toward them Robin stops her. 

Her grin is pulled up at the side as she looks from Nancy to a tree with a tire swing and a set of boards nailed to its trunk. Nancy sighs, and Robin moves toward them, grinning, letting go of Nancy’s hand to pull at the steps and look up at the tree house. 

“Robin. No.”

“What?” She says, in a terrible attempt at guilelessness. 

“You know what.”

“I don’t.” She says easily. “I don’t know what.”

She shades her eyes like that’ll help her see in the dark, and Nancy rolls her own, stomach swooping with affection, before reaching into her bag and pulling out a flashlight. 

When it clicks on, Robin looks back at her and bites her lip. “Nancy Wheeler. The Boy Scouts have got nothing on you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nancy says, like she isn’t about to indulge a terrible idea. “Investigation purposes, only, Buckley. We didn’t survive the upside-down so you could break yourself climbing a tree.”

“Totally, totally,” Robin responds, like she doesn’t know Nancy is about to indulge her terrible idea. “I’m just gonna investigate these first few steps and, uh…” When the first two hold, she looks down at Nancy happily and keeps climbing. 

“You have no sense of self-preservation,” she calls after her. “Ms. Delayed Walker.”

When she reaches the platform at the top, she pouts down at Nancy, features a blend of shadows in the strange light. “That’s really rude, Nance. I think you should come apologize.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Nancy says, already on the second plank, flashlight shining up from where she’s tucked it vertically in her purse. It catches Robin’s grin, and Nancy stares, feels like she’s falling with her hands securely gripped on the wood. Robin’s not the only one who’s ridiculous. 

She pulls herself into the plank next to Robin, who wraps an arm around her waist. It’s reflex maybe, because the platform is small, and Nancy sees the flash of panic across her face so she leans into Robin’s body before she can pull away, hand moving to hold Robin’s against her. 

“If we fall out of a tree before graduation, I’m going to be so pissed at you.”

Robin laughs, squeezing her, and then begins scooting back, Nancy releasing her so she can make her way into the little house behind them. For all her talk, she wouldn’t be up here if she didn’t think it were sturdy. The climbing planks are relatively new, wood stained and smoothed against splinters, so she suspected the house would be, too, and she’s pleased to find that she’s right.

It’s big for a tree house, and tall enough that Nancy can almost stand comfortably, bent just a little to explore, fingers on the cross beams below the roof so she doesn’t bump her head. There’s a little table shoved into one corner, a window in each wall where she can see that the little platform they landed on extending around the house like a porch. When she turns around, Robin has made herself comfortable on some cushions against the back wall, a pink floral print that looks like maybe it was stolen from lawn furniture. She has a joint in one hand and pats the seat next to her before reaching into her pocket (Nancy’s pocket) for a lighter. 

There’s a lantern hanging from a hook near her head, two candles inside and Robin lights them as Nancy clicks off the flashlight and settles, close enough that their knees touch. Robin hands her the joint but keeps the lighter, and Nancy bumps her shoulder as she lights it. 

“Such a gentleman,” she says, before inhaling, and Robin rolls her eyes but blushes. 

Nancy doesn’t cough, though it’s still sometimes a close thing, the weed a post-Vecna addition to her life. It helps her relax and it doesn’t make her feel bad the way drinking does and it’s given her some of her favorite nights, sitting around smoking and talking and watching movies with Steve and Robin and Eddie and sometimes Jon or Vickie. 

She passes the joint back, and props herself back against the wall, lets herself look at the girl next to her as they smoke together for a little while, making aimless conversation. There’s something undeniably attractive about watching Robin smoke, the shape of it between her lips and the way they move as she pulls, the smoke that she exhales slowly, eyes exploring the little house. 

Eventually, Nancy asks, “How’re you feeling about next week?”

“Eh,” Robin offers along with another hit, which Nancy takes. “Weird. Fine. Nervous. Excited.” She brings her eyes back to Nancy, who smiles at her. “How ‘bout you?”

“Eh,” she echoes, and Robin pokes her gently. She’s warm, this close to Nancy, and she wants more, scoots closer, takes her hand and twines their fingers. Twirling the thick silver ring around Robin’s index finger, she feels Robin’s breath stutter, her own breath escaping with a happy sigh at their proximity. Robin mutes the joint and sets it against a Coke can. “Fine, I think. I feel good about what’s coming. Good about Chicago.” She squeezes at Robin’s fingers and Robin squeezes back. “Good about Chicago with you. I’m ready, I think. It’s not like…I didn’t exactly love,” she stops playing with the ring for a second and gestures out toward the yard, the house, “all of this. High school. You know.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

Nancy presses closer, drops Robin’s hand in favor of wrapping it around her under her (Nancy’s) jacket, bullying her way into her side until Robin wraps an arm around her shoulders, laughing, thumb running a gentle up and down against her arm as they settle. 

“The ending hasn’t been so bad,” Robin says, pauses. 

Nancy can’t help but repeat, stoned and uncertain she’s heard correctly, “The ending hasn’t…” She can’t even finish, her voice cracking on what surely is a joke, and then they’re both cackling, clutching each other. 

“Dingus,” Nancy gasps, mostly in Robin’s lap now, and Robin groans. 

“I am. I’m a total dingus. ‘The ending hasn’t been so bad,’” she repeats, mocking herself, and Nancy tucks her head into her neck, laughing, Robin’s arms tight around her waist. “That’s what I get for trying to be smooth, I guess.” And then she shuts up so fast Nancy hears her jaw click. 

And maybe Nancy should be nervous, but instead all she feels is immensely pleased. “Oh?” She says, voice teasing as she pulls herself away, adjusting until she’s straddling Robin’s thighs. Robin looks terrified and also can’t stop staring at Nancy’s legs where they now bracket her own, eyes flitting between Nancy’s and their laps. Her hands are hovering at her sides, fingers opening and closing around nothing, and Nancy takes pity, full of smug affection as she takes them and puts them on her thighs. 

The noise Robin makes is something between a groan and a whimper, and it makes Nancy more than a little feral. 

“Trying to put the moves on me, Buckley?” She doesn’t try to hide the want in her voice as she lets her own hands settle on Robin’s neck, thumbs tracing the corners of her jaw. 

Robin finally holds her gaze, fingers spreading and squeezing at Nancy’s thighs. Nancy shivers. Robin squeezes harder. 

“Nancy.”

Robin’s lips are warm and waxy, the last of the vanilla chapstick she likes clinging on through their smoking. It’s perfect; she’s perfect, hands climbing to Nancy’s waist, where she holds her steady as she deepens the kiss, the taste of weed and lemonade and Robin filling Nancy up. 

“Nancy,” Robin says when they pull away, voice breathy. “What’s happening right now?”

The affection Nancy feels is almost violent, it’s so overwhelming, and she lets herself kiss Robin again, hard and quick. “Well,” she says. “You attempted one of the worst lines I’ve ever heard.” She keeps her tone teasing, and Robin closes her eyes and groans, head thudding against the wooden wall behind her. 

Nancy tsks, and Robin blinks open her eyes, blush in full force in the candlelight. She’s fucking gorgeous. 

“And it worked,” she says primly, moving a hand to Robin’s sternum, flattening her palm and feeling her breathe before tugging at the lapel of her (Nancy’s) jacket. “Because it appears I like you so much that I’m willing to overlook things like thievery and terrible come ons.” 

“You…you like me so much that…” And then she’s kissing Nancy again, less gently, and Nancy sighs approvingly, sucking at Robin’s bottom lip. Robin’s mouth moves to her neck, her hands shifting to Nancy’s hips to urge her closer, and she goes easily, moving a hand into Robin’s hair and moaning as her tongue and then her teeth find a spot that makes her hips cant.

“Fuck, Rob.” 

She pulls away, gasping, hands flexing on Nancy’s hips. 

“Do you…do you want…” She shakes her head, eyes closing, and Nancy kisses her gently. 

“I want to date you,” she says, watching as Robin’s eyes snap open. “I want to hold your hand while you talk to me about whatever the movie of the day is, and I want to fix your collars and leave lipstick on your cheek when I kiss you goodbye, and I want to ask you to stay over and have you know exactly what I mean.” 

“Yeah?” 

Her voice is small, almost scared, and Nancy channels as much love as she can into her own as she says, brushing a thumb over a beautiful cheekbone, “Yeah. Is that something you could want, too?”

“Yes.” A hand cups Nancy’s jaw. “I want that so much, Nance. I can’t even…I want you so much. I’m…it’s…” She laughs, running a hand through her hair. Nancy misses it. “Sorry, um, sorry. I just, I really can’t believe this is happening. Holy shit.” Her smile is wide, her eyes bright. “Nancy Wheeler wants to date me.”

Nancy laughs, tucks her hair back. She feels the flush in her own face and doesn’t hate it, for once. “Yeah, I really do.”

“You’re beautiful,” Robin says, and bites her lip. “Is that…I think it all the time, you know. Like, all the time. Like, yesterday when you got mad at that guy for turning without his blinker, and you made this face, and your lips did this thing, and all I could think was how gorgeous you were. And then tonight, when I showed up and you were leaning against the counter, and I could tell you were trying to figure out how you were gonna say no to Ally, you know, you have this, like, thinking face, and God, Nancy, all I wanted was to press you back against the counter and…”

She stops, catching herself, but Nancy wants none of that. “And what, Robbie?” She takes Robin’s hand and puts it back on her hip, greedy and pleased as she watches Robin’s eyes grow big, feels her fingers flex. “What did you want to do?”

She moans into the kiss, into the grip of Robin’s hands, letting her hips roll into the body pressed against hers. When her mouth moves to her neck again, kissing and sucking, Nancy throws her head back and holds Robin close. 

Hands move from her hips to the buttons of her shirt, tentative, and this had probably been the conversation Robin wanted to have earlier, about what Nancy wanted.

It takes an incredible amount of willpower but she manages to pull back, panting, tilting Robin’s face to meet hers. Because Nancy will absolutely let Robin fuck her in this treehouse, but Robin’s a virgin, and she deserves better than cramping hands with their clothes still on. Nancy has plans. 

“Come home with me.”

“Okay,” Robin agrees immediately, head bobbing eagerly, and Nancy grins, kissing her gently.

They tidy themselves as best they can, hands untangling as they reach the house again, and the party’s still in full swing, loud and bright and smelling like cheap beer and fruit punch. 

They pass by the group playing spin the bottle on their way out, a series of shouts coalescing into a chant as a couple is sent off to the closet for seven minutes in heaven. 

Robin shakes her head. “Nightmare,” she says under her breath, and Nancy laughs. 

“I don’t know.” She grins at Robin and uses the crowd as an excuse to grab her hand again, keep her close. “I feel like you’d find lots of jackets to steal.”

She doesn’t need to see her to know her eyes are rolling. “I would bet 20 of Steve’s dollars that my jacket will be in the passenger seat of your car when we get there. The hypocrisy is heavy, Nance.” 

“So, what?” She shrugs as they break through the front door, making their way to Nancy’s car up the block. “I like wearing my girlfriend’s jacket.”

It’s quiet, and Nancy’s worried for a second that she’s overstepped, but when she looks, she finds Robin staring at her with heat in her eyes, her jaw set. 

“I bet,” Robin says, looking around and keeping close to Nancy, voice low, “I bet you’d look great in that jacket and nothing else.”

Nancy swallows, stops as they reach the car. “Wanna find out?”