#love reading fics when Steve takes something literally

[hello-sweetheart]

Steve who struggles to read people. Who ended up in the popular crowd cuz he’d occasionally make blunt remarks or answer a little too honestly, and people mistook that for haughtiness.

Steve who was seen as ‘cool’ because if anyone tried to bully him he’d shoot back wise cracks, not realizing the other was trying to belittle him. And people ate it up. Thought he was funny. Steve who serves as good as he gets, who can take a joke. Steve who’s cool.

Steve who struggles to know when someone is truly mad or just playing around. Who doesn’t pick up on someone being passive aggressive.

And Eddie who never beats around the bush. Who wears his heart on his sleeve, who says exactly what’s on his mind. Who’s so expressive and real that Steve doesn’t have to wonder if he’s missing something, if Eddie is saying one thing but means the other.

Robin who is just the same. Who doesn’t belittle him when he asks what people mean, or takes something literal. He doesn’t feel like he’s an idiot when she corrects him either.

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I pre-S4 I secret relationship AU I rated M I 3.9 k I angst I S4 fix-it I time skips

This was going to be a fully fleshed out story but I lost the umpf to finish, it just felt unnecessary to commit to an entire fic, so here's the rough draft for anyone interested.

July 10th, 1985

Eddie answered the door to find Steve Harrington standing off the porch, one foot on the bottom step, looking a bit like mangled raccoon roadkill, with somehow still an immaculate head of hair.

“Whoa, man, who'd you piss off this time?”

Steve slow blinked up at him. “I don't wanna talk about it. You open for business?”

He didn't normally take house calls but they weren't in school right now - Steve never would be again, the lucky bastard - and Eddie was saving up for a new amp, so yeah, he was open for business today.

“For you, Moneybags, always.” He held the door open wide.

Steve walked in, mumbling, “Not sure Moneybags is accurate now that I'm unemployed.”

“Well, then your money is even more precious. You could've spent it all on Budweiser but you chose me.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Steve.

“Don't know any other drug dealers,” he pointed out.

Eddie scowled. “C'mon, man, give me the illusion of being special.”

Steve's lips quirked, playful, even though it must've been stretching that cut painfully. “Oh, Munson, only your steller ditch weed can save me!”

Eddie would never admit it but the fact that he played along, albeit sarcastically, made him give Steve an extra pre-roll for free.

***

Aug 16th 1985

“And I said to her, ‘You can't expect me to tell you that. It's against the bro code or something,’ not that we were ever actually bros, it's the principle, right? But then she gives me the fuckin’ wet eyes, like I'm killing her-”

Eddie wasn't really listening, he was more focused on the task at hand, but Steve was a talker and Eddie had made peace with that weeks ago, so he politely hummed and nodded as needed to keep him going.

“Shit.”

“What?” Steve stopped monologuing to ask.

“Nothin’, just didn't have as much in this bag as I thought.” He put the tray aside and got up to grab another sack. There should be enough to round out Steve's usual six joints in his dresser stash.

“Anyway,” Steve continued on, unperturbed by the interruption, “I said to her-” He continued to wax about Nancy fucking Wheeler while Eddie dug through his top drawer. Ridiculous man couldn't wait thirty seconds, no, had to follow Eddie into his room. “Like Byers has the balls to cheat on her, ya know? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about it if he did? Fly to California and… Huh.”

“What?”

He was so wrapped up in looking for the right strain, he didn't turn to look until Steve's continued silence became weird.

He should've just given Steve five joints and charged him less.

“Uhhh. I can explain?”

Steve looked up from the skinmag on Eddie's side table and laughed. Actually laughed. “Oh yeah? I'd love to hear it.”

Why did he look so happy about it? Christ, he was literally bouncing on his toes.

“You're being weirdly chill about this,” he pointed out when Steve continued to grin.

“It's just funny, I guess. I have that same one.”

Time stopped. It started back up of course but not in any way that made sense. Because Steve was giving him that look, that open faced ‘See anything you like?’ look, with the steely eyed determination of a man who knew what he was doing. He'd seen that look before, in clubs, on the street. The problem Eddie was trying to work out wasn't so much ‘Could Steve Harrington really be queer?’, it was ‘Could Steve Harrington really want to fuck around with me?’

“What the fuck does that mean?” He asked, sure he was reading this wrong.

Steve cocked his head. “It means exactly what it sounds like.”

He turned to give Steve his full attention. “You, Steve Harrington, own the August edition of Drummer magazine.”

“Yes.”

“The gay porn mag.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He watched as Steve's face turned a lovely shade of pink. “To look at pictures of naked men and jerk off,” he said calmly, despite the blush. “Also the articles are well written and informative.”

That shocked a laugh out of Eddie. He crossed his arms and leaned up against the dresser. “Uh huh. What was your favorite one?”

“That story about the military rites of passage. Something about being told what to do gets me going.”

It could've just been a good guess, Eddie supposed, but he didn't think so.

“Oh yeah, private?” He said, all bravado. “Drop and give me twenty.”

The bravado died a soldier's death as he watched Steve hit the floor, on his knees, and then begin doing actual pushups. He watched up until twelve or so - the play of muscle under that blue and white polo was really something - before stopping him with a laugh.

“Get up, you fuckin' jock. We get it, you're in great shape.”

Steve did stop but only so he could sit back on his heels, hands placed firmly on his thighs, to look up at Eddie as though awaiting further instructions.

He gulped.

***

Sept 28th 1985

Eddie had his hand down Steve's pants, sucking a sizable hickey on his neck, when Steve blurted out, “Teen Wolf is playing at the Drive-In in Shelbyville.”

He backed away slowly, swimming through a haze of horny confusion to mumble, “The fuck?”

“Um. Just sayin'.”

“‘Just sayin'?’ Why are you ‘just sayin'’ right now?” He articulated this with a heavy squeeze to Steve's dick.

“Ha!” Steve arched toward him while also wincing in embarrassment. “I just wanted to ask before I forgot.”

A drop of cold lead sank Eddie's stomach. “Ask…what?”

He blinked at Eddie in the dark. “Do you wanna go? To the movies? With me?”

Heat washed out the cold feeling and replaced it with mounting anger; Eddie slowly pulled his hand from Steve's pants. He watched Eddie back away with wide-eyed confusion, going to ask what was wrong probably, but Eddie beat him to it, unwilling to hear the concern in his voice.

“I thought you understood what this was, Harrington. We don't do dates,” he spit the word like a curse. “That's something you do with the nice girls from your daddy's country club. We get each other off in the back of my van, where no one can see it rocking. Right? That's what this is.”

Steve's whole face shut down, giving nothing away. He gave Eddie a small nod, doing his pants back up. That was probably for the best, he was too rattled to get off now anyway.

“Yeah, I think we're done for today. Come see me when you remember what it is I'm good for.”

Steve didn't respond, just kicked open Eddie's back doors and hopped out. The beemer started a second later, not peeling out angrily, not kicking up gravel and dust in its wake, just drifted off into the night.

Eddie's hand shook as he tried to light a cigarette, flame winking in and out as his fingers slipped, another thing Steve had ruined. What an asshole, he thought, still furious. What the fuck was he thinking, asking Eddie out? That they'd just go to the movies together? Like a couple of regular people? Didn't he know that's not how things worked? If you're lucky, which Eddie was, you find a mentor to teach you the rules of staying safe. If you're not lucky, you learn the hard way.

Going steady with rich, popular boys was not on the list of approved activities.

Eddie snapped his cigarette in half and chucked it out the back door. The black of the lake beyond the trees, near invisible under a waxing moon, left him feeling sick to his stomach and lonely. The nights were getting too chilly to sit with the doors open anyway. He swung them shut and shrugged his flannel back on. The memory of Steve running his warm hands over Eddie's shoulders, slipping it off as he ran them down his back, struck Eddie like a slap to the face.

He shouldn't have freaked out. He could've handled it better. It wasn't Steve's fault he didn't know the rules. He didn't have someone like Gil to warn him about how dangerous it was out there. Oh well, it was too late to take it back now. He'd apologize when Steve came around again.

***

Oct 10th 1985

“I just don't get why he won't talk to me. I tried to see him at Family Video and he ran into the back office and locked the door. Buckley just stared at me until I was sure my hair would catch fire. Like I ever did anything to her,” he grumbled.

“Ed,” Gil sighed over the phone like Eddie was being particularly stupid, “he wanted to take you out and you yelled at him.”

When he said it like that it sounded reasonable. “Yeah, except we don't do that! You taught me that! That's not safe!”

“Oh, no. Oh, Eddie,” he sighed again. It was really starting to piss him off. “I didn't mean for you to take that to heart. You can't shut out everyone who might love you-”

“Love me?!” He screeched. “Are you insane? He didn't love me!”

“I'm not saying he did, I just mean you can't expect everyone you sleep with is going to agree no strings attached forever. Eventually you're going to fall for someone, and then all the bullshit running around in secret, that shit becomes worth it. I wasn't trying to stop you from falling in love, I was just trying to teach you how to get around safely.”

Eddie sputtered. He was so confused. Where was the burly, son of a bitch, leather vest wearing, biker bear who once told Eddie where to find the best glory holes in a new town? What the fuck was the shit about falling in love? That wasn't supposed to be in the cards for him. And certainly not with Steve Harrington. That was never going to be a thing. Not in the cards, not in the casino, not in Las Vegas itself! But all of a sudden he was allowed to date if he was sure the other person was worthy? Since when?!

Gil, instead of taking pity on him, doubled down. “I think it's probably too late with this Steve fella, but Eddie, don't push away the next one who takes an interest in you. Okay? It's still rough out there, it's still dangerous, but, god, what is any of this for if we aren't allowed to be in love?”

“You asshole,” he sniffed, “where was all this lovely advice two years ago?”

“You were a kid, dumb ass. If I'd told you to run off with the first guy who gave you butterflies, you'd be dead already. I was trying to keep you safe first, cut me some slack!”

“Fine! But I still blame you for fucking me on the Harrington thing. You have no idea what you cost me. Literally and figuratively. The wallet and the ass on that man.” He wasn't going to admit to missing the man attached to the wallet and the ass. It was too fresh of a realization.

“I'm sorry, kid. Seems like you really liked him.”

“What? No I didn't.”

“That why you called me and ranted about him for a half hour straight? Because you don't like him?”

Eddie scowled at the sink. “Shut up.”

Gil sighed at him again.

***

March 29th, 1986

A car had pulled up.

His blood was rushing in his ears, nothing but the sound of the ocean in a giant seashell, like the one his mom had kept on her dresser, so he didn't hear the voice at first. It wormed its way into his understanding slowly, a male voice, low, calling his name.

He grasped the bottle tighter, waited until the voice got closer, and then sprang out from under the tarp. His senses grew sharp, focusing on the dark shape in front of him. They came together hard, fell into the wall with a jarring crash. All thoughts went into stopping the body against him from hurting him first.

Hands grasped his wrist to keep the bottle from finding its mark. Strong hands, with wide knuckles, ones that Eddie hadn't seen in six months but still, unbidden, saw in his dreams.

He finally looked up and found Steve Harrington at the end of his makeshift knife.

“It's me, Eds, it's me” he was panting. “You're safe. I promise. It's okay.” He kept repeating it until Eddie finally let go of the bottle. Let go and then buried his face into Steve's neck and wept. He couldn't stop it, it just came out of him, everything, all the terror and confusion and guilt.

“I didn't do it, I didn't hurt her, it wasn't me,” he kept repeating.

“I know. I know, Eds, I know you didn't,” Steve answered, hand still running over the back of his head. Like the last six months were just a terrible dream.

He didn't even notice Steve wasn't alone, not until Henderson clasped him around the shoulder and told him there were things living under Hawkins, things that would make a horde of Beholders turn tail and run.

And they'd been dealing with it all since ‘83?

Which meant Steve was already a hardened veteran when he was goofing off in Eddie's trailer, making tusks out of pretzel rods and calling Ewoks by the wrong name.

“Jesus Christ.” He put his head between his knees and did his best to ignore Steve's hand rubbing up and down his back. He didn't want the comfort but he took it anyway.

***

March 31st 1986

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve pulled up next to him, skipping over the slimy Devil Roots with ease, “I just wanted to say thanks for savin’ my ass back there.”

Eddie chuckled lowly, not ready to say, ‘You know what you did, you macho asshole.’ “Pretty sure Wheeler saved your ass but you're welcome.”

“You definitely helped. I mean, you didn't have to swim through a portal to hell after me but you did.”

The shame of Steve giving him even an ounce of credit crept up his throat and started to choke him. Steve had been getting drug to hell by some unknown force and still Eddie had hesitated. He was a coward.

“Man, I just didn't want to be the asshole who stayed behind.”

The silence felt damning, like he should've just kept his mouth shut.

Steve jammed his hands into his ratty sweatpants. “Right.”

Now he thought Eddie didn't care at all.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he whispered, “You know that's not the whole truth, right? I know things are weird between us but I don't want you dead.”

He had to keep his eyes on the ground as they walked but out of his periphery he could see Steve nod.

“Yeah. I get it.”

He didn't but Eddie didn't know what else to say. He hadn't let himself think about what they were to each other now. Not friends, not ex’s, not strangers. He’d tried not to think about Steve at all - except what he couldn't avoid, like Henderson’s obsession with him and things his brain forced him to remember at night - since whatever they were doing ended. Since Steve left and never came back.

He opened his mouth to soften the moment, tell Steve how Henderson would've killed him in a more creative way than Vecna if he'd let Steve die, but Steve cut him off.

“I should thank you for that too.”

Eddie chanced looking over.

“For what?”

“For ending things when you did.”

The squirm in his gut worsened. They hadn't talked about it. He didn't want to talk about it. “Oh?” He choked out.

“Yeah, I was, uh, making a bigger thing out of what we, what we were doing, than I should've. I blame Robin for enabling me, she's the one who said to just ask you out like a normal person. Sorry for making it weird and ruining it. Always trying to give my heart to people who don't want it.” He chuckled morosely. “Anyway, thanks, I guess. You probably saved me from a lot more heartache later down the line.” He slapped Eddie on the back, like they were old chums, and then he skipped up to the girls without a backwards glance.

Eddie stood there, alone, gaping at his retreating back.

***

April 1st, 1986

Eddie had always been good at compartmentalizing. When his mom got sick, he got really into Tolkien, let that be his focal point in a storm of hospital visits and missed days at school. When his dad got picked up and sent to prison, he let Wayne teach him how to play guitar, which he spent most of his waking hours on. When Steve made it clear he was done with Eddie, he packed up the little pocket of time they had, the enjoyment he'd found in Steve's company, and folded it under the recesses of his mind, told himself it was all for the best, to not think of it again, and then he threw himself into Hellfire.

So, now that he’d found himself in another untenable situation, clarity struck Eddie like lightning as he thrashed on the ground - Hey, dumbass, Steve Harrington actually liked you, wanted to date you, would've fallen for you, and you fucking blew it. Not only did you blow it, you broke his fucking heart.

It was an asinine thought to have while he was actively dying but considering the alternative was acknowledging that he was being eaten alive by demon bats, he welcomed thoughts of Steve.

Steve, who Eddie had convinced himself was just scratching an itch with someone who wouldn't tell, but who had actually been telling his best friend the whole time.

Steve, who came over for weed but stayed to hang out, sometimes for hours, well before they were fooling around.

Steve, who wasn't anything like Eddie had assumed he would be, was exactly the kinda guy Eddie would've fallen for. If he was allowed.

But he had been allowed, the whole time apparently, and was too stupid to notice.

Henderson showed up a minute later, just as the bats collapsed around him, thank god. If he'd gotten the asshole killed he was fairly certain Steve would've brought him back somehow just to kill him again.

He wasted a lot of breath apologizing to Dustin, agreeing that he was totally gonna make it. Wasted some more trying to bequeath Hellfire to him. Wasted his last breath to say, “Tell Steve I'm sorry.”

Dustin wouldn't understand what for but maybe Steve would.

Just before he lost consciousness he caught Dustin saying, “Tell him yourself,” and then something that sounded suspiciously like, “Eddie! No.”

But by then he was gone.

***

Date unknown, 1986

He was never sure if what he was experiencing was real or not. Since the pain had stopped everything had a surreal quality, mostly flashes of light, some sound trickled in, shouting and crying and tires squealing; all of it was fleeting and seemed unimportant.

The first thing that felt real was Wayne's voice. Gruff and short and so, so familiar. It brought tears to his eyes. He was pretty sure anyway, hard to tell when he couldn't open them yet.

“Get your boy, Fletch, or I'm gonna break his arm.”

“Now, Wayne, we're just doin’ our job,” Chief Powell said in a softer tone than Wayne's snarl or Callahan's offense.

“Either one of you touch a hair on his head, I'll-”

“Have Steve call his famous lawyer dad,” Robin piped up from somewhere in the room, thankfully stopping Wayne from further incriminating himself.

“He's a divorce attorney,” Steve mumbled. “But he knows people!” He rallied after what Eddie imagined was a look from Robin.

A beat went by, Eddie almost slipped away in the quiet, before Chief Powell spoke up again. “You're all gonna go to bat for this kid?”

Steve responded first. “He's a hero.”

Eddie didn't get to enjoy that for long, a nurse came in to shuffle them all out of the room so they could re-up his pain meds and then it was nighty-night again.

***

Date Unknown, 1986

The next time Eddie woke, it was dark in the room, only a bit of light coming in from under the door and from the parking lot lights outside. His eyes felt gritty, heavy with sleep, but he could make out the shape of Steve in the chair beside his bed.

He was awake, staring down at the side of Eddie's mattress.

No.

Eddie followed his gaze and found Steve staring at his hand where it laid across his own forearm, careful of the tubes they were both hooked to. As soon as he saw it, he became aware of the warmth of it, Steve's huge hand draped over his cold skin.

“Feels nice,” he tried to say but it came out more garbled mess than actual words.

It was enough to get Steve's attention though.

“Eddie!” He said with excitement, relief. “What do you need? I should get the nurse.”

Eddie forced his arm to respond, to turn over and clasp Steve where he was about to remove himself. His grasp wasn't near enough to keep Steve in place but the fact that he tried kept Steve where he was.

His voice refused to cooperate, felt like coughing up glass, but he tried to communicate that Steve should stay.

“Okay, okay, I'm here. Not going anywhere. Do you need anything? Water? Pain meds?”

Eddie could definitely use both of those things but the most pressing thing, the only thing he could really think of was…

Lifting his hand to point as steadily as he could at Steve's chest.

He chuckled. “Why do you keep trying to take my shirt?”

The question made little sense. For one thing, this was the first he remembered being coherent enough to demand anything, and second, Steve wasn't wearing a shirt, he was in a hospital gown, same as Eddie.

He shook his head as best he could, a frustrated frown and a grunt to indicate that wasn't what he meant at all.

Steve leaned closer. “What is it? I don't know what you need, Eddie.”

Now that he was closer, Eddie reached out as best he could and pressed his palm to the left side of Steve's chest.

They stared at each other. Eddie could feel the tears slipping down his face but he didn't dare move his hand to wipe them away.

Slowly, like he was scared, Steve's hand came up to press Eddie's hand closer. Big and warm and missed to the point of aching, though Eddie had been loath to admit it to himself.

“You’re serious?” Steve whispered. “You want...this?”

Eddie nodded frantically.

“If you mean my tit I'm going to be so pissed at you.”

Eddie choked on a laugh. He did his very best to mouth, “That too.”

That got him a laugh, a soft one. "Some things don't change." He looked away, shy. Or not shy exactly, cautious. "I hope you remember you said all this when you wake up again. You're pretty doped up."

That was an easy fix. The drugs probably made it easier to admit but he was tired of pretending it wasn't true.

He pulled Steve's hand until it settled over his own chest, stitches and all, and forced himself to croak, "I already tried to forget, sweetheart. It didn't work."

Steve's answering smile rivaled the dawn.

[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle From Hell (3)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following PART TWO, Steve feels even more distant from his friends- especially you; Eddie reflects on memories he has of you two; Nancy and Jonathan work together for the paper; Robin does her best to navigate what being friends with you and Steve looks like; you seek comfort in one of the only ways you know how- calling Eddie

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy; kissing; implications of smut; horniness

A/N: You guys are literally the absolute best. I am having the best time writing this- I'm so inspired by all of you. The love you have shown this fic so far has me overwhelmed. Thank you for your kind words, you have helped me work through some serious writer's block. Your comments and reblogs are keeping me going fr

This is unedited; please let me know what you think and if I missed anything I should include as a warning.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

His hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you in close for another searing kiss. He can’t catch his breath, but he’s just so desperate to stay close to you like this. Your lips are so soft against his and your mouth is so inviting as you yank him closer. You whimper against his lips and it makes him shiver. He feels weak in the knees as you feel so pliable to his touch. You melt into his embrace and sigh happily as his lips trail down your neck. 

“Want you,” you moan softly, tugging his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Need you so bad.” 

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, bringing his lips back to yours. 

“Love you,” you moan.

Before he finds out  if he says it back, his alarm goes off and he’s brought back to his reality. He groans disappointedly, covering his ears with his pillow- desperate for a couple more minutes with dream you. There’s a bang at his door. 

“Steve! Turn that shit off!” Eddie calls from the other side of the door. He’s yelling but his tone is playful. Steve hits his alarm off and drudges out of bed finally. Eddie has coffee made and Steve forgets anything is wrong at the moment. 

“Did she say anything last night?” Steve asks groggily as he pours himself a cup. 

“Um, not really,” Eddie replies, taking a moment to think about it. “I mean, yes but not about anything that we don’t know already. She’s conflicted, she doesn’t know what to think or feel. She just wants time.” 

“Okay,” Steve replies, leaning up against the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to get to work. He can talk about this with Robin when he gets there. 

When you called Eddie, you didn’t expect Steve to answer. You thought maybe he’d say something- you wanted him too. But he didn’t. You couldn’t read him anymore.

Eddie was thrilled to hear your voice. He’d missed you, and he’d missed talking to you. He wanted that piece back as soon as he could get it. He reveled in the way his name sounded coming from you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to upset Steve- I heard the way he dropped the phone down…” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says compassionately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He’s met with a sad feeling of silence. 

“I’m happy you called,” he says gently. He hopes the sentiment makes you feel better. 

“I’ve missed you,” you admit, and Eddie feels like his heart might swell out of his chest. 

“It’s hard when the two people who you talk about everything with are the people you want to talk about,” you joke, and he laughs with you. 

“You can talk shit about me,” he teases and he hears you groan. He bites his lip, holding back a smile. 

“How are you doing?” You ask, changing the subject. 

“Much better now,” he flirts. 

“How are you doing, really?” You ask again, your voice sounding more fragile. 

“I meant, honestly- not great. But not worse than anyone else is doing right now.” 

“Yeah…” 

“I miss you a lot too,” he admits. He runs a hand through his hair, and it reminds him of how amazing it felt the last time you played with his hair. He’s craving that touch so badly. 

When you both were in high school, Eddie went out of his way to make sure you always had a seat at the table. He’d notice as you stood with your cafeteria tray, waiting for Steve to realize there was no open seat for you at his table. He’d wave obnoxiously to catch your eye and he’d smile at the way you’d get shy from the attention. He’d point at the empty seat next to him, and he’d grin as your eyes light up in realization you had a spot. You’d shuffle through the crowd and take your seat next to him. You’d take a seat and ruffle his hair in your hands. 

Eddie was always a creature of habit. As much as he exudes chaos, he actually thrives in having a routine. Don’t get him wrong- it’s never been a good routine… but it’s routine nonetheless. In high school it was a lot of the same. Tuesdays, Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout. He would get home way too late and never get in bed until close to 3am. Wednesday mornings, he’d sleep through his alarm and stroll into first period consistently 10ish minutes late. Thursdays he prepped for Hellfire, and then of course, the piece the resistance was Friday. Hellfire. An epic campaign that would run several hours and ensure the most recent shit week had been worth it to make it to that moment. 

He remembers that he was paralyzed when the group proposed to postpone Hellfire one time his first senior year. It snaps him out of his thoughts, as he was so wrapped up in you- and how close you were sitting. Eddie knew that hypothetically, it shouldn’t matter if the date changes. However, he couldn’t wrap his head around change. He hated it- still does. A disruption from his status quo throws off his entire week and it will take him too long to mentally recover. He knew that he came off as a hard ass, but he prefers it than trying to explain his mind to his friends. He had felt  his jaw tighten as he tried to rationalize with himself that it can be okay to switch it up. He unclenched his fists once he realized that he was making his knuckles white unintentionally. 

“Uh yeah, no problem. Saturday’s fine,” he was able to manage through gritted teeth. He relaxed when he could look past himself and see his friends smile, thanking him and happily chatting about the campaign. He smiled when he observed that his decision made everyone happy. That for him outweighed the internal struggle. 

He didn’t really listen to the reason everyone wanted to reschedule, but he picked up on after the fact that everyone is talking about the Snow Ball. He couldn’t help but recoil back into himself as his friends talked about their plans to go- who they’re asking, what suit they’re getting, what songs would play, and whatever. He couldn’t have cared less. Unless… 

His eyes wandered to sneak a glance at you. He wondered if you had plans- maybe you're hoping someone asks you. Maybe, he’s lucky and you were hoping that someone would be him. He wondered if you had a date. Maybe you already had been asked. It’s not like you had been aware of the way Eddie’s felt about you- unrequited feelings that tugged on his focus constantly since he’s known you. You caught his eye and offered him a shy smile and he could crumble. 

Eddie immediately averted his gaze, and focused his attention back on his friends. He ignored the way his face suddenly became so warm and he ignored the butterflies that were swarming around in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on these feelings- he knew that there’s no way you feel the same. Who could possibly like him? 

He felt a pressure when the freshman looked at him, one of them having asked Eddie about his own plans. Eddie sees the way the kids look up to him, they idolize him. He knows they think he’s cool. He can’t let that go just yet, he loved it too much. He needed it. He wanted to have them hang on to this version of him for as long as they’d believe in it. 

So, despite his usual distaste in school sanctioned functions, he did not want to allow the kids to think he couldn’t score a date. He could only blame society so much before they realized it’s actually his own fear of putting himself out there that cramped his dating life more than anything else. He then resolves that he needs a date to this dance. He tells himself that it’s for the freshman, to keep up the cool facade or whatever. But in actuality, he just wanted to ask you because he wants to ask you out. It’s his perfect window of opportunity. 

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” you said, when one of the freshmen asked you if you had plans. “I’d been so busy with the play, I haven’t had a chance.” Eddie watched as you glanced over to Steve’s table. “Steve and I usually would go to this kinda thing,” you said quickly, and Eddie could see your apprehension despite your best attempt to hide it. “We’ll probably go as friends again.” 

He said nothing. 

A few days later, you called Eddie and he could immediately tell you’re upset. You’re doing your best to hold it together but he can tell you’re almost at your breaking point. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice straining as you try not to cry. “I know this is totally not your thing, but I’m kind of in a bind.” 

“What can I do?” He asked, sitting up straight on his bed. He was getting ready to locate his shoes or his keys- thinking you’re in trouble somewhere. He’ddrop anything to come get you. 

“I know you’d probably rather do literally anything else, but um, I have two tickets to the Snow Ball and I already bought a dress…” 

“I thought you’d be going with Steve?” He asked. You sniffled. 

“Um, yeah I kind of just assumed he’d take me. I didn’t realize that he asked out Nancy Wheeler,” you choked back tears. “I mean it’s not like that,” you lied, maybe not to Eddie but more to yourself, “we’re just friends. But I still thought He and I would be going together like as friends again- you know? But, uh, yeah- he is taking like a real date.” 

“I know you’d hate it, and I will make it up to you. But, I already bought the tickets and I can’t get my money back. It’s like not a date or anything, just like a friend thing…” 

“I’d be happy to take you,” he replied, sincerely. He can tell you were expecting him to fight you on it. When would you catch on that he’s willing to do anything for you? 

“Eddie, thank you so much,” you sniffled, still trying your best to keep it cool. “I owe you one,” your voice cracks and you hang up quickly before he gets a chance to say anything. 

Eddie didn’t really understand back then why you were even friends with Steve to begin with. Eddie thought Steve, frankly, was a total douchebag. However, once he actually got to know Steve- it was a different story. He couldn’t resent Steve. He loved him like a brother now. And once Eddie got to know the Steve you’ve always known, your feelings for him made sense. But at the same time, Eddie held his tongue for all the things Steve did or didn’t do for so long. Steve was good guy at his core, Eddie understood. But his actions didn’t reflect that in Eddie’s eyes. But it wasn’t his place to tell you that. It didn’t seem right. You’d known Steve so much longer than him. 

Nancy and Jonathan invited you and Robin to go with them to watch Lucas’ basketball game. You were excited to get out of your little apartment and support Lucas. Jonathan was photographing it for The Hawkins Post. Jonathan paced up and down the court side to get photos, and you sat up in the bleachers with Nancy and Robin. You were never one to go to school things really, but it was Lucas’s senior year and it was a big game- of course you were going to be there. 

“It feels weird, Steve not being here,” Nancy whispers to you and you nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, everything just feels weird right now,” you agree. “You and Jonathan are okay?” 

“We’re good. We’re doing good, um, still working through stuff but we’re going to just work through it.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Robin?” Nancy asks, and Robin turns her head to pay attention. “How’s things with Vicky?” 

Robin’s face turns tomato red. “Fine,” she mumbles, happily. “I’m gonna hang out with her tomorrow.” You elbow her teasingly, making her blush redden. 

“How’s it feeling? Being the best at all of this out of us?” You tease. 

“I don’t know,” she’s so embarrassed, it’s so sweet. “We both just like each other- it’s not that complicated. She’s so great.” 

The three of you turn your attention back to the game at the sound of the whistle. You clapped and cheered the loudest whenever Lucas had the ball. He tried to plead with the lot of you to tone it down, casting weary looks in your direction. You couldn’t help yourselves. You felt so proud of him. 

You decide to take a walk to the concession stands and get some snacks for everyone. You order four sodas and two large popcorns- one for Jonathan and Nancy and one for you and Robin. You fish the cash out of the front pocket of your jeans, and hand it to the kid working the window. You thank him, and balance it all in your hands to navigate carefully back to the stands. 

You see a familiar face coming down the hallway, sprinting. For a moment, you can’t help the smile that forms across the expanse of your face until you remember what’s been going on. Your face falls, and you feel so stupid for being excited to see him when it hits you again all at once. 

You don’t think Steve knew you’d all be here, because he looks just as surprised to see you. He stops and his sneakers squeak across the polished gym floor. He looks at you with an expression of pure panic. He totally didn’t think you’d be here. And you’re surprised he came alone- but of course he did, he’s Steve. Of course, he’s going to show up to every game for Lucas. You shouldn’t expect any less. It still takes you back. 

“Can I help with those?” he asked, gesturing for you to pass some stuff to him. You nod, and tilt so he can take some of the things from your grasp. 

“Where are you sitting?” He asks, and you nod your head towards Robin and Nancy. His face deflates. “Ah, okay.” He walks over with you, and he passes the items in his hand off to Robin. He moves aside so you can walk back into your spot. 

“Thanks, Steve,” you offer him a soft smile, appreciating the effort despite the circumstances.

“Yeah of course,” he mutters, backing away, lingering for a moment because the seat that’s usually there for him between you and Robin isn’t there. He quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and just heads over to the next row of bleachers, finding a seat next to a couple of his old basketball teammates that are here for their little brothers. 

Steve can’t even focus on the game,  he keeps trying to steal glances of you from his peripheral vision. He wants to know what Robin said that made you laugh like that, and he wished he could have heard your laugh- but you’re too far away from him. He watches as your jaw drops at something Nancy tells you, and he watches how you cheer so happily for Lucas. He wants to know if this is bothering you the way it’s bothering him. You look like you’re keeping it together and he wants to know if that could truly be the case. 

Even when you’re carrying so much hurt, you give off such a radiance that Steve and he’s sure everyone else is just drawn into. Your pretty smile and your bright eyes are all he can think about- he only knows when to cheer when he feels the people around him move. He smiles when you stand up and pose, pointing to Lucas- then Lucas matches it, giving it back to you. He watches as you both share that moment of just pure joy, and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if he could ever make you that happy. 

When the game was over, you looked to see if you could find Steve but there was no sign of him. You all invited Lucas to go out for celebratory pizza for his big win, but he wanted to go with his teammates. The plan fizzled pretty much after that. Robin wanted to get home so she could call Vicky and Jonathan and Nancy wanted to head home so Jonathan could start developing his photos. When you and Robin are walking out, you see a familiar van. 

“I’ll bum a ride from Nancy,” Robin assures you, pushing you in Eddie’s direction. She waves to Eddie from a distance and then jogs to catch up with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask with a smile. He pushes himself off of the hood of his van and walks over to you, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. 

“I thought you might be here,” he quips. “Plus, I had to poke my head in- Sinclair is some big shot apparently?” he jokes, “I had to check out for a few minutes.”

“He’s really great,” you agree. 

“Was Steve here?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah I saw him. He didn’t really stay either- I mean he stayed for the game, but we didn’t talk really.” You shrug. 

“Well,” he says, trying to optimistically change the subject, “Do you wanna get out of here? I could give you a ride home or we could get food or something- or even just drive around and not talk. I’m not picky.” 

He looks so beautiful like this, you observe. The sky is pitch black but the lights in the parking lot illuminate him perfectly with a soft glow. His hair is wonderfully messy and his smile is making it hard for you to breathe. Has he always looked like this? You wonder, astonished as it hits you all at once. He’s gorgeous. Your eyes linger, taking in every little detail you’ve overlooked before. He waves his hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he tisks. 

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re trying to jump my bones,” he chuckles. Your face warms, and suddenly you realize how long you must have been staring. 

“Ha, right,” you joke sarcastically, or at least, trying to joke sarcastically. You walk past him and get into the passenger side of the van and try your best to compose yourself in the few seconds it takes for him to follow suit. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, turning over the ignition, “where to?”

“Can we just drive around like we used to?” you ask- the circumstances of tonight making you feel so nostalgic. 

“Of course we can,” he hums, passing you the case of his cassettes- a familiar and welcomed sight for your tired eyes. 

You watch Eddie as he drives, and observe the way the muscles in his arms flex ever so subtly as he turns the wheel. You watch his ringed fingers tap across the top of the steering wheel and you can’t help it the way your mind wanders. You’re so wrapped up in the way his hair sways so effortlessly and the movement of his jaw as he sings, you don’t even notice that Steve was leaving the gym just in time to see you both drive away. 

After a little while of aimless driving, and hitting up the drive thru, Eddie ends up parking at Lover’s Lake when neither of you are ready to go home just yet. 

“Eddie?” You ask absentmindedly, finishing off the milkshake he got you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he replies, also finishing his, but with an obnoxiously loud suck of his straw- determined to get every last sip. 

“Why do you like me?” you ask, cringing almost immediately. You think you sound like a middle schooler or something- you’re so embarrassed. His eyes widen for a brief second, contemplating his answer. He tosses the empty cup into the back. 

“First off,” he criticizes teasingly, “I did not say I liked you- I’m in love with you. Get your facts straight, ma’am.” 

“My apologies,” you giggle, holding your hands up in defeat.

“I mean- I love everything about you; always have,” he starts. “You’re sweet and kind. I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re incredible, and sometimes I can’t figure out why you wanted to ever be friends with me in the first place.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Would you kiss me?” 

Eddie’s a goner when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. More than anything he wants to lunge across and close the space between you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It takes every fiber of his being to hold himself back..

“I don’t know if I can kiss you without knowing if I could ever kiss you again,” He whispers, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in towards you. His hand lifts to hold your cheek and suddenly he’s so close. Closer than the two of you have ever been. His lips are tantalizingly close to yours when his forehead touches yours. A huge bang on the side of the van scares you both away from each other. 

“Give her time, my ass, Munson! Get the fuck out here! Get your fucking hands off my girl!”

PART FOUR

Taglist:

@sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs

[navybrat817]

can we just take a moment to ✨appreciate✨ this? because I know where I’m looking… what about you? 😏

I'm INNOCENT, Lana. And you send me this?!

Wicked Tongue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a wicked tongue. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), reader is thirsty, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a menace, okay?). A/N: I swear, I'm innocent! But something short and sweet for a Sinful Saturday. ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped a finger against the drink you were holding, refusing to take a sip as you watched Bucky laugh at something Steve said. The love of your life was trying to kill you. Not literally, but it certainly felt the way. Why else would he pick a suit that molded to his beefy frame like a glove? What reason did he have to pull his silky long hair back like that?

He already had to fix it once since he decided to shove your dress up and sink to his knees before you left for the party.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.”

As much as you loved Bucky eating you out, he loved it even more. You were certain there wasn’t another man on the planet who enjoyed the taste of pussy as much as he did. You ignored the twinge of jealousy because it wasn’t just any pussy he wanted. It was yours and yours alone.

Hell, if someone told him the sun rose in the east and set in the west, he’d argue that it went up when your legs opened and went down when they closed. Because the entrance to heaven existed between your thighs and it was only fair that he worshiped it with his mouth. You blessed him when you came on his tongue and he lapped up your offering with a groan every single time.

It felt almost as good as when you fell apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” you whispered when he swiped his tongue along his lip again.

Each time his tongue darted out of his mouth was like a personal attack, a jab to your core. You could still feel the indents from his fingers when he gripped your ass, shoving his face as close as he could so he could lick his way into your dripping cunt. The iron-clad grip nearly kept you from rocking your hips down, but it couldn’t stop the hot slick that rushed out of you when you came.

“Make a mess all over my face. Wanna taste you later.”

As if he sensed your stare, his sapphire eyes glanced your way from across the room and you forgot how to breathe. The beautiful bastard stared right at you as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The way he sometimes did with your clit. You didn’t have super soldier strength, but you nearly shattered the glass in your hand from how hard you squeezed it when he winked.

And your panties were wet before, but now they were soaked.

You nodded toward the hall since you couldn’t find your voice. Bucky would help you find it. He’d make sure you moaned his name. Maybe even loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Excuse me, punk,” Bucky said to his best friend before he set his drink down. “In the mood for something a little sweeter.”

Something only you could satisfy his wicked tongue with.

We deserve this, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sparks-and-smoke]

Hello!

What about an avengers reader and bucky fic where reader dosnt realize they are in an depressive episode but bucky or steve or both ( platonically or romantically) notices.

Haha I just surfaced from a major depressive episode so that's where the inspiration came from.

Also hi!

Hi <3 this one is a little longer because, well I guess I needed it too. Plus fluffy lovey Stucky is my bread and butter. 

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky barnes x reader, Stucky (but not really the focus)

Content/Warnings: mental health, depression, anxiety, self care

Author Note: as someone who also struggles with mental health I personally loved this ask. Thank you, and I hope your feeling better sweets. Take care. 

(Bonus note from my editor @voice-of-velhart)

Editor Note: Depression is not an easy thing to make your way out of, but I'm proud of ya'll for pushing through it and I'm glad your here. <3

The brain fog was the thing that set in first. It was hard to fall out of a routine living in the compound. Day in and Day out it was training and meal regimens. Sparring and paperwork. Someone was always around and yet you felt like you were drifting. Going through the motions with little to no reason to do so other than if you didn’t what else would fill your day. No one seemed to notice your lack of enthusiasm, or how your typically attentive nature had been slipping lately. Your reports were still on time and you weren’t pulling your punches in training so you were probably fine… right?

It was burn out or maybe you were feeling under the weather. At least that's what you told them if they asked. And while your friends and team loved you, they were busy people with the literal weight of the world on their shoulders. So who could blame them when they didn’t keep tabs, or at least you thought they didn’t keep tabs. 

Bucky sat in the library trying to find a fantasy book he hadn’t already read. Tony was a brilliant guy but he had horrible taste in written fiction. As he perused, he kept you in his peripheral vision. You stared down at your now cold cup of coffee looking lost even though you weren’t moving. He had noticed you are like this a lot the last few weeks. You shower less and less, your normally shiny maintained hair more often than not on the greasy and dull side of the spectrum. And he hadn’t seen you touch the piano or your switch in days. He was getting concerned. 

He taps Steve with his foot. “What?” 

The big guy had been deep in thought, sprawled out in a lounge chair with his nose in a tablet. “Have you noticed Angel is different lately?” 

Steve glanced up, taking a look at their girl as she swirled the coffee in her mug, totally disassociating. “Yeah, she said she was under the weather. I tried to get it out of her what was wrong but she’s being cagey.” his brows knit together in a mask of concern. “Sure is lingering a long time to be just a bug, don't cha think?”

Bucky nodded, “Yeah I do… what are we gonna do about it.” 

Steve sighed heavily and set down his tablet, giving the issue his full attention. He thinks back to those long cold winters in brooklyn. When the snow was deep and his bones would ache so bad he didn’t wanna get out of bed. There were always little things that would help him get out of those slumps. Bucky making him get up and shower was always a good start, followed by warm food and if they could find it, sunlight. 

“I think we're gonna start by helping our girl feel human again..” 

~~~~

Steve and Bucky formed a game plan. The two men are nothing if not efficient and tactical. Steve went down stairs to start food. Something starchy and savory. Comfort food. Meanwhile, Bucky started operation Angel Self Care. 

“Angel.” Bucky's voice was soft, wrapped in warm velvet. And you barely registered it before he was crouching down and smoothing back your hair from your face. Taking your untouched cup out of your hand. “How long have you been sitting here, beautiful?” 

You shook your head as if you could wave away the mist behind your eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Lost track of time I guess.” Bucky just hums. Yeah, he knows that feeling. He also knew it never led anywhere good. 

“Lost in thought?” 

You looked up to meet his gaze, warmth and concern mixing in the set of his jaw and the draw of his brows. “Yeah I guess. I’m fine babe. Don’t worry about it I’m just..”

“Feeling under the weather. Yeah, I know. You’ve been saying that a lot lately. I’m starting to think it’s a cop out.”

It is and you know it but you don’t know what else to say. “I just. I don’t know what wrong with me lately. I just… I don’t wanna do anything. Like anything ya know? It’s like sometimes waking up alone is all I have in me for the day. Do you know how that feels.”

If anyone knew how you felt it was Bucky. Hell sometimes he still felt that way, decades of torture and actions out of his own control had left him with more then his own share of depressive tendencies that drag him deep down under the current of reality pretty regularly. There are days he goes completely nonverbal, only going through the motions on autopilot. The only people who can pull him out are Steve, and you. And therapy, lots of therapy. “Of course I do. You know I do. But Angel, you can’t live there. It’s ok to feel it, but you need to acknowledge it and try to crawl back out. It’s ok if you can’t do it alone baby.”

You feel a thick lump forming in your throat that you can’t quite swallow down. The urge to argue, to tell him your fine and he’s being overbearing was there. But more then that you knew he was right. Something was wrong, and you couldn’t climb out on your own. But you weren’t ready to say it. Not yet. 

“Come on honey, let’s get you cleaned up and get some food in your belly. That might help a little.” Bucky didn’t wait for you to protest, he slid one arm under your legs and the other around your back and headed up to Steve’s quarters. Not caring in the slightest if teammates or recruits saw. That was a problem for later Bucky. 

~~~~

The big six had full apartments in the upper levels of the compound. Which means he could squirrel you away to Steve’s private bath and get you in the shower. Vetiver and pine, a familiar comforting scent. Gently and quietly he started the shower to an acceptable temperature for you (hot enough to turn your skin the next shade of blush.) and stripped you down to help you in. 

There was nothing sexual about the way he did this. It was all just about loving you. Helping you, as  he guided you into the water and let it wash away your stress. He pulled you back against his chest. “There’s my girl. That feel better Angel?” 

You nod as the smell of Steve’s body wash fills the small space. “Do you mind if I wash you?” 

With your permission he sets about cleaning you up. Slow loving strokes over your body as he pulls you back to lean on his chest. “You know you can talk to us about anything right. Steve and I love you. You’ve been here for us. Let us do the same.” 

“I would tell you… if I knew why I felt this way.” You confess. “If I had some inkling of what I needed to get out to feel better but I don’t.” 

Your voice wavers and it breaks Bucky's heart just a little. He wants to fix it. But he knows he can’t. All he can do is be there for you. “Well, I’m glad you trust me enough to help you.” He tilts your head back. Starting to wash your hair. “We’ll just take it one step at a time till we find ground again. Ok?

~~~~ 

Downstairs Steve fretted over the stove. Sweet potato pierogi and with onions and butter. It was easy, simple even. But it always made him feel better as a kid and the few times he had made it you liked it. He looked up as he heard feet pad down into the kitchen. Hair still damp, but clean. In fresh sweats and Bucky's shirt. 

“Ahh, there you are. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah… a little.” You admit, sitting on a stool across the island. 

Steve rounds the counter to kiss your forehead. “You look better.” He inhaled her skin, the longer scent of his soap and Bucky's touch still there, along with that sweet undertone that was all you. “Smell better too.” He teased. 

You breath out your nose with a half hearted huff. “Thanks.” 

“Always angel. Here. I made you some food. You don’t have to eat it all but at least a few bites would ease my mind. And then maybe we can go up to the room and get you some sun hmm? Would you be ok with that.” Steve slid the colorful pasta across the counter to you with a warm smile. Trying to coax you to follow his lead. 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You eat mostly in silence. Steve and Bucky don’t push you to talk as you fill your stomach. You know they're worried. But even just these small gestures are helping you feel like maybe there is an end to this malaise. You see Steve smile and kiss Bucky softly in thanks as they wait for you to tell them you're ready. 

They spend the rest of the day trying to get you some sun. Fresh air and movement. 

“We’re gonna do this a little everyday till you start feeling better. And if you need it or feel up to it we can look into talking to a therapist too.” Steve assures. His hand firmly laced through your own. “You are not alone in this. We all feel this way sometimes. But I’m proud of you for trying love.”

A flicker of hope flies in your chest at his words. You aren’t alone, this isn’t forever. And your men are gonna love you through it till you can do it on you own.

[robinsno1lesbian]

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬༄｡°

-r.b. x reader

summary: robin buckley summer headcanons!

warnings: lots of fluff!! some (hinted) 18+ content, oral sex, vaginal fingering (fem!receiving obviously), mention of weed, non-sexual nudity & skinny dipping (let me know if i missed anything!)

a/n: send me your requests for my summer fics & find my guidelines here!

❀ in summer, robin takes you to lover’s lake right after work to cool down (after spending your shift sorting in vhs tapes in sweaty uniforms, it’s a pleasant way to spend the afternoon)

❀ she sunburns so easily! the fact that she constantly forgets to apply her sunscreen doesn’t make it better either.

❀ so she always has a slight sunburn on her rosy cheeks.

❀ “i’m not sunburned at all! this is a tan”

❀ she loves to apply your sunscreen though, regardless of how careless she can be herself: she always helps you in the places you cannot reach. she’ll draw random shapes and patterns on your skin before spreading it.

❀ robin’s freckles are even more prominent in summer and you spend hours counting them as you lie close to her.

❀ robin will never not insist on buying you a sweet treat: mostly ice cream that she’ll later kiss from the side of your mouth.

❀ she also frequently goes to hawkin’s public pool with you and the rest of the group (where she will act like a kid)

❀ she’s in the water 24/7, constantly begging someone to join her.

❀ “come on y/n!! the water isn’t thaaaat cold! i’ve been in there!”

❀ if you decline, she’ll get out just to give you a tight hug while the water is still dripping from her.

❀ when she’s not bothering you, she’s splashing water at steve or busy having a canon ball contest with him. (again: literal kids.)

❀ but if you do join her, she’ll pull you close under the water or carry you around on her back, enjoying the possibility of being close like this in public without catching anyone’s attention.

❀ later, you’ll lie in bed with her, the two of you sharing kisses that taste of sunscreen and the last remains of pool water she’s soaked in all day.

❀ falling asleep is hard with the summer heat threatening to suffocate the two of you, but comes much easier when you’re home alone and don’t have to bother to wear clothes.

❀ her bare body pressed against yours, her chest rising and falling with even breaths, is enough to soothe you to sleep, regardless of the heat.

❀ this often leads to wandering hands in the morning though…

❀ …when the sun is still rising and a comfortable breeze is going through the room. when you wake up to soft kisses peppered down your back and robin’s hair tickling your neck.

❀ …when robin’s voice is still raspy from sleep as she asks you if you’re okay with it and instead of answering verbally, you pull her on top of you and taste the laughter from her mouth.

❀ …when she grinds down against you, and you move back up against her and you have to stifle your moans because she left the window open.

❀ “that’s my girl. so good. i wish i could hear you. you’re so pretty”

❀ so you end up coming with your face pressed against her pillows and her head buried between your thighs.

❀ her savings are not enough to take you to europe just yet, but she insists on taking you to a beach town for the summer vacation. somewhere where no one knows the two of you and you have a place for yourself.

❀ she loves to talk you on long walks along the shore, where she holds your hand and steals quick kisses when there’s no one around to see.

❀ robin brings french and spanish books that she’ll read to you while you’re sunbathing. you don’t understand what she’s saying, but there’s something comforting about the way she pronounces each syllable, while she runs her fingers through your beach waves.

❀ one night, she convinces you to go skinny dipping with her:

❀ it’s nearly 3am, you’re both a little high from a joint you’ve shared and there’s no one around to see.

❀ she’s giddy when she sheds her clothes for no one else but you to see and races you to the shore.

❀ the water is cold, yet robin’s body warm, when she wraps her arms around you from behind and pulls you into the waves of the sea.

❀ she holds you over the surface with ease so you can wrap your legs around her and cover her in salty kisses.

❀ you can kiss her openly that night, and enjoy being close and affectionate with her without having to worry that someone might catch you.

❀ robin collects the prettiest rocks and shells for you while you’re sunbathing.

❀ she’s constantly moving, walking along the shore as she’s looking for new things to find among the seaweed and sand.

❀ she then sorts them on your back and puts them down along your spine while you’re still dozing in the sun.

❀ robin definitely brings watercolors to the beach and paints the scenery.

❀ but she also has a camera she brings along to capture the moments, constantly snapping pictures of you when you’re not paying attention.

❀ after a long beach day, you can’t wait to wash the sand and salt off of your skin. you untie your bikini the moment you step through the door, letting it drop to the floor as you step to the bathroom with robin watching you.

❀ you beckon her over, then, and she stumbles over her own feet in an attempt to rush to the shower with you.

❀ she washes your hair under the shower, runs her gentle fingertips up your body, and traces your curves under the steam.

❀ only when you’re both clean and no longer covered in sea salt and sweat, she lowers herself down on the shower tiles until she’s kneeling between your legs.

❀ “so pretty. such a pretty girl”

❀ she doesn’t stop talking, not even when she puts her mouth on you and licks through your wet folds.

❀ “hmm such a pretty pussy too. taste so good for me.”

❀ you love to braid her hair, when she’s got her head in your lap and you’re listening to the soft sounds of the waves meeting the shore.

❀ when it’s your head in her lap, she’ll feed you the food she’s brought along; dropping grapes and apple slices into your mouth while she rambles on and on.

[eiightysixbaby]

a holiday meet-cute

robin buckley x fem!reader

another fic for @littlexdeaths 12 days of promptmas 😌 prompt: you need a last minute gift, but man that salesclerk sure is cute…

The mall is packed.

You can’t really be surprised, what with Christmas being in two short days. Turns out you aren’t the only person in town who waited until the last second to buy a gift.

You’d thought you had all of your gifts in order, until one of your friends decided to mention they got you an unexpected gift, and now you felt obligated to return the favor.

You loosen the scarf around your neck, unbuttoning your coat now that you’re safe from the elements. You glance around the mall somewhat aimlessly, letting your feet carry you. Your gaze snags on the bookstore, eyes lighting up at the sight.

Bingo.

Trailing inside, you’re met with shelf after shelf of books. You don’t really know where to begin looking, you just hope that you’ll know when you find the right one. You brush past other shoppers, eyes roaming over the spines and covers of various novels.

“Did you need help finding anything?” a voice asks, breaking you from your shopping trance.

You turn, fingers still gently grazing the spine of one of the books on the shelf before you, and when you meet the face of the salesperson, your heart skips a beat.

She’s gorgeous. Stunning, bright blue eyes and freckles sprinkled over her face. Dirty blonde hair with bangs that suit her well. She looks at you expectantly, but there’s an almost nervous edge to her demeanor. Your eyes catch her name tag. Robin is written in blue marker, squiggles and dots and other designs littering the blank space around her name.

“Oh, um, no,” you stammer awkwardly. “I’m just looking for a last minute gift for a friend,” you tell her, feeling your cheeks grow warm under her stare.

“That one is actually one of my favorites”, she says, motioning with a nod of her head to the book where your fingers rest.

You follow her gaze, looking back at the book to pull it off of the shelf, though you find you don’t really want to stop looking at her.

“I-I’ve recommended it to all of my friends,” the salesclerk continues. “My friend Steve — he literally never reads — finally read that a couple months ago and he loved it. Talked my ear off about it afterwards. I almost regretted recommending it in the first place,” she laughs kind of nervously, chewing at her lip as if to keep herself from saying more.

You find the personal anecdote adorable, taking her recommendation seriously.

“Hm,” you ponder, staring at the cover of the book now in your hands. “I think you’ve just convinced me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes visibly brighten.

“Really?” she asks, her voice suddenly so quiet.

“Mhm,” you nod. “My friend, the one I’m buying for, hasn’t read in a while and they’ve been looking for something to get them back in the groove.”

The girl lights up, smiling so big. It takes all you’ve got not to reach out and trace the little laugh lines on her face. Instead you smile back at her, and maybe you hold each other’s gaze for a minute too long, but maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m so glad I could help,” she says finally, cheeks turning pink as her eyes dart away. “Do you want me to check you out?” she asks, before her eyes go wide. “I mean, like, ring you out. Not check you out like, check you out. Oh, god,” she trails off, but her embarrassment only makes you more smitten with her.

“That would be great,” you tell her, giggling softly to yourself as she nods and turns, skittering away like a mouse.

You follow, weaving through the shelves and up to the checkout counter. She takes your book, scanning it for you, and you find yourself tracing the freckles on her cheeks as she works.

“So, are you excited for the holiday?” she asks you. The small talk is welcome — anything to keep you here longer.

“I’m more excited now that my shopping is all done,” you reply. “Do you have any plans?” you ask, handing her the money for your purchase.

“Ah,” she says, expression turning kind of sad. “Not this year. I usually go back home for the holidays, but I couldn’t swing it this year between work and school.”

“Oh,” you frown, giving her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I know how that feels.”

There’s a pause, her pretty hands placing your book in a small paper bag, your eyes already on her when she looks up to meet them.

“You know, my friends and I are having a little get together. On— on Christmas Day,” you start. “Everyone always has a date and, well, I don’t have one.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, her bottom lip pulling between her teeth.

“I know we just met and you don’t even know my name or literally anything, but… if you wanted to come with me—” you stop yourself, suddenly self-conscious.

But the look in her eyes is so hopeful, it encourages you to go on.

“We’d love to have you. I’d— I’d love to help make your holiday less lonely. Since you helped me so much today, with the gift.”

“Am I attending this party as your date?” she asks, emphasizing the last word cutely, her voice gone so soft you have to lean forward to hear her.

Your face warms, fingers fidgeting on the countertop.

“If that’s okay with you, Robin,” you say, and the smile that crosses her face at the use of her name makes you certain you’ve made the right move.

The line of customers behind you grows, people in a hurry to get out and on their way. You both recognize this at the same time, and you shoot her an apologetic glance.

“I’d love to come,” Robin says, flipping your receipt over and scribbling something down. “That’s my number,” she says, handing you the slip of paper. “I’m off at 7 today, if you want to call. Or anything.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Yeah, okay. I will.”

With the receipt clutched in your hand and the book tucked under your arm, you give her a small wave before leaving the bookstore.

Your heart flutters in your chest as you look down at her writing, the glittery gel pen’s ink making each number sparkle.

Christmas can’t come fast enough.

[booksandabeer]

Crowdsourcing a Fic Rec List: Stucky & Peter Parker

Well, look at that!

Due to the numerous responses to this post, and since things have become a little cluttered there (different reblog threads, some recs are in tags or in comments, etc), I thought it would be a shame if anything got lost. So, I decided to compile a list of all the submitted recs for Stucky fics that also feature Peter Parker. Of course, I couldn't help myself and added a rec of my own. Fics that were mentioned multiple times are only listed once, and, if one was provided, I kept the original commentary. I hope I credited everyone correctly. If I got something wrong or missed anything, please let me know.

Thank you to everyone who shared recs, commented, or reblogged the original post to get more eyes on it. You're all wonderful! 💙

Here we go:

💙 recommended by @thankssaragorn

🕸 taking my time but I don't know where by cosmicocean | 35K, T so much fun, post-TWS Bucky lowkey mentoring Peter in being a hero and then some family and healing stuff, very sweet. 🕸 Steve Rogers Is (Not) A Good Influence by attackofthezee | 4K, T a goofy oneshot where Peter joins Steve on his Bucky-hunt. 🕸 the rattle of their hearts by iron_spider | 59K, T | part 1 of 2 in rattle universe series an IW fix-it where Tony & Steve try to fix things and Peter & Bucky are trapped in the soul stone together, also trying to fix things. Features irondad if that ain't your thing. 🕸 Dear Teacher, With Love by fancyh | 61K, T doesnt ~strictly~ fit the prompt but i love it so much im always gonna rec it. Bucky becomes a HS teacher post-TWS and Peter is in his class they rlly don't interact a ton but I just love this fic i can't help it.

❤ recommended by @sparkagrace

🕸 Steve and Bucky low key adopt Peter Parker by Andthrowmethekey | series in 3 parts | 3.5K, T 🕸 Drive It Like You Stole It: A Bodyswap by AggressiveWhenStartled | 28K, E | part 1 of 2 in The Old Codgers GreatestHits Album series

🤍 recommended by @eternalspine

🕸 longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak by honeycombclaire | 96K, M | part 1 of 2 in trigger words series Peter being raised by Bucky in Hydra as an assassin but he was Tony’s biological son that had been kidnapped as a toddler. I literally cannot say enough good things about this fic you should all go read it right now. I would inject it in my veins if I could. It genuinely took me several days to be normal again after reading it. There’s even a sequel!

💙 recommended by @arctic-turtle-cassiopeia

🕸 Astronomy in Reverse by pansley | 185K, T

❤ recommended by @maplefiasco

🕸 Make it Till You Fake It by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, E another super fun one by [this author]. 🕸 When I Am On Your Shoulders by Lady_Blackwater | 165K, M Steve reconnects with Bucky while going through a divorce from Tony and trying to navigate parenting their teen son Peter. I remember binging this in a day, I couldn't put it down.

🤍 recommended by @funkylittlelurker

🕸 Is this child Venomous? by rWolfWrites | 80K, M | part 1 of 4 in Stucky Shares Custody of Peter Parker series It's angsty as all get out, but it has a happy ending. Basically, it's a HYDRA Peter AU, wherein Peter is an asset right along Bucky. Peter is like, 12 at the youngest, so it's mcu Peter, don't worry. Bucky drops Peter off a Steve's house, designation Steve as Peter's new Handler. You can see why this might be bad. I won't spoil much, but the Maximoff twins also come into play! (Bucky saves them)

💙 recommended by @leihaddock

🕸 The Trials and Tribulations of the Watermelon Werewolf by BlueSimplicity | 67K, E Explicit between Steve and Bucky & Bucky basically lowkey adopts Peter. 🕸 Rainbow Dinosaurs by holla_the_forestfairy | ~1K, G short but sweet queer story

❤ recommended by @fsbc-librarian

🕸 Peter & Bucky Are Pals by DJ_unicornsrgr8 | series in 11 parts | 147K, G-T This series is set in the verse of Owlet's Infinite Coffee and Protection Detail, which is absolutely wonderful. 🕸 Steve Rogers' Dad Face and Other Common Hazards by AggressiveWhenStartled | 4K, T | part 1 of 4 in Workplace Hazards series 🕸 we leave through the fire by justanotherblond | 41K, T | part 1 of 3 in timshel series -> Also, always worth checking out the library for more fics!

🤍 recommended by @booksandabeer

🕸 Praetorian by RecoveringTheSatellites | 28K, M | part 1 of 2 in Amor Manet series Historical AU featuring Bucky as a pagan witch, Steve as a disgraced former Praetorian Guard, and Peter as a young recruit to the Roman army. Maybe a bit of a cheat, since Peter is not central to the story, but in the moments he does appear, he definitely makes an impression, and what we get to see of his mentor-mentee relationship with Steve really resonates. Also, look, this is just a banger of a fic with lots of action and romance that everyone should read.

💙 recommended by @stuckydrewx

🕸 Extra special treat! Drew shared a whole other fic rec list that she made a few months ago. Yay!

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who contributed to this crowdsourced rec list—you're all fantastic!

[sidekick-hero]

Here it is, the third and final chapter of my fic hold me close (I'm shaking apart) - it only took me 1,5 years to finish this fic. This whole fic started off thanks to @dreaminginpencil and their amazing fanart. This chapter specifically was inspired and refers to this second piece of art from them. Also much love to @pearynice for being my cheerleader and reading this over - your comments were the best motivation 💜

Summary:

Of all the unlikely friendships Eddie had formed during the literal apocalypse, the one with Steve felt the most unlikely. Hawkins High's freak and king. But those titles had stopped meaning anything, they were just names and had nothing to do with him or with Steve.

It all came down to one simple truth: Steve Harrington was not at all what Eddie expected him to be, and it was confusing him to no end.

Or: Steve asks Eddie if he wants to experiment. Eddie wants so much more, but he takes what he can get and tries to not let it break his heart.

Have a little sneak peek under the cut and read the rest on AO3 💜

That had been another first Eddie had given his former-high-school-nemesis-turned-best-friend.

“Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Steve’s voice pulls him from the memory, grounding him back in the present. His body, however, lingers very much in the past, judging by the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans.

“Huh? Sorry.” Eddie shakes his head, trying to clear the haze of his thoughts. “I must’ve drifted off.”

Steve, honest-to-God, pouts at that. “Am I boring you?”

The absurdity of the question almost makes Eddie laugh. Steve does a lot of things—annoys him, mystifies him, terrifies him sometimes—but boring him? Never.

“Quite the contrary, Stevie,” Eddie says, a mischievous glint in his eye. He shifts closer, angling his hips deliberately so Steve can feel just how far from bored he is. “I’ve just been thinking about last week and how you blew my mind.”

That is apparently the right thing to say because Steve leans in, his eyes practically glowing with happiness. “I see. Although, if I remember correctly, neither your mind nor mine was the only thing that got blown that day.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, feigning innocence, though his grin betrays him.

Steve’s lips curve into a slow, deliberate smile, and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at them since the conversation veered into suggestive territory. “Mmhmm,” Steve hums. “It is. Maybe I need to refresh your memory?”

And oh, isn’t that an offer Eddie can’t refuse?

“I think you might,” Eddie murmurs, already leaning in to capture those lips in what he’s sure will be the prelude to something much more scandalous, when a blaring horn startles him so badly he nearly tumbles off the roof.

Only Steve’s quick reflexes save him, an arm snaking around Eddie’s waist and pulling him tightly against his chest.

“Jesus Christ!” Eddie yelps, his heart hammering.

“Nope,” Steve quips, unfazed. “That’s Jon and Nancy with the kids.” He glances down at the driveway, confirming it. “I almost forgot—we’re supposed to take Dustin and Max and pick up Robin on the way to the theatre.”

“Shit! You think they saw us?” Eddie’s voice pitches higher, nerves tightening his chest at the thought of their friends catching on to what exactly they’ve been doing. It isn’t that he’s ashamed, not of Steve at least. But of himself. Of how he’s taking Steve up on an offer that Steve probably doesn’t mean the same way Eddie wants it to. He wants too much—more than Steve is willing, or maybe even able, to give. Yet, he takes whatever scrapes he’s given and he’s not sure if that makes him greedy or pathetic or both.

It’s not just that, either. Eddie trusts their friends. He really does. Despite everything in him screaming not to, he knows they wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t out him. But they’d look at him differently, and he isn’t ready for that.

Steve shakes his head, still maddeningly relaxed. “No, I don’t think so. They probably just saw us sitting up here. That’s why Nance honked. And anyway, it’s just her and Jon and the kids.”

Eddie wisely keeps his mouth shut, clambering back inside the house through the window. At least the situation in his pants has solved itself.

Steve follows more leisurely, still unconcerned. Eddie doesn’t get it. How can he be so unbothered, so uncaring as to whether or not they get caught? Steve has more to lose than Eddie, at least from Eddie’s perspective. People already think Eddie’s a freak. Hell, they call him worse things—Satanist, murderer. What’s a little sodomy on top of it?

But Steve? The golden boy, the fallen King who rose from the ashes like a phoenix. The unsung hero, the heart of their ragtag group. He has so much more to lose, and Eddie doesn’t want that—would rather deny himself than risk Steve losing the family he’s always wanted, the one he deserves.

Eddie has it bad. He knows.

Still. “What about Wheeler?”

“What about her?” Steve’s brows furrow, his head tilting slightly, a gesture so puppy-like it almost makes Eddie melt.

“If she saw us! How are you not getting it?”

Steve steps closer, confusion deepening on his face. “I have no idea what’s going on here. What’s Nance got to do with anything?”

“So you’re not worried that she’ll think—that if she and Jon—but then she saw us and thinks—y’know, then how will you get her back?”

And okay, now that he says it out loud, it does sound…well, weird. Steve seems to think so too, because he just blinks at him a few times, clearly contemplating how to react to Eddie’s word-vomit.

Finally, he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep, measured breath. “Eddie—” he starts, then stops, his eyes scanning Eddie’s face. “I never wanted to read someone’s mind before I met you, y’know? You’re a fucking enigma, driving me crazy.” The fondness creeping into his tone softens the sting of his words. “Also, I already told you: me and Nance? That’s not gonna happen. She’s happy with Jon, and I’m—happy too. Really. I think I was missing the idea of us, not the reality of Nance and me. There was a reason things didn’t work out.”

“Yeah, monster from another dimension.”

“No,” Steve says, his voice patient as ever, shaking his head. “Not the Upside Down. Sure, it sped things up, maybe, but only because I wasn’t what Nance needed in the first place. And I needed her to break my heart so I could realize what a massive dick I was. I like who I am now—someone with real friends. Friends like Nancy, Jon, Robin, and you.”

The human heart is a strange thing, Eddie thinks, because it manages to feel both warmed and utterly wrecked by the sentiment of Steve’s friendship.

“So, to answer your question, I don’t want to ‘get her back,’ so it doesn’t matter what she saw or didn’t. Would you please stop worrying so we can finally go watch that kids’ movie you and the twerps are so excited about?”

“‘Stand by Me’ is not a kids’ movie!”

The glint in Steve’s eyes tells Eddie that his outburst is exactly what Steve was aiming for. “It’s a movie about kids, so it’s a kids’ movie.”

Eddie throws his hands in the air, huffing like the Big Bad Wolf about to blow a little piggy’s house to bits. “You are so wrong, and I’m going to tell Dustin what you said so he can explain exactly how wrong you are in excruciating detail.”

“No! Eddie, please—” Steve begs, reaching for his arm, but Eddie’s already bounding down the stairs toward the front door.

“Dusty Bun, you need to hear what Steve just said!”

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Steve-O X Bimbo!Y/N HC’s!

Steve-O X Fem!Y/N

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, drug use, alcohol, lingerie, dick size jokes

An: Thank you for sending in requests! At the moment, my inbox is as dry as a desert, so please keep them coming! While writing this fic, the dynamic i had in mind was sorta similar to Michał Wiśniewski and Mandaryna if that makes sense :) I really love writing for Bimbo!Y/N so if you have a requests regarding that, feel free to send them my way!

The two of you couldn’t be more different: you, a multimillionaire heiress, and your boyfriend, the guy on tv who sets himself on fire and shoves stuff in his ass for a living.

To break it down, the dynamic between you and Steve is that of a rich woman and the little dog she keeps in her purse

And because of that, you really couldn’t be a better match for each other!

He’d never been one for the whole party girl, heiress type, but he was surprised at the fact that a girl as normal as you was brave enough to go for him in the first place, disgusting antics and all

But there was something about his edgy, manic bad boy image that you were all over!

Unlike what usually happens with celebrity couples, it was you dragging him around to every party in LA and showing him off to the paparazzi

I mean, how couldn’t you? Your boyfriend knew all these fun tricks!

Steve couldn’t complain about all the newfound attention and free flowing drugs, pulling out all the stops to impress you and your rich friends.

A couple people tucked dollar bills into his mankini as he shook off charred bits of hair from his last stunt while preparing for his next,

“Alright! Does anybody gotta stapler around here?”

Respectively, you tagged along to every Jackass premiere, wearing your sparkly little kitten heels and cute sequined mini-dresses while Steve stumbled in with one hand on your waist and the other gripping a fourty,

Likely shirtless, wearing a pair of sneakers and baggy jeans that sat a good couple inches below his boxers.

Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from going all out with the PDA in front of the cameras…

The rest of the jackass guys were shocked when you showed up, having written him off every time he mentioned that he was dating that Beverly Hills party girl from all the tabloids

Blinking in surprise at the two of you, an amused smile spread across Johnny’s face, “Wow…when you said you were datin’ Y/N, you really wernt kidding, O…”

Eagerly shaking Knoxville’s hand, you gushed about how excited you were to meet him,

“Ohmygod! This is sooo crazy! Stevie’s told me all about you guys!”

From out of your line of sight, Bam shot a glance at Ryan and made some comment about what street corner Steve picked you up on.

Your everyday life was so vastly different from his in so many ways!

Take the day you met at a cafe for lunch- one of those fancy places that he could barely believe he was eating at,

“Y’know, I’ve been livin’ off’a cold cereal and Hungry Mans for, like- forever…”

Unlike most girls in your position who’d find that a turn off, you just saw it as him missing out on good food, “Really?” You leaned in close next to him, pointing to a few items on the menu,

“Well, if you ask me- I think you should try this, ooh! Or this- and this is really good too…”

Steve’s etiquette isn’t exactly up to standard, so while you nibbled away at your fancy French pastry, he drank directly from his bowl of soup.

The paparazzi loves your relationship. Or really, really hates you- you couldn’t tell

“Y/N slumming it with Steve-O in West Hollywood Cafe!” One tabloid headline read, printed in bold red text above a photo of the two of you,

But what they didn’t show was the second that followed- you giggling and reaching out to wipe the corner of his mouth, and him smiling in that cute, boyish way he always did.

After a while of you gushing over him like he’s just the most perfect man, like- literally ever, his buddies began teasing him about you

Whether it was about how Steve didn’t smell like Newports and ass anymore and that the world must be ending or how, for lack of a better word, civilized you were making him.

Hell, even Knoxville got on him about his fancy new clothes you paid for,

“Well, it’s like she treats you like her toy or somethin’. I mean, she’s a beautiful lady- don’t get me wrong, but…”

Of course, this led Steve into a long, drunken rant about all the kickass hollywood parties he’s been going to- all the booze and drugs and bad behavior you could stomach,

(Not to mention the wild sex you had)

He vividly described the time he got so horribly drunk at Carson Daily’s place that he nearly took his eye out with his bidet

“And if you think that’s bad, you don’t even wanna know what I did to Nick Lachey’s sheets, dude…”

On the weekends, you’d usually drag Steve around a couple boutiques or the mall even though he couldn’t buy you fancy clothes given he was dead broke

But he couldn’t complain about his smoking hot girlfriend asking his opinion about what underwear she should buy at Victoria’s Secret,

“Ooh, look at this!” You held up the most gaudy cheetah print bra known to man, “Now we can match!”

Well, he wasn’t about to argue with that…And he knew the value of a woman who could appreciate cheetah print.

While you were in one store or another, you ran into an old friend and told your boyfriend that you’d be right back as she pulled you aside

“Y/N- what in the world are you doing with a guy like that?”

Well, you liked him- a whole lot in fact, but you knew that answer wouldn’t satisfy her. So, you thought of the next best thing,

“Well…” Leaning in conspiratorially, you whispered in her ear, “He has got the biggest cock I have ever seen. I mean- massive.”

Yeah, she can tell that to the tabloids…

When Steve later asked you about what the two of you were chatting about, you told him the truth and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush, “Wait…But I don’t-“

“Yeah, I know you don’t! But she doesn’t...”

[ishipallthings]

Cap Iron Man Rec Week 2024 (Wed)

Early in Canon Wednesday - July 24th for @cap-ironman Rec Week

Fics set early in canon as the boys are getting to know each other :D

Remember to show some love for your hard-working creators!

To Be With You (Is Easy) by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

Tony doesn't know what prompted him to visit the recently defrosted Captain America, and he certainly hadn't given much thought to the little confessionals he's given the comatose Capsicle. But when Steve Rogers wakes up and seeks him out, he finds there's an attraction between them that can't be denied.

No Return, No Return by Carsonian @carsonian (MCU)

In many ways, Tony Stark has spent his whole life waiting to meet something real enough to test himself against. He hadn't planned on it being Steve Rogers.

Wish You Were Here by One and Five Nines (MCU)

Steve starts sending Tony postcards.

tear these old walls down by susiecarter @susiecarter (MCU)

Steve didn't like Tony Stark. Stark probably didn't like Steve, either. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and that was putting it mildly. And having to pretend to be a civilian Stark was dating, as cover for trying to save Stark's life while Iron Man was busy with a SHIELD mission, obviously wasn't going to help.

when you're gone by talktothesky @thatbuddie (MCU)

Steve's had to get used to many things in the 21st century but falling in love with Tony Stark might be the weirdest one yet. Especially because the man's dead.

not a lot, just forever by Thahire @thahiree (MCU)

A few months after the Battle of New York, Tony invites Steve over to see the apartment he has built for him. Steve, of course, is totally normal about this and not panicking at all.

Handheld by talesofsuspense (MCU)

When Steve starts stopping for lunch at Shawarma Palace he isn't expecting Tony to show up and to keep showing up. And he definitely isn't expecting a guide to the 21st century.

posing up a storm by picturecat @snoozingcat (MCU, alt 2012)

“I have an idea. Can we just pretend the day ended with that really badass Superfriends pose we did?”

Machines and Marvels by rainbowninja167 (MCU, alt 2012)

Or: In an alternate timeline where the Avengers never formed, Steve and Tony need a crash course in team bonding. Stephen Strange just had to take that literally.

choke on me by imperialstark @persephonesfill (MCU, WIP)

After fending off an alien invasion, Tony Stark has one more obstacle to face; Steve Rogers. Steve believes that they have a connection which Tony is trying hard to ignore. After a moment of passion aboard the helicarrier, Tony can't seem to stay away from Steve as their lives grow ever more intertwined.

and two self-recs!

I'll Be (Good To You) by ishipallthings (MCU, soulmate AU)

Steve Rogers wakes up seventy years out of time to a new world and a soulmate. It’s an adjustment. What he doesn’t expect is Tony Stark, a brilliant futurist who is equal parts fascinating and frustrating, and has just as many demons as Steve. He also doesn’t expect to find a family with a ragtag team of superheroes, or to fall in love. Luckily, Steve is nothing if not adaptable.

An Armored Heart by ishipallthings (AA)

In which Red Skull goes after Steve Rogers, and Tony realizes just how much he has to lose.

Hope you guys enjoy the recs, and stay tuned! Please mind the tags before reading. Check out my tag for previous years’ rec lists :)

[jen-with-a-pen]

F O X ＨＵＮＴ

summary: Not only has HYDRA executed their infiltration on S.H.I.E.L.D., but they have also reclaimed their finest weapon. Your safety isn't the only thing that's compromised.

pairings: WS!Beefy!Bucky Barnes x F!Avenger!Reader

word count: 6.1k

warnings: chasing, being hunted down, implied n0n-con elements, canon-level violence, cursing, implied t0rture, blood, beat1ngs, forced nud1ty, language, HYDRA-level cruelty, Bucky gets Brainwashed (again), there's Steve x Reader if you squint REALLY REALLY hard

read here on ao3!

a/n: This was inspired by last year's Whumptober Day 2: NOWHERE TO RUN - CORNERED, CAGED AND CONFRONTATION. I know it's February JUNE, but shit came up and my motivation tanked lmao thanks adhd med trials Literally have never done a dark(er?) fic before and this one has been cooking for god knows how fucking long now. I hope y'all like it <3 (also the hydra victory au is something i discovered from the lovely @lunarbuck reset series and stewed obsessively over for literal months now. still obsessed with it whoops)

dividers by @firefly-graphics | gif by @lost-shoe | @hydravictrix

my ao3 | my masterlist

Translations

Lisitsa | лисица - fox/little fox

Soldat | солдат - soldier

Syuda | сюда - over here

Khitraya suka | хитрая сука - sly bitch

Moy priz | мой приз - my prize

Glupaya pizda | глупая пизда - stupid cunt

Moye | мое - mine

The infiltration was subtle at the start.

A few missions gone mysteriously wrong, agents killed in action or disappearing entirely, hacks that were, thankfully, contained within an inch of a full-blown data breach. All of it seemed so coincidental when it happened, swept under the rug each and every single time before Director Fury could have a swear-filled say as to what the hell was going on. 

But hindsight is 20/20. It always is.

The day S.H.I.E.L.D. fell was, ironically, the perfect day: brilliant sunshine, clear blue skies, a breeze weaving between the towering buildings and skyscrapers. It was almost eerie, in a way, how perfect of a day it was. 

You found yourself in the gym, Steve and Sam hashing it out on whose turn it was in sparring. You had all but knocked Sam out cold in the previous round as Steve watched from behind the ropes, cheering you on with a cocky, proud grin as he watched all of his hard work in your training pay off.

Of course, the stubborn ass he was, Sam wanted another go. 

“C’mon, Steve! I wanna rematch!” Sam protested, gesturing wildly in your direction with one hand while his other held an ice pack to his bruised temple. Steve stifled a laugh, tossing a glance over his shoulder to you. You shook your head, smiling back as you gulped down the rest of your water bottle. Cool strands spilled out from the corners of your lips and down your chest. You welcomed the relief from the sweat gluing your t-shirt to your skin. 

“How ‘bout I take Steve instead of giving you another concussion?” you retorted, giggling as Sam shot a narrow look at you. He huffed, forfeiting his argument by waving a dismissive hand. 

“Fine, ’m gonna go find some pain meds,” he grumbled, turning to point a swollen finger at Steve. “I better see you in the infirmary next, Cap.” 

He stomped off through the metal doors and left the two of you in silence.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart? You up for round two?” Steve teased, stepping under the ropes and into the ring. He wrapped his hands as he moved to the center, muscle memory carrying him while keeping his eager gaze on you. His eyes carried excitement as they journeyed up and down your figure, rolling his lip between his teeth as he drank you with his stare. 

You did little to hide your pride at the Captain checking you out, chewing the corner of your cheek to tame your own smirk at the beautiful blond. You turned away, hiding the heat from your cheeks as you tossed your bottle at your bag. You weaved under the ropes, coming face to face with your willing opponent in the center. You lifted your chin to meet his, the hidden smirk on your lips growing into a grin.

“With you? Always, old man,” you purred. You tossed him a teasing wink as you positioned your fists in front of you, feet planted firmly in the starting stance. Steve lingered on you for a second longer, tongue swiping across his lips hungrily as he cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders, raising his hands to mirror you.

The two of you began to circle one another, dancing in a familiar pattern you knew by heart. Steve took his first swipe at you and you ducked, managing a hit to his stomach. A grunt escaped from him– not of hurt but of thrill. He lunged for you as you dodged again, blocking his failed strike to your head. 

“Wow! You really can’t teach an old dog new tricks!” you taunted, dodging another blow, his wrapped fist only grazing your shoulder. You rolled it back, holding back a slight wince as you continued the violent waltz. 

You lunged at him, instead faltering and falling to the ground. Readying the curse on your tongue, it stopped short of your lips as you looked up at Steve. 

He stood frozen in place, panting, fists at his sides clenching tighter and tighter. As you opened your mouth to unload even more cursing questions, screeching erupted from the loudspeakers around the room. High-pitched tones screaming above, a robotic voice speaking clinically and quickly. You scrambled off the floor, unease creeping in as you latched onto Steve’s arm, his arm tensing under your touch.

CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS URGENTLY NEEDED. 40th FLOOR. THREAT IS ACTIVE AND HIGHLY DANGEROUS. REPEAT. CODE WHITE. CODE SILVER. ALL SECURITY AND TEAM UNITS–

The message had cut out, static replacing it alongside the echoing alarms throughout the hallways outside the gym. You looked up at Steve. Anxiety surged upon finding his face devoid of all blood, his jaw slack, eyes boring into the metal doors leading to the hallway. He looked scared. 

You’d never seen Steve scared before. 

“Steve, what the fuck was that–”

“Get to the locker rooms and hide,” he ordered. He pulled his arm from you, jumping over the ropes and sprinting to his duffel bag on the floor. He pulled out his phone and dialed frantically as he ran to the doors. 

“Steve!” You stood trembling in the ring as your stomach churned. 

“Now!” he yelled. “I’ll come back for you!” 

He didn’t wait to hear your response as he slammed the gym doors shut, followed by a whir and click.

He locked you in. 

You didn’t– couldn’t– hesitate as a surge of urgency overtook you. You needed to hide. Now. Fast.

Your legs carried you as you jumped out of the ring and raced to grab your duffel bag, sprinting to the back of the gym through another set of double doors. You wove through the tiled maze of the locker room searching for some sort of hiding spot, settling on the showers. You snuck over to the stall at the very end, the closest one to the emergency exit, and ducked under the opaque plastic curtain. Your bag fell to the floor as you climbed onto the stall seat. Blood pumped in your ears, thumping as quickly as your shaky, shallow breathing. Millions of thoughts and questions and worries rushed through your mind at impossible speeds.

White and Silver. Which alert was that for?

You racked through fleeting memories, distant recollections of training and orientation from months ago, searching for anything remotely familiar. You remembered all of the other codes– red, orange, teal– but no white, no silver. 

A faint buzzing sounded from inside your duffel. You lunged, unzipping it and fishing out your phone. Natasha. Her name lit up the screen and you frantically hit the answer key before the call could even think about dropping.

“Where the fuck are you?” Her panicked voice hissed into your ear. Her edged tone was enough to make your stomach backflip faster. 

“Locker rooms, forty-fifth floor. What the fuck is going on, Nat?” Your voice shook as anger and confusion boiled in your blood.

A muffled swear. “Where’s Steve?”

“He ran out, locked me in, told me to hide.” More incoherent curses.

“Fuck, fuck, okay, look, trust me on this, you need to stay where you are, okay? I can get you out, I–” 

High-pitched ringing overtook the speaker, sending you reeling away from the receiver. Static echoed out of the speakers.

“You what? Natasha!”

“No– time– you–”

“Natasha! Hello?”

Beep. Beep. Beep.

You tore the phone away from your ear and choked back the bile rising in your throat. Service was out. The blinking bars at the top of the screen mocked you and your sudden plunge into isolation. 

The lights went next. 

The dull fluorescents flickered. Someone cut the electricity, sending you into almost darkness as the backup generator lights kicked on. Scattered lights from above cast an eerie yellow glow over the shower tiles. You’d only seen this kind of outage happen once before, when New York was hit with Hurricane Noah a few years back.

The fear you felt in that storm paled in comparison to what you felt now.

You sighed, shaky and surrendering, and pulled your body closer to you on the shower bench. A chill snaked its way down your spine as your skin brushed the cool ceramic, an unwelcome addition to the cold already enveloping you. Your sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts failed to aid you and your aching muscles. Fingernails dug into your kneecaps in a struggle to stop trembling as you tried to focus on your breathing. Inhaling, exhaling, in, out. Screwing your eyes shut, praying to any deity imaginable it was all just a drill, it was all an accident or a misunderstanding or–

The ground shook as a loud bang echoed from outside the locker room. A panicked yelp escaped your throat before your hands could scramble and cover your mouth. You froze as the tremors subsided and listened. It, or they, sounded close. 

Too close. 

Another BANG! Then another. 

Rhythmic, steady blows, each quicker and more powerful than the last. Hands clamped tighter over your lips until your blood froze at the sounds of crushing steel and crumbling concrete. The lump in your throat grew as horrific realization flooded over you. 

They, or it, broke in.

You couldn’t wrap your head around it– those doors were more fortified than Tony’s lab. Four-inch-thick, steel and plexiglass doors with a three-tier secured locking system. Nothing, nobody– not even the strongest Super Soldier– was powerful enough to make the faintest of dents in them.

Racing through who, or what, could have possibly broken into the gym, your train of thought derailed as echoes of men yelling indecipherable words and mixed commands shattered the remaining air of safety you clung to. Listening intently, a mix of combat boots and tactical gear filtered in with the echoed commands.

The S.T.R.I.K.E. Team.

Your legs begged for reprieve from crouching, but your body disobeyed and froze you in place. Part of you didn’t trust who was outside. Footsteps and gruff voices became heavier, closer. The relief that greeted you was replaced again by panic as you listened closer.

Clear, Russian commands resonated at the entrance to the locker rooms. They were coming in. 

Your breath hitched, blood running cold as footsteps closed in. It was one person, but their steps didn’t sound like the heavy boots before them. They sounded more like…

Sneakers?

The rubber from the intruder’s shoes squeaked on the tiled floors. Ragged breathing echoed off the walls. A low growl, accompanied by quiet whirring. Someone big, someone mean. 

Your heart made its way to your throat as the intruder inched closer. Slow, methodical, as if trained in search and rescue. 

It didn’t feel like a rescue.

The lump almost turned into a scream as an echoed BANG carried from the bathroom stalls around the corner. Silence followed, then a growl, then another BANG. The cycle repeated for the remaining stalls, the intruder slowly creeping along. Growls became deeper upon each disappointment. 

Hostages. They were looking for hostages.

Soles squeaked as the intruder changed course, stomping around the corner to search the line of shower stalls. You hiccuped a sob, realizing tears started to trail down your cheeks. Biting your palm only proved a lame attempt to calm your racing heart, a scream threatening to leave your throat as they began tearing the plastic curtains off the stalls. Each clang of metal cracking onto the tile became closer as you ground your teeth into the meat of your hand. Eyes screwed shut, silent prayers raced in your head, pleading to wake up; to wake up from this hellscape of a sick, twisted nightmare. 

The intruder’s steps stopped. 

Your eyes opened, widening at the blurred, hulking shadow standing outside of your stall. They had to be well over six feet. Towering, bulky, monstrous. 

Slowly, the shadow’s hand reached for the curtain. One by one, its fingers closed around the plastic’s edge, preparing to rip it down and rip you open. Eyes burning, hot tears felt like molten metal as you attempted to make yourself as small as possible in your corner, huddling your knees as close as they could be. This was it. This was the end. You prayed– actually fucking prayed– hoping they couldn’t hear your pathetic whimpering, hoping they would make this quick, painless; break your neck or put a gun to your head and get it over with. Leave your body for someone else to find.

“Soldat, syuda!” 

The command made your heart stop.

The shadow froze, stopped by a call from the entrance to the locker room. Skin met your teeth as you bit harder into your hand. Lungs began panicking as you started hyperventilating, bile reaching your throat and burning the back of your tongue. 

The shadow, the monster, growled in protest. It retracted the curled hand from the curtain, wordlessly moving back towards the bathroom stalls. Footsteps faded as muffled conversation floated away from the locker room.

You needed to get the fuck out of there. 

You slid off the bench, legs aching and knees popping as you crouched silently over to the curtain, peeking out behind the plastic. It crinkled quietly and you bit your lip, leaning out ever so slightly over the threshold. 

Tiptoeing around the corner, you faced the emergency exit. The glowing sign omitted a creepy, green glow that added to the eeriness brought by the generator lights. 

This was it.

You slammed the push bar down, throwing the door open with your body and spilling out into the hallway. Sunlight flashed through the infinite glass hallway, blinding you. In your frozen state, you hear commotion from behind the door as it slammed shut. Banging from the other side, the sound of metal on metal, made your teeth grind. Indents from punches dented the door, deforming its smooth outside. You didn’t stay frozen for long as your body screamed at you to fucking move, now.

Your legs obeyed immediately, carrying you through the corridor to the closest means of escape you could find. As you rounded the corner, the crushing sounds of the door breaking off of its hinges hit your ears. You didn’t dare to look back, sprinting through the twists and turns of the infinite hallway. You followed what felt familiar, burning muscles egged on by the sound of pounding footsteps getting closer and closer.

Finally, you stumbled onto the entrance to a stairwell, pausing to gasp for air your lungs demanded. The burn in your legs and chest only aided in the physiological need to hyperventilate. Sweat dripped from your temple and your head pounded as hard as your feet hitting the ground. 

You leaned into the safety bar, inches away from further distancing yourself from whatever, whoever, was on your trail, when a yell erupted from the end of the hallway. 

It felt like slow-motion; one of those scenes in those cheesy horror movies Sam always made you and Steve watch on weekends off. The ones with cheap FX, bad sound, but somehow great editing for the budget. The scenes where realization hits the main character and suddenly everything is half the speed while they still move in real time. 

You turned your head towards the source. Then, it hit you. Blood drained from your face as the horror of realization hit you, like a speeding sixteen-wheeler head on.

Bucky Barnes stood hulking at the end of the hallway. Generator lights and setting sun illuminated his snarling teeth, gleaming from parted lips that had him panting like a rabid dog. If you hadn’t known better it would’ve looked like he was heading for the gym for his daily workout. Blown pupils, sweat-stuck hair, complimented by a shaking frame– most definitely caused by adrenaline, dopamine, and a slew of Gods-knew-what other drugs he had pumped into his system. Splotches of drying, smeared blood coated his neck and shirt while even more dripped onto the ground from his fists. The crimson contrasted with the medically white floors. 

Bile rose in your throat again. The acidic taste made you dry heave at the sight of the blood, knowing from the looks of Bucky it definitely wasn’t his.

He snarled as your eyes finally met. Fists of flesh and metal flexed. Rippling muscles shook as he readied to launch forward.

“You’re mine, lisitsa!” he barked. His voice booming louder than the speed of sound, it made your ears ring.

Your throat finally opened. You screamed as he sprinted towards you, making more ground down the hallway than an apex predator out of hibernation. You shoved the exit door open, heaving your legs forward as you ascended the stairs. No choice but to go up, you refused to look back– nay you didn’t dare to even consider it. Muscles and tendons and joints burned, yearning for you to stop, but the door slamming from flights below you only pushed you harder, flying up and passing floor after floor. 

You were fast, but he was faster. 

Dizziness overtook you as your vision began to blur. Darkened edges of your peripherals made you stop your climb at level 50, pausing for a split second to hear Bucky’s progress. He was close behind, but you still had more of an advantage. You knew the Tower better than him. You knew level 50 had another stairwell on the opposite side of the floor, through another hallway off the corner of your current one. Sneakers pounded too close for comfort as you shoved the door open and made a break for it down another corridor labyrinth.

If you made it out of this alive, you swore you’d kill Tony’s architect yourself. 

“You can’t hide forever, lisitsa!” Bucky’s voice rang out from the stairwell as you rounded the corner, sprinting through more identical-looking hallways. Another corner later and the glowing red EXIT sign appeared above the next stairwell. A beacon of hope, almost. Relieved, you head straight for it, body and mind and soul pushing against the burning and the gasping for air. You were right there, hand outstretched, fingertips grasping the metal bar–

It felt like a car crash. 

Not an accident or fender bender. No, it felt like seventy miles an hour meets a tree with no intent of moving. That split-second feeling where your stomach drops and you can all but brace for the deadly impact destined for you to meet.

Time stopped as you were yanked backwards. Cold, slick metal wrapped around your ankle, bloody hand print smearing some poor bastard’s DNA all over your calf as your body fell to the ground. Hard. Your jaw clenched as your chin slammed into the linoleum. Teeth ground into your tongue as copper flooded your tastebuds. Your lungs, with little wind left in them, gasped for oxygen. Another scream rising in your throat became stuck in your vocal cords. 

Bucky whipped you around as you struggled to free your lower half. You landed on your shoulder, head bouncing against the floor and teary eyes struggled to stay open and endure the pain. He straddled your form, the weight crashing down on your bones and organs. A sharp inhale impaled your chest as you met Bucky’s darkened eyes, then; the familiar steel blue replaced entirely with dilated, unhinged pupils. 

It was the first time you got a good look at his face. His face is speckled with blood spatter and several bruises spread across his cheek down his neck. Two black eyes, a bloody nose– one you hoped was his– and a broken lip. The bloodied collar of his shirt only aided in the mess of his hair. His soft, chocolate strands stuck in mats to his neck and temples with sweat and blood. 

Out of sheer habit, because he looked like your Bucky, you couldn’t help but reach a hand out to him. A soft plea for the man behind his eyes, one you begged everything holy was still there. He held your stare, face contorting into unrecognizable emotions. Tears brimmed your eyes as your hand stretched further, sobs escaping as your fingers inched closer and closer to his battered face.

“Bucky, it’s me–”

Your appeal transformed into a shriek, quickly snuffed out as Bucky wrapped his crimson-spattered metal hand around your throat. You choked, sputtering lost pleas as your hands flew to your neck. Fingernails flailed in futile attempts to claw off the weapons-grade titanium. 

“You’re done running, khitraya suka,” Bucky’s hot breath fanned your face as he leaned in. His mouth grazed your jaw, titanium hand on your throat flexing with each syllable. He slowly made his way down your neck, pushing harder into your chest with his forearm. A heavy growl. His grip only tightened as you tried to knee him in the groin, picking you up by your neck and slamming you down again.

Stars circled your blurred vision, eyes rolling back into your head. The corridor, the lights, everything split into two.

“You owe me for my victory, lisitsa,” Bucky’s husky whisper resonated in your ear as he licked the side of your face, his hot, wet mouth against your tear-stained cheek. As his free hand moved to the waistband of your shorts, another surge of panic washed through you. You tried to sputter a weak cry from your closed-off throat, blood turning cold, another scream building and building in your chest and aching for release. 

“You owe me what’s mine –!” 

BANG!

Something from somewhere all of a sudden. The object slammed into Bucky, throwing him off of you and spilling across the floor. 

Finally, your lungs lunged at the chance for air, leaving you a heaving, choking, coughing mess. Spitting at the ground as you made your way shakily to your hands and knees, a freed hand traveling to rub the fresh strangulation bruises forming on the column of your stiff neck. 

“Get the fuck off her, Bucky!” 

Steve.

As your vision cleared, the shield whizzed past you as it ricocheted back into Steve’s open arms. Bucky groaned, low and guttural, but only for a moment is he subdued. Slowly, he rose, like smoke from extinguished ashes, looking to his metal vice. A large dent adorned the weathered, bloodied appendage where his bicep met his shoulder. He then turned his attention to Steve, baring his teeth, anger coursing through him as he immediately disregarded you. His sights set on a new target, launching himself at Steve without a beat lost.

Steve grunted as Bucky’s metal fist met the vibranium shield with a deafening clang. Steve gritted his teeth and pushed back, managing to break Bucky’s attack and aim a kick for his stomach.

“Go! I got him!” Steve yelled to you through a gasp as Bucky countered with his own swipe at Steve’s middle. Your body stayed put, relishing in the ability to fucking breathe again, also painfully aware how screwed you’d be if you didn’t escape as you had the chance. You willed yourself to move, to run and to keep going, to no avail. As Steve landed a blow to Bucky, his eyes met yours once more. His baby blues, pained and tired, begged for you to listen to him for once in your life. 

“Now!”

The strain in Steve’s voice seemed to ignite a fire underneath you. Pushing yourself up, you willed your legs to carry you to the exit. Bloody shoe prints tracked your route as you slammed through the doorway. You cursed, knowing they’ll give away which way you’d go, knowing your life matters more than a twenty-dollar pair of sneakers. Kicking them off, throwing the pair down the exit, praying they made it far enough Bucky wouldn’t know any better. 

You threw yourself up the stars, tremors and pain afflicting every limb as the cold concrete seeped in through your socks in each step. The railing helped as you heaved yourself forward with help from the railing. Sweaty palms slipped on the bars, but your grip only grew tighter. 

You didn’t know how you, or your body, was able to do it, making it up seven more flights of stairs before your knees buckled on level 57. Heaving the door open and slamming it shut, you stumbled out into the new hallway. You hadn’t visited that level before. Something Steve and the others– especially Doctor Banner– said was “just a business floor.”

The sign on the wall directing to ‘SAFELAB’ said otherwise. Nothing in the Tower was “just business.” 

What you did know was that every SAFELAB on every floor was located in the same, far-east hallway. 

Wiping the sweat from your temple, you turned right, jogging down the darkened, emptied-out hallway. It felt like the apocalypse. No sign of anybody else. Doors left ajar, papers and bags and other employee memorabilia scattered throughout abandoned offices and cubicles. You hoped everyone was able to make it out, at least.

Part of you didn’t hope for much, though. 

The door to the lab came into view as you rounded the last corner. The door was still locked, the lab inside sterile and untouched. A sigh of relief escaped you. Holding your palm to the door’s scanner, it answered your prayers in a soft beep and whir, miraculously allowing you in. 

You maneuvered through the multiple security doors, four in total, crouching low once you managed to slip into the lab itself. The gigantic window at the front of the labspace spared no room for you to hide easily, but you had zero room to complain about it. It was your only option, after all.

Well, besides the roof. 

Crouched, you snuck your way around the counters and various equipment to one of the supply closets. The furthest corner from the entrance. You scoured through drawers and cupboards for some sort of weaponry; the most you could find was a new scalpel out of a box of extras. 

You closed in on the supply closet, reaching up and grasping the handle, turning it slowly to prevent any squeaks from the inner hinge. A tear glided down your cheek in relief. You hadn’t realized you started crying. Again. 

The door swung open. It greeted you mostly empty, deep enough for you to cram your body into. Crawling inside, bones and limbs contorted into the most comfortable position you could manage. You pinched the edges of the doors to close them as best as you can, accepting they, in fact, couldn’t close all the way from the inside. A curse under your breath, the sliver of dim light through the crack cast onto your face. Once settled, you crumpled your damp t-shirt up from the collar and shoved the fabric into your mouth. Teeth and tongue greeted sweaty cotton and hints of copper as you bit down on the collar, covering your mouth with a free hand. 

At last, after Gods knew how long it had been since you ceased moving, a silenced sob heaved out of your chest. Tremors only worsened as your nervous system rode out the fumes of its adrenaline high and flight mode instincts. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks, mixing with snot further down your face, slipping down to your neck and leaving behind streaked paths in the bloodied, hand-printed bruises adorned on your flesh. The pain from the near-strangulation you suffered broke through the shock and endorphins that were keeping you sane until then. You knew, though, you couldn’t break down. Not yet. Not until you saw Natasha or Steve or someone you trusted face-to-face. 

You started counting your breaths. Mind racing, thoughts traveling near sonic speeds through your mind carrying questions at how the hell it all happened.

You thought for sure S.H.I.E.L.D. was secure, especially after the ordeal with Bucky, Steve, and the whole ‘defeating HYDRA’ ordeal from a few years back. Hell, you thought it was safer than taking the FBI’s recon mission that was offered to you before being referred to Tony himself. Your mind raced, what-ifs and endless possibilities flashing across your eyes like a snuff film. You hoped Steve was okay. You hoped Natasha was on her way to your location any second. You hoped Sam was safe and made it out okay. You hoped Bucky –

Bucky. 

Christ, you hadn’t even stopped to think about how the hell everything happened to him. He’d been doing so well in his recovery program. Steve was even telling you about it that same morning, bragging about how well Bucky was doing, how much progress he was making, how soon they’d finally be able to move in together once Doctor Banner cleared him. Another sob overtook you. How you’d never seen him like that before, the feeling of his titanium arm slowly crushing your windpipe, the weight of his entire body crushing your internal organs as he’d held you down. The things he’d said. You tried to wrap your head around what he’d said, what he was going to do–

Crashing followed by shattering glass emitted a muffled yelp from you as your blood ran cold. Another wave of tears flooded out of your burning eyes, chest heaving unevenly. Your hand clamped even tighter over your mouth as teeth bit into the salty fabric of your shirt, drying up any more moisture your mouth was grateful to finally have.

BANG! Then another. Then more in rapid succession. Shattering, crashing, shattering, silence. The final blow to the security doors sounded from inside the lab itself. Your breath hitched and bile began bubbling in your stomach, reaching the back of your throat and across your tongue. You forced yourself to swallow the acid, listening intently to the crunch of sneakers on shattered glass.

He’d found you. 

“Lisitsaaa,” Bucky drawled, his voice dropped to a primally low octave. Lower than before. You almost couldn’t make out the words, a mixture of growled mumblings of English and Russian. Knees folded closer to your chest, you tightened your grip on the handle of the scalpel. Bucky’s footsteps were slow, methodical, predatorial. 

His heavy steps inched closer, each followed by a pause, then sudden crashing of lab equipment and smashing of drawers. More glass and metal slammed to the ground and walls after each pause. He sounded feet away. Then inches. 

Your breathing stopped as the sliver of light clouded over. The lump in your throat threatened more puke to rise as you dared to peer up through the crack, heart dropping like a dead weight to your stomach as your eyes fell on freshly bloodied sneakers. A stifled scream in your lungs choked you. You refused to think about whose blood that was.

Eyes darted back up. You could see Bucky’s blurred features clouded in shadows. The only light visible, then, was the glint from his wicked smile. Bloodied teeth shone as he licked his lips hungrily, a predator finally cornering its prey. 

Ever so slowly he crouched, shoving his face closer into the seam in the door. Tears and snot continued to stream down your face, your body hyperventilating as you forced yourself to look into his eyes. There was nothing else you could do. Nothing else to say, to cry about. There was nowhere left to run. He got you. 

“There you are, moy priz,” Bucky hissed before reaching through and throwing the doors open, heavy hands leaving imprints in the flimsy metal. Frozen, your fist was still closed around the scalpel, your muscles tensed as joints locked in place. His evil eyes scanned your body greedily, looking for which cut of meat to divulge in first. His gaze stopped at your fist and he chuckled, tisking in a disappointed tone. 

“Oh, glupaya pizda,” Bucky shook his head, amused at your meager choice of weaponry. Compared to him, you might as well have been waving a white flag. His smile only grew, tongue jutting out to lick his lips. Specks of blood coated the sides of his cheeks and edges of his mouth, smeared about from ear to ear with the back of his hand.

“Come with me and they might consider your life, lisitsa–”

You sprung into him, swinging your arm, landing the scalpel into the middle of his flesh hand, impaling straight through it. In an instant, blood spewed from the impact. Bucky screamed out in pain, a slew of mixed language curses reverberating in your skull. You scrambled out of your hiding place, bashing him with a balled fist to the face as you tumbled out and onto your feet, sprinting to the lab’s only exit. Freedom was only an arm’s length away when an overturned stool tripped you. The impact didn’t hurt near as much as the millions of shattered glass bits shredded cut into your skin, your hands and knees and arms and face littered as blood smeared under you and across the once-sterile white floors. You cried out, writhing around. Battered and bloodied, struggling to rise and run again despite the searing pain in your ankle.

Before you could form your next thought, a rough hand snatched your scalp and dragged you up by your hair. You uttered a panicked scream as Bucky hoisted you to eye level, snarling like a rabid dog as he shook you hard.

“I thought you were smarter than that, lisitsa,” he sneered, “but I was wrong.”

He hurled you back onto the floor, his bloodied, titanium fist still gripping your hair, dragging you over to one of the disheveled lab tables. More glass shredded your skin, blood and sweat and tears mixing and pouring over your face and hands and body. With ease and a free hand, he swiped the rest of the contents off another counter; beakers and burners crashed to the floor. His grip tightened as he threw you up onto the stainless steel counter, the dead weight of your body banging onto the table, landing you hard on your back. Eardrums rang into your skull and jaw, radiating down your spine and out your limbs. Your hands slip against the smooth metal from the blood, futile attempts to grab onto something, anything. You groaned and huffed excess sobs. The pain, unbearable; the fear, unimaginable. 

Bucky hoisted himself onto the table, landing on top of your broken body, his knee hitting your spine and knocking your last breath out of you. Straddling you, his thick thighs bulged through tattered sweatpants, squeezing into your rib cage. He looped another fist into your hair, raising your head and slamming it down. The side of your face smushed into the steel table, smearing around more blood as he did it again. And again. The cartilage in your nose cracked and throbbing pain radiated into your eyes, your skull. Warmth from the break and the blood poured over your face. The pain, dulling into numbness as you began to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your vision started to blur and blacken, stars and specks orbiting around Bucky like a halo of hallucination. Your body, finally surrendering to him. No fight left. Any strength you could have mustered, funneled into staying awake, proved useless. 

A new sound, then: ripping.

You didn’t have to look to witness Bucky unrelentingly tear your t-shirt away from your body, training his eyes on your open form. Bruised skin exposed to cool air, your chest still momentarily held together by your sports bra. He made quick work of it next, the nylon snapping off in one swipe, sending goosebumps racing down your spine. 

Ice-cold titanium fingers untangled from your matted hair and made their way from your nape, to the small of your back, to the waistband of your gym shorts. Muscles tensed as you felt each digit wrap almost leisurely onto the elastic. He tore them away swiftly, baring the rest of you and your skin to him. A growl, one of pleasure, vibrated into you from him, emitted he palmed the skin of your ass. His fingers journeyed languidly in a slow trail from your back to your core. You squirmed, wasting the last of your strength, a hopeless attempt to get away one last time. 

A crack came across your face. Flesh against flesh, he slapped you. A punishment. A command for obedience. Your body fell limp. Breathing raggedly and gagging on blood and spit, you shuddered as he took your wrists and tied them together with your t-shirt. 

Satisfied, his prey finally submitting, Bucky paused, panting as he leaned down to you. He wet his lips before speaking, gruff words slurred against your ringing eardrum. As he spoke, cold metal grazed your entrance, a threat of what was to come. 

“Now, I get to take what’s mine.”

Your screams echoed as the world fell dark.

[themculibrary]

Bucky/Clint Road Trip Fics Masterlist

Americana is for Lovers (ao3) - ccbytheseashore M, 8k

Summary: Please tell me you are still alive, read Steve's text.

In Virginia, Bucky replied.

The hell are you doing in Virginia?

Would you believe me if I said trying to find a foam sculpture of Stonehenge?

Tony said to make sure his car comes back in once piece. Please don't shoot each other.

Clint and Bucky set off on an adventure to find an infamous work of Americana history, but find literally everything else (including love) instead.

Aw, Blood, No (ao3) - Reremouse (TheBelfry) M, 19k

Summary: Being turned into a vampire was never part of Clint “Mr. Actual Ray of Human Sunshine (sometimes)” Barton’s life plan. But they say life is what happens while you’re making other plans, and when an Avengers mission to take out a Hydra base goes disastrously wrong, Clint comes out of the fray undead.

Unfortunately for Clint, SHIELD has guidelines to deal with agents who have been turned into vampires: bring them in, or take them out. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD. Fortunately, Bucky is both well-versed in vampires (Hydra—what are you going to do?) and evading SHIELD.

And sometimes “I’m your hostage. Get moving,” is the way Bucky says “I love you.”

blank passivity (i'm hiding my shit-eating grin) (ao3) - WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN T, 21k

Summary: Upon being handed a mission that includes a tiny car, a cross-country roadtrip, and also, oh yeah, the Winter Soldier, Clint can honestly say that he's not having a great time. Adding in the fact that Barnes doesn't even want to talk to him has Clint preparing himself for the longest drive of his life.

(Clint is also pretty sure that Captain America hates him, but that's neither here nor there.)

OR

If I had a nickel for every time [Bucky took a picture with a beaver], I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice -Dr. Doofenshmirtz

crying wolf out to the moon (ao3) - shatteredhourglass T, 3k

Summary: Clint decides it's a good idea to drag Bucky on a road trip on the day of the full moon. Bucky's too weak for Clint to deny him anything, even if it is in fact, a goddamn terrible idea.

drive ‘n whine (ao3) - hawksonfire G, 1k

Summary: Bucky’s been stuck in the Tower for too long, so Clint does something about it.

Liminal Spaces (ao3) - thepartyresponsible M, 20k

Summary: “Clint,” Steve says, and it’s that same no-bullshit, do-or-die, I really, really mean it voice he used to trot out in the last few innings of close games in high school. “Bucky’s not gonna fly. He’s not going to drive himself. He can’t— I need you to drive him here.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Clint says, and hangs up.

Runaways (ao3) - madetobeworthy G, 1k

Summary: Sometimes Bucky needs to be gone, and sometimes Clint goes with him. They don't need to speak, just listen to the radio as the car devours the miles ahead of them.

see the stars come out of the sky (ao3) - veryrach M, 11k

Summary: “Arrested, yeah, I remember. How the hell do you have ten grand in cash - no, you know what, don’t tell me, forget I asked,” Clint says resignedly. “So let me get this straight. You want me to drive all the way out to Niagara Falls, pick up what I’m sure is a totally legit random bag of cash from somewhere, use it to bail you out, and drive all the way back.”

In which Bucky helps Clint help Barney. There’s a road trip, slightly inept fumbling of the emotional and physical varieties, and a bit with a dog.

the search for clint (ao3) - pherryt G, 2k

Summary: It’s a long road Bucky’s on, and he can only hope Clint is at the end of it.

The Start of Something (ao3) - kookykoi T, 1k

Summary: Bucky had the bright idea of going on a road trip. Clint had the brighter idea of going with him.

worse than a motel 6 (ao3) - spiralsystem T, 7k

Summary: Nat and Clint are assigned to take down the remaining Hydra bases on the outskirts of civilization, the ones that the others clearly don’t have time for. Oh well, road trip for Clint! Until Nat, Clint, and the one person Clint Really wanted to avoid, run into each other at the shadiest motel Clint has ever seen.

you’re my best friend (ao3) - pherryt G, 9k

Summary: Clint and Bucky need to go on a road trip to get to their next mission which Clint figures is the best way to get to know Bucky even better. It goes better than planned!

[ronearoundblindly]

I just want to start this off by saying you are one of my favorite Steve writers of all time I can’t believe I just randomly found you one day. Every time I read something I think “oh this is her best” and then I go to something else and literally the same reaction so thank you of sharing this for free. The comfort reading your Steve stories give me is unexplainable.

LOL the funniest thing is I found your works on ao3 first and at first I didn’t click the tumblr there so when I found the CEO au here I was like “um excuse me who tf is plagiarizing — oh wait no same person. Thank god”

So I don’t know how you feel about writing about pregnancy and kids but Steve having to deal with that especially in the Sun Salt and Shield AU is so hilarious to me. Is there a hc you have about that? Or just in general about them getting more serious. I love that you didn’t take the easy way out and just “Splash”ify the mermaid reader.

Um🥹😚, all of this is great, and I'm not trying to just skip over all your lovely compliments (also, good looking out on the plagiarism because that issue's going around again 🥲). I just want to jump right into the headcanon of pregnancy and kids for Sun, Salt, and Shield.

This is mostly rambling. Sorry it's not well-formed, but there *might* be a chapter of fic percolating from this. No warnings. No detailed talk of pregnancy or birth, only vague reference.

Just the other day I revisited an ask about MissG/Doll not having the more humanoid body of idk-what-to-call-them classical mermaids?? And I wondered if that (the classic look) could have been a blended species from way in the past between deep sea mermaids and humans--essentially, would Doll and Steve have children that looked more like what we typically see as mermaids?

It's an interesting train of thought, and, frankly, perfectly logical. If they had a kid or kids, that's likely how I'd do it.

However--and this is a big HOWEVER,--I am admittedly not a big fan of pregnancy, kidfics, and all that 'adorable' parenthood stuff. Sounds a little cruel that way, but there you have it. I'm me. I make things more complicated than they need to be.

I would make pregnancy a different experience from humans. Doll's kind would have a different mentality toward offspring than humans. Some hilarious and/or angsty misunderstandings could ensue.

For example--because I don't think too deeply into these matters, shhhh--based on the sheer size of her whole species, I don't think deep sea mermaids visibly look pregnant like humans. Their hips simply get wider and they sort of thicken all the way through their torsos to mid-tail. Honest to goodness, humans truly just think Miss G is getting fat, but just in a 'putting on weight' way, not a nasty judgy way. In this event, and since you/G do not have the vocabulary to explain, your pregnancy goes unnoticed until it is very advanced.

To you, this is a common inevitability in the sea between mates, but there isn't the type of hoopla--for lack of a better term--surrounding the process.

So you're pregnant? Big deal?

Ummmm, wow, the wheels are really starting to turn on this, but also your species doesn't have a calculated sense of time. You live in mostly darkness (and the ambient/changing light of other mermaids' tails), so you wouldn't have any real way of explaining how long gestation for a baby is. Likely, the kid would grow super fast, too. Means Tony still doesn't know the average lifespan of your species because there are no common/known markers to describe how long your 'elders' have been alive.

Stuff I haven't worked out yet: would the child of a deep sea mermaid and a human be able to live in either native environment? That's where I'm thinking the lower-depth, classic mermaid comes into play; still has fins, can breathe air for short periods (but longer than you), probably can't handle heavy pressure for very long though (since you spend far longer in a pool, not the pressure chamber asleep, than most deep sea-ers while pregnant), and is lighter colored in scales and features than you due to the shallower water (more affected by sunlight).

I do think it would be cute for the child to have Steve's blond hair and blue eyes simply because that is unheard of in your species (as are the paler scales and armoring. I should mention that since you have lavender eyes--i.e. very light sensitive--human blue eyes are comparatively dark.

You'll notice I'm not saying son or daughter. When newborn young...I don't think anyone can tell if the child is male or female. I don't thing G's species cares, and I think you'd be very confused by how intently Tony and Steve try to figure that out. Conceptually, it simply doesn't matter at all what sex the kid is until puberty, and even then...it still sort of doesn't??

Hmm. That's all I got on this for now, but I sense I could probably come up with some interesting angst with a happy ending from it.

Thank you for asking!

A/N: Not that it matters, but I love 'Splash.' I've learned that it's fine to explore fantastical things to all sorts of degrees, and as almost all of fandom can tell you, fluff is great, fluff is necessary, and fluff keeps us afloat. Big HOWEVER, it is not okay to wash away anyone's race or heritage (in this case--obviously fake--a species' culture). Be respectful. It's that easy.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@fandom-has-taken-me-hostage @leah2901 @blogbog710

[bau-muffin]

Bonus Scene

Part I | Part II | Bonus

tags: just Steve talking to Javier, big brother Steve, Javier being honest

word count: 629

Author’s Note: It’s Britney, Bitch- I bet you thought you’d seen the last of me ;) I thought Steve didn’t get enough time in the last fics, so I decided to rectify that. Hope you guys enjoy! - Muffin

Javier had barely sat down on the couch from getting home from work when he heard a sharp rap on his door. He rolled his eyes.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Steve. Are you decent?”

“Never.”

Javier smiled when he heard Steve exhale deeply, probably huffing through his nose.

“Are you dressed, then?”

“Yeah. Come in.”

Steve came in, his hands on his hips, his expression stern. Javier waved his hand, gesturing broadly at his one straight back chair across from his couch.

“Sit anywhere you’d like,” he said, jokingly, “You want a beer? Cigarette?”

“No thanks,” Steve declined politely, sitting in the chair and lounging as well as he could. “Jav, we gotta talk about the elephant in the room.”

“Which one?” Javier flicked his lighter until a flame appeared and lit his cigarette.

“The one about how you slept with our assistant secretary? Come on, man. Tell me you’re not toying with her.”

“We didn’t….” he sighed, “we literally only slept. Nothing more than that happened.”

“You didn’t kiss her? Under the belt stuff? Above the belt stuff?”

“Jesus Christ- what are you, my mother?”

“You’re right, the details aren’t any of my business,” Steve admitted, “but I’m just worried about her. I know you’ve always had a thing for her, but…”

“Come on, how come you’re not worried about her breaking my heart?” Javier said, a small teasing tone in his voice.

“Sure, because she’s the one with the reputation for sleeping with anything and anyone with a pulse.”

“No, seriously Steve, I do get your concern,” he said gently, “I… don’t plan on breaking her heart. In fact, I’m very much letting her take the lead.”

“Good. Because I swear to god, Jav, she’s the best thing that’s happened to our department, and I don’t want you to ruin our relationship with her because you were thinking with your dick and just trying to get it wet.”

Steve didn’t have to say “again,” Javier heard it loud and clear with the power of implication.

“I know she is, and I have no intentions of ruining anything.”

“If you hurt her, I will personally skin you. Connie will help too.”

Javier took another drag from his cigarette. “Speaking of Connie, did you guys bet on us… getting together?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I said it would take you guys years of unrequited feelings and sexual tension, Connie said within six months.”

“How long ago was that?”

“… Three months ago?”

“God dammit.”

Steve got up and sat beside him on the couch. “Hey, Connie and I love you both. We don’t want to witness this going up in flames, but we’re rooting for you guys.” He eyed Javier. “Have you been in a serious relationship before?”

Javier felt his mouth go dry like it was filled with cotton balls. “Once. When I was still in Laredo.”

“Ah, right.”

The silence was uncomfortable for a moment, then Steve hopped up from the couch, and Javier stood up with him. Steve clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.

“You’ve got this, man. She’s a good girl- a good woman,” he corrected himself, “and I think you’d be good for each other.”

“I appreciate you being concerned for her, too.”

“Of course. She’s like a little sister to me. She’s not…. vulnerable, I know she can take care of herself, but something about her makes you feel like you gotta protect her a little, you know?”

“Definitely understand. Thanks for stopping by, Steve,” Javier said genuinely.

“Yeah, of course. Anyways, I better go before Connie thinks I got lost.”

They did the obligatory and masculine ‘nod’ at each other, and Steve left.

Javier continued smoking his cigarette as he lounged on the couch, his thoughts churning slow but steady.

hey guys!!! please comment if you want to be part of a tag list for when i post my fics!! thank you for reading <3

- with love,

Muffin

[thecreelhouse]

daylight

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato

This is part of the accident prone AU— please be warned there are spoilers in these mini fics if you have yet to read the main series! This post-series fic and more can be found here -> accident prone - the blurb sides

Summary: The morning after their first time together, Frankie’s self-doubt begins to creep back in; there’s nowhere to hide her imperfections in the sunlight, and her confidence wanes. Steve’s determined to take every chance he can get to remind Frankie just how beautiful she is.

WC: 3.4k

Includes: soft smut (oral/face sitting- f receiving, fingering, handjob, cockwarming), silly banter, some dirty talk, hurt/comfort, body/self-esteem issues, fluff, language, etc.

A/N: In the midst of this break I’m taking (if you can even call it that lmao), I’ve managed to finish a few AP blurbs! (yes i know they're longer than blurbs shhhhh). this one’s Frankie centric, but I have one for Steve with similar subject matter, and I’m hoping to post that one soon too. Anyway, hope you enjoy this if you read <3 (divider cred: @/strangergraphics)

Sunrise rouses Steve from a deep sleep, mind flooding with memories from the night prior. He and Frankie are tangled up in one another still, clothes long ignored from the moment they stripped one another down. She’s still sound asleep, but murmuring something softly, face buried into Steve’s shoulder.

He doesn’t want to wake her, but can’t help kissing the top of her head; her buzzcut’s tiny hairs prickle against his lips. Her hair’s already began growing back, but Steve can see what Frankie mentioned the night she cut it all off— the tiny bald patches keeping the growth uneven. Subconsciously, his fingers trail to one of them, feather-light touch tracing the edge of the bare spot.

It still feels like a dream, the fact that Frankie likes— loves— Steve just as much as he loves her. Last night felt even more surreal, in the best ways possible. How lucky he felt to find someone he could bare all to, literally and metaphorically, someone who didn’t run away when he exposed the most vulnerable details of himself. Someone who didn’t judge him for what was out of his control. Someone he could relate to on a personal level he’s never had with anyone else before.

Frankie breaking down her walls, allowing Steve in so he could care for her, love her in return— that was huge, too. He’s never had such an honest, down to earth relationship like he does with her.

Making love is far from perfect outside of the movies, but even more so when illness and disability limit ways to connect with a partner— yet this was the happiest he’s ever felt after a first time with a partner. It was real, and maybe not pretty at times, but it was the strongest connection he’s felt with someone.

There’s one fact he’s hung up on, though: Frankie can’t have kids.

That’s not a dealbreaker, not by a long shot, nor is it something to think about this early in their relationship. But Steve still feels a pang in his chest remembering her confession in the heat of the moment.

Panting, Steve nods frantically, “You got, uh, do you have—“

“If you’re asking about protection, it’s in the drawer,” She nods towards the nightstand. “But I um, I can’t… I can’t get pregnant. If that’s what you’re worried about, I mean.”

“I’m sorry—“

“We can talk about it another time, okay?” She rests her hand on his face, any hint of sadness invisible to the naked eye; Steve shakes it off and nods.

He wonders if it upsets her; did she hope to have kids of her own someday, too? Before her health rapidly declined?

There was a time Steve dreamed of starting a family with someone he loved— misguided by old feelings, believing that someone was Nancy— but every year that passed he felt as if he was drowning deeper, and deeper, into his chronic pain. It’s reached the point where he’s unsure if the opportunity were to arise, would he even be capable of being a dad?

Most days, Steve struggles to care for himself; how could he ever care for a little one if he struggles to leave bed sometimes?

Like Frankie admitting she had to let her dreams slip through her fingers, he’s starting to believe he’s already doing the same with his own dream. No, he’s been mourning the loss of this dream, among others, stuck at the first stage of grief— denial— since leaving Hawkins behind.

He wonders if he’ll ever move onto the stage of anger; all that bottled fury will surely spill over at some point. 

“If you think any louder, you’ll wake the whole city up.”

Steve startles from Frankie’s raspy morning voice; she pops an eye open, smirking at her partner.

“That obvious, huh?”  Kissing her forehead, he cuddles closer to her. “Morning, pretty girl.”

She blushes, playfully sassing, “Ew, shut up.”

“Pay me and I’ll consider it.”

“I told you months ago you could just take my paycheck in exchange for the sass.” Frankie rolls her eyes, but her smirk fades, realizing they’re both still completely bare, aside from the sheets. She sinks under the covers further, earning a confused chuckle from Steve.

“What’re you doing?”

“I—“ She shuts her mouth. “Nothing.”

Steve tries to draw her back to him, but she keeps herself wrapped up.

“Hey, talk to me.” 

She knows she can’t slip out of this one, sighing while resting her forehead on his shoulder. 

“I know you saw me last night, and this is stupid, but it’s… it’s a little nerve wracking to let you see me in broad daylight.” Ashamed, she scrunches her eyes shut. “I want to feel comfortable, it was just easier in the dark.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, and Steve knew that; Frankie had been dealing with major self esteem issues for most of her life, it’s not like that’d go away in one night. He pushes the sheet away from her face, cradling it in his hands.

“‘Key, do you trust me?”

“Well, yeah,” she snorts, but notices he’s serious; her teasing smirk drops as she answers him honestly. “Of course I trust you.”

Steve holds her gaze for a few moments before kissing her. It’s gentle, relaxed, and begins to put Frankie at ease; her body loosens up with a satisfied hum. As she melts further into his touch, he pulls away, leaving her to pout.

“How sore are you?”

Frankie’s brows knit together, laughing a little. “From what?” Steve gives her a look, and it clicks. “Oh, I’m a little sore, but not— it’s a good kind of pain— wait, shit, no, not like that.”

A fond smile graces his lips, enjoying the way she rambles, all flustered. 

“Can I touch you?”

Involuntarily, Frankie groans with desire; the memory of Steve’s tender caresses, soft kisses, tangled up in one another— it makes her blush deeply. 

“Please.” It comes out so breathy, she’s a little embarrassed, but it only spurs him on more.

“One condition.”

Frankie rolls her eyes, throwing her head back with another groan, but this one’s laced with annoyance.

“What?” 

“Gotta let me see all of you.”

She freezes under his touch, offering the tiniest shake of her head. 

It’s a step back from her progress the night before. Steve sighs, “Frankie—“

“The sun’s up, that’s a whole different ballgame,” she mutters, tugging the sheets back over herself while rolling away from him. “You saw enough last night.”

“Don’t think it’s possible to ever see enough of you,” he ducks under the covers, swiftly flipping her on her back. Gently, he spreads her legs, parting her folds with his fingers; even in the limited light under the sheets, he can tell she’s soaked, all sticky and sweet. The memory of her soft sounds, how her hips rolled into his face, and the taste of her flood his mind— and taste buds.

Frankie watches him curiously, nodding a silent reassurance of consent. Steve’s eyes stay locked on hers as he flits his tongue lazily against her clit. She gasps, tensing up when he gives her open-mouth kisses over her core, taking his time to swirl and roll his tongue where he’s already caught on to make her whimper.

He finds a rhythm that satisfies the two, still languid in the swipes of his tongue, slipping inside her every so often. She arches her back, trying to push herself closer, even rolling her hips slightly; the bolder she grows, the more Steve reels back. 

At first, it’s not very noticeable, but in time, the passion and momentum begins to fade off once Steve’s pulling away. Frankie grabs his hair with desperation, clit throbbing with need while his hot breaths settle down.

“Why’d you stop?” Her pout’s almost enough to make Steve bury his face in her again, but he’s got a plan to stick to. He kisses up her body while her hand’s still tangled in his locks, loosening with each kiss. “Go back,” she whines with a morning rasp, a noise that shoots straight to his length, half hard already.

“C’mere,” he murmurs once he reaches her neck, sleepy kisses wandering all over the map of her skin. “Want to watch you finish.”

“B- but you could see me down there,” Frankie whines again, catching onto Steve’s plan. “That’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair,” he kisses her cheek, tilting her face towards his with a finger under her chin. Glistening lips hovering over hers, he mutters, “Is that my girl won’t be kind to herself.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to be a jerk,” she grumbles, leaning in to kiss him regardless, but he backs off. “Steve, what the fuck?”

“Gotta make a compromise somewhere, angel.” He rolls onto his back, tugging Frankie on top of him. She holds most of her weight off of him, but he’ll take the baby step regardless. “Come up here.”

“This is cruel, you know that, right?” She’s not that serious, but facing a fear isn’t exactly something she’s thrilled to jump into.

“Hey, you don’t have to finish if you don’t want to,” Steve rolls over onto his side. “We can just hang out, go back to sleep, whatever—“ He yelps when Frankie pushes him onto his back. “You like manhandling me a little too much, Francesca.”

Frankie pouts, but it’s no use, not when Steve can see right through her; he knows she’s not fond of her full name, not unless Steve’s saying it. Even playfully scolding her, it causes something to spark deep down.

“I hate you,” she mumbles, crossing her arms over her bare chest. She’s so fucking cute. Steve considers caving again, but he holds steady. 

“You don’t.”

With a huff, she rolls her eyes, grumbling under her breath. Her leg swings over Steve’s waist, hovering over his lap.

“You’re the worst.”

“Oh, truly the worst of the worst,” he teases, hands sliding up her legs. “Relax, s’okay, I got you.”

She stays propped up on her knees, shaking her head, “M’gonna be too heavy—“

Steve narrows his stare, fingers digging into the plush of her thighs; curving his hands to her backside, he cups her ass, pushing forward. Frankie stumbles a bit on her knees, catching herself as she plants her palm onto the pillow, next to his head. 

Faces almost touching, he asks again, “You trust me?”

Biting her lip, Frankie nods hesitantly; she does, but she doesn’t trust herself to just… enjoy the moment.

“I trust you,” she answers, legs shaking as she positions her lower half above his face. Involuntarily, her hands cover over her face, believing she’s shielding herself from how silly she must look from this angle.

Steve, of course, won’t have it.

“Honey, you really don’t have to hide from me.” Steve reaches up, gently pulling her hands away from her face. When she scrunches her eyes shut, he leans back into the pillow, hands caressing her thighs. He tries breaking the tension with a lazy joke, “What, is the view really that bad from up there?”

Frankie’s eyes shoot open, feeling awful for even making Steve joke like that. She shakes her head furiously, “No, no, oh my god, no fucking way.” Pouting at Steve, her heart melts, yet trying to steel itself all at once. “You just— you look like… you look so unreal, all the time, and I can’t imagine the view from down there’s very… nice.”

“Well, you’re not down here, are you?” He leaves languid, feathered kisses along her thighs, eyes fluttering shut as he groans, ever so softly. He nuzzles his face into the top of her thigh, just before it meets her core, relishing in her shaky breaths. “I’d stay down here forever, if you’d let me.”

“Or until one of us has muscle cramps?” Her teasing causes Steve to laugh against her, breath hot and heavy over her folds; the vibrations of his amusement taunt her, too. 

“Or that, sure.” Kissing her centre lightly, he smirks as she shudders, but then she’s hiding her face all over again. Steve grabs her hands with one of his, winding his long fingers around her wrists; it’s gentle, but it gets the point across. “What, do I have to pin your hands back, or something?”

Frankie’s eyes grow wide, blush radiating from her cheeks, down her body in record time. Involuntarily, her legs twitch, trying to squeeze together for some kind of relief, but her partner’s big fucking head is in the goddamn way.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face only grows by the second.

“You’re into that, huh?”

“I- well it’s— I’m— no, not really— it’s kinda just—“ Flustered, she huffs, “Oh, fuck you, Steve.”

“Anytime you want, honey.” Arms curling around her plush thighs, he splays his hands along her backside, kneading her flesh, inching her closer.

“Oh my god,” she pretends she doesn’t shudder the words out, forcing her eyes to roll, “I can see it now.”

“See what?”

“How fucking cocky you must’ve been in high school.”

Steve can’t even be bothered to argue that one. He only shrugs, makes a noise of indifference before kissing her core again. The sweet noise she fails to hide earns his smirk, urging him to continue.

“You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then,” he truthfully points out, kissing away from her folds, down one thigh. He solemnly adds, “And honestly, I don’t think I would’ve let ya’ if you tried.”

Frankie pouts, “Why not? You’d be embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Steve’s hands caress up her hips, then backtrack down to her thighs. He leans back to shake his head. “No way. I mean you—“ he pauses to contemplate his words, afraid he’s conveying this incorrectly. “… You would’ve deserved way better than whatever the fuck kind of asshole I was back then.”

The pout on his partner’s face molds into an aching, empathetic expression. “Steve, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joked like that—“

“S’true, though.” He shrugs against the backs of her thighs, reminding Frankie of the position they’re in. She begins to climb off of Steve, but he wraps his arms around her legs, holding her in place. “I’m just saying… glad you never met that version of me. You would’ve hated that guy.”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Frankie reminds him, gasping as he nudges his nose against her clit. “If I hated someone, I wanted to run over their feet with my wheelchair. So, rethink your words, Stevie.”

As he buries his face back into her, he laughs, tickling along the most sensitive spots. Frankie winds her fingers through his bed head, mewling from the sensation. Steve takes his time, kissing her folds with the same passion and tenderness when he kisses her lips; it’s not like they have anywhere to be today, and he could probably spend his morning underneath her, if not longer.

Losing herself in bliss, little by little, Frankie’s fears are overshadowed by pleasure, urging her to roll her hips against Steve’s tongue, rather than cower away in a useless shame.

Steve kneads the plush of her backside, huskily groaning as he guides her back and forth on his face. “Fuck… just like that, honey.” The lewd sounds of his tongue lapping up her slick goes straight to his cock, and he can’t handle it anymore. One hand leaves her body to stroke himself clumsily, bucking up into his hand and moaning deeply against Frankie’s clit.

The jerking movements paired with his swift tongue break Frankie’s haze with curiosity. She glances back over her shoulder, ready to drool as she watches Steve fuck his fist. Without much thought, she leans back, pushing his hand away to replace it with her own grip.

Her spine’s gonna kill her for this one, but it’s worth it when his angelic moan vibrates against her folds.

“H- honey, you— ah!” He thrusts so hard, most of his lower half twitches upward, save for his heels digging into the bed. “You don’t— s’gonna hurt you later,” he pants, unable to hold his hips against the bed. “Baby, don’t—“

“I’m okay, promise,” and really, she is; the soreness that’ll set in later will be a walk in the park compared to her worst pain days. Slowing her hand, she asks, “Is this okay? I can stop.”

“Feels good, but this is about you,” Steve shivers as her grip slides up and down his shaft, picking up speed again. Through a heavy lidded stare, he admires the view from below, in awe of Frankie as she rolls her hips on her own, self-doubt falling away.  He tries to keep up, only left to pant and whimper into her core, “Oh… fuck…”

His cock kicks in her grip, earning a devilish grin from his partner. “Close?” Steve only nods, eyes fluttering shut as he fucks into her fist, fervently sucking on her clit as he slips a long, thick digit into her. She keens as his finger curls just right, reaching that delicious spot that’s begging to be touched. “Wh- what if I just… stopped?”

Steve’s eyes fly open, a muffled “nuh-uh,” vibrating around her sensitive nub. 

“‘Cause I think you could totally come untouched,” she taunts, ready to release his length when he reaches his free hand up to her chest, toying with her pierced nipple. That playful smirk of hers falls as she gasps, “You’re evil. Wish I- I never told you ‘bout… oh, god…”

Only shrugging, Steve chuckles while sliding another finger inside, eyes glued to Frankie as she falls apart on his fingers and tongue. Her jaw falls slack while her head lolls back, trembling as she finally reaches the edge. Her hand has long forgotten pleasuring him, but he’s perfectly fine with that, as long as it means making her a total wreck like this.

“F- fuck!” Frankie rides Steve shamelessly, drowning in ecstasy with a shattered moan, racking through her body as it gracelessly carries her to her high. Her hand flies up to slap over her own mouth, but Steve abandons her chest, tugging her hand away, silently demanding to hear her.

“Atta’ girl,” he praises, still working diligently to guide her through the bliss, all the way until the end. The way she chants his name breathlessly, clenching her thighs around his head, it’s enough to make him come, too; untouched, he spirals into pleasure, just like Frankie wanted.

The aftershocks and fuzzy, floaty feeling she’s immersed in is enough to shove her shame and self-doubt aside; might as well take the chance before it vanishes.

Through labored breaths, she asks, “Can I ride you?” Steve chokes on air, taken aback by the sudden shift.

“Not complaining, but where the hell is this coming from?”

She ignores him, trying to grip onto the confidence before it slips away, “Yes or no?”

“Well I mean, y- yeah, f’course, but I— it might be a bit ‘til… y’know…”

“S’okay,” she shimmies down his body, sinking onto his half-hard cock, grinning as Steve twitches and whimpers. Frankie smirks down at him while blushing. She leans down, wrapping herself around him, comfortably seated on his length. “I’ll just keep ya’ warm ‘til then.”

Steve shudders a loud moan, managing quip, “I think you are the worst, not me.”

“Oh? I can get up—“

His arms wind around her waist, holding her in place, “Don’t you dare, Francesca.”

“M’kay,” she smirks, head tucked into his neck. “I’ll just wait then.”

Steve kisses the top of her head, sighing when he feels her flutter around his cock. 

“Thank you, Stevie,” Frankie sounds half-asleep, making him chuckle. She kisses his neck lazily, “You’re too good to me… love you.”

“No way, if anything, you’re the one who’s too good to me—“ His partner snores softly, while Steve laughs silently, shoulders shaking.

Well… that wore her out.

Frankie shifts, reminding Steve that she’s still warming him. He sucks in a sharp breath, doesn’t have the heart to wake her to move.

“Guess I deserve the karma, huh?” Lovingly, he holds her close, admiring the relaxed, peaceful state she’s melted into. He mindlessly traces patterns into her skin, avoiding sores and bruises from her flare. “Sweet dreams, ‘Key.”

Eventually, Steve drifts off, too, feeling lucky to love and be loved by someone so beautiful, inside and out.

 And he’ll take any chance to remind her of that.