#steve bell Imagine

[specialagentlokitty]

Steve bell x reader - a helping hand

So basically you and mr bell are dating and you are both pe teacher and you just had a baby and one day after work You start crying saying you can’t do this and you miss him and stuff so he comforted you and the next couple of days he helps look after your baby girl together - Anon💜

Having a baby was hard, you knew that. You didn’t weren’t expecting it to be this hard, and as you sat on the sofa all you could do was quietly cry.

It had been hell today, your daughter kept crying, you couldn’t get anything done or calm her down until recently.

You were exhausted.

The house was a mess.

You were a mess.

And all you could do was cry.

And that’s how Steve found you when he came in, sat on the sofa crying your eyes out.

Immediately he rushed over, wrapped his arms around you and pulling you into his chest.

“Sweetheart what’s wrong?” He asked softly.

You sniffled a little and shook your head.

“I can’t do this without you…”

“Can’t do what sweetheart?”

Steve watched as you gestured to everything and he sighed a little, leaning back while pulling you with him so you were laid on his chest.

He ran his hand over your hair, while he ran the other one up and down your back, pressing small kisses to the top of your head.

“You’re doing an amazing job…” he whispered.

“But I can’t do it without you Steve!” You sobbed.

“Okay, okay..”

“I miss you.. I need you here…”

Steve smiled softly, holding you tightly, pulling you into his lap, and you tucked your head under his chin.

“The house is a mess… I’m a mess…”

“That’s alright, you’re still just a beautiful to me and I can clean okay? Don’t worry about it.”

Steve stood up, picking you up before setting you back on the sofa, laying you down and covering you up with a blanket.

“You get some rest alright?”

You sniffed and he smiled, giving you a gentle kiss.

“I love you.”

With that, he went to begin to tidy everything up, when Lily began to stir and cry, he went to get her.

He fed her, changed her, and sat on the other sofa with her on his chest while he flicked through the Tv looking for something to watch.

He looked at you fast asleep and smiled to himself, putting your favourite film on just in case you woke up.

The following day, he left for work like normal, but while you were wondering around, holding your daughter in your arms as you looking through the fridge he came back.

“Come here baby.”

He took Lily from your arms and held her, leaning over to give you a soft kiss.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” You asked confused.

“I convinced Mandy to give me a few days off, I don’t have to go in unless they need me.”

“Really?”

He smiled and nodded and you hugged him.

“Oh thank god…”

Steve laughed, wrapped his other arm around you.

You needed him here right now, you needed him right there by your side helping you and he was more than happy to do that.

He did anything you asked, he looked after Lily so you could sleep, or he would clean while you spent some time with your daughter.

You needed help and that’s what he was there for

[fly1nglow]

WHEN THE BELLS RING (1).

summary ── steve is desperate to make his work environment a less unbearable place and the newly arrived teacher could be a good distraction.

pairings & characters ── teacher!steve x teacher!fem!reader, some ocs

additional info & warnings ── fluff, slow burn, reader is supposed to be a ‘big city girl’, reader is also kinda anxious, little steve pov inserted, i guess steve is not accurate but i tried my best </3, no warnings besides that, i guess

author’s notes: ok… so this is my first fanfic after sooo long, but this idea came to me in a dream and i wanted to write, i feel like it kinda sucks but i also just wanna have some fun writing again. also… i know this must be annoying but… should i say english isn’t my first language (and that i dont know how the educational system of united states works)? :/, that should be all, pls be kind <3

The breeze passed through the leaves gently, taking some to the windshield, it was a really pleasant scene to enjoy in autumn, but it was also a great change of scenery in your opinion: Hawkins, from what you knew and had seen so far at that moment, it felt like that kind of small town you see in movies, where everyone knows everyone and nothing really happens, very different from what you had grown up with and lived with all your life, which were noisy cities, tall buildings and people who really didn't care. they paid attention to you.

But sudden changes weren't very pleasant either, yet here you were, in a small town in the middle of Indiana.

After taking another sip of your coffee, hoping the drink would distract you from something you didn't yet know you feared, you grabbed your bag and threw in the items that would be needed to survive your first day of work at Hawkins Public School. Your keys, notebooks and books were everything he considered really essential for the day.

Getting out of the car, you clutched the cup with the now cold drink in your hands, placed your bag in your arms, and headed towards the clearly old but friendly-looking building in front of you.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

Steve was curious to know who would replace Mrs. Brown, because although he got along with most people, his coworkers didn't exactly fit into that category. They were mostly middle-aged people, who thought he was childish, whether because of his age or the way he acted, he still didn't know for sure, but he knew they were his age once and he hoped they would be kinder.

However, he still didn't know how meeting 'the newbie' could help his case, he figured, that maybe by getting to know him first he could get some information and then pass it on to his colleagues, maybe then they would see him as someone helpful and trustworthy, but he still didn't know how that would help him.

It was lost in these thoughts that he found himself in the still empty hallway and in front of Mrs. Brown's old door, now weathered and which he knew made a loud noise when it was pushed in a certain way and now, he was a little unsure, a very different feeling compared to the confident and playful Steve of just a few years ago. But his movements seemed not to follow his thoughts, because now he had knocked on the door.

Before he could step back and get him out of there, he opened the door after hearing a muffled and distant voice say 'come in'.

‘‘Good morning.’’ Steve laughed and hurried over.

‘‘Oh, good morning!’’ A young-looking woman, who was pasting some notices on the wall, turned to face him, left the materials on the table and approached to greet him, as he was approaching.

‘‘I’m Professor Harrington, but you can actually call me Steve, you know, I guess it’s okay, in fact I prefer to be called that…’’

Now he was rambling. He extended his hand for a shake, which she readily accepted. Now closer, he could notice a few more small details about her: her hair was slightly messy, perhaps due to the wind outside, there was also a small piece of adhesive tape stuck near the collar of her pullover sweater, but he pretended not to notice, afraid that she would think he was looking more than he should.

‘‘Well, I’m a physical education teacher. I thought it would be a good idea to stop by and say hi.’’

She then introduced herself.

‘‘That’s very kind of you, Steve.’’

‘‘Well…’’ Steve looked around the room, but his mind was looking for some way to keep the conversation going, or maybe an excuse to leave. ‘‘Do you need help? Do you already know the building? You know I can…’’

Great, he was rambling again. Good way to make a good impression, right?

‘‘Actually, if you guys have a coffee machine, I’d love to know where it is.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

You definitely hadn't thought much when you left your room and decided to follow Professor Harrington to the staff room, a small room, with white walls, two windows, shelves full of books, papers, some chairs and tables. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable place you'd ever seen. But you just wanted to distract yourself from the hustle and bustle of your own thoughts, because the first day of work had left you exhausted and it hadn't even started yet.

Also, you weren't the type to jump to conclusions because of appearance, but the first thing you noticed was that Steve had adorable eyes that seemed to match the type of person he was. And at the moment he seemed like a lovely person. That he talked a lot.

He had recently talked about how he grew up in the city and how it was a little strange teaching the children of people he had known all his life. You also shared some facts, about where you grew up and where you studied, all while he observed you carefully and asked some questions to keep the conversation going.

‘‘So why did you come here?’’

‘‘Salary, obviously.’’

You tried to joke and he chuckled weakly at your little attempt at being funny. Steve looked away from your figure, as you were drinking the second cup of coffee of the day, he observed the other person who entered the room, but who still didn't notice the presence of the two of you in the room. This made Steve get a little closer to you, still keeping an acceptable distance but so that only you could hear him whisper:

‘‘That’s Professor Watson, from physics… A pain in the ass at first, but if he likes you, he might get you a discount on drinks at a bar.’’

‘‘Discounts in a bar? Why?’’ You whispered back, while trying to focus on the new figure that appeared: it was a small man in comparison to Steve, his hair already showing signs of getting gray and he had a serious face.

‘‘His sister owns one of the bars in town, she always gives discounts to his friends and colleagues.’’

‘‘And you, do you have a discount there?’’

‘‘No, he hates me. But who knows, maybe you’ll be luckier than me.’’

‘‘Good strategy, Harrington, you barely know me and you’re already trying to use me to get discounts at bars?’’

You both laughed and soon the sound caught the attention of the person who was previously the center of the conversation. Steve quickly distanced himself and silently indicated with signs for you to follow him and then, there followed another one of those social formalities that people tend to forget happened easily: introducing yourself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ—

And introducing yourself was the key word and the pattern that followed for practically the entire day: introducing yourself to your colleagues, students and some parents.

The students were as you expected them to be, lively students who preferred talking to their classmates rather than paying attention in class, but, luckily or perhaps your own teaching talent, you managed to get them to pay attention to what you were saying. and they were able to apply their knowledge well to their tasks. As for your coworkers, excluding Steve, your colleagues weren't exactly the warmest and friendliest people you knew, but that didn't take up much space in your mind.

Not long after the last bell rang, you were getting ready to end the day at work and return to your cozy home. Until two knocks on the door distracted you.

Peeking through the half-open door, you quickly realized who it was: Steve trying to be helpful again.

‘‘Do you need help there, newbie?’’

You didn't mind the small informalities when you were quick to decline his help.

‘‘No need, I was already finishing it anyway.’’

He pretended to look disappointed, you couldn't help but chuckle at his theatrics. You quickly finished your things and grabbed your bag, and left the room with Steve following right behind you.

‘‘You know,’’ Steve began as you both walked down the corridor, ‘‘that’s the good part about being a physical education teacher, I don’t need a room, just some balls and a court.’’

‘‘It’s easy when a good number of children love the chance to be aggressive without being reprimanded.’’

‘‘It is,’’ Steve agreed, a fond smile on his face. ‘‘Kids can be a handful, but they mean well. Today, one of them lobbed a ball right at my stomach, but they made up for it with a lollipop as an apology.’’

‘‘A lollipop," you chuckled, ‘‘the universal peace offering.’’

‘‘If lollipops didn't work wonders, doctors wouldn't hand them out after every appointment,’’ Steve quipped, his laughter echoing down the hallway.

Steve walked you to the parking lot, soon stopping near what you assumed was his car. You turned to see him and to say goodbye.

‘‘See you tomorrow, newbie,’’ Steve grinned.

‘‘See you tomorrow, Professor Harrington,’’ you replied with a playful smirk.

He rolled his eyes and got into the car, making your way to your own car as you watched him get further away. Placing your arms a little closer to your body to avoid the cold, you could reflect a little on that end of the day as you once again observed the parking lot, now a little darker as the sun was already hiding, but which you expected to see for a while, for many more days.

In that silence, you could conclude that the first day of work had not been as horrible and terrifying as you had expected.

[prettybabybaby]

imagine licking steve's cum off the floor 🥵🥵🥵

he’s annoyed that it dripped out of your mouth after he face fucked you, rolling his eyes as he snaps at you to fucking clean it. you lick your swollen lips and start to lower your head but he gets even more annoyed because you’re taking too long so he uses his foot to push you and hold you down until it’s all clean…

[duckapus]

Episode Idea: Wizard of Oz parody

Luigi's RV gets carried off by a freak Tornado with Lily and Barney inside, and drops into the weird and wonderful Land of Blahs. Specifically, it lands on the Wicked Bitch of the West, who's been terrorizing the small county of Boopkinland, home of the Boopkins (smaller, multicolored copies of our Boopkins). This causes the magical red Crocs the Bitch was wearing to transfer over to Lily, making her the target of the more powerful Wicked Bitch of the East (Susan Wakawaka in a pointy hat). Then the two of them are told by the Good Witch Emulator(she really is Emulator, this is apparently a pocket dimension made from one of her daydreams and the Hologram Trio are working on getting them out, but it's gonna take a while so it'd be best to go along with the story for now) to seek out the great and powerful Wizzer of Blahs, who lives in Weed City.

Along the way they meet a scarecrow based on Kaizo who wants to be strong (all Kaizos crave Violence, but being made of straw doesn't lend well to that), a tin lumberjack based on Belle who doesn't want anything in particular but doesn't think it's a good idea to let two kids and a bloodthirsty moron travel across the country alone for any longer than they already have, and a Lion based on Wario who wants to dance.

After a few misadventures they get to Weed City, get told by the Wizzer to kill the Wicked Bitch, then Lily gets captured by her Winged Skibidi Toilets and the others have to storm the Bitch's castle, sneaking and fighting their way through the Steve Guards, and rescue her.

The Bitch dies, they return to Weed City as heroes, the Wizzer turns out to be the real-world Swag who's been stuck in here for a week, and then the Hologram Trio finally figures out how to get them home. Thankfully without the magic crocs.

[cacoetheswriting]

i am weak for shy and nervous eddie munson who fumbles when around his crush. imagine him pining over this girl who he’s never even talked to, (maybe they have different social circles) and he just sees her around with her friends and he is smitten and then one day they accidentally bump into each other and she’s like “you’re eddie right?” and you know he’d be so flustered.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k

content warnings: lovesick eddie, pining, a little self-deprecation and self-doubt, mostly cheese and fluff, adult language - wildly unedited, oops.

“I hate this fucking school.”

The group exchange knowing glances as Eddie sits at the table with a grumble. His lunch tray lands with a low crash, nearly colliding with Gareth’s juicebox and therefore spilling its contents all over. A huff and quick reflexes on Jeff’s part save the group from catastrophe, more importantly, save the homework the boy had yet to finish ahead of next period. 

Eddie however, doesn’t notice the mess he has almost created. Frankly, he’s not paying attention. Even when Gareth tells him to, “Watch it, dude.”. The metal-head flicks his hand to say he’s sorry for whatever it is that his friends are chastising him for, but his eyes are fixed ahead, on the sole reason he’s in such a grumpy mood.

You.

Or rather Steve the dick Harrington, who’s got his arm draped shamelessly around your shoulders, as if he wasn’t just publicly humiliating Nancy Wheeler — since up until mere twenty-four hours ago, Hawkins High thought the blue-eyed girl was the King’s girlfriend, not you.

Eddie’s miserable. When did this happen? How did this even happen?

Last night, Steve and Nancy were all over each other. Eddie knows this to be fact since he saw them together at that party he wasn’t invited to as a guest, but to work because the popular kids always need a fix and he needs to make a living if he’s ever going to leave this shithole town. Anyway, that’s when Eddie saw the “it” couple and yet, now Nancy is nowhere to be seen and you’re snuggling into Harrington.

“I hate this fucking school,” Eddie repeats, sticking his fork into today’s cafeteria lunch. “Everyone is so two-faced and fake. No one has any integrity.”

The guys don’t need to follow his line of sight because they know very well who and what the metal-head is talking about.

“Maybe if you just talked to her, then you wouldn’t be so miserable today.” Jeff notes without looking up from his homework. “Plus, I overheard Charmaine tell Julie that Harrington is continuing to hold a candle for Nancy. This thing over there, that you’re obsessing over, is just friends being friends.”

“Doesn’t look like just friends to me,” Eddie grumbles, then looks at Jeff. “And I tried talking to her. It’s just, every time I do, my mind goes blank.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s not some superbeing. She’s a girl from our school. You’ve got no problem talking to other girls?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything because how does he go about explaining to his friends that to him, you’re more than a girl from school. It’s embarrassing enough how he’s never talked to you and yet, you occupy his entire mind and soul. The guys think it’s just another crush. Eddie knows it’s not. He can’t tell them though because they’ll laugh him out of it. Eddie the freak Munson is very much pining after a girl who doesn’t know he exists. Pathetic.

So, as any respectable guy in his situation would, Eddie continues to wallow in his own self-pity. 

He stares at you throughout the remainder of the lunch break, narrowly avoiding your gaze here and there by simply looking away. His downcast humour continues throughout the rest of the day. Since he doesn’t often engage in class anyway, the teachers pay him no mind. Although, their reasons are different: a quiet Eddie Munson is better than one who causes various disturbances. After the final bell ring, he hurries out of the building and blares music the entire drive home, to fizz out his thoughts.

Called into work. Here’s some cash. Go to the diner. 

Wayne

Eddie sighs. The one thing he was hoping for were his uncle's words of wisdom, although it seems that will also have to wait. Eddie slides the note into the pocket of his denim jeans and he is out the door again.

The diner is about thirty minutes away from the trailer, by foot. The metal-head decided to walk it anyway, hoping the fresh air would knock some sense into him because he’s got no business feeling this emotionally shattered. 

Maybe if he wasn’t such a bitch boy around you, things would be different. Unfortunately, for some reason, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Eddie’s default is shy.

Okay, maybe you and Harrington are a thing now, so what? Eddie’s got no claim on you, unspoken or otherwise. You can date whoever, even if it’s Steve the asshole. It’s also not like you and Nancy are friends. Everyone at school knows you two run in different circles, meaning no girl-code is being broken. There is also the possibility of what Jeff overheard from Charmaine and Julie being true: you and Harrington are nothing but friends. Very friendly friends. Touchy, feely. And Eddie would have noticed earlier if it were simply the case of friendship, therefore, he concludes that you are in fact dating Steve the douche Harrington and he somehow has to come to terms with it.

Eddie pushes the door open and makes a beeline for an empty booth. He orders a burger with fries and a soda from the middle-aged waitress, then whips out a notebook from his backpack while he waits. The only one he carries and it’s not for any schoolwork. The numbers scribbled hastily in the margins are easily mistaken for maths, but that’s just business. He focuses instead on the latest D&D campaign he’s working on.

For a moment, the metal-head forgets about today's events. He gets lost in the fictional world he’s creating. The made up monsters replace any harboured thoughts of you with Steve the turd, although one closely resembles Harrington's famous head of hair and he smirks, proud of himself for the immaturity. He figures if girls can write about their demons in journals, he can bring them into D&D. Bring them, then kill them.

He’s just about finished marking a big cross over the doodle of monster Steve when a figure steps in front of the light, creating a shadow over his notebook. Eddie sighs, foot tapping underneath the table in frustration. He’s about to make a rude remark, but when he looks up to meet the eyes of the perpetrator, he’s met with your wide gaze and naturally, he freezes.

“I like your drawings,” you say.

“Uhm, t-thanks,” he fumbles.

“You’re Eddie, right?”

All he can do is nod in response and you smile. Small and charming. Enough to make the brunette’s head spin and pinch his leg because he can’t believe this is happening. Surely, this must be a dream of some sort. He came home and passed out on the sofa. The only logical explanation for why you would be talking to him, complementing his stupid little doodles. The only logical explanation for why you know his fucking name.

“We’ve never officially met,” you begin and reach out your hand. 

Eddie glances at it and without really thinking, he utters, “I know who you are.”

It comes out a little more mean than he intends it to, he knows because you retreat your hand as if you’ve been burned. Eddie’s heart stings. Now he knows it’s real since only he’d be stupid enough to ruin a good thing before it even began. He’s an asshole.

“Sorry,” he mumbles quickly, then straightens in his seat. “Do you wanna sit? I-I have fries.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek for how incredibly pathetic that sounded; fries. You however, don’t notice and you’re also kind enough not to point out how he’s stumbling about his words like a little schoolkid.

“I love french fries.”

And with that, you’re sliding into the booth, across from him.

Eddie watches in disbelief as you help yourself to his food, not just the potato side, as if the two of you have been friends a lifetime. Then, probably to confuse him even more, you start telling him about how your parents locked you out and how it’s nice to see a familiar face, while he’s sitting there in silence, taking it all in, wondering whether perhaps this was some cruel joke Harrington and his band of losers were playing on him.

He wants to ask. Save himself the embarrassment if this does end up being a prank and tomorrow’s gossip: Eddie the freak Munson thought he had a chance. You keep talking, only taking small pauses to take bites out of his food or a sip of his soda, and to Eddie’s surprise nothing happens. No one jumps out screaming, laughing, pointing at him. This is really happening and he is truly baffled.

“Can we get another burger meal and the same soda?” You order from the waitress when she comes around to check the tables and afterwards, turn to look at Eddie, smile ever present. “Kinda ate most of yours.”

“It’s fine,” he manages to say.

For the first time since you sat down, it’s quiet. Now you’re the one staring at him, head tilted slightly to the one side. The smile on your face transforms into something more thoughtful, as if you were trying to read his mind — which is exactly the same thing Eddie was trying to do to you.

“So,” you begin again, “What were you scribbling intently before I crashed the party?”

“Just some stuff for an afterschool thing,” Eddie answers with a shrug, voice a little shaky.

“Mysterious.”

The sparkle in your eyes screams that you want to know more, but the metal-head is hesitant to share. Even though this wasn’t part of some scheme by Hawkins’ finest, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a different underlying reason as to why you were taking interest in him and he didn’t like when people made a fool of him.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Did your parents really lock you out?” He questions.

A brow goes up, it seems you are surprised at his push back. 

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly, then add, “They do this sort of thing from time to time. They’re big hippies, so it’s not like neglect or anything. It’s weed. They don’t want me home when they’re high because they think it would make me undermine their authority.”

Eddie smirks and you tell him it’s not funny, but he can’t help the chuckle leave his throat. When you throw a fry at him across the table, smiling wide, he’s no longer feeling the nervous bubble. In fact, he’s suddenly quite relaxed.

“I’m sorry that I’m a good daughter. Next time I’ll be sure to pick a less judgemental table” you say dramatically, although the grin doesn’t leave your features.

The brunette lifts his hands in front of his chest in a defence motion.

“No judgement here. My social status requires me to second guess reasons people have for talking to me. I had to make sure your boyfriend wasn’t going to jump me the second we stepped outside.”

“Boyfriend?” You seem genuinely taken aback by the assumption.

“Harrington,” he clarifies, although he’s not sure why he should be.

Until you laugh. It’s soft and tender, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” you state in between giggles, “He’s madly in love with Wheeler. God, does the whole school think we’re dating? He’s gonna hate that. Poor Nancy.”

Eddie blinks. Seems Julie’s information was correct, but it still doesn’t explain the closeness and the banter the entire cafeteria was witness to. He feels weird for letting this bother him so much and even though he usually has difficulties keeping his big mouth shut, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s some sort of pervert, so he doesn't say anything, simply bops his head.

Although, his silence doesn’t seem to deter you.

“I noticed you staring,” you admit, half a decibel lower. 

A fresh burger and fries land on the table, followed by a large Coca-Cola. The waitress mutters something along the lines of enjoy, then walks away to tend to another table.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do next: admit or deny. He’d rather go back to fifteen minutes ago when you were eating his food and he wasn’t talking. Therefore, he slides the burger closer to himself and in one swift motion, lifts it to his lips, taking a bite too big for his mouth. He doesn’t care what he looks like at the moment, he just needs to keep himself quiet before saying something else he’s going to regret.

Across the table, you’re all smiley again.

“Do you think, when you’re done eating, you could walk me home?” You ask, offering him a napkin. 

As he nods, he reaches for the paper cloth and his fingers brush yours delicately. There’s a zap of electricity, but if you feel it, you don’t react. Eddie’s continuing with the shyness, so he looks down at the burger in his hand and pretends nothing happened to him either.

It’s not until you lean over the table, index finger stretched and inching forward to touch his face, wiping leftover ketchup from the corner of his mouth, that the metal-head thinks maybe, just maybe, you feel some type of way about him too because that’s not what a person does for someone they only officially met minutes before.

Afterwards, you say, “I’ll tell you all about how I’ve been watching you too.”, and Eddie nearly chokes on his food.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[matchingbatbites]

I've never seen a minute of the show but Ever After High AU where Steve is a prince destined to be the Beast/Prince to Nancy's Belle.

Except Nancy breaks up with him after a year of dating, saying that their relationship is bullshit because if they're destined to be together then how do they know their feelings are real? How do they know that they actually care about each other and it's not just because that's what people are expecting from them?

Steve is hurt for a while, mostly because he doesn't really understand. He thought they were happy - he had been happy, at least.

In the aftermath he meets Robin, the next destined Narrator, and soon enough Steve couldn't imagine a life without her. He learns that there's more outside their destined paths, that it's good to have friends outside his fated Story.

And then he meets Eddie. At first he's sure that the boy is destined to be a villain, with his dark clothes and wild personality. It's Robin who tells him the truth; that Eddie is the next Snow White. As soon as she says it, Steve can see it - the dark curls, the pale, porcelain skin.

The three of them start spending time together, and even when Robin can't join, Steve and Eddie still meet up and hang out. It doesn't take long for Steve to fall for Eddie, to be absolutely gone for for the other boy. He finally understands what Nancy meant - because the way he felt for her absolutely pales in comparison to the love he feels for Eddie.

Steve confesses, just needing Eddie to know, his feelings so big that he can't keep them locked inside anymore. He's overjoyed when Eddie feels the same, even when Eddie tells him that he'd been nervous to fall for Steve because he'd been scared to get close to a prince, not having had the best experience with them in the past.

Everything falls apart when Eddie is cursed by his own destined prince, a bully named Jason who is infuriated that he ended up matched with Eddie instead of Chrissy, the next Cinderella. Eddie falls into an eternal sleep, and no one is sure what to do. His prince is the one who cursed him, there's no way Jason would even attempt to wake him.

Steve knows he has to try, so he kisses Eddie, pouring every ounce of his love into it, and everyone is shocked when it works. It proves that Steve is Eddie's prince, not because the universe said so, but because Steve and Eddie forged their own destiny with love.

[robinbuckleyluvr]

⊹˚˖⁺ check you out - robin buckley

masterlist | requests

Summary: goodness! imagine robin buckley accidentally says she was checking you out...

Warnings: she/her pronouns used on reader

Notes: this was lowkey hilarious to write

Word count: 698

⸻⊱༺ 

The door opened, the familiar bell signaling the entrance of yet another customer. Robin barely had a second to look up and catch herself from dropping the VHS tapes she carried as she watched a girl come in. Steve was just as dazzled as Robin, he stumbled out his usual “Welcome to Family Video!” line, and Robin just… stared.

Robin and Steve made eye contact, both exclaiming “Dibs!” at the exact same time. 

“She looks like she would be into more intelligent conversation anyway,” Robin raised her eyebrows.

“Uh, rude?” Steve joked, making his way over to the girl before Robin could even respond, “Guess we’ll just have to find out.”

Robin sighed and crossed her arms, scouring her mind to think of an excuse to hush Steve away from the girl.

“Hey, uh, need any help around here? What are we browsing for today?” Steve flirted as he approached her.

“Just looking, I don’t have anything in mind,” she responded, a lack of interest filled her words, but it was a hint a guy such as Steve wouldn’t really get.

Robin, clearly amused, watched Steve’s desperate commentary, her mind running faster than ever. Okay, Robin, think! He is totally dumb and will fall for anything. You just have to come up with something that he will actually believe.

“Steve!” Robin exclaimed, “Can you please come help me? The computer is totally jammed again!” 

Steve sighed at Robin’s words as he muttered an apology to the girl, who didn’t really seem to mind as she kept on looking around. 

Robin stepped back as Steve approached the computer, and before he knew it, Robin had approached the girl already. Steve sighed and rolled his eyes as he realized the computer was working perfectly, watching Robin hurry away to speak to the girl instead.

“Hey! Hi, do you need any help?” Robin smiled nervously.

The girl offered a kind smile, “Thanks! I’m just unsure of what to get. Just looking for something to watch over the weekend I suppose.”

“Cool cool cool,” Robin breathed out, “Well, are you a rom-com kind of girl? Or do you like sci-fi movies and stuff?”

“Oh gosh…” She laughed, “Not a rom-com girl I don’t think… I avoid watching them alone. It's saddening, I prefer sci-fi for sure. I love horror, does that help?”

“Understandable! I’m the same,” Robin smiled, “But uh… sci-fi and horror! I can work with that.” She spoke shyly as she scanned the ‘horror’ shelf that stood behind the girl. 

The girl stood there quietly next to Robin as she looked around, Steve stood watching them from afar, having his eyes nearly popping out of his skull as he noticed the girl checked Robin out — something Robin, of course, had completely missed. 

“How about…” Robin spoke as she reached over to grab one of the VHS tapes, “‘The Shining’! A total classic. It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. Have you seen it before?”

“Are you joking? I love that movie. Wouldn’t mind re-watching it, I think.”

Robin’s face lit up as the girl accepted her request. “Alright! You’re all set then! I’ll just get you checked out.” Robin paused, flustered, “I mean, I’ll check you out—Not check you out like that, uh, check out your movie! Not that I wouldn’t, you know, check you out. I mean, wait, that’s not, I mean, get your movie checked. You checked. For the movie that you’re renting! Which… yeah — pay there?” She motioned to the counter and walked off, her voice increasingly getting higher with each word.

As she followed Robin to the counter, the girl shook her head slightly, a shy smile forming as she did so. 

[gofu-kurself]

continuation scene of this steddie college/taco bell au lmao

—

steve is sloshed.

he didn’t exactly plan on getting so wasted that he ended up leaving the party before midnight and escaping without telling anyone goodbye. but that’s what’s happening. it’s just one of those kinda nights, he guesses.

so he’s fucking drunk, the frat party j-name something from stats class invited him too was shitty and robin had a date with chrissy (“it’s literally just a study session, steve” “um no, no one studies on a friday night, she just wants to hang with you alone while her roomate is out”).

without robin there wasn’t anyone to make fun of people with him and make bets on who was going to hook up with who.

so obviously he drank too much, too quickly, because he was bored. and now he’s drunk stumbling back toward his apartment that’s right next to campus when he sees it.

taco fuckin bell

“live más” he whispers under his breath, already salivating at the idea of smashing like, 5 bean and cheese burritos before going home, texting robin to solicit details about her “study sesh” (read: date), and falling asleep with the worst burrito induced heartburn he can imagine. sounds stellar.

steve walks into the establishment and the fluorescents flood his eyes so much he sobers up a decent amount. at least now the menu board isn’t swimming in his vision, he still has to squint though. he’s trying to see how many burritos the $10 in his pocket can get him.

“hi, welcome to taco bell” says the most deadpan voice steve has ever heard. he thinks of the ‘welcome to chili’s’ vine and chuckles to himself because, heh. and he’s still pretty drunk.

he drags his eyes away from the menu and finds the source of the voice.

holy fuckin shit

steve is pretty sure his jaw sorta hangs open a bit.

“hi” he says, ya know, like an idiot. internally steve is barking a little. because who invented this guy.

how does he look good in taco bell fluorescents? he’s wearing a visor, of all things, and he’s making it look sexy. his hair in a high ponytail with strands poking out everywhere like he just threw it up and it fell perfectly without any effort. even steve can’t make a visor look good. this guy makes it work, this guy makes everything work. he’s tall, wearing tight black jeans with so many rips there’s no way they’re actually within the dress code. his stupid black polo uniform thingy is just on the side of too-tight across the guys shoulders but loose at the waist. steve wants to scream.

“what can i getcha?” the guy asks with a smile. he seems dead on his feet, but the soft smile seems genuine and sweet.

steve continues barking in his head, and attempts to order, “uh—can i get. uh six of the rice and bean burritos.”

“sure man, comin right up” says hottiemchottie as he types something into the register.

steve finally finds it in his own drunken mind to read the guys nametag.

‘hello! my name is: eddie’

eddie.

“that’ll be $8.67, cash or card?” he—eddie—says.

“uh…cash!” steve helpfully replies. he gives himself a mental fist bump at his ability to fish the $10 bill from his tight ass jean pocket.

eddie fiddles with the register and goes to grab the change.

“keep the change!!” steve blurts out. he wants to tip the guy. and he doesn’t think change will fit back into his pockets.

“oh, cool,” says eddie with a smile, “‘preciate it”

“anytime!” steve replies, because like, literally. anytime, pleasepleasepleaseplease.

eddie grins again and steps away from the counter to slip towards the back, steve tries not to be a freak and stare at the guys ass, but those jeans are fucking tight. damn, guy has a nice ass and smile? unfair.

eddie returns holding the bag of his burritos, “here you go man, hope it hits the spot,” he says with a wink.

holy shit a fuckin wink

“thanks,” steve is trying to stay calm, “it’s gonna slap. can’t wait for the heartburn of my life.” bruhhhh who even says ‘slap’ anymore. steve is internally crying.

eddie doesn’t seem like he’s repulsed by steve’s lameness, so that’s good. “real. but it’s worth it, drunk burritos can’t be beat.”

“exactly, you get it,” steve smiles, “thanks man, have a good resta your night.” he then promptly turns on his heel and makes to get the fuck out of here before he can embarrass himself further.

“you too,” eddie says as steve exits.

steve is in love. he has burritos and he’s in love. best. night. ever.

“LIVE FUCKIN MÁS BITCHES” he screams into the night as he starts his short walk back to the apartment. paper bag of burritos clenched tightly in his hand, smile plastered on his face. a girl he didn’t notice earlier throws up in the bushes and her friends pat her on the back and give steve a weird look.

he laughs to himself and tries to plan out his week around multiple taco bell visits. he cannot wait to be delusion and talk to robin about his future husband the taco bell employee who’s dead inside 🖤

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Down Home 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The world's most famous heroes walk into a small town diner and change your life.

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Note: Because of this.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all to Jupiter and back. Take care. 💖

It’s a slow day. Every day is slow out in Tumble Down. The township’s name tells the whole story. Everything there is in decline. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time when the people weren’t tiny and forgotten in the hubbub of the bigger world. Since the mines closed and the canning factory was outsourced, it feels even smaller. 

Smaller isn’t so bad. It’s simpler. You all know each other’s names and faces. You say hi and how are you and do what needs to be done. Simple is, simple as. 

You here there isn’t much to do in most small towns. Not for fun or for work. You’re one of the lucky ones. You got a job down at the diner in your sophomore year. It helped pay for your daddy’s new engine and since then, it keeps you all afloat in the rising waters of disparity as they close in on Tumble Down. 

You hum to the old radio that sits on the shelf you make sure to dust. The speakers crackle from time to time and the signal gets wonky in storm season, but the music’s never bad. It’s the classic stuff that always played in your mother’s kitchen. 

You wipe down another table. Not because it needs it, just because it’s something to do. The day has been long and listless. Even the breakfast rush was lower than usual. 

Darnell, the cook, whistles along from the back. Everyone knows he isn’t as mean as he looks. He just likes his space. 

As you go back to the counter and lean on it, staring at the ticking clock, a roar cuts through the distance. You blink and look up, narrowing your eyes at the dusty country road outside. Wind rustles through the tall wheat in the field opposite and the noise rumbles closer and closer. 

A man pulls in a motorbike. He’s going so fast that he has to circle the gravel lot before he can slow down. It’s not Lenny and his prized Harley but another man on a more modern-looking mount. Not far behind, another motorcycle zips through and the riders straddle their bikes as the survey the restaurant. 

You narrow your eyes. You probably need glasses but you make do. The last time you got your eyes checked, you didn’t have enough for the frames. 

The one man wears blue and red, an odd helmet on his head. Not a helmet at all but a sort of mask. The other man has dark hair to his chin and a beard to match. He’s all in black but his left arm shines with gold ripples. Not a sleeve, an arm, made of metal. 

“Oh my lord,” you murmur in shock, “Darnell!” You holler over your shoulder, “you’re not gonna believe this.” You turn to the window as he pokes his head around, “not sure I do myself. Tell me my eyes aren’t lyin’.” 

He looks above your head, an easy task for the mammoth cook. He hums and swirls around his spatula. “Thems those boys on the news. The one that was in the old war. Grandad’s battle.” 

“I’m not going crazy with boredom?” You bubble. 

He snorts. It’s as close to a laugh as you get from him. You spin back and hurry around the counter to grab a pair of menus. Still, you don’t want to seem too eager. You put down the menus and fiddle with a napkin holder instead. 

The bell over the door jingles and swipe up the menus and turn. You really can’t believe it’s them. Yet, as Captain America removes his cowl, you’re certain. They look just like they do on the TV. Even with your sight, you can tell. 

“Hello, fellas, how are you doin’ today?” 

The dark-haired one, the Winter Soldier, glances at the other, his cheek dimpling, “well... we’re... uh...” 

“We’re doing great,” Steve Rogers answers brightly. “Starving. You guys serve bacon? My buddy’s dying for some.” 

“Um, yes, sirs, yes. Can I sit ya down?” You ask, hugging the menus closer. 

“Please,” the Captain accepts as the other man stays silent and pensive, his eyes wandering down to the coffee stain on your apron. 

“Just here,” you sweep away and wave them on with you. You stop beside the nicest booth and lay down a menu on each side, “have a seat.” 

They do just as you bid. The blond puts his cowl on the table and unhooks the shield from his back to lay on the far end of the seat. He smooths back the sweaty strands of hair as his companion stretches his metal fingers. You sway nervously by the table, twitching as you remind yourself how to do your job. 

“Well, can I get ya started with coffee? You look beat from the road.” You beam with the smile Mr. Welk says could outshine the sun. 

“Not just the road,” the dark-haired one mutters as he rolls his shoulder. The one that connects to his real arm. “I’ll take one, please.” 

“Can I get an orange juice, please,” the Captain asks. 

“Course ya can. I’ll be right back. You have a look at the specials and give it a think,” you bounce and spin around. 

You go to pour the orange juice and a cup of black coffee. Darnell lingers by the window. He only ever really appears to put a plate up but he watches the new arrivals. 

You bring their drinks and step back, clasping your hands behind you. 

“Did ya need cream or sugar for your coffee, sir?” You ask. 

“Black’s fine,” he assures. 

“No need for the sirs. Steve, Bucky,” Captain America insists, “we’re off duty.” 

“Right, sorry about that, ssss...Steve,” you correct yourself. “You need some more time?” 

“Think I’m decided,” Bucky intones, “what about you?” 

“Set,” Steve confirms, “I’ll have the sunny side up with toast and sausage. Can I get some fruit on the side as well, please?” 

He hands over the menu and you take it as you hold your smile. Your cheeks ache. Not because you have to force it but because you can’t stop. This is the most exciting thing to happen in Tumble Down ever. If Darnell wasn’t there, no one would believe you. 

“Overeasy, bacon, extra bacon too, and some french toast, and uh... home fries.” Bucky offers up the second menu, “please and thank you.” 

“Alrighty,” you preen, “I’ll put your order in.” 

“Got it,” Darnell growls over the empty diner. 

“He’s got good hearing,” you giggle nervously as you look between the men. “Ummmm, sorry, I’ll leave ya be.” 

“You’re not bothering,” Steve assures. “I can see you’re dying to ask.” 

He gives a gentle smile. 

“Nah, oh, gosh. I’m sure ya get it all the time. I don’t wanna be one of those,” you put your hands up. “Really, you all look like you could use the peace and quiet.” 

“Well, actually, I’ve been stuck with this meathead for days,” Bucky scoffs, “so please, I’d love to hear someone else’s voice.” 

You laugh again. They’re funnier than you expect. They always look so serious on the TV. 

“What... what are y’all doing here in Tumble Down? It’s a bit far from... anywhere.” You ask sheepishly. 

“Tumble Down? Is that what it’s called?” Steve scratches his neck above his stained collar. “Well, we couldn’t get a signal so we’ve just been riding through. Saw the sign down the way and figured we’d get a bite.” 

“He’s lying. He was falling asleep on his bike,” Bucky teases. 

“Sure,” Steve shakes his head. “Only ‘cause I’m tired of you.” 

You giggle again, “I thought y’all were friends.” 

“Friends, partners, cursed with each other, have your pick,” Bucky snorts. 

“He’s playing,” Steve says. “Look, we’re boring. Despite what you think. We’re a couple of old men bickering with each other. What about you? What about Tumble Down?” 

“Ah, nothing really, sir. Steve,” you squeeze the menus tight at the edges. “Nothing going on since the coal law and that. Everyone’s all but run out. All but us.” 

“Just you? Your family?” Steve wonders. 

“Jesus, Steve, nosy much?” Bucky says over the brim of his mug. 

“Sorry. He’s right. Like I said. Crotchety old man. I talk to the pigeons.” 

You laugh again, “oh my, you are a hoot!” You slap your thigh emphatically, “I’m still my ma and pa. It’s just the three of us. They need help with the animals and that.” 

“Animals?” Steve wonders, his posture shifting towards you. 

“Chickens, cows. They got a farm. Was my grandpa’s. And his ma kept it going after he didn’t come home from... well, you’d know more about that time than me, I think.” You give a forlorn look to the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about your grandfather. Great grandfather,” he corrects himself. 

“Lotta good men gone,” Bucky mulls grimly. 

“Yeah, my great granny said as much. I wouldn’t know though, but I heard the stories,” you dare to look at them again. “Sorry to bring up the bad memories.” 

“Nah,” Bucky waves you off casually. “I got this nifty arm outta it.” 

“And I got a shield so, you know, not all losses,” Steve chuckles. 

“I s’pose,” you agree. “I’m gonna check on that food for ya. You good with your coffee?” 

Bucky raises the mug, “delicious.” 

You nod and turn with a swish of your skirt. You go up to the window and look over the ledge. “How’s it going, Darnell?” 

“Going. I’m happy it ain’t Raylene here. She’s got a mouth on her, don’t she? Them sort don’t deserve that trouble,” he tisks. 

“They’re nice. And Raylene is too. She’s just... Raylene,” you say, “can I help with anything?” 

“I don’t wanna be rude but I’m tired of tellin’ ya to stay outta my kitchen. You know the grill likes to spit,” he shakes his head. “You go, I’ll let ya know when it’s ready.” 

“Alright,” you back away and turn back. 

Steve and Bucky lean over the table, their voices low as they chat. As you move around behind the counter, they both sit up and the former clears his throat. You smile as you take the cloth from your apron pocket and wipe the already clean counter. 

As the radio buzzes, you hum without thinking. Stevie Ray Vaughan’s smoky voice mingles with the emotion plucked through electric strings. Your dad’s a big fan. He has old tapes with concerts on them and even went to one himself. 

The bell rings and you nearly jump out of your shoes. You turn and scoop up the plates as you thank Darnell. He grumbles that he’s going out to have a smoke; his code for having a Tootsie Pop by the backdoor. 

You bring the meals over to the table and set them down before the men. Their gazes make you sweat. It’s all a little more intense with no one else there. 

“Thank you,” Steve says and Bucky echoes him. 

“Not at all. Anything else? Water? Ketchup?” 

“It all looks great as is,” Steve says, “you got a nice voice.” 

“Oh, really? Ha, I was just humming out of tune. Sorry if I was too loud.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky picks up his fork as he leans forward. He tilts his head. “You know this one?” 

“Sure do. It’s Fleetwood Mac,” you answer. “One my all times.” 

He grins and nods as he looks at Steve. Steve watches you with a smile of his own. 

“Do you sing?” He asks. 

“Me? Only in my shower or to the chickens. They usually hide in the henhouse then.” You tinkle with laughter. 

“Ah,” Steve nods. 

“But if... if ya really wanna suffer, I could try it,” you smile, “but uh, you know, Stevie Nicks, she’s one of a kind.” 

“I’ve had worse,” Steve says. 

You look between him and Bucky. You chew your lip and think. You follow the song as you try to recognise which verse it is. You squint and perk up as you catch your place. 

“You just let me know when you’ve had enough,” you say before you start. Not only can you tell your pa that you met the super soldiers, you can tell him you sang for them. It’ll be a nice bit of excitement for the dinner table. 

[bower-quinn]

Grease and Glances

You're Steve Harrington’s little sister—and secretly crushing on Eddie Munson for weeks. But a broken bike brings you closer. Closer than you ever imagined. From strangers to friends to lovers. fluffy, description of sex, 18+, smut Watch out! There are severeal chapters.

<- Chapter One <- Chapter Two <- Chapter Three <- Chapter Four <- Chapter Five <- Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

The excitement in Eddie’s stomach doesn’t fade. It only gets worse the closer the 24th comes. Wayne, who has suddenly taken to humming Christmas songs and seems unusually cheerful, certainly doesn’t help. There’s a strange pressure weighing on Eddie. He has to behave, he thinks. Make a good impression. Wayne deserves to be liked. And it’s up to him.

But even though Wayne keeps insisting he’s calm, Eddie can feel his nerves. Wayne got a haircut. Had his suit pressed. He even dug out an old jacket for Eddie. Because no matter how thoroughly they tear apart Eddie’s closet—there’s nothing remotely formal in there.

But there’s something else keeping both of them awake at night: What do you give to people who already have everything?

“A car’s out of the question,” Eddie had mumbled. Then laughed a little too hysterically. If he thought about your car… no. Way out of his price range.

Wayne had laughed too. “How about time?”

And that’s how the idea for the fishing trip was born. A handwritten invitation on thick paper, rolled up like a scroll, tied with a small wooden fish. Wayne carved the fish himself.

“I think your girl likes things with a personal touch,” Wayne said, watching Eddie stare thoughtfully out the window. Sometimes, it’s like he can read his mind.

“My girl,” Eddie murmured, cheeks tinting pink. And then—very secretly—he took off one of his silver rings, polished it with a tissue, and placed it into a small black box. Well, not that secretly, because Wayne watched him with a knowing smile.

“It’s not… you know… not like an engagement or anything,” Eddie said quickly. “Just because… she once said she liked my hands. And my rings. And—shit, help me, Wayne!”

Wayne pulled him into a hug. He had never seen his nephew so desperate. Not even when he got caught stealing a fire extinguisher. Maybe more like the time he picked up a dying pigeon from the street, his eyes huge, full of tears. He’d said shit, help me, Wayne back then too.

“You’ve got this, my boy,” Wayne murmured, brushing Eddie’s hair back. “Your girl’s at least as crazy about you as you are about her.”

“Thanks,” Eddie whispered, wiping his face discreetly.

“And now,” Wayne said, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders, looking at him seriously, “go get me a box so I can wrap the kid’s present!”

Eddie frowned in confusion. Wayne, almost bursting with pride, held up a sweater. It was deep green with small black rings around the cuffs.

“The kid acts all tough,” Wayne said, “but I bet he freezes like a puppy. He’s getting a sweater. A warm one.”

“Wait,” Eddie said slowly, “did you knit that yourself?”

“Of course! Who do you think kept you clothed when you were little?”

But it’s not just at the Munson home where a teenager is spiraling. Your house smells like cinnamon, pine needles, and somehow… yes, Christmas. Faint Christmas music plays in the background—a slightly off-key version of Jingle Bells on your dad’s old record player.

Your parents are decorating the living room: Your dad battles the lights on the fireplace, Your mom rehangs the same ornament for the fifth time because it’s “still not quite right.”

And you? You’re running through the house like a headless chicken.

“Are these napkins too tacky? Should I go with the ones with stars? Or plain? Oh God, what if Wayne’s allergic to cinnamon?!”

You trip over the extension cord you laid down, curse under your breath, get up, and dash to the kitchen—again—to check the cookies.

Steve stands in the doorway, arms crossed, cookie in hand. At first, he smirks. Then rolls his eyes. Then lets out a long sigh.

You appear next to him, one hand clutching a hand-tied napkin, the other a sprig of pine.

“Is this too much? I don’t want it to look like we’re trying too hard. But also not like we don’t care. You know? It should look like—oh, hey, we just happen to be perfectly prepared.”

You realize your voice is shaking slightly.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Steve says flatly.

“I have not lost my mind! I’m… focused.” You whirl around, grab a candle, sniff it. “Is this too strong? What if Eddie hates scented candles? What if he has epilepsy from flickering lights?!”

“Okay. That’s enough.”

Before you can argue, Steve grabs you and pulls you into a firm hug. You freeze—for a moment—then melt into his chest with a deep breath. He smells like fresh laundry and cookies. And like home.

“I bet Eddie’s just as nervous,” he murmurs into your hair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You think Eddie’s all calm and cool? I bet he’s had at least one breakdown. Probably two.”

You laugh softly, but your hands grip his shirt a little tighter.

Steve rests his chin lightly on your head.

“Listen to me. It’s going to be great. Really. I know you’re freaking out, but this… this is going to be a wonderful Christmas.”

You breathe in. Then out. Then again.

“You really mean that?”

“I mean it so much, I’ll skip dessert if I’m wrong.”

You pull back and look at him skeptically.

“You’d never skip dessert.”

“Exactly. That’s how sure I am.”

You smile—for the first time today, really.

“Thanks, Steve.”

He winks. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go and pretend like everything’s super chill. I’ll catch you if you start hyperventilating.”

You take a deep breath, adjust your shirt, and head back to the living room—this time moving a little more calmly.

Christmas Eve.

You park in front of the trailer and turn off the engine, but your hands stay on the wheel. Your heart is racing. Not quite like yesterday’s napkin-induced meltdown—but close.

You inhale deeply, then get out. Even before you can knock, the door opens—Wayne steps out, moving a little stiffly in his suit but beaming.

“Punctual as clockwork,” he says, tipping the edge of an imaginary hat.

He wears a grey suit, clearly older but freshly pressed. The light blue shirt underneath has a slightly crooked collar. And yet—maybe because of that—he looks incredibly dignified. Straight-backed, proud, with a small, uncertain smile that somehow warms your whole spine.

It’s a strange feeling—something between joy and tenderness that settles in your chest and leaves you breathless. Only now do you realize how much this means. That they’re really coming. That this is really happening.

Wayne notices your look and grins slightly.

“Too much?” he asks, smoothing his lapel.

“On the contrary,” you say honestly. “You look fantastic.”

Then Eddie steps out of the trailer. You blink.

He’s wearing clean black pants—no rips, no chains. A dark red shirt. His hair is… tamed. Sort of. At least enough that it doesn’t stick out in all directions. He holds a box—wrapped, with a slightly crooked bow. But he’s speechless.

You’re wearing a green dress—velvety, knee-length, fitted, with long sleeves and a simple neckline. Not overdone. But it makes your eyes shine. And it fits like a dream.

Eddie’s mouth falls slightly open. His eyes drift from your face downward—then snap back up, as if scolding himself for even looking.

“You look amazing,” he says softly, locking eyes with you.

“So do you,” you reply.

Eddie flushes to his curls.

“Wayne made me do it,” he mumbles, prompting a loud “Liar!” from his uncle.

You laugh, and something in your chest loosens. You reach out your hand, and when Eddie’s fingers close around yours, you give them a quick, firm squeeze.

“Let’s go. There’s hot cocoa and an absurdly tacky Christmas tree waiting for you.”

They get in your car. Wayne up front, Eddie in the back—though the moment you start driving, Eddie leans forward until his knees nearly touch the back of your seat.

“Your parents do know we’re coming, right?” he asks, a nervous edge to his voice.

You nod. “They’re more excited than I am. My dad sorted records, and my mom cooked four different sauces. For one roast.”

A few minutes later, you're driving through familiar streets. Eddie stares out the window, looking a little pale. You glance at him in the rearview mirror.

“Eddie. You okay?”

He looks at you, shrugs.

“I’m just… nervous. What if I say the wrong thing? What if your dad hates me? What if Wayne talks about my first metal concert and your mom cries?”

Wayne laughs loudly. “Oh, calm down.”

You stop at a red light and twist in your seat slightly.

“Eddie? It’s going to be fine. And if you do say something dumb, I’ll just distract them with an embarrassing childhood story about me, okay?” You wink. “And besides,” you add softly, “you’ve got me. And that’s what matters most tonight.”

He says nothing—but his gaze softens. He smiles. Not a big grin. Just that small, real smile you’ve come to love.

As you pull into the driveway, you already see the lights glowing through the windows. The front door stands open. Steve is in the doorway wearing a Christmas sweater with a reindeer on it—and a wide, welcoming grin.

“Ready?” you whisper.

Eddie nods and takes a deep breath. Wayne pats him on the shoulder.

“Let’s celebrate Christmas, son.”

You step out, circle the car, and take Eddie’s hand as he gets out. Then you lead them both inside— to laughter, to food, to warmth. To your family.

You glance again at Eddie, gripping your hand with nervous intensity. At Wayne, hugging Steve in greeting.

No, you think, our family.

Chapter Eight ->

₊ ˚ ✩ ｡˚ ˚☽

@walleloveseve

@jeangeniex

@cheesesandwichsanto

@your-nightmaredoll

@foreveranexpatsposts

@fandom-princess-forevermore

[trashmouth-richie]

⛧all hope is gone⛧ || eddie x f!reader || 18+ dead dove don’t eat

⛧tattoo artist! steve — ⛧rising rockstar! eddie — ⛧ f!reader= cherry

⛧post s4, this is a series of blurbs revolving around modern day times and flashbacks where eddie + steve survive vecna’s reign escaping hawkins to a new city to attend college leaving the past in the rearview… but repercussions always come back with a bite

⛧ sulfur ⛧ 6.8k

⛧ summary: possessive! eddie, sad boy! steve, reader gets work done by steve to surprise eddie with a tattoo of his name, it’s simple! harmless! to you… + smut, exhibitionism, mention of drugs and alcohol, demonic themes, soul selling etc

It was your idea to surprise your boyfriend with a tattoo. After months of him joking around about branding you as his in a more permanent way, you decided to do it.

A tattoo would last forever, it wouldn’t heal like teeth marks did or fade away like his hickeys would. His dick kicked up at the thought of his name scratched into your delicate skin. The same night he had mentioned it he had you face down in the sheets, burying himself deep within your walls until you were both out of breath. Panting, aching for and from one another. 

The date was set, and you knew better than to go to anyone but Eddie’s best friend to get it done, and Steve would do it for free, as a favor.

He agreed to keep it secret because you had wanted to surprise Eddie, but as the appointment creeped up, you became more and more nervous about trying to keep your present for him under wraps. 

The day of the appointment landed on a Friday, the same night Eddie’s band was set to play at The Bloody Dime, an up and coming bar that was known for fights breaking out and fancy drinks.

Per his demands, you weren’t allowed within ten feet of such a place, already having to find out the hard way when he beat the bricks off a guy who wouldn’t stop staring at you. 

Pretty baby like you doesn’t belong there, do you understand?

Steve’s shop was downtown from your apartment, a cozy little space nestled into a black brick building—Inked Demo spelled out with neon blue lights. 

The walls were covered with paintings of strange creatures you couldn’t imagine in your worst nightmares, deep reds and violent shades of purple. Steve kept various plants hung from the ceiling and more were potted in planters or tucked into ornate little terrariums. 

Inked Demo smelled of deep rich cedar and hand rolled cigarettes. The brick walls added a modern touch but not too much to be considered a place for hipsters to hang out. No, this space was carefully crafted to his liking, and there wasn’t another like it.

The bell on the door dinged announcing your arrival and Steve stepped from behind the back wall. His hair was how it always was, slicked back in a dark wave, and he merely nodded to acknowledge your presence. 

“Cherry,” he greeted, using the name Eddie had introduced you to his friends. He held your arms and planted a small kiss on your cheek. Out of all of Eddie’s friends, Steve knew you just as well as your own boyfriend did. “Good to see you.” 

“You too,” you say cheerfully, “looks like you’re staying busy!” 

A smile creeps across his lips as he lets your arms go and shrugs. “Yeah, I’ve been lucky this past year.” 

Steve had always been soft spoken and humble, a quiet type that used his facial features to convey how he felt. Walking to a small desk, his tall frame slinks like a shadow as he clicks on a slim lamp and begins flipping through a binder full of current work and past tattoos. 

He flipped to the page colored with two heart shaped cherries and the name Eddie written in pretty cursive in one of them. 

You gasp and cover your mouth in awe. They were perfect. Steve was able to capture your ideas through your own horrible explanations and gave his own little twist to them. A modern mockup of American traditionalism with the speckles of glitter you had seen on Pinterest.

His eyes sparkle through the shadow from the light as he proudly holds up the drawing, “so… where we puttin’ this sucker?”

Originally you had thought to put it on your chest, but decided against it when Robin had told you how much her tattoo had hurt there. She swore it was even worse when she had Steve cover Barb’s name over with a moth just a few short months later. 

Crossing a tiger print rug to the black tattoo chair, you sit down gently with your ankles crossed, “umm, would it be weird to put it on my thigh?” you asked meekly, “high up so it’s a little more private?”

Raising your skirt, you show Steve the placement. A slivered peek of scarlet lace panties were visible beneath the hiked up fabric in your fingers, and he nearly bites a hole in his cheek to not look. 

“You could put it there,” he ponders, moving a large veiny hand through the slick of his hair. “I’ve done a few names on the neck, initials on ring fingers.” He laughs and raises his eyebrows, “… I uh… even did one on an ass cheek.” 

Eddie would go berserk seeing his name anywhere on your body, but you had to admit, there was something a little bit sexy about his name being tattooed only somewhere he could see. 

“That’s where I want it, oh my god! He’ll go crazy! Will it hurt?” 

His eyes open wide but he shakes the shock from his face into a professional expression as he grabs supplies to sanitize his work area. He could do this. You’re a client, just a client. 

Clearing his throat, he chides, “haven’t had anyone cry yet, so I’m gonna go ahead and say no.” 

Steve’s reputation for his artwork spread far and wide, he was booked solid for months on end, self taught, making tons of money for a college drop out. Despite what his dad had said. 

He had done all of Eddie’s tattoos including the enormous stretch of bat wings that spread across his shoulders and down the expanse of his back. Sharp talons protruding onto the beginning of his hips, curved around to his wrists. Steve had freehanded most of it, as if it were from a memory. 

Biting your lip contemplating the placement, you think of Eddie and the swelling size of his cock as it split you open once he laid eyes on his name branded into your skin. 

“Okay,” you smile, “let’s do it.” 

Steve half smirked and rubbed his jaw, “cool, lay on your stomach for me.”

Flipping onto your front you lay with your hands under your chin, looking up at him through your lashes, “like this?” 

Steve sits on the stool facing away from you, straightening his table and tattoo gun, looking over his shoulder meeting your eye, “yeah… that’s perfect, Cherry.” 

You watch in amusement as he sterilizes his work station and sets up the ink, “Eddie playin’ at the Dime tonight?” 

“Yep,” you sigh, thinking of all the time you’d spent alone while he was gone, “last show of their local tour, then finally we can go back to normal.” 

A scoff rumbles from Steve’s throat as he wraps his gun, “what’s even considered normal? Everything is pretty shitty around here.” 

Propping up on an elbow you set to argue with him, “going to class is normal, hanging out with our friends, partying, sleeping in the same bed instead of him crashing in the back of someone’s van for the night… this tour has been hard on him. Hard on us.” you sigh a little, picking at your thumbs. 

Steve looks over and sees the sadness in your face, grabbing the pink disposable razor. 

“He texted yesterday to say he was leaving Corroded behind and starting up somethin’ with a few guys from here. He seemed pretty excited about signing that deal with Dark Records. Can’t say I blame him, anything to do with home is hard to deal with.” 

Eddie never talked about Hawkins. The only thing you knew about it was that he and Steve got the hell out of there the year he graduated, never looking back, never visiting. 

“That’s the plan for now at least… honestly, I wish he would take a break for a while, relax a little, but you know him. He’s really driven to be the best he can be.” 

Steve knew all too well. Spending nights awake staring out of his large loft windows, missing the way things used to be, regretting everything that happened in Hawkins. 

“Eddie’s…passionate…about the things he cares about, he’s always been that way.” 

That part was always true, Eddie carried his feelings on his sleeve, never afraid to show his emotions, or make sacrifices for people he loved. Steve himself was a living breathing reminder of that. 

“…alright Cherry,” his voice dripped with smoothness as he got closer to you, “everything’s ready…I’ll need to lift your skirt so I can prep the skin, you cool with that?” 

You reply with a yes, and feel the goosebumps prick at your skin as the cool air hits your exposed cheek. The rubber of Steve’s glove drags across your skin as he rubs in the sanitation spray, “‘m gonna shave you now.” 

This being your first tattoo you didn’t know what to expect, heat flooding your cheeks immediately, “oh my God is it hairy?” 

Steve chuckles low, a fan of his breath blowing warm against your skin, “not at all honey, it’s just standard procedure for any tattoo.” 

He was delicate as he ran the blade across you in small motions away from him. One rubber gloved hand held your skin taut, the other on the razor. Your ass bounced back to him after the last drag of the razor leaves your skin, and you swore you heard him suck in a breath. 

Steve had always been handsome, ever since the first time you met during that freshman year mixer in the backyard of some random frat house that he was rushing for. 

He was different then, preppy clothes and expensive shoes, surviving during the week just to live for the weekends. A flask with his name claim permanently pressed to his palm. King Steve. 

But somewhere between the stress of college and Spring break back in Hawkins, he changed. He dropped out of college completely and dove into his natural talent. Making a name for himself, carving his own path. 

That was why you had fallen for him to begin with. 

Your heart thumped loudly at the thought of the past, and you cleared your throat to try and change the subject. 

“E-Eddie said you have a date this weekend, are you excited?” 

Steve wipes your skin with a paper towel and spreads a thick ointment to lay the stencil. A small huff of annoyance escaping his pressed lips,“I wish he’d stop trying to set me up.” 

His thumbs sweep across the stencil laying it firmly in place, “oh c’mon Steven…Lydia’s cute, she’s in one of my elective art classes, she reminds me of you.” 

Steven. Nobody ever called him by his full name.

“Of me?”

Looking over your shoulder you meet his deep mossy eyes, “in a weird way I guess, yeah.”  

He looks back into your eyes, watching as you slowly blinked and drifted your gaze downward to where his large hands were still splayed across your ass. 

The dusting of hair on his arms tickled your skin when he pulled back gently, pinching a corner of the transfer paper and peeling it from you. He purses his lips and blows on the stencil lightly. 

Steve often thought back to the way things were three years ago. The way your eyes gleamed under the string patio lights, the scent of your vanilla perfume and how it seemed to bake deeper with the sun's rays on your skin. 

He remembered how your lips tasted like melted ice cream against his, and how deeply he craved to be floating in the candy confectionery of sugar and sprinkles with you in the center of it, center of his world. 

Steve shakes his head, trying to erase that time in his life but always coming up short. “This won’t hurt too bad, I’ll stop whenever you need, okay? It’s best if you lay down.”

Your chest tightens with nerves as you nod your head, pressing your cheek into the vinyl of the black headrest. 

The gun starts and Steve tells you he’s going to do the outline of the cherries first. The needle vibrates into your skin and you wince at the first few lines made but eventually getting used to the way your skin buzzed and the tickling pain that came from it. 

You whimpered out in a few spots and Steve’s velvet voice shushed you gently, telling you the worst was almost over. 

“Outlining is finished,” Steve murmurs, rubbing ink from your skin, “you’re doing really good, honey.” 

Your mind slips to him saying those same words but years early in an entirely different setting. 

A miniature golf course with clubs that were too short and a go-kart track. He had said it when you finally sunk your ball after par ten thousand on hole eleven. 

Sarcasm spread across his face and you wiggled your tongue at him and threw a middle finger his way. Only for him to chase you around the tiny windmills and fake grassy hills, catching up and tickling you under your arms until you were near to tears. 

You thought he would have kissed you that night, but to your surprise, and dismay, he had waited for the third official date.

“Thank you,” you smile weakly. 

He returns the smile and looks away, clearing his throat, “the shading will be a cake walk, we’ll be done here before you know it…might even catch the end of Eddie’s show.” 

“Really?” you say with a spring of hope in your voice. He couldn’t dismiss how his friend's name made his mouth taste like poison, but how it made you weak in the knees. “That would be great, Steve.”

“Sure thing princess,” he nearly whispered, “lay back now, I’ll be done soon.” 

Steve tried to blank it all out as his tattoo gun spelled  Eddie in a cursive calligraphy he knew was yours. Letter by letter he swallowed down the feelings he had been harboring from you, from him— from everyone. 

He wished he had never taken you to that concert. He loathed himself for the way Eddie slithered between the two of you, how Eddie could have had any girl at that after party but he chose you simply because you were with him. 

Steve tried to deny him of it, tried to steer him toward another girl, a girl who wasn’t you. One he hadn’t been in love with, one who didn’t appear in his dreams despite the nightmares clouding in. But one low growl and a flash of those sharp fangs and Steve knew he didn’t stand a chance. 

Letter by letter he branded his friend’s name into your skin, giving the girl he loved a silent goodbye with every curve and final dot of the ‘i’.

“All done,” he said with a shaky throat, cleaning you up, “wanna see it?”

You nod and reach for his outstretched hand, swinging your legs and standing to follow him to the mirror. It was perfect. Equal parts colorful yet traditional with a spark of modern flare added to it. 

“Steve,” you gasp, mouth hung open in adoration, “it’s beautiful!”

He rubs his neck and watches your reflection in the mirror, the way your mouth ticks up on the ends into the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

His heart was aching knowing it wasn’t for him. 

The Bloody Dime had a line that stretched two blocks down. Steve had insisted on bringing you to the bar, knowing the likes of the people who attended Corroded Coffin’s concerts he wasn’t too keen on letting you go alone. 

You didn’t mind the company, tagging along behind Steve’s tall frame, his boots almost silent on the cracked pavement. It was rare to be with someone other than Eddie, even if it was just a casual walk to the bar he was playing at. But it was Steve, his right hand, they were thicker than blood or whatever it was Eddie sometimes said. 

The sky was dark and gray, dark thunderheads circling around the bar like an omen, and you shivered as the big red doors came into view. 

Steve flicked his cigarette across the sidewalk, the lit end skittering like a firecracker into the dark night as it came to a stop, little plumes of smoke wafting from it. 

“Johnny boy,” Steve purred to the bouncer, his clean shaven head gleaming in the dank light like a polished cue ball. “Pretty busy in there tonight?” 

“Buncha rowdy fuckers,” the burly bouncer said in an annoyed tone, “full moon y’know? Makes the crazies come out— you stayin’?” 

Steve rubs the back of his neck. “For a bit, I’m making sure Cherry got in here safe to see Eddie play.” 

Johnny leans forward looking down at you with empty eyes, “you know I can’t do that, boss would have me skinned alive if he knew you were here.” 

“It’s just this one time,” you bat your eyelashes in sugary sweet protest, “b’sides, it’s their last show!” 

Steve tries to vouch for you, “it’s alright, I’ll watch over her, and I’ll deal with him if he gets…” he gave Johnny a knowing look, “listen, nobody’s losin’ their job tonight big guy.”

“If. Whatever man, I didn’t see a thing. In fact, you two snuck in.” 

He leaves the doors unattended muttering to himself about needing to find another gig as Steve moves the velvet rope and you slip inside. 

The Bloody Dime was not at all what you had imagined it to be. Girls dressed as fallen angels swung from the ceiling in iron cages. Every wall was covered in a deep shade of velvety red upholstery, the stage was raised and at the rear of the building, a backlit full bar to the left and on the right sat a lounge with shiny leather couches was guarded by two bouncers that made Johnny look like a twig.

Sweat, smoke and sex perfumed the air and Steve pinched his eyes and pulled out a pair of sunglasses as he followed you further into the club. A pill bottle shook behind you and you noticed him cocking his head back and swallowing. 

“Addy?” 

Steve shook his head and smirked, “Tylenol, this place gives me a migraine.” 

“A migraine?” you teased, leaning in closer so he could hear you, “turning into an old man on me, Steven?” 

Lucky for Steve, the atmosphere was dark and cloudy with smoke the lighting always purple and deep crimson, otherwise you would have seen him blush at the way you pressed a hand delicately to his chest, and would have heard his breath hitch at the scent of your shampoo as your hair brushed the tip of his nose. 

No, you didn’t see any of that. 

Instead Steve rolled his eyes and pushed his tongue into his cheek, “c’mon Cherry, there’s a table over there.” 

He led you to a high top table towards the bar and near the stage. Steve pulled out your stool making sure you were comfortable before sliding onto his own, his back to the stage, eyes on the front door. 

Eddie hadn’t seen you yet, he was currently thrashing his guitar to a solo, leaning his body parallel with the floor that broke every law of physics. His guitar was balanced on his torso as his fingers frantically moved the strings in a dizzying motion. You could just barely make out how his long hair was wet, skimming the top of the stage. 

You watched in a hypnotic gaze at him perform, completely enthralled by him and the way he looked like he truly belonged up there. The other members tried to keep up with him but it was without a single ounce of a doubt that Eddie outshined them all. 

The way he moved drew you in, like a moth to a flame you were practically in a trance and you could hardly look away. Eddie held the entire crowd's attention as if it was demanded, willing or unwilling. 

“Wow,” you mustered in a half whisper half hum, “they’re incredible.” You had seen them perform before at other venues across the state but never here. It was almost like entering another dimension.  

Steve flicks his lighter and inhales one of his rolled cigarettes, “yeah they’re something alright, Dark Records didn’t sign him as a pity bargain.”

The guitar riff ends and Eddie’s at the mic, belting out the lyrics to end the song with a long chord. His neck strained with every muscle and veins protruding deliciously, and you couldn’t look away. 

Steve's eyes scanned the bar. He knew that towards the end of their set the crowd would get unruly. The last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt during some drunken brawl.

“Might be best to meet him in his dressing room, they usually flock to the stage when the band is done.” 

Although you didn’t love the thought of other women going feral over him, you noticed the seriousness in Steve’s voice and decided to go.

“Lead the way.” 

Steve weaves you between sweaty shoulders and a pair of girls snorting coke from each other's cleavage. The back hallway is crowded by another bodyguard and he nods in recognition to him. 

“Cherry’s gonna wait for the show to get over in here.” Steve says.

The giant man looked down at the two of you between his small lenses and the fat bush of his eyebrows, “Y’ sure that’s a good idea?” 

“I’ll handle it.” Steve replies simply. 

“Your funeral.” 

Eddie’s dressing room was just how you imagined. The walls were flanked in dark paint and ruby reds. The lighting was kept low, glowing ominously off of the leather furniture. The corner held a rack of clothing ranging from leather jackets to long animal print robes. A true rockstar in the making. 

“They’re usually pretty amped up after, so just keep that in mind, okay?” Steve says from behind you, cracking his neck. 

You roll your eyes in dismissal, “I’ve been with Eddie after a show before, I know he’ll be a little drunk, it’s no biggie.” 

“It’s different here Cherry. He—” Steve didn’t know how to tell you that Eddie wouldn’t be his regular self, that the atmosphere of The Bloody Dime was something else entirely, that Eddie had kept you away from here so you could remain naive to this part of his life. 

So… Steve didn’t say anything, he let it go. He could just only hope the repercussions of bringing you here tonight wouldn’t hurt you in return.

You cocked an eyebrow at Steve, was he trying to warn you? The thought fell away and was soon overtaken with excitement at the sound of voices booming down the hall. Rushing to the full length mirror, you twist slightly to get another look at Eddie’s name, “do you think he’ll like it?” 

Steve smiled. Swallowing down the lump of bile in his throat, “he’s gonna love it.” 

The door opens with a crack and it’s Eddie dripping sweat with a bottle of liquor in one hand, the rest of Corroded Coffin behind him. 

“Baby!” you cheer, arms open wide and running into his chest, “you looked so good up there Eddie! I can’t believe it!” 

Eddie hasn’t said a word. In fact his eyes are twitching at the corner, his breath increasing with each boiled temperature of his angry hot blood. 

With your arms wrapped around his neck you lean back to get a good look at his face. “Are you surprised to see me? I know you didn't want me here but I have somethi—”

“You‘re right Cherry,” Eddie seethes, still not looking at you, his stare hellbent on burning holes into Steve’s eyes. “I don’t want you around here.” 

His band looks around awkwardly, deciding to take the party and groupies elsewhere. 

“But, it was your last show, and I wanted… well I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well congrats. I’m surprised,” he sneered, “surprised that you didn’t listen to the one thing I have told you not to do.”

“It was my idea,” Steve interjects, “let her show you what—”

“Steve,” Eddie hollered, “don’t open your fuckin mouth again. I’ll deal with you later.”

You were dumbfounded, why was he so upset? 

“Don’t act like that, what’s the problem? I’m not hurt, this place is actually super nice. Why don’t you ever want me here?” 

Eddie’s eyes darken and he lowers his gaze to you. Setting the liquor bottle down on the nearest table, he holds onto your upper arms. With the deepest breath he can manage through his nose he rolls his shoulders. 

“I’ve told you—Forget it, It’s fine! Show me what couldn’t wait until we got home.” 

You smile up at him and give him a quick kiss on his lips. “Remember how we talked about how hot it would be if I had your name on me?” 

Eddie looks from you to Steve and the twitch is back in his eye again, “yeah,” he snipped.

“Well,” you whisper seductively, turning around and hiking up your skirt, “what do you think?” 

Eddie’s fingers trace the raised tattooed skin on your ass cheek. It’s so silent in the dressing room, the only thing you can hear is the commotion going on outside. Eddie shuts the door. 

“Do you like it?” 

“You did this?” he asks Steve. When he nods in confirmation, Eddie’s hand grips tight on your ass before quickly smacking it right below the raw cherried skin. 

He lowers your skirt delicately and spins you around. The first time since you’ve arrived he looks into your eyes, little traces of veins color underneath his eyes but quickly disappear. 

“Sweet, sweet Cherry,” he purrs between a clenched jaw, “come sit with me.” 

Steve has been standing by idle since being addressed. He didn’t know how Eddie would take to him being the one to tattoo you in such a delicate spot but he figured it would be better that it was him than anyone else. Now he’s second guessing this entire thing. 

Once you and Eddie are sitting together on the leather sofa, he motions for Steve to sit in the chair across from him. He reaches into the mini fridge under the coffee table and pulls out three beers, opening them all before handing them out nonchalantly. 

“Let’s do a toast shall we?” Eddie raises his beer with his left hand while you’re tucked into him tight by his right. 

“To friends…” 

“To friends…” you and Steve repeat awkwardly. This was anything but friendly. 

“To friends who are more like family…” Again, Steve and you say it back.

“To friends who would touch and mark up my girl without even fucking asking me.”  

The room grows silent again and Eddie loudly clanks his beer with yours and Steve’s causing the neck of his bottle to break. 

You watch in stunned horror as he brings the bottle to his lips, the jagged edges cutting him deeply, but he doesn’t flinch. He keeps drinking as blood is dripping from his mouth and when you try to clean it up, he jerks his face away. When he’s finished he throws the bottle against the wall, splintering the drywall. 

Steve shakes his head, knowing deep down that Eddie would never let this go. 

“Steve, Steve, Steve…” Eddie chides, wiping a mixture of cold beer and blood from his mouth. “You and Cherry would have made quite the pair. You don’t learn, and she doesn't listen.”

“Eddie…”

“Not only did the two of you keep this from me, but you brought her here! To show her off like a fuckin’ pony while I’m—” the muscles in his neck and his arms tense into tight rubber bands, his eyes flicker to a hungry red, but he shakes it off with a roll of his neck, “—I’m busy, Steve! You know that!” 

“It wasn’t like that!” you squeak in defense for Steve, and that tiny little defiance alone nearly sent Eddie over the edge. But surprisingly, he kept it together.

“C’mere,” he commands, pulling you onto his lap so you’re facing him, unable to see Steve. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Eddie hated that you and Steve had nearly dated. He loathed that Steve had an entire year to know you, to make you laugh. When Steve came home for Winter break he wouldn’t stop talking about the girl from the frat party. Eddie was happy for him, truly. He knew after Nancy that he was never the same, and you seemed good for him. But that was before.

Now, after, when Steve and Eddie fled Hawkins and moved to where Steve had been attending college before he dropped out, all bets were off. That fall concert was all it took for Eddie to swoop in and steal you away, swaying everything you had once thought about Steve in your pretty brain and chipping away at it to make room for him, and only him. 

“Eddie, please! It was my idea! I wanted to surprise you and… and I didn’t think you’d be so—”

“So? So, what?” he sneers,“so pissed that you let him touch you, let him mark you up? Did you expect me to thank him?!” 

“C’mon man,” Steve tries, setting his beer down and talking calmly, “would you have wanted Spencer to do it? Or that twat Tommy? Because they’re the only other guys in town who kind of know what they’re doing. Infections and all.” 

Eddie ignores him completely, he’s focusing solely on you, wanting answers from you. Him and Steve can settle this tonight. His large veiny hands are on your hips and he’s holding you in place firmly, demanding the truth from your eyes.

You’re practically in tears as you sit on his lap and yelp out a hiccuping rant.

“I thought you’d like it! We talked about it for months and you were so fucking into it. Now your tour is finally over and we should be relaxing and living our life together, and this is what you wanna do? Please Eddie, don’t be upset with me or Steve! He did nothing wrong, only what I asked him to do for you! Because I love you.”

You’re crying now. Frustrated and a little embarrassed of Eddie’s temper. Blood is still dripping from the deep cuts on his mouth, and you can’t help but cry more at the sight of it.

With unbridled tenderness, Eddie reaches to your face and you crane your cheek for his hand to cradle, a sensual little gesture. He wipes away a single tear from your cheek, bringing it to his lips and collecting the salty drop with his tongue. 

His face turned to stone, an icy expression planted on as he murmured, “prove it.” 

“What?” 

He doesn’t blink, doesn’t stumble over his words. A simple cock of his head. “Right here. Right now. Show me, no! Show him that you’re mine.”

Steve shifts in his chair and stands up, heading towards the door, “I’m gonna—”

“Ah ah ah,” Eddie tuts, “you’re not going anywhere.”

Your heart is beating so fast you can't believe your ears. Is he serious? There’s no way. 

“Eddie… c’mon.” 

“Sit the fuck down Steve!” 

Dark red eyes burn into him and Steve sits down obediently, knowing that if he refused it would only get worse. 

You don’t dare look to him for any sort of objection, or a cry for help. If Eddie wanted to play this game, you’d play. Lowering yourself to the cold floor, you keep your eyes on him, carefully pulling at the zipper on his leather pants. You loved him and you knew he loved you. 

This wasn’t your first time doing something intimate with Eddie publicly. In fact the balcony of your apartment had seen more than its fair share of your naked form bouncing against the railing as Eddie pounded into you. As did most of the class rooms on campus. Although you both liked to keep things spicy, this was a first of having someone watch. 

His cock wasn’t leaking, it was barely hard when you pulled it from its tight confinements. Once your hand wrapped around his impressive girth and you pumped the velvety skin and tongued at his sack, he was rock solid. 

You dribbled saliva and slurped around his head. Sucking him in and hollowing your cheeks, you release him with an audible ‘pop’. Your hand worked his shaft slow and steady in tandem with your lip gloss pout, your eyes never leaving his. When you took him whole in your mouth as much as you could, he groaned and cursed under his breath. 

He was sitting heavy in your throat when you heard him murmur something but you couldn’t quite make it out. Popping off of his cock you replaced your hands where your mouth had been and slid them up and down with soft pressure and all the extra spit your throat held as you caught your breath. 

“C’mere,” he demanded, using a crooked finger under your chin to bring you up to him. He pulled you onto his lap and you straddled his hips, trying not to picture the look on Steve’s face. 

He kisses you hard, biting your swollen lips and licking his own blood from your mouth. “Rotten Cherry is my favorite Cherry,” Eddie preened, looking at your with dark hooded eyes, “but I’m gonna fuck you til you’re sweet again.” 

Eddie ripped your panties to the side and slid himself into you, and per usual, you sheathed all of him until you were perfectly sat and you felt as if you were impaled. 

Your delicate moans quickly became loud screams as Eddie worked your hips and pounded into you. With a grip on the rear of your skirt he drove up into your pussy at a brutal, delicious pace. 

“Tell me,” he panted, “tell me whose girl you are.” 

You’re whining and using his shoulders for leverage, but when you don’t answer Eddie slaps your ass. 

“Yours Eddie, fuck!”

His eyes glistened, and he licked his lips ferociously, lining his mouth and teeth with his own blood. 

“Did you hear that, Steve? Say it again for him, louder.” 

“I’m yours!” you whine, as his hips piston into yours harder, “yours, Eddie!” 

Eddie laughs wickedly, almost maniacal. He rubs his jaw with one hand and holds onto the back of your neck with the other, “you about to cum?” he taunts, “who’s making you feel good?” 

“Only you,” you’re so close to cumming, it feels as if you’re on fire. His cock stretching you wide, a familiar ache that you never got enough of, “you make…oh shiiit, Eddie!” 

“Fuck, that’s right, that’s my good girl,” he’s groaning and nearly there too, his hands gripped in your hair taking full control over your body, positioning it to his liking. 

“T-take out your phone Harrington, I want you to get a picture of this, as a reminder. Because this is what you wanted right? Why you touched my girl. Why you marked her? For me, right?” 

Eddie’s canines seemed to twinkle in the light as he flashed a murderous grin to his friend. Steve wished he was dead, wished Eddie never made that bargain for his life all those years ago. Death would be easier, better than this fucking hell he was trapped in. 

Vecna could have him, he’d gladly sacrifice himself to save Eddie’s soul. To not see his best friend's humanity slowly slip away more and more with each offering he provided to that ugly, vine-infested Ursula wannabe. He'd sacrifice it all to save you. 

Moving his thumb he unlocked his phone, opened the camera app and took the photo Eddie had demanded. 

You came as the flash went off, and he sang your praises and was soon behind you, filling you full and holding you as you collapsed into him. 

Steve pocketed his phone, turning away to light a cigarette with a shaky hand, his head hung in shame.

When you had regained a bit of strength, Eddie cleaned you up in the en-suite bathroom and called an Uber to bring you home. Kissing your knuckles first he brought you into his arms, whispering in your ear how he loved you. That you were his. He promised he’d be home soon, to wait and he’d join you in the bath. 

Steve and Eddie watched as your Uber came and went,

waving their goodbyes. And once the tail lights were out of view, Eddie’s eyes fully blackened as he stared at Steve. 

He took a deep breath before snarling, “you will never touch her again, understood? I don’t care if you thought once upon a time she was yours, those days are gone and she belongs to me.” 

“She’s not property, you can’t claim h—”

Steve’s back breaks into the brick wall behind them, Eddie’s fist gripping his shirt. 

“She. Is. Mine.” he snarled, his voice now warped like a ruined CD. This form he took on when he was pissed was much taller than he was a minute before, larger than any man. 

His eyes were as red as the blood moon, a fiery glow behind them, a true glimpse into hell itself. Sharp teeth glowing like the stars, the wings he’d developed were darker and bigger with each offering, leathery skin wrapped taught around each bony juncture, spanning wider than a sedan. 

To any naked human eye he was hideous, truly terrifying and worse than any creature Hollywood could develop. 

But Steve was unphased, almost immune to this behavior, the short fuse temper that had the club’s bodyguards scared for their lives, some of them even turning into a meal when Eddie’s wrath couldn’t be contained. 

“My friend,” he snapped next to Steve’s neck, “it seems to me you forget that you’re living on borrowed time.” 

“I didn’t want this,” Steve said calmly, “you should have let me die like the others.” 

“Oh stop being so dramatic Stevie,” Eddie preached in annoyance, “remember when you used to be fun? Now you’re constantly wallowing in self pity, holing yourself up like a hermit in that shop.” 

Eddie lets Steve go and fixes his shirt for him, a wolfish smile to his now shrinking sharp teeth. “It would serve you well to remember the sacrifices made that night, and the benefits we both received because of it.” 

Steve shoves a hand through his hair and pushes himself off the wall. Eddie returns to his human self, cracking his bones back into the appropriate lengths. Pushing the protruding horns back into his forehead, the cuts on his mouth from earlier now healed, no trace whatsoever of the deep punctures.

“Next time I catch your hand in Cherry’s sugar bowl, I won’t be so nice.” He turns on his heel, walking a few paces before calling over his shoulder. “Oh, and do send me that picture. You can keep it if you want, maybe it’ll give you some inspiration for your date with Lydia. Plus, I’m sure you’d like a little keepsake.” 

With that Eddie winked and disappeared like a shadow, leaving Steve on the curb, alone with his thoughts and the trauma the night had brought.

He sent the picture once he got back to his loft above the tattoo parlor. His usual ashtray by the window already filled from the way he was chain smoking to try and take the edge off, keeping to his current form.

Deleting the picture as soon as the ‘delivered’ message arrived below the text, Steve wished he could at least shed a single tear. But as much as he tried, he knew he couldn’t. He hadn’t been able to since Spring break, years ago, when he was still considered alive.

His phone dings and it’s a text from Eddie. 

ed: thinkin this will make a great album cover, what do ya think? 😈

Unlocking his phone, Steve replies with a thumbs up and sends his phone soaring across the room, shattering it against the concrete floor. Fuck he wished he could save you from this. Save that beautiful girl with a sweet soul, who smelled like cake and frosting. 

The true love of Steve’s life, but instead he’s punished by being a witness to your downward spiral. Completely unaware and oblivious that you were in love with a creature of the night, his name now branded into your skin.

tag list: @debkk16 @eiightysixbaby @mugloversonly @writhingg @thecreelhouse

[hotluncheddie]

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

-

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

-

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

-

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

<3

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Imagine Hydra coming back after Bucky’s adopted daughter when she is walking home from school (Bucky definitely told her NOT to walk home, that he or another Avenger would pick her up because of the risk, but she walked home to the Avengers HQ anyway)

Not Worth The Risk » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Dad/Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Adopted Teen Daughter!Reader with the Avengers

Summary: Bucky tells you not to walk home from school cause it’s a risk, but you do it anyway and you quickly learn why it’s a risk to walk home.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, HYDRA, crying, nicknames

Age of reader: 15 years old

A/N: Thank you for the request, nonnie🩵

A/N #2: This is different from what I normally write so I decided to give it a try. Enjoy!

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

“Y/N, hurry up or you’ll be late for school.” Bucky says, walking in your bedroom.

“I’m ready.” You say as you finished tying your shoes.

You grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder, following your dad out to the car.

“Dad, can I walk home from school today?” You asked.

“No.” Bucky answers, opening the car door.

“Why not?” You asked. “Some of my friends are walking home.” You say.

“I’m not your friends’ dad. I’m your dad and I told you, no.” He says.

You huffed and got in the car. Bucky got in the car and started it.

“Can you at least tell me why?” You asked.

“It’s too much of a risk.” He says.

“How’s walking home from school a risk?” You asked.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you, doll.” He says.

“Oh ok.” You say quietly.

Bucky pulled up to the school. You grabbed your backpack and got out of the car. He rolled down the window and called out for you.

“Have a good day at school, doll. I love you.” Bucky says.

“I love you too, dad.” You say.

You walked along the sidewalk of the school and went inside. You were greeted by your friends.

“Did you ask your dad if you can walk home from school with us?” Your friend asks.

“He said no. I think I should listen to him.” You say.

“What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Another one of your friends say.

You thought about it for a second. You know you shouldn’t be the kid who doesn’t listen to their parents. In a way, your friend is right. What your dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

“Ok. I’ll walk home with you guys.” You finally say.

The bell rang and everyone went to class. After school, you walked home with your friends. You were about halfway to the Avengers compound when all of your friends went their separate ways to go home. You were the only one left to get home.

You walked down a shady looking street when something didn’t feel right. It felt like someone was watching and following you. It was a gut feeling. Your gut feeling was right. Before you knew it, you were grabbed from behind and a hand with a cloth was put over your mouth. Your screams were muffled by the hand. You tried to fight the person of, but you grew weak and passed out.

“Who’s picking Y/N up from school today?” Bucky asks as he walks in the lounge room.

“Me.” Wanda said as she walked in the room. “She wasn’t there.” She says.

“What do you mean she wasn’t there? Where is she?” He asks.

“The school said she walked home with her friends.” She tells him.

Bucky scoffs and shook his head.

“She knows better not to do that.” Bucky says.

Bucky rubs his hands over his face and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out where you might be.

“Where would she be?” Bucky says more to himself.

“Don’t you have some kind of parent app on your phone that shows you Y/N’s location?” Steve asks.

“Yes I do.” He says.

Bucky got his phone out of pocket and went on the app. Your location popped up within a few seconds. Bucky furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Why would she be downtown? She knows not to go down there unless if she’s with one of us.” Bucky says.

“I can get the precise location if you want.” Natasha suggests.

“Do it.” He says.

Natasha got on a computer and looked for your precise location, which took a few minutes.

“Got it.” She said. “It looks like she’s in some kind of lab that’s now abandoned.” She says.

“Why would she be exploring an abandoned lab?” Tony asks.

Bucky’s eyes went wide and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“HYDRA.” Bucky said. “They have my daughter.” He says.

Bucky felt himself beginning to panic. You not listening to what he said this morning is the last thing on his mind.

“Suit up and get your weapons. Y/N needs our help.” Bucky says.

“Buck, we can’t go there without a plan.” Steve says.

“My plan is to save my daughter from the people who keep trying to ruin my life.” He says. “Are you guys going to help me or not?” He asks.

“We’ll help you.” Steve says.

The Avengers nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile, you woke up in some kind of lab. The room was dimly lit. You looked around the room to gather your surroundings. You looked down, noticing that your arms and legs are tied to a chair.

“What the hell?” You mumbled to yourself, yanking at the ropes.

You got startled when the door opened. A man in a white lab coat walked in the room, along with a few men dressed in all black tactical gear and had guns in their holsters.

“You’re awake!” The man in the lab coat says.

“Where am I?” You asked.

“That’s not important. What’s important is, you know someone who used to work for us.” He says.

You stared at the man in confusion. You had no clue who or what this man is talking about. Then you realized that he was talking about your dad.

“I have no idea who or what you’re talking about.” You say, lying through your teeth.

“Don’t play dumb. You know who and what I’m exactly talking about.” He says.

“What I do know is, my dad is going to be pissed when he finds out you guys kidnapped me.” You say.

All the man did was laugh at what you said.

“Ah yes, your father… the infamous Winter Soldier.” The man approached you and crouched down in front of you. “We know he adopted you a few years ago. So just give him up to us and we’ll set you free.” He says.

“No!” You say.

“Ok, suit yourself.” He stood up. “You guys know what to do.” He says to the HYDRA agents.

The agents nodded. Two of them held you against the chair so you couldn’t move. You watched the man in the lab coat pick up a syringe. Your eyes went eye. As you were about to start panicking, the door was busted down, revealing your dad and Steve. You felt relieved to see them.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Captain America and the infamous Winter Soldier.” The man says.

“Give me my daughter.” Bucky demands.

The man chuckles and puts the syringe down.

“She was never your daughter. I don’t know why you would go through the trouble to save a child who isn’t biologically yours.” He says.

“Shut the fuck up!” Bucky shouts.

Bucky walks over to the man and knocks him out in one punch. That’s when the HYDRA agents held their guns at him. He fought them off with Steve’s help. Then he untied you from the chair.

“Are you ok, doll? Are you injured?” He asks, checking you for any injuries.

“N-No, I’m fine. I’m just a little shaken up.” You say in a shaky voice.

“Let’s get out of here.” Steve says.

You got on the quinjet with your dad and Steve, along with the rest of the Avengers. During the flight back to the compound, you had a feeling that your dad was mad at you for not listening to what he said. You avoided eye contact with him the whole flight.

When you guys got to the compound, everyone exited the quinjet. You made a beeline for your bedroom to avoid a lecture from your dad, but there’s no way you can escape that lecture now.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Bucky asks.

“My room.” You say.

“Not until we talk. Sit down.” He demands, pointing to the lounge room.

You walked in the lounge room and sat down on the couch. Bucky stood in front of you with his hands on his hips.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You mumbled.

“I need a better answer than “I don’t know”.” He says.

“My friends talked me into it.” You tell him. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You and uncle Steve walked home from school when you guys were my age.” You say.

“The deal is HYDRA. They weren’t a threat when him and I were teenagers, but they are now.” He said. “I told you multiple times not to walk home from school and to wait for me or one of the Avengers to pick you up.” He says.

You looked down, avoiding eye contact with him. Now, you feel guilt for not listening to him. You didn’t realize it was such a big deal.

“I’m sorry, dad.” You apologized, your eyes tearing up.

You stood up and walked out of the room, going straight to your room. Bucky was about to follow you, but Clint stopped him.

“Let her cool down for a little bit.” Clint says.

Bucky nods and went to the gym to cool down himself. He punched the punching bag for a little bit. You were in your room, laying on your bed and staring at the in front of you. Tears stained your cheeks. You thought about how you didn’t listen to what your dad said. You felt bad and should’ve listened to him. You now realize it wasn’t worth the risk to walk home from school. You got out of bed and went to find your dad to apologize to him again. You walked in the gym to see your dad punching a punching bag.

“Dad?” You say.

Bucky stopped what he was doing and turned around to see you standing a couple feet away from him. He seen tears stained on your cheeks.

“Hey, doll. What’s up?” Bucky asks.

Instead of saying anything, you walked over to him and hugged him. He wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I was just curious about what it was like to walk home from school. I shouldn’t have let my friends talk me into it. I promise to listen better and it won’t happen again.” You say, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Doll, look at me please.” Bucky says softly.

You sniffled and looked up at your dad.

“I want you to understand that I’m doing everything in my power to protect you. When I say no to something and when something isn’t worth the risk, that’s me protecting you.” He says.

“I understand, dad.” You replied.

“You’re a good kid and I love you.” He says, kissing your forehead.

“I love you too, dad.” You smiled, hugging him tightly.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 4

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

September

He doesn’t talk to the Munsons much. (Doesn’t talk to anyone, really, aside from his mom and Robin and that one older woman who keeps renting and returning Gone With The Wind as an excuse to leave her house.) He keeps his head down and his nose clean, doesn’t care to make friends with the neighbors; just wants to get by.

One day Eddie approaches their door, waving a gas bill that got mixed up in their mail, and Steve greets him pleasantly enough.

“Stab anyone today?”

“Eat glass, Harrington.”

So it goes.

Steve watches the world pass and the weather turn, lets the hours bleed into weeks and squeezes his eyes shut against the flashbacks when they threaten to overwhelm.

Things with his mom are weird.

They don’t really speak, preferring to shrug their way past each other with careful, tight-lipped nods, and his mom takes these pills the doctor gave her that keep her perfectly pleasant and calm. Silent. Physically present but not really here.

And he can’t imagine how it feels to be her: Florence Harrington, ripped from the comforts of the upper crust and left to rot in a tin can seven miles across town. She spends most of her time letting out weary little sighs as she swans from room to room, drifting like a shade on the banks of the River Styx. (He can make that reference now because Robin won’t shut up about mythology. “It’s so gay, Steve. The Greeks were literally so gay.”)

Anyway.

Shit’s weird with the kids, too. He still drives them around — lets them loiter at Family Video when it’s slow; hangs around when they need a ride to the arcade or the movies or the skating rink; and he’s still on the hook for ‘ice cream. for. life,’ so…

It’s just not the same.

Like. Not to be dramatic, but who the fuck is Steve Harrington without the house and the pool and the free-for-all fridge? Just some kid with a car and a bat and a punchable face. And he can barely afford to keep the car now, anyway, so pretty soon they won’t need him for that, either. They’ll learn to drive; they’ll get their own jobs. Maybe Lucas builds enough muscle to take over as the party tank.

Maybe it’s better if he shelfs himself now before they realize he’s become obsolete.

“Oh, my god, you’re being pathetic,” he groans to himself. His voice is muffled where he’s lying face down on the couch. Ridiculous behavior, because everything is fine; Steve is fine. In the grand scheme of things where there are monsters and melted corpses and all kinds of crazy, horrible shit?

Yeah.

He’s being obnoxious. It’s a lovely sunny Saturday afternoon with just the right Autumn breeze going — gentle but cool; long sleeve polo weather; his favorite kind — and he’s sitting inside throwing himself a pity party.

Fucking absurd.

…Five more minutes.

Just five more minutes, then he’s getting off this couch.

He gets to a minute and a half when he hears the crunch of tires against the gravel, the clanging of a little bell from the handlebar of a bike, and then:

“STEVE!!!”

And that’ll be Dustin, trying to bang the door off the hinges and piss off the whole park at the same time. Kid’s nothing if not a multitasker. Steve lets another aggrieved groan loose into the couch cushion.

His mom’s out with the car; the lights are all off. Maybe he can just play dead ‘til Dustin leaves? He loves the kid, he really does, but his left ear is full of static, and he just wants to fucking sleep. Or sulk. Or both.

“STEVEN CHRISTOPHER, I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE.”

Jeeeeesus Christ. “Okay, chill,” Steve grumbles as he hauls himself upright and throws open the front door. His limbs feel like lead; there’s drool on his chin. “Wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, why don’t you?”

“It’s two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah, and half the people here work nights.”

“Oh-kayy,” Dustin drags out the word, “but you don’t.”

Ugh. Whatever. He’s not gonna be shamed by a toothless teenager for his depressing loser tendencies. “Did you need something?”

Steve scratches at his belly hair through his shirt, feels a muscle twinge in his shoulder and send a spark of nerve pain skittering up to the base of his skull.

Dustin either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Steve’s body is falling apart where he stands, because he just rolls his eyes and says, “Uh, yeah. I need to know why you’re avoiding everyone? Mom’s tried to invite you to dinner six times now.”

“I was working.”

“All six times?” Dustin glares. Steve feels a little pinned by it, feels guilt seeping through the cracks as he fidgets with his bad ear. This kid’s gonna be the scariest lawyer some day. “She’s worried.”

Goddammit.

Guilt squeezes hard behind his ribs; he knows Dustin uses his mom as a mouthpiece for the feelings he can’t express. “I’m fine,” he sighs, letting his eyes and voice go soft. “Honest.”

Dustin holds firm, gaze fierce and fists clenched. “Bullshit,” he insists.

“Man, don’t—”

“Bull. Shit.”

Suddenly, their impromptu interrogation gets interrupted by a crashing drum fill, a shriek of electric guitar as Munson’s van squeals into the lot. He’s blasting some melodramatic metal shit about wizards or whatever; Steve doesn’t know. He only knows that the skitter of nerve pain he felt is ramping up to a fullblown migraine now because this guy has to listen to his racket at full fucking volume, apparently, and isn’t this all just “fucking great.”

—

part 5

[fuctacles]

<< 13 | 0 | 15 >>

Going on a lil break from wips as I'll be balancing christmasy, event, and personal shit. (Single dad Steve should still go out on Wed, tho.) Check out my events: @stevieweek @genderthings @stmonstercalendar And I'd like to thank you again for supporting me on ko-fi. I'm less scared of the upcoming months <3

Eddie feels the need to take his thoughts away from the public eye. Even if nobody can actually see them, he'd feel safer marinating in them in solitude. 

The inside of the house is chiller than the outdoors, which reminds Eddie of the financial gap between him and Steve. Whoever was in charge of building this place, must have known his shit. The Munson trailer is impossible to sit in without melting in the summer days. 

From his safe perch on the kitchen island, Eddie looks over the party outside. Everyone is having fun and none of them has any idea about his perverted, subconscious scheme. He's kind of disgusted with himself, but on the other side, he wonders what his brain has been trying to accomplish. He wonders if Steve was freaked out last night when he started undressing in front of him and if swinging his dick out this morning was an act of revenge. 

On one hand, Steve looks innocent and lovely in the afternoon sun, laughing at whatever joke someone has said. On another, he's a bat-biting lunatic with a mean streak known through the whole Hawkins High. He absolutely could flaunt his ass out of spite.

When the glass door opens, Eddie almost jumps out of his skin.

"Sorry." Will smiles apologetically.

"You're fine, Byers. Just drifted off a bit. What's up?" he asks with a tilt of his brow. The kid had an imagination that could match his own, and he'd grown fond of him even in the short period of time he'd known him. 

"I volunteered to grab sodas for everyone." Will points his thumb to their friends sitting outside. "Figured you wouldn't want Dustin bothering you if you need some space." 

Eddie can't help but smile. 

"That's very thoughtful of you, Will the Wise."

Will shrugs. 

"I try." He walks up to the fridge, but he seems to hesitate there. Eddie gives him time to think, sipping on his soda. "Do you need space? Or do you want to talk?" he eventually asks. 

The older boy hums. 

"I think it's too soon to talk about it. I'm not even sure what it is," he admits, heels kicking against the cupboards below him. 

He startles again when Will appears at his side.

"For fuck's sake, get a bell or something!" he hisses, clutching at his chest. But Will ignores his joke, looking thoughtfully somewhere else. 

"You've been spending a lot of time with Steve."

Eddie forces his shoulders to relax. There's no way he was that obvious, right? He himself has just figured it out. 

"Well, we can't spend all our time with you twerps," he defends. He risks looking towards the party and finds Steve looking back, frowning at the two of them talking inside. But he sends Eddie a small smile and turns back to the grill.

"No, of course. We're too young to chat about wills and taxes," Will shoots back with a serious nod. 

Eddie slaps his shoulder.

"Watch it, youngster, or there won't be any Will in my will." 

Byers presses his lips together, but Eddie knows it is a good joke, the kid just doesn't want to admit it. They're all buttheads like that.

"You know I'm gay, right?"

He blinks at the boy. 

"That's not going to take you off my will," he reassures, but Will's expression turns only more pained. "No, seriously, I don't care. As long as you're not diddling kids, or animals, or, or corpses—"

"You know what?" Will pushes away from the counter to gather the sodas he's been sent for. "Forget about it. Figure it out yourself. And please never use that word again."

"Which one? Diddling?"

"Yes. That."

Will is halfway through the living room when Eddie suddenly realizes what just happened. Little Byers was trying to give him The Gay Talk.

Little Byers. 

Who must have barely figured it out himself. 

Eddie shoots up from the counter, almost falling on his face in the process. 

"Byers, wait!" He sprints the small distance to stop him from getting to the door. Will looks unimpressed but he's more focused on balancing the cans in his arms so he stands still and waits. 

"Am I really that obvious?" Eddie asks in a whisper, sparing a worried glance over his shoulder. Thankfully none of their friends' attention was on them.

"You both are," Will informs him with a roll of his eyes. "It almost hurts to watch." 

It stuns Eddie enough that Will pushes through him towards the door. 

"Both? What do you mean both?"

"Figure it out!" Without looking at him, Will opens the glass door and leaves him alone with his thoughts again. And that's a dangerous company on a good day.

Because, both?

Could Steve Harrington, high school heartthrob, and Mister Hair, be into guys? Into Eddie, of all of them?

He looks up to search for him again, but it's not hard, as their eyes meet again. Steve raises his eyebrow and makes a little sideway nod as if asking him if he's coming back. Eddie nods wildly, makes a "T" with his hands, then points one finger up. In a minute. Steve smiles, visibly relieved, and holds up two plates of deliciously looking food.

Eddie's stomach somersaults as he realizes he has saved food for him. He quickly runs away to the kitchen to collect himself and grab something to share as well. 

On his way back, he passes by the stairs and suddenly freezes as the memory of last night hits him. 

Maybe Steve wasn't looking at his crotch because he was grossed out by Eddie's actions. 

Maybe they both should be sprayed with cold water like horny dogs. 

ko-fi (the smallest amount counts as the PLN to USD exchange rates are in my favor)

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[ladykailitha]

You're a Dream to Me Part 2

Woohoo! I love the response the first part got for this! Keep it up! I loved every like, comment, and reblog!

In this one we have the only chapter without a dream at the start, but we get see Eddie and Steve's lives without each other.

Part 1

~

To say Steve hadn’t ended up where he thought he would when he was in high school was an understatement. He had imagined working for his dad at the consulting firm he owned. But when he hit college and met Robin working at the on campus ice cream shop. The school’s mascot was the Buccaneers and so the place was called Scoop’s Ahoy.

They hadn’t started off as friends, but after being locked together in the back of the shop when a bomb threat had been called into the school, they came out of it as best buds.

He had decided after that that he didn’t want to do work for someone else, he wanted to own his own business and like the universe was looking out for him, after he had graduated from college he had come home and learned that the local bookstore was looking to sell.

And as much as Clint Harrington would have preferred his son with him, owning his own business was still in line with what he wanted for his son, so he didn’t think anything of it. That was until Steve turned it into a liberal arts bookstore with a strong leaning toward the LGBTQ+ community.

That was the final straw for the elder Harrington, cutting Steve off without a thought or so much as a backward glance. But what Clint hadn’t realized was that the trust fund had been setup by his grandparents and that the only access Clint had to it was to put money in and not take anything out, so Steve took the money from the trust fund and built the bookstore to what it was now, a thriving hub for the lost souls of Hawkins.

So when he said he loved his job, he meant it. But it wasn’t easy. He had a constantly revolving door of high schoolers who worked for him in the afternoons. But the mornings were tended to by Robin or him. Today it was him.

She would be by around ten coffee and donuts in hand. Vickie was a fifth grade social studies and band teacher. Which is why she hadn’t been grumpy with the wake up call this morning. She had already been at work for an hour by the time Steve had called.

He got to work opening up his store, happily humming some tune that was always playing in the background of his soulmate dreams.

The bell above the door rang out signaling his first customer. Steve looked up and died a little inside. It wasn’t a customer, because that implied the person might make a purchase and this one never would.

“Mrs. O’Donnell,” Steve said warningly. “I’m pretty sure that Chief Hopper told you to stay out of my shop, so don’t make me call him.”

The old English teacher had retired the year prior and made her mission to terrorize the bookshop about the books they sold. She stopped in her tracks when she saw who was manning the shop today. “Where’s the girl?”

A sudden chill slid down his spine. “If you aren’t out of my shop by the time I finish dialing the cops, you’re going to regret that statement.” He picked up the phone and started dialing from memory.

She continued to stare him down. “This is public property, I can come and go as I wish. You can’t stop me.” She gathered her purse to her chest like a shield and stepped further into the store.

Steve raised an eyebrow. “One, stores are private property and two, you started throwing books off the shelves the last time you were here, and that’s destruction of property.”

The old bat stopped in her tracks for the second time and turned to him with an evil grin. “They’d be my property if I bought them, right?”

Steve snorted and ignored her. If she was really that stupid, he wasn’t going to correct her. “Hello, yes, this is Steve Harrington from Coming of Page. Yes, I’d like to report a trespass. That’s right. Kathleen O’Donnell is back. Mhmm...of course I’ll wait.”

He waited, but Mrs. O’Donnell did not. But according to Officer Callahan, they had picked her up only a couple of blocks from the shop.

“Are you really going to press charges against an old woman?” he asked when Steve brought it up.

“It’s either this or you find another way to keep her out of my shop,” he snapped. “Because it’s a bookshop. It’s not even the only bookshop in town there are three other small bookshops and a Waldon’s Bookseller in the mall. I’m not making bank and it was lucky insurance paid out for the damage she did last time. An actual fucking crime, no less!”

Callahan grumbled but was duty bound to arrest her. So when Robin came in with her coffee and donuts he was already ready to throw in the towel.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” she murmured after she heard about his morning. “I should have told you she was harassing me when you weren’t there, but I didn’t want to make a bid deal out of it.”

Steve gave her a hug. “I understand that, but with you not telling anyone it just gave her permission to keep doing it, okay?”

She nodded sadly. “I’ll be sure to call you the next time it happens.” She wrapped her arms around him and settled into the hug.

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time because the old bat will be in jail,” he said fiercely. “People are just so bigoted these days.”

She raised her head. “That certainly true. Let’s eat these donuts and drink this coffee and you can tell all about your dream hunk.”

Steve laughed. Then they did just that. They talked about the sound of his voice and the feeling of his broad chest pressed against back.

“Well it sounds like he’s finally coming around to the idea of you as his soulmate,” she said when he had finished telling her about every detail of the dream.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed wistfully. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Later that day, Steve was humming a little tune and bopping to the music in his head when Dustin came in. Dustin still worked at the bookstore during his breaks from school for what Dustin called D&D money.

“Hey, I didn’t know you knew Corroded Coffin,” Dustin said as he clocked himself in at the computer. “That’s one of my favorites.”

Steve stopped what he was doing and turned to him. “I hear it in my soulmate dreams. My soulmate must be a huge fan.”

“Your soulmate is a metal fan?” Dustin said brightly. “That’s so cool!”

Steve just shook his head. Now that he knew the band his future soulmate liked, he would have to look them up to see what other songs might have been playing during his dreams.

“I’ll send you a link to all my favorites,” Dustin was saying. “And some other bands too, so that when you two finally meet, you aren’t totally a fish out of water with his tastes.”

“Thanks, bud!”

All the kids knew that Steve strongly suspected that his soulmate was a man. It made things easier for Mike and Will to get together as Mike had Steve to help work out his internalized homophobia.

He pulled out his phone when it went off to see that Dustin had done what he said he was going to do. He smiled fondly. Yeah, Mrs. O’Donnell could go kick rocks for all he cared, because he had his people.

~

Eddie was a professional above all else, especially when it came to his music, but there were days when he didn’t feel the music. Like he had been disconnected from the mainframe or like a puppet with its strings cut.

Jeff noticed it first. But that was because being on rhythm guitar he took his cues from Eddie so when the energy didn’t match their opening song he knew something was up. Brian and Gareth didn’t notice until about halfway through the third song when Eddie actually fucking missed a chord.

Gareth called a halt with his sticks, crossing them like an X to get the techs to stop, too.

“Okay, man,” Brian huffed, “what is with you today?”

“‘Cause if this about us teasing you about Steve,” Jeff said, gripping the body of his guitar, “we’re sorry. You are usually right there with us laughing about it.”

Eddie let out a long shuddering sigh and rubbed his chin. “It not just that. Because yeah, today I wasn’t in the mood to be teased about my long standing crush, but it was sleeping through my alarm, too. Getting yelled at first thing in the morning is exactly a recipe for a good day, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gareth said, “I’d be in a pretty shit mood, too.” The other two members nodded. “So why don’t we take a break, grab a smoke and clear our heads a bit?”

Eddie ran his fingers through his hair and let his eyes flutter shut. A cigarette did sound really good right now. “Yeah, and have one of the PAs run and get us some burgers. I didn’t have time to eat, so that might be affecting my mood too.”

So they took a break, had a smoke, got some food in their bellies and cleared their heads. They were all feeling a little better as they got on back on the stage to finish the sound check.

As Eddie was plugging in his guitar, Chrissy came up to him.

“Hey, you got a minute?” she asked. Eddie half shrugged, so she took that as sign a to continue. “I wanted to apologize for this morning. I heard a couple of the guys talking about how much it upset you and I shouldn’t have came in like a bull in a china shop, no matter how late you were.”

Eddie half shrugged again. “I’m an adult, Chris and you treated me like a child who was late for school. And I checked, no one had even tried calling me or texting me to see where I was. So yeah, I think I have a right to be pissed.”

Chrissy sighed. “I know. When I arrived and saw that you weren’t there I just stormed up on the war path and that wasn’t fair to you. So this me apologizing for it and I promise it won’t happen again, okay?”

Eddie nodded and then turned to Gareth and jutted his chin up to indicate that he was ready to go. Gareth counted out time on his sticks as Chrissy stepped back, chewing on her thumbnail.

She had royally fucked up this morning because she had a fight with Georgia this morning about how the two tours were going on at the same time and that it had been a deliberate choice for Chrissy to join Corroded Coffin instead of Lilith’s Little Monsters.

Which of course it had, Chrissy was their manager, but she wasn’t the one who had set the touring schedule that was the label, but no amount of explaining that did any good. So she had taken Eddie being late as a personal attack and went up there guns blazing. Which she really, really shouldn’t have done no matter what her own morning had been like.

She had known that the boys had gotten in super late and literally crashed into their beds and slept like the dead. She should have set up morning calls for all of them to make sure they were awake in time. But she hadn’t because she relied so heavily on Eddie’s need to be on time.

So she had set the tone for their morning and while their playing was vastly better than it been before the break, it wasn’t their best.

It was time to do some grovelling and not just with her band, but with her soulmate too. Since her boys were currently playing, she was going to start with her soulmate. She pulled out her phone and dialed Georgia.

“Hey, babe,” she murmured softly. “I’m sorry. You were right. I could have pushed a little harder so that the two tours wouldn’t line up, especially with Corroded Coffin having way more control with that sort of thing then most bands.”

“Oh, wow,” Georgia said, “I wasn’t expecting an apology, like ever. Thanks.”

Chrissy winced. “I know. I’m such a bitch. But I’m your bitch and I love you so much.”

“I love you too, honey,” Georgia laughed. “And I do know that it’s your job that you have to be there, I just rolled over in bed this morning and you weren’t there, so I chose violence.”

“I would have too,” Chrissy admitted. “We’re going to be in the same city at the same time for Boston, so I thought I would come woo my pretty wife and bring her flowers and the whole nine yards. How does that sound?”

“Sounds great,” Georgia breathed. “I’ve got to get to my sound check, but I love you.”

“Love you more,” Chrissy replied.

And then they said their goodbyes and hung up. Now to figure out how to make it up to Eddie.

She was going to have to do a lot of groveling to start. but she would figure it out.

~

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

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