#the light hits * stevie

[beseira]

what have you been up to?

though next gen had ended a while ago, it still lingered in her brain, it had been one hell of an experience. she thought she would do well since she’d been an idol before, but it was scolding after scolding. it felt like no matter what she did, it was never good enough. when it came to end, seira was sad she didn’t get a contract, but she was happy it was finally over. and as much as next gen had been hard, it wasn’t all bad. her motivation to become an idol again had skyrocketed, she was now more than sure that being an idol again was what she wanted to do with her life. and she’d managed to make a few friends throughout the show.

she sips on her iced tea, placing it down on the table in front of her before she speaks. “i’m glad you wanted to meet again, i’m curious as to what you’ve been up to” she smiles slightly to the other. “it’s nice to be talking without a bunch of cameras in our faces, always had to be careful about what we said during the show…”. “is this your first time being a trainee?” she asks. 

sending it to... @bexstevie

[my-chaos-radio]

Release: September 28, 1976

Lyrics:

Music is a world within itself

With a language we all understand

With an equal opportunity

For all to sing, dance and clap their hands

But just because a record has a groove

Don't make it in the groove

But you can tell right away at letter A

When the people start to move

They can feel it all over

But they can feel it all over people

They can feel it all over

They can feel it all over people, no, yeah

Music knows that it is and always will

Be one of the things that life just won't quit

But here are some of music's pioneers

That time will not allow us to forget now

For there's Basie, Miller, Satchmo

And the king of all, Sir Duke

And with a voice like Ella's ringing out

There's no way the band could lose

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over, yeah go

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

You can feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

I can feel it all, all, all-all-all over now people

Songwriter: Stevie Wonder

Can't you feel it all over?

Come on, let's feel it all over people

You can feel it all over

Everybody all over people, go

SongFacts:

👉📖

Homepage:

Stevie Wonder

[deansbeer]

★ fragile as lace, bound in leather // dean winchester.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

synopsis. you and dean share one final night together, tangled in desperate love and heartbreak. he believes he's no good for you, but letting go feels like tearing your soul apart.

warning(s). angst | smut | p in v (stay safe out there n wrap ur shit) heartbreak | emotional turmoil | doomed relationship | self-loathing | internalization of guilt | emotional vulnerability | depictions of crying during sex (?) | lingering pain of goodbye.

kari yaps. leather and lace by stevie nicks is to blame for this … but !!! i wanted it to be angsty & i haven't written smut in what feels like forever (it's so ass) so yeah <33

the motel room feels like a tomb. the heater rattles in the corner, failing to warm the stale air. it's cold, but not in the way that bites at your skin. no, this chill is deeper—buried in your chest, spreading into every hollow part of you that dean once filled.

he sits on the edge of the bed, his boots still on, his head hung low. the soft light of the bedside lamp casts shadows over his face, making him look older, wearier. his shoulders are tense, his hands clasped tightly between his knees. he hasn't said much, but he doesn't need to. you've known this was coming for weeks now, maybe longer.

"so that's it?" your voice is barely above a whisper, but the words feel like they echo in the room.

he doesn't look at you. his jaw clenches, his fingers twitching like he wants to reach for something—maybe you, maybe the door.

"yeah," he says finally, his voice rough, raw, like it's been scraped across gravel.

the words hit you like a punch, even though you've been bracing for them. still, they knock the air from your lungs, leaving you gasping as you stand there by the window, your fingers wrapped around the edge of the curtain so tightly your knuckles ache.

"why?" you press, your voice shaking. even though you already know the answer.

he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his face. "you know why."

"do i?" you fire back, stepping toward him. "because all i see is you giving up. on me. on us."

that gets him. his head snaps up at that, his green eyes locking onto yours. there's anger there, frustration, but underneath it, you see the pain—the same pain that's been eating away at you for months.

"don't do that, baby," he says finally, his voice low and sharp. "don't act like this is all on me. like this… you and me.. hasn't been falling apart for a long time."

"it doesn't have to," you insist, taking another step toward him. "we can fix it. we can—"

"no, we can't,” he cuts you off, standing abruptly. the sudden movement makes you flinch, but it's not fear—it's heartbreak. "we were doomed from the start."

the words are brutal, but the way his voice cracks betrays him. this isn't what he wants, you know that. but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

"no," you whisper, tears blurring your vision. "don't you dare say that."

he takes a step closer, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "you deserve better than this," he uttered, his voice breaking. "better than me. i'm no good for you. all i do is hurt people… drag them down. and you? you're… you're everything good in this world. and i can't ruin that."

his words hit you harder than any goodbye. they cut deep, carving out the parts of you that still believed in this, in him.

"i don't care about what i deserve," you say, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape. "i care about you. i love you, dean. isn't that enough?"

he closes his eyes like he can't bear to look at you anymore. "it's not," he says quietly, and the finality in his tone shatters something inside you.

you take another final step toward him, your hands trembling as they reach out to him. "please," you whimper, your voice barely audible. "don’t leave me."

for a moment, he doesn't move. and then, suddenly, he's on you—his hands cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that steals the air from your lungs.

it's not a gentle kiss. it's messy, frantic, filled with all the things he can't bring himself to say. his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can press himself into you, leave a piece of himself behind.

you clutch at his flannel, your tears mixing with the kiss as you pour every ounce of your love, your pain, your longing into it.

"dean," you gasp against his lips, your hands fumbling with his flannel, hastily shrugging it off of his shoulders.

"shh," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trail down to your neck. "don't talk. just... let me—"

he doesn't finish the sentence, but you know what he means. let him have this. let him have you, one last time, before everything falls apart.

his hands are everywhere—sliding under your shirt, gripping your hips, pulling you against him like he's afraid you'll disappear. you can feel the heat of his body through the layers of fabric, the way his heart pounds in his chest, and it makes you ache in a way that feels unbearable.

you tug at the hem of his shirt, your fingers shaking as you pull it up his torso. he shrugs it off, his lips right away latching back onto your skin as he backs you toward the bed.

when the back of your knees hit the mattress, he lifts you by the back of your thighs like you weigh nothing, laying you down gently even as his movements remain hurried, frantic. he pulls your shirt over your head, his hands sliding over your bare skin like he's trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you.

"god, you're beautiful, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice rough as his lips trail down your collarbone, to your chest.

you arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as you let yourself drown in the sensation of him. his lips, his hands, his weight pressing you into the mattress—it's almost enough to make you forget the agony waiting on the other side of this moment.

he undoes your jeans, his fingers brushing against your skin as he slides them down. you feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at you—like you're the only thing that matters—makes you forget your insecurities.

"baby," your bottom lip wobbled, as your hands move to the waistband of his jeans.

he helps you, kicking them off along with his boxers before settling between your thighs. his skin is warm against yours, his body solid and grounding in a way that makes you feel like you're floating.

when he finally pushes into you, it's slow, unhurried, like he's savoring every second. you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders as he fills you completely, the stretch and the heat overwhelming.

"look at me," he whispers, his forehead pressed against yours. "please."

you open your eyes, meeting his gaze. his green eyes are dark, filled with so much emotion it makes your chest ache. love, regret, longing—it's all there, written in the way he looks at you like he's trying to etch this moment into his memory.

he moves slowly at first, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that feels almost torturous. every thrust, every brush of his skin against yours feels like a goodbye, and it makes your heart shatter all over again.

"i love you," you voice, as tears spill down your cheeks.

he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, his movements faltering for a moment as he whispers against your mouth, "i love you too. more than you'll ever fucking know."

the words undo you. you cling to him, your nails digging into his back as your sobs shake your body. he doesn't stop—he holds you tighter, moves deeper, like he's trying to put you back together even as he's breaking you apart.

your release builds slowly, the pleasure mixing with the pain until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. when it finally crashes over you, it's overwhelming, your body trembling as you cry out his name.

he follows soon after, his movements growing erratic before he stills above you, his face buried in your neck as he lets out a low, broken groan.

the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, your heartbeats pounding in unison. he doesn't move, his weight pressing you into the mattress as his arms wrap around you like he's trying to keep you from slipping away.

"please don’t leave," you whisper in his ear.

he doesn't say anything. he just presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls away.

you want to stop him, to beg him to stay, but your body is too heavy, your heart too broken. you watch in silence as he gets dressed, his movements unrushed, like he's trying to draw it out.

when he's done, he looks at you one last time, his eyes filled with so much sadness it makes your chest ache.

"i'm so sorry," he tells you, his voice wavering.

and then he's gone.

you don't know how long you lie there, staring at the empty space where he used to be. the room is cold, the sheets still smelling like him, and the ache in your chest feels too much to bear.

you were the lace, and he was the leather. and no matter how tightly you'd tried to weave yourselves together, you were always destined to come apart.

[drdawnbreaker]

That post you made about Bucky and smoking got me thinking about how it would definitely be Steve walking in and I’m wondering if you could make a small little blurb about it 🫶🏻

Ooo yes, yes!! I have made two versions under the cut teehee. One is more comedic and light-hearted while the other is more smutty, hehe. Enjoy my anonnie <3 (also, if anyone hasn't read the first part, click here eee)

-

Fluff/Light-hearted verison

I feel like poor Stevie would be so shocked he would turn into a frozen soldier in the doorway. Imagine Tony has made a team meeting for god knows what, and he needed all his team members to attend. But yet you and Bucky were missing... again. So Steve, with a sigh, goes off to look for the both of you. But when he got to his bestfriends room, what he was about to be greeted with turned him into an unconfident boy too stunned to speak.

You were spread out on the island bench, your legs over Buckys' shoulders as the smell of weed hits Steve like a truck. Bucky would be drilling into you with so much force that your tits would be bouncing like crazy making Steve's ears turn red in a blink. What was worse, you noticed him almost immediately, and your loud moan turned into a gasp of poor Stevie's name. The noise would go straight to Steve's cock but with his hand quickly over his eyes he stuttered,

"Oh my.. I'm so ...uh..s-sosroyy. Iljustgoohmygod." There was not breath between his words as he turned to the exit. He almost ran into the door frame cause of his hand still tightly on his eyes, but luckily, he got out safely, making haste down the hall until he was back into the meeting room. Everyone was staring at him with a "well?" Expression but with Steve's bright ears, neck, and cheeks, most of them could quickly imagine what he had witnessed. And his small words would only confirm it...

"T...they are busy."

-

Spicy version

So think of the same situation right, but this time when Steve walked in, instead of being a stunned little deer. This bitch is cocky as much. His arms crossed as he leaned against the hall entrance wall, watching as you ride Bucky like your life depends on it while Buck lays spread on his couch. Your eyes met Steve before Bucky could notice. Your foggy brain would scream in joy that your Stevie had found you in such a compromised situation. Neither bucky or you have never denied to each other that Steve was hella attractive and the idea of inviting him had sprung on multiple occasions but they were quickly turned down when you both came to the conclusion of not wanting to scare your best friend away.

Yet, here he is. Standing proud watching you fuck yourself on Bucky thick cock while his grew tighter in his jeans. You suddenly gasped out Steve's name, making Bucky chuckle, knowing his best friend would be the one to come find them. So, without another beat, Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and snapped his hips up into you before grunting. "You joining or what punk?"

His voice was muffled from the way your tits bounced in his face with each thrust, his tongue teasing your sensitive nipples. Your eyes darted between the two of them, almost stunned that Bucky just offered you up on a silver platter to Steve. And Steve was more than happy to provide. Stripping himself of his shirt, you watched as he stalked you like fresh meat. It was only then when it dwelled on you that this wasn't the first time Bucky and Steve had discussed something like this. It was all too calculated and controlled for either of them to be winging it.

Steve took charge, his movements confident and purposeful as he snatched you off your boyfriend's cock before either of you could finish. Both men could see the way your juices that had a mix of Bucky's precum had dripped down your thigh, coating your cunt and beautiful soft skin. Bucky, ever the accommodating partner, allowed himself to be guided away, giving Steve the spotlight for the moment. And be guided away ment spreading his thighs wide with a smug expression as he lazily played with his cock. “Be a good girl for Stevie.”

With you now suddenly bent over the couch, your hands gripped the cushions while Steve stood behind you, his erection pressing against your bare red ass. He ran his hand gently over your smooth skin, tracing the curve of your waist before delivering a sharp slap to your right cheek. "Such a pretty thing you are, sugar," he growled, his voice deep and raw with desire.

You let out a startled moan, your mind spinning over the escalated situation. Your body was trembling from the sharp impact. But the sting only served to heighten your arousal, and you couldn't help but push your back against Steve's hand, craving more of his attention. Steve of course, happily obliged, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, leaving a faint pink mark that would surely bruise later.

“Such a good girl. Such a cute cunt too. And to think Bucky has been keeping you to himself for so long.” Steve almost sounding mockingly. Your boyfriend, who was still sitting at the end of the couch but now facing you two, laughed in response after taking a drag of the almost forgotten blunt on the coffee table.

“Can you blame me? If I could, I'd be inside her pretty pussy every goddamn day.” You couldn't help but mewl over the fact both of the super soldiers were talking about you as if you weren't here. Like you were their sacred prize that they had finally won.

“You like that huh, Sugar? Being stuffed full all the time.” Steve positioned himself at your leaking entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. “Bet you'd love it if we fucked you every hour. Filling you up with so much cum that you'll always be dripping for us.”

You cried as he plunged into you, deep and hard. Your eyes rolled back as you gasped out Steve's name over and over while your fingers dug into the couch, her nails leaving indentations in the fabric.

Steve's hips moved in a steady rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy. The sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room, along with Bucky's sharp snaps of his metal wrist.

Your moans grew louder, your body writhing with each thrust. Steve's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you relentlessly. You could feel his balls slapping against your clit with each forward thrust, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. “Steve I…I!”

“There, There Doll. I got you.” You felt your boyfriend's metal fingers graze over your wet cheeks. When did he move? you didn't have time to question before Bucky brought the blunt to your mouth, letting you inhale the intoxicating drug before patting the tip of his cock against your left cheek. “Open up for me, baby girl.”

You obliged excitedly, taking bucky down your soft throat. He planted his feet and knees firmly against the back of the couch as he began to slowly grind his hips against you. If someone were to walk in they'd get a perfect view of the white wolfs ass as he fucked your mouth raw while they'd be gifted a gorgeous sight of the captain america in pure pleasure. His head dipped back while his strong arms flexed with each thrust.

"Yes, sugar, take it all," Steve grunted, his cock head hitting the perfect spot against your gummy walls. "You like having two cocks inside you, don't you?"

You could only nod, her throat burning while you quickly got lost in the haze of pleasure. Steve's cock felt incredible, stretching you in ways Bucky's never could. Cause while bucky was long, Steve held girth. You felt yourself teetering on the brink of orgasm, your body trembling with the effort to hold back. “Bet you'd enjoy being fucked in both holes.”

“Oh She'd love it. Every time i fuck her tight ass, she always begs for a cock in her cunt too. Like the perfect little slut.” Bucky mocked fisting your hair, tangling it in his fingers as he left himself dip close to his high.

The sensation of being fucked by both men simultaneously was overwhelming enough but with the weed in your system it was like you were suddenly set into overdrive. Your body quivered, your pussy clenching around Steve's cock as you finally surrendered to your climax. Your muffled screams were music to the men's ears, making them both groan in response.

Steve's thrusts became more urgent, his own orgasm building as he felt your pussy pulsating around his thick shaft. Bucky's hips worked their magic, and your body started to convulse with wave after wave of aftershock. “Fuck I'm gonna cum down your pretty throat baby. Be ready to swallow every drop like a good girl.”

Bucky snapped his hips one final time before emptying his seed into your mouth, some of it leaked out around his shaft as he pulled out quickly, watching it drip down your chin and onto the floor but you did manage to swallow most of it. Opening your mouth with a flat tongue afterwards to show him of your good work. “Fuck, good job baby.”

Steve groaned next as his body tensed. He emptied his load deep inside your ruined Cunt. While Bucky, stroking his softening cock, leaned in to kiss you passionately, his hot breath contrasting with the cool air you had intook. As their breathing slowed, the three of you remained entangled, basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

“We are totally doing that again.” Your plea made both men chuckle, knowing this was the start of something unexpected but extremely exciting.

-

I didn't know how to end that ahah. So it's a little weird, but oh well, i hope you enjoyed it. And who knows, i make more with these three. And maybe let steve have a go taking his first blunt hehehe

[rainydayathogwarts]

Red BMW - Steve Harrington

summary: steve and reader are in a relationship and they just happen to have sex in the back of his car in a restaurant's parking lot. When they're done, a clueless Dustin knocks on their window. warnings: SMUT, car sex, almost getting caught 1.2k+ wc

You giggle loudly, dragging Steve by the hand as you run through the restaurant's parking lot, trying to find the right car. His red BMW lights up when he clicks his keys desperately, letting you tug the door to the backseat open, allowing him to climb over you, peeking out into the dark parking lot one last time before shutting the door closed. Steve chuckles when he turns back around to see you laying flat on your stomach, trying to shimmy your tight skirt over the curve of your butt. "Oh, that's how you want me sweetheart?" He only half-teases, knowing fully well that he enjoyed taking you from the back just as much as you did. "Yeah, Stevie." You mumble, gasping when he leans down to press a kiss onto the exposed nape of your neck, your hair falling to the side, dangling over the edge of the car seat.

Steve gropes the globes of your ass before hooking his fingers into the band of your thong and pulling it down your thighs. He quickly moves to undo his belt, pushing his trousers and boxers down his legs desperately, one hand already working itself into your entrance, two fingers pushing against your tight hole. "Steve I'm ready, just put it in." Your boyfriend laughs from over you, his deep voice only making you part your legs for him even more. Despite your words, he keeps pushing his fingers in you, quickly making work of stretching you out for his cock. "Come on Stevie, 'M so wet for your cock. Don't want your fingers." Steve fakes an offended gasp, finally pulling his fingers out of your entrance.

A loud gasp escapes you at the sudden emptiness, but it quickly turns into a moan when you feel Steve's hard cock pushing into you instead. Your body is supporting near to his full weight, his entire body pressed up right against yours as he begins rocking against you. You feel his dick dragging right up your cunt agonisingly slow, and you moan loudly, pushing your ass up against him. "Oh fuck sweetheart." Steve mutters against your neck, his forearms tucked underneath your shoulders so he can carry some of his weight off you. Your pussy throbs against his dick, and you try squeezing your legs for more friction, begging "Please. Don't tease, Steve."

The loud moan from him tells you he isn't lying when he replies with "Not teasing baby, just enjoying how you feel." But he speeds his pace up for you nonetheless, his pelvis making a loud smacking sound against your ass. You're sure the car is rocking with his strong movements, but the only thing you care about is your boyfriend's cock, and the way Steve starts sucking on the perfect spot on your neck. You whine at the extra stimulation, body jerky in pleasure. Steve's leg kicks the car door accidentally, barely fitting due to the inconvenient position you're in. His second leg rests on the car's floor, helping him push the rest of his body into you.

"Shit baby. I swear you were made perfect for me. Cunt's so tight around my cock." Steve's kisses move up your face, and his hand tugs your face to the side from where it's hidden in your arms. Your eyes are shut tightly in pleasure, mouth agape, letting your loud whines escape freely. His kiss on the corner of your mouth has your pussy pulsating against him, and you finally say "I'm so close Steve. You-you feel so-" Your words are cut off by a loud moan, a reaction to one of Steve's particularly hard thrusts. He pushes himself off his forearms and onto his hands, his knee squeezing itself between your thigh and the back of the carseat so that he can support himself on his leg, making his thrusts both harder and faster.

"Fuck!" You cry out. The sounds in the confined space were absolutely vile. Steve's new pace only made the sound of skin hitting skin louder, your loud moans paired with his raw grunts and whimpers creating a vulnerable environment. "Say my name baby." Steve begged, his thrusts becoming sloppy. You shifted your hips up, snaking a hand underneath you to rub circles on your clit. You moaned again, eyebrows furrowing "Steve, fuck Steve! M'gonna cum!" Steve's arms shook above you, panting loudly as he thrusted into you a few more times before moaning your name loudly, accompanying it with "Fuck, baby!"

His whines of your name had your thighs shaking, and you were coming undone within seconds, chanting Steve's name desperately. Your cunt squeezing his cock while you came triggered Steve's orgasm, and he cursed loudly, sweat dripping onto your back from his face as he shot spurts of cum into you. Steve's thrusts slowed, and he slowly let himself lay back down on you, rocking his hips slowly against you until you were gasping from the overstimulation, and his movements completely stilled. "Holy shit." Steve cursed, pressing his forehead next to yours against the carseat. "Holy shit is correct" You pant, chest heaving with each breath you took.

Steve pushed himself up and you whimpered as his dick pressed itself further into you before he pulled out completely, making you both moan at the sudden movement. You sat up so Steve could sit down next to you. Suddenly, he was pulling tissues out of the hidden box under the passenger seat, messily trying to clean you up before pulling your underwear back up and skirt down so that you were at least modest to some degree. You giggled at Steve's struggle, snatching the tissues from him to return the favour. Steve stuffed the dirty tissues into the door's compartment, leaning back against the seat to catch his breath fully.

Looking over at you with a wide grin, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. You squealed, falling against him with a loud giggle. "Can I get a kiss now?" Your boyfriend kindly asked, smiling when you pressed yourself up against him, leaning up to kiss him softly. "You were so quick to get to business that I missed these gorgeous lips." He spoke against your lips. Cheeks flushing, you dug your head into Steve's chest, mumbling "Flirt."

A knock against the car window had you flinching, spinning around quickly to find Dustin standing out in the cold with a wide smile, waving frantically at you both. You looked back at Steve, unable to help the smile from making its way onto your face as you rolled the window down. "Hey Dustin!" You and Steve spoke in unison. "I knew I recognised this red BMW!" he cheered. "What are you doing here?" You asked. The boy grinned at you, holding up a paper bag with grease splotches on it. "Food!" "All alone?" Steve inquired, frowning when the boy nodded. "That's dangerous, Dustin." You scolded, opening the car door. "Hey, how come are you guys in the back seat?" He asked, sitting down next to you when you shuffled down to make more space for him.

You and Steve glanced at each other before you said "Uh, discussing life. Deep conversations, you know?" The boy looked at you for a moment, nodding while taking a sip from his drink before he frowned, pulling a disgusted face at you, evidently noticing how flushed your faces were. "Ew! Gross!" You giggled, pushing Steve out of the door he just opened on his side of the car and racing to the passenger seat and he hopped into the driver's seat. "Hey, no fair! Why do I have to sit in the back when you just had sex here!?"

[lexirosewrites]

Hello, I saw you only had one submission for tomorrow and so I have come with Thoughts that I have made just for this. It's Steddie but we're going to focus on Max for context and fluff; you CANNOT have O!Steve without considering his pups, okay??

Max, with all her Family Issues, doesn't always immediately believe that people care about her, at least as much as she cares about them??? And also, she's never going to SAY she cares. You kind of just have to Figure It Out through proximity and the rare times she is willing to imply she would not say no to your company or assistance.

As such, she knows O!Steve cares about her. He got hit in the head with a fucking plate for her (and the others, but it was Billy, so it was also very for her), not to mention the rest of the UD stuff with him protecting everyone. But she doesn't really know that A!Eddie cares about her like that?? It's not like she thinks Eddie doesn't like her, they talk and joke and he gives her rides to group events because they're neighbors, but there's a difference between "I don't mind this kid" and "i care about what happens this pup," you know? She's not offended, it's just a fact of life that not everyone is going to be particularly concerned with her.

Max used to show up randomly at Steve's to spend the night when home was a bit much, but then Eddie and Steve started dating. Steve would never ask her not to come over even if Eddie is there, and Eddie might not mind her presence sometimes, but she doesn't want to impose so she just deals with it and stays home.

Maybe one day she's out on her skateboard after Hellfire (she doesnt play, but she and El hang out in the vicinity and talk), and the weather turns bad super quick. Thunder, lightning, freezing cold, pouring rain, the works. She doesn't have any change to use a payphone, so she's like tucked under an awning that shields her from about 10% of the rain.

A car comes by after about half an hour, and she gets briefly blinded by the headlights, but then they're driving away. Except then they're not. The car did a super illegal U-turn and is parked on the sidewalk, and it's not a car, it's a van. It's Eddie's van, and he's jumping out of the driver's seat and running over. He's got his leather jacket on, but as soon as he's next to Max, he's taking it off and holding it out to block her from the rain.

They run back to the van, Max still wrapped in his jacket, and Eddie cranks up the heat and starts rambling about trying to find her while he starts driving. Max is like "?? Find me??? You saw me half an hour ago???? Weren't you going to your boyfriend's????" And Eddie looks at her like she's speaking in tongues and is like "yeah?? And then it started fucking pouring so I called your house to make sure you got home okay but no one picked up. I drove over to see if you were just asleep, but no one was at your trailer so I came looking. "

Max is like. Positive she's not processing this correctly. So she's like "you were at your boyfriend's house. And you stopped your date to call me. And when I didn't pick up, you left your date. To drive all the way home, in this weather. And then drove around to find me because I wasn't there." And Eddie's just like "yeah, that's about it"

And look, Max isn't just going to Announce that this sounds like absolute nonsense, because that's a bit too much vulnerability, but it's probably written on her face, because Eddie glances over and suddenly the van is full of Reassuring Protective Alpha scent. His tone is super light and chill (probably for her benefit) but he just goes "like it or not, Red, you're one of my pups now. I might have to share you with Stevie, because he'd fight me for sole custody in a heartbeat, but that just means you're ours. Now come on, you haven't been home in ages and Stevie missed you."

Max just kind of looks at him confused, but then she looks out the windshield and they're at Steve's house, and Steve is already throwing open the door looking super relieved and he runs over with like a huge umbrella and holds it over Max specifically while he gets her inside, and he fusses over her and she allows it (just this once) and then she takes a shower to warm up and when she gets out there's a pair of Steve's shorts and Eddie's shirt waiting for her to put on while her stuff dries and their scents are super nice together and they smell like Home and Pack. Then they all drink hot chocolate and watch a movie and Max stays the night and never worries about coming over again.

The End and whatnot

-irrelevantbutembarrassing

🥲🥲🥲 she’s their pup

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Coming home to you

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 2

Prompts: Soft and slow & Clothes on

Words: 1,339

Rated: E

Tags: Post-Vecna; Everybody lives; Established relationship; Kindergarten teacher Steve; Domestic fluff; Fluff and smut; Soft dom Eddie; sub Steve; Groping; Dry humping; coming in pants

Eddie is halfway through composing an absolutely sick riff when the front door slams shut. The sound rattles the walls of the apartment and sends one of their framed photos askew. Eddie blinks, pulling off his headphones and taking a few moments to get his bearings. It’s starting to turn dark outside and his stomach is rumbling. Shit, for how long was he out? 

“Stevie? You home?” he calls, but the apartment stays quiet, bar for the creak of the bedroom door and the thud of a body hitting the mattress. Eddie frowns, setting the guitar aside and padding across the hallway. 

A look into their bedroom reveals Steve, spread out on the bed like a starfish. His shoes are lying by the foot end, but that’s as far as he’s managed to undress before collapsing face-down into the sheets. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, sinking down onto the bed and laying a comforting hand on his ankle. “Rough day?” 

“wha dof ip loolie?” Steve says into the mattress. 

Eddie doesn’t rise to the bait, just laughs lightly and crawls further onto the bed, hand migrating from Steve’s ankle up to the small of his back. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Steve’s back rises and falls under the weight of his enormous sigh, but he does turn his head to unstick his face from the pillows. 

“Josh and Christopher got into another fistfight at lunch. Ever tried prying two five-year-olds out of a fistfight? They're at perfect level with your crotch.” 

“Ouch,” Eddie winces, fingers creeping under the hem of Steve’s polo to caress the dip of his spine, just over the waistband of his jeans. 

Steve huffs. “Yeah, ouch. I had to call their parents about it, and you know how Josh's mom is, her son's a perfect little angel in her eyes. And while she was busy yelling at me, the rest of the group got into the finger paint, so guess who's been cleaning the classroom all afternoon.” 

His eyes are large and round and miserable as he looks up. There's a big smudge of pink paint just below his hairline, and Eddie feels something unbearably fond flutter in his chest. 

“I dunno,” Steve shrugs. It turns into a weird, twitchy kind of movement, what with the way he’s still very much embedded in the mattress. “Sometimes I think this isn’t the job for me after all.”

“Aw, baby,” Eddie coos. He shifts so that he’s lying next to Steve, gently coaxing him to turn to his side, so that they are facing each other. “You were made for this job. The kids love you, and what’s some bitchy moms if you’ve fought an interdimensional war?” 

Steve huffs a dry laugh, fingers linking at the base of Eddie’s neck. “Are you suggesting I bring the nail bat to my next Meet the Teacher day?”

“That would be so fucking sexy,” Eddie murmurs, and lets himself be pulled in. 

It starts out innocently enough. A soft press of lips against lips, the gentle tickle of hands running through hair, that beautifully warm feeling blooming in his chest as Steve melts into his touch. Steve sighs against his mouth, low and content, and Eddie nips lightly at his bottom lip, asking for entrance. For a while, they lose themselves in the lazy glide of spit and tongues, legs tangling in the sheets, hands roaming over the familiar curves of shoulders and chests and hips. It's only when Eddie’s hands start fumbling for the fly of Steve’s pants that Steve makes a reluctant sound and breaks the kiss.

“What's wrong?” Eddie asks. “The headaches again?” 

“No,” Steve smiles at him, bashful and soft in the fuzzy light of the darkening room. “Just … fucking exhausted I guess. Sorry, I don't think I'll be up to it today. Can't even muster the energy to take off my clothes, leave alone-” 

“Oh?” Eddie says, cupping the very obvious bulge in Steve's pants and grinning at the startled gasp it gets him. “Don’t worry, baby. You won’t have to take off a thing.” 

Steve laughs, hoarse and breathy with arousal. “What are you on about, huh? There’s no way in hell you can get me off with my clothes o-oh.” 

He trails off into a low moan, forehead sagging against the crook of Eddie’s neck, long lashes tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks around a chuckle. His one hand continues palming Steve through the fabric of his pants, feeling him grow hard under his touch, while the other splays against the small of his back, pulling him closer. “I bet I can. I bet it’s easy. You’re so responsive, baby, so eager for me to take you apart. Give me half an hour and I’ll have you coming in those pants.” 

“Fucking show-off,” Steve snorts, but his hips have started rolling in slow, rhythmic motions to meet Eddie’s touch. His lips tickle Eddie’s pulse. “Go on then. Prove it.” 

“Gladly, sweetheart,” Eddie says, letting his voice drop to that gravelly rumble that Steve likes. The one that always makes Steve go soft and pliant in his hands, trusting Eddie to do whatever he wants with him. And damn, if he isn’t the luckiest bastard in the world for it. “Your wish is my command, you know that.” 

He presses his lips to that magnificent head of hair, and Steve’s cock twitches in his hand. 

*

“Eddie.” 

Eddie chuckles, teeth grazing the shell of Steve’s ear. He always loves it when Steve says his name, but especially like this. Like a plea. Like a prayer. 

“Hm, baby? What do you need?” 

“Please,” Steve babbles, then swallows and licks his lips, remembering he’s supposed to use his words. “Please, I need to come.” 

“Aw, honey,” Eddie laughs, caressing the curve of Steve’s ass. They’re still lying on their sides, Eddie’s leg wedged firmly between Steve’s thighs, Steve panting into the crook of his neck. His cock is rock-hard in the tight confines of his jeans. Hard just from humping Eddie’s leg, just from Eddie whispering sweet filth in his ear, Eddie’s hands and lips teasing him in all those places he likes to be teased. “But your half hour isn’t even close to over.” 

Steve moans, desperate and broken, and it’s the most delicious sound in the world. When he rocks his hips to grind himself against Eddie’s leg, Eddie cups his ass to pull him flush against him, and the moan turns into a sob. 

“Fuck it, I can’t- … Please, Eddie, I’m so close, I need to- Please, please, please let me come.”

Did Eddie mention he’s the luckiest motherfucker in the whole goddamn world? 

“Of course you may come, Stevie,” he says, brushing back a sweaty strand of chestnut hair and kissing Steve’s temple. “Go ahead.” 

Steve does before he even finishes the sentence, shattering apart with a hoarse scream, and Eddie takes him by the jaw to guide him into a long, languid kiss, licking the sound right out of his mouth. He continues to kiss him while Steve trembles through the aftershocks, only pulling him against his chest when he finally collapses in a boneless heap. 

“Feeling better now?” 

“So much better,” Steve slurs. His smile is bright and off-kilter as he leans up for a peck on the lips. “There’s only one small problem.” 

“Oh? What’s that?” Eddie yawns, stretching his arms above his head and making himself comfortable in the pillows. 

Steve shifts, the movement warm and sticky against Eddie’s leg. 

“Well, I definitely need to shower now,” he declares. “But I’m still so fucking tired. I’ll be lucky if I even manage to undress, leave alone clean myself up.” 

Eddie stares at him. “What, seriously? Fifteen minutes ago, you were ready to fall asleep on me and now you want seconds?” 

“You got a problem with that?” Steve winks, tangling their hands together and pulling him off the bed and towards the bathroom. “I thought my wish was your command.” 

And well … Eddie can’t really argue with that, can he? 

More smutty September

[infimace-blog]

Thinking about rap as a technical artform and rap as a cultural artform, with respect to Tumblr's incompetence at dealing with either. Tumblr can just barely grasp the former because, like all forms of Black music, it's been repackaged in various ways that are more palatable to to white audiences. I talked last month about how what Tumblr was calling rap while trying to defend its taste in music is more akin to filk songs, but I should admit, sometimes Tumblr cites people who actually rap. It doesn't fix the problem or absolve them of their bullshit, but it is true.

The failure then becomes an inability to recognize or care about how rap functions culturally.

People on Tumblr will take Dungeon Meshi and intricately pick apart how a single chapter connects back to real-world neurodivergence issues and the cultural differences between the West and the East when it comes to handling them, and then look at any given rap song and assume it's skin-deep. Unless it's Hamilton back in the late 2010s, before we all decided it was cringe, in which case they'll gladly dig into the history of the early USA and, like the play itself, sidestep the racism whenever possible.

Take Weird Al, one of the many names that's been thrown around in Kendrick and Drake's wake. Weird Al is technically a rapper. He has done rap. We cannot ignore that as a factual statement. He's not even that bad as a rapper. But he has no engagement with rap as a cultural object; he engages with the artform as a parodist. "Amish Paradise", probably Weird Al's most popular rap parody, doesn't say anything; it's here to riff on a religious minority. But you dig into it just a little and you can see the kind of complexity that Tumblr usually loves to talk about. The song is, after all, a parody of Coolio's Grammy-winning "Gangster's Paradise", which is literally about being a black man in an environment dominated by organized crime and fearing the constant threat of death in that life, but was also created specifically for the movie Dangerous Minds, a middling white savior movie about Michelle Pfeiffer teaching a bunch of bad stereotypes of what people think inner city non-white students are. A movie that was, in turn, based on a white woman's memoirs about teaching in a bad school near San Francisco. You've got this interplay between a white woman's real-life efforts to teach her black and Latino students (I can't speak to how effective she was, mind you), a fictionalized version of that same woman being shown as the sole guiding light for her underdeveloped gangbanging students - and a white actress's crappy Kipling-ass 5/10 film getting Coolio his Grammy. It was tailor-made to be Coolio's big hit with white audiences, getting the push of Michelle Pfeiffer, having slow and deliberate rapping, and lacking the swearing in most of Coolio's oeuvre (Stevie Wonder mandated no swearing in return for letting Coolio sample his music). And, though I suspect this was unintentional, the song plays into the same narrative that the movie does, how this rapper is doomed to his life because "nobody's there to teach [him]", with dramatic choir and strings underscoring the dire fate that awaits this rapper if some charitable white person doesn't help him - the same dramatic choir and strings that Weird Al uses for comedic effect by comparing it to Amish farmwork.

I put that last paragraph together with two or three hours of Wikipedia, and you can do the same kind of analysis with a lot of hit rap songs (and Genius is right there if you need a helping hand - I wouldn't have understood much of Kendrick's Euphoria without it), and I think this drives a lot of my frustration? Tumblr loves to see something cool and then take a few days to write an in-depth post about how cool it is under the surface. So the lack of this when it comes to rap does show a deep disinterest in thinking about it when it isn't fun. And there's so much cool shit to learn about rap. Did you know that Baby Got Back was inspired by the anti-black fatphobia Sir Mixalot's model girlfriend was dealing with in her industry, and was pushing back against the media's general preference for skinny white women? Did you know that there's a Turkish hip-hop scene specifically in Germany because, as a minority that was brought to the country for cheap labor and then forced to exist as second-class citizens, they ended up relating a lot to the music? Just. Dig a bit. There's so much.

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x reader AU

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: ANGSTTYYYYY, swearing

A/N: here we areeee sorta lmao

Masterpost

Steve walked you up the steps to your apartment, the silence between you both heavy but not uncomfortable. The city lights flickered faintly in the distance, casting a soft glow on the quiet street. You paused at the door, fumbling with your keys, when Steve broke the silence.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm. His blue eyes searched yours, filled with concern. “I mean, Bucky’s bound to come back sooner or later.”

You offered him a small, tired smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay, Steve. You’ve done enough for me tonight. This… this is something I need to figure out with him. Just the two of us.”

Steve hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” you said, your voice soft but steady. “I’m a big girl, remember? I can handle it.”

Steve sighed, then pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His warmth was grounding, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to just exist in that safe space he always seemed to provide.

“I’ll always be here for you,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet promise. “No matter what.”

You squeezed him back, your heart aching with gratitude. “I’ll always be here for you too, Stevie. And… I’m sorry.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders, and gave you a small, sad smile. “You have nothing to apologize for. Not to me.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you couldn’t find the right response. You just nodded, your throat tightening. Steve leaned down and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to your forehead before stepping back.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

With one last lingering glance, Steve turned and made his way down the steps, disappearing into the night. You watched until he was out of sight, the ache in your chest deepening. Taking a deep breath, you turned back to the door, bracing yourself for what was to come.

As you closed the door behind you, you felt it—the subtle shift in the air, the unmistakable presence of someone else. Your heart jumped, and when you looked up, there he was.

Bucky was sitting on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly. His head snapped up the moment you walked in, his blue eyes locking onto yours. The apartment was silent except for the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, staring at each other, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down like a suffocating blanket.

Finally, Bucky broke the silence, his voice low and rough, tinged with something that sounded dangerously close to desperation. “Can we talk?”

Your throat tightened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Part of you screamed to say no, to protect what was left of your shattered heart. But another part—the one that had clung to him for so long, even when you shouldn’t have—was too tired to keep running.

You nodded stiffly, your voice barely audible. “Yeah. We can talk.”

The tension in the room was unbearable, the silence crackling with unspoken truths and jagged edges. Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“You wanna sit?” he asked hesitantly, his voice soft, almost careful.

You shook your head, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “No. I’d rather stand.”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before he looked back up at you, his eyes stormy and unsteady. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted, his voice rough, almost raw.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, sharp and humorless. “Well, there’s a lot to unpack, Buck,” you shot back, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and exhaustion.

He flinched, but nodded again. “I know,” he said quietly, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of it all was finally dragging him down.

The silence between you stretched out, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the words bubbling up, the frustration, the hurt—it was too much to hold in any longer.

“You had no right,” you said suddenly, your voice slicing through the stillness.

His head snapped up, confusion flickering across his face. “What?”

“You had no right to tell me about Steve,” you snapped, your tone biting. “That wasn’t yours to share! I can’t believe you’d do that to him—to me! He’s your best friend too Bucky!”

He recoiled, his jaw tightening as his face crumpled in guilt. “I—”

But you weren’t done. “And you had no right to punch Dean, no matter how you felt about him. Or to make those snarky little comments about me not being able to handle a real date. What the hell is wrong with you, Bucky? And for what? Why?”

Bucky looked at you, his blue eyes shining with something raw and unguarded. He opened his mouth, but it was clear he was struggling to find the words. Finally, his shoulders sagged, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

“You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “You’re absolutely right.”

You blinked, not expecting his immediate agreement. The anger bubbling in your chest faltered, leaving behind a hollow ache.

“I had no right to any of it,” he continued, his voice rough and remorseful. “Not to tell you about Steve, not to hit Dean, not to say those things to you. I—” He stopped, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “I’ve been an asshole to you, and I know it. I know that. And I’m sorry.”

The words sounded genuine, but they weren’t enough to soothe the pain in your chest. “Sorry doesn’t fix this, Bucky,” you said, your voice trembling. “Sorry doesn’t undo everything you’ve done.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking again. “I know it doesn’t. And I know it probably never will be enough. But I don’t know why I do it. I don’t know why I say the things I say, why I push you away and pull you back, over and over again. I don’t know why I—” His voice broke, and he took a deep, unsteady breath. “I just know that I can’t lose you. I can’t. Not as a friend. Not as anything. I can’t, I won’t live a life without you in it… a part of it.”

Your heart clenched at the desperation in his voice, but it only fueled your frustration. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re the victim here, Bucky!” you snapped, your tears finally spilling over. “You’ve hurt me so many times—more times than I can count. Do you even realize what you’ve done? How much you’ve hurt me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I realize it every fucking day.” Bucky’s voice is low, rough, as he takes a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. His blue eyes blaze with frustration, pain, and something deeper—something raw and unfiltered. “But, what about me?” he snaps, his voice trembling. “What did you think those moments meant to me? When I would try and try and try to break through those walls you had up? You think that was easy? It wasn’t.”

Your breath catches, and you take a step back, but he follows, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting. “Every time I tried to get close, every time I put myself out there, you’d shut me down. You’d give me that look, and then you’d fuck off like none of it mattered. Do you think it was easy for me? It wasn’t.” His voice cracks slightly, but he powers through. “You’re acting like this is all my fault, but it’s not. This is a two-way street, sweetheart.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the walls pressing tighter with every word, the air thick and suffocating. Bucky’s voice reverberates in the charged silence, raw with an intensity that shakes you to your core.

Your voice trembles as you finally manage to speak, your words slipping out, shaky and sharp. “Do you blame me? That night in college—we dove headfirst into it! Y-you never even tried to talk to me about it after. What was I supposed to think? To feel?!” You pause, your voice breaking. “You had a reputation, Bucky! What was I supposed to believe?”

His face twists, a mixture of frustration and pain that spills over in his words. “We’re going back to that night again, huh?” he growls, pacing the length of the room like a caged animal, his movements restless, his fists clenching at his sides. “Fine. Let’s remember.”

He turns to you suddenly, his voice rising, cracking under the weight of the emotions he’s been carrying for years. “You left me that night! I never left you! You walked out on us, on the possibility of something real, and you didn’t even look back. You assumed!” His voice breaks on the word, loud and desperate as it ricochets off the walls. “Because you always fucking assume! You never stopped to think about what it meant for me—what it actually meant for me—that night. You leaving…”

His pacing stops abruptly as he runs both hands down his face, dragging his palms over his stubble like he’s trying to hold himself together. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his breathing ragged. “What about me?” he asks, his voice cracking, and for the first time, he looks at you like he’s completely unraveling. “What about me?”

Your breath hitches, and the tears that have been burning at the corners of your eyes finally spill over. You don’t even try to stop them as you glare at him through the blur of your tears. “You never clarified anything to me, Bucky!” Your voice is trembling but sharp, slicing through the tension. “You just let those rumors float around! And even after we had sex, you never stopped them! You still went out with girls, you still slept with them! And you wanted me to just… somehow know that it actually meant something to you?!”

Bucky’s jaw tightens as your words hit him like a physical blow. His hands drop to his sides, clenching into fists. “Of course you should have known!” he yells, his voice cracking under the strain. “It’s YOU! For god’s sake, it’s you! You’re not just anyone, and after all these years, all this time, how could you think of me like that? How could you not see it?”

His breathing is erratic, his blue eyes boring into yours, raw and pleading. “And for the record,” he says, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost broken tone, “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

You shake your head, your disbelief immediate and sharp. “That’s bullshit. I don’t believe you.”

Bucky lets out a bitter, humorless laugh that slices through you. “Of course you don’t. You never do apparently! But you believe everybody else, don’t you?” He takes a step closer, his voice rising again, full of pain and accusation. “Everyone except your best friend. You’ve known me since we were five, and you still think I’m lying?”

Your voice shakes, your anger breaking through your tears. “Fuck you,” you snap, your words trembling with both fury and heartbreak. “That was over two years ago! Don’t stand here and tell me you haven’t slept with anyone in two years, Bucky!”

He lets out a hollow laugh, shaking his head as he lifts his right hand, his fingers splaying out. “I’ve got a hand, don’t I?”

The bluntness of his words stuns you into silence for a moment. The room feels impossibly small as his voice drops, quiet but raw with emotion. He takes a hesitant step closer, his blue eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t think I’ve tried?” he asks, his voice breaking on the words. “I’ve tried! I tried with Kate. I’ve tried with others. But I just can’t.” His hands fall to his sides, his voice rising with desperation. “Because it feels wrong without you. Everything feels wrong without you.”

His confession hangs in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating, and you’re left standing there, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it’s about to burst. The vulnerability in his voice, in his posture, is devastating. You’ve never seen him like this—so unguarded, so exposed—and it cuts deeper than you thought possible.

And for a moment, the world seems to stand still.

Summer before senior year

The sun was casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet neighborhood as Bucky finally reached your house. His chest heaved with exertion, and his knuckles were bruised and bleeding, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was finding you.

The house was eerily silent as he approached. He pounded on the door, his heart in his throat. He called your name, his voice cracking with desperation. “It’s me. Please… are you here?”

No answer.

Bucky clenched his fists, the pain in his knuckles grounding him as panic threatened to take over. He stepped back, his eyes scanning the windows, the driveway, any sign that you might be home. He was about to start circling the house when he noticed movement down the street.

It was you.

You were walking slowly, your arms wrapped around yourself, your head down. Even from a distance, Bucky could see the way your shoulders were hunched, like you were carrying the weight of the world. His heart broke at the sight.

He called your name, jogging toward you. The sound of his voice made you stop in your tracks, but you didn’t look up. He reached you within seconds, skidding to a halt a few feet away. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice trembling.

You lifted your head, your tear-streaked face cutting him like a knife. “Bucky,” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He took a cautious step closer, his hands raised slightly as if approaching a wounded animal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said softly. “Steve told me… he told me what happened.”

Your lip quivered, and you quickly looked away. “You didn’t have to come, i didn't ask you too…” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“Yes, I did,” Bucky said firmly. “I did because…” He trailed off, his fists clenching at his sides as he struggled to find the right words. “Because I care about you, You’re my best friend. And I’m sorry for telling you that you couldn't come to me, for making you feel that way, I’m sorry for everything.”

Your eyes finally met his, and he saw the anger and hurt swirling within them. “You were right, though,” you said, your voice breaking. “Mike didn’t care about me. He didn’t even want to stay.”

Bucky’s chest tightened. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I feel like this is my fault. Like… like maybe if I’d told you about Carley, if I’d been honest with you from the start, you wouldn’t have felt like you had something to prove.”

You blinked, startled. “What does Carley have to do with this?”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I never told you about her because I was ashamed. I wasn’t ready for… any of it, but I did it anyway because I felt like I had to. Everyone else was moving on, and I thought I should too.”

He paused, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you rarely saw. “But it wasn’t what I thought it would be. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like it thought it should’ve. And I hate that you had to go through that with Mike. That it wasn’t… that it wasn’t what it should’ve been for you either.”

You stared at him, your heart twisting painfully. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you deserve to know,” Bucky said quietly. “And because I never want you to feel like you have to settle for less than you deserve.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, his voice trembling as he asked, “Can you forgive me?”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him. Bucky froze for a moment before his arms came around you, holding you tightly as if he could somehow piece you back together.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered into his chest. “For everything, i never wanna lose you Buck”

Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his eyes closing as he held you. “We’ll be okay, we’ll always be okay, its us”

“I have loved you since we were kids,” Bucky’s voice broke, his words raw and desperate, the kind that claw their way out of a person when they’ve been buried too long. He stepped closer, his hands trembling at his sides, his blue eyes blazing with emotion. “How could you not see it? How could you not feel it?”

His voice rose, cracking under the weight of his emotions, and his fists clenched as if trying to hold himself together. “I love you. I have always loved you. I LOVE YOU!” The words ripped from him like they’d been burning a hole in his chest for years, finally too powerful to contain.

His shoulders sagged, and his breath hitched as he continued, his voice softer now but no less intense. “Every time, every single time—you needed something, you called me, and I came running. I dropped everything for you. Everything. Even when you didn’t ask, I was there. I chose you, over and over again. And every damn time, you never saw it.”

His gaze locked onto yours, his anguish laid bare. “I’ve spent years waiting, hoping you’d notice. Hoping you’d see me—not just as your friend, but as the guy who would do anything, be anything, just to make you happy. But you didn’t. Or maybe you did, and you didn’t care. Either way, it’s been tearing me apart.”

His words hung heavy in the air, the silence crackling with tension as he stood there, breathing hard, his raw confession filling the space between you. For the first time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t just your best friend—he was a man who had reached his breaking point, stripped of every defense, standing exposed in front of you, waiting for you to either put him back together or shatter him completely.

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as tears streaked down your face. “No. No, you don’t get to say that now. You can’t just say that now.” Your voice cracked, raw with the weight of everything you’d held inside for years. You wiped at your tears with trembling hands, frustration bubbling over. “It wasn’t obvious, Bucky! Maybe in your goddamn head it was, but not to me!”

Your voice rose, trembling with anger and heartbreak. “How could it have been? You were always with someone else, or talking about another girl. Every time I started to think, maybe—maybe—this isn’t just in my head, you’d do something to prove me wrong. You’d flirt with someone else. You’d talk about someone else.” You gesture wildly, your emotions spilling out uncontrollably now. “And you expect me to believe that this—that we—was obvious?”

Bucky flinched, his eyes wide, but you pushed forward, unable to stop yourself. “We had moments, Bucky. God, so many moments where I thought maybe… maybe. But you never did anything. You never said anything. You just left me sitting there, waiting—wondering if I was crazy for even hoping.” Your voice cracked, and your hands fell limply to your sides. “You never tried. You never did a damn thing. And now you stand here, years later, telling me this? Now?”

You could see the pain etched across his face, the regret in his eyes, but it didn’t dull the ache in your chest. “It’s been years, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Years of me wondering if I was imagining it all. And you just… let me.”

The air between you and Bucky was suffocating, heavy with years of unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, every word exchanged cutting deeper than the last. The living room, once a safe space, now felt like a battleground where the ghosts of your past circled, waiting for the final blow.

Bucky’s chest heaved as he stared at you, his blue eyes glassy, his face etched with frustration and heartbreak. “You think I didn’t try?” he said, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. “You think I didn’t want to make a move? I didn’t do it because I was scared! Scared of ruining the one good thing in my life! I couldn’t risk losing you, so yeah, I kept my mouth shut and buried how I felt.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms tightly over your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his words. “You didn’t just bury it, Bucky. You locked it away and threw the key at my feet. You made me feel like I was imagining everything! And all the while, you were running off with other girls like it didn’t mean a damn thing.”

He flinched at your words but didn’t back down. “You think it was easy for me? Watching you look at me like I was just another guy, like I didn’t matter? God, every time you’d laugh with Steve or go on about some asshole, it killed me! And yet, I stayed. I stayed because you needed me, and I thought that was enough. But it wasn’t.” His voice cracked again, and he wiped a hand down his face. “I needed you, too.”

The tears you had been holding back spilled over, hot and stinging as they trailed down your cheeks. “If you needed me so badly, then why did you let me walk away? Why didn’t you come after me, Bucky? I gave you every chance, and you still—” Your voice broke, and you turned away, unable to face him.

Bucky’s hands balled into fists at his sides, his voice hoarse. “Because you looked at me like I was nothing that night. Like everything we’d built, everything we could’ve had, didn’t matter to you. Do you know what that did to me? You left me, and I—I didn’t know how to fight for you when you didn’t want to be fought for.”

You spun back around, your eyes blazing. “You don’t get to put this all on me! You broke my heart before I even knew what it meant to love someone! You made me feel like I was never enough, like I was some backup plan while you figured out your life. And now, now you want to stand here and tell me you’ve loved me all along? No. That’s not fair, Bucky.”

He took a step closer, his voice trembling. “I’m not asking for fair. I’m asking for real. I’m telling you now because I can’t hold it in anymore. I’ve carried this for years, and it’s tearing me apart.”

The words hung between you like a fragile thread, stretched to its limit. Bucky’s face was a canvas of raw emotion—anger, sadness, longing. “I’ve loved you since we were kids, I will always love you” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I’m sorry if I didn’t show it the way you needed. But don’t you dare stand there and tell me I didn’t love you with everything I had, with everything I could”

You shook your head, your body trembling. “And what am I supposed to do with that now, Bucky? After everything? After all the pain, all the missed chances?”

He stepped closer again, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You say I never made a move? Well, here it is. I’m laying it all out. I love you, im so in love with you! and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. But if you don’t feel the same—if you can’t—then tell me, and I’ll walk away. I’ll leave, for good this time.”

Your heart clenched painfully, the weight of his confession crushing you. You looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for clarity, but all you found was the same broken boy you’d loved for years. The one you’d always loved.

But love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much.

“I don’t know, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, his face falling as if the weight of your words had physically struck him. He nodded slowly, the fight draining out of him. “Okay,” he said softly, his voice hollow. “Okay.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you, leaving you suspended in a free fall with no end in sight.

Finally, you turned away, your voice breaking as you said, “I need time, I just need a minute..”

Bucky didn’t stop you. He didn’t call after you or try to pull you back. He simply stood there, watching as you walked out of the room, his heart shattering with every step you took.

The streets felt endless as you walked, the cool night air biting at your skin but doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. The echoes of Bucky’s voice still rang in your ears, his confession, his anger—it all felt too big to hold. You didn’t know where else to go, so your feet carried you to the one place that always felt like a refuge.

Natasha and Wanda’s apartment.

You didn’t knock. Your hands were shaking too much to even try. Instead, you turned the handle and stepped inside, your breath hitching as you fought to hold yourself together.

Wanda was the first to notice you. She stood in the living room, wrapped in a soft blanket, her fingers curled around a mug of tea. Her face softened the moment she saw you, her expression filled with concern. “Oh, babe,” she said gently, setting the mug down and crossing the room to you. “Come here.”

You nodded wordlessly, letting her guide you inside. Your coat hung limp in your hand, and your shoes scraped against the floor as you kicked them off.

Natasha appeared from the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. Her sharp green eyes flicked over you, taking in the tear-streaked face, the uneven breaths, and the raw emotion clinging to you like a second skin. She didn’t say anything right away, just gestured toward the couch.

You sank into the cushions, your heart hammering. The silence was heavy, and when the words finally came, they spilled out of you like a broken dam.

“I talked to Bucky,” you choked out, your voice unsteady. “We fought. He told me he loves me. That he’s always loved me.”

Wanda perched beside you, her hand gently squeezing your knee. She didn’t say anything, just offered silent support. Natasha, however, stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her silence was unnerving, her face unreadable.

“And now?” Natasha asked, her tone quiet but carrying an edge. “Why are you here crying?”

Her question hit like a slap, cutting through the haze of your thoughts. You blinked at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

Natasha took a deliberate sip of her wine, her gaze steady and unnerving. “I mean, why are you here? Why aren’t you there? With him?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, you stared at her, trying to make sense of her words. “Because…” you stammered, shaking your head. “After everything? After everything he’s done, you’ve always told me not to run back to him.”

Natasha’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she set her glass down with a sharp clink. “Yes. After everything.”

You stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, frustration bubbled up. “Why aren’t you on my side right now?” you demanded, your voice cracking.

Natasha sighed, rubbing her temple as if this conversation was physically draining her. “Because, for once, he finally said it. He said what you’ve been waiting to hear for years.”

Wanda’s hand stayed steady on your knee, but she looked at Natasha with quiet curiosity. Natasha’s tone wasn’t just sharp—it was laced with something else, something deeper.

“If this is what you’ve always wanted,” Natasha continued, her voice rising slightly, “and he’s there, telling you he loves you, why the hell are you here? Why are you sitting on my couch crying about it?”

The words felt like they knocked the wind out of you. You tried to speak, to justify your actions, but nothing came.

“Let me make this clear,” Natasha pressed on, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. “At least the person you love actually loves you back.”

Your heart stopped. “Nat…” you started, your voice weak. “What are you talking about?”

Natasha’s eyes flashed, her carefully constructed walls beginning to crack. “God, you’re so blind,” she snapped, the words biting. “I’ve been in love with Steve for years.”

The air left the room. “What?” you whispered, the disbelief in your voice evident.

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Yeah. And Steve’s been in love with you for just as long. And while you’ve been chasing after Bucky, Steve’s been stuck watching it all, pining after someone he’ll never have. It’s a fucking circle of misery, and I’m tired of watching it.”

Her words felt like daggers. “I didn’t know,” you said, your voice cracking. “I didn’t know, Nat.”

“Of course you didn’t!” Natasha snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “Because you’ve always been so wrapped up in your own little world. I’m not saying you’re a bad friend—you’re not. You’re one of my best friends. But God, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”

You swallowed hard, tears welling in your eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, the anger giving way to exhaustion. She waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t need your apology. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you this because you need to get your shit together. You need to stop wasting time. Steve, he needs to let you go and Bucky…”

Her eyes bore into yours, the weight of her words impossible to ignore. “He loves you,” she said softly, her tone shifting. “And you love him. So what the hell are you doing here?”

The silence hung heavy between you, the gravity of everything sinking in. Finally, Natasha sighed and gestured toward the door. “Get out of my house. Go back to yours. Go see Bucky.”

You hesitated, glancing at Wanda for reassurance. Wanda gave you a small, supportive smile. “She’s right,” Wanda said softly. “You know she is.”

Natasha crossed her arms again, her expression softening just slightly. “Go,” she repeated. “Before I lose my patience and drag you out myself.”

You nodded slowly, standing and grabbing your coat. As you reached the door, you turned back, your voice trembling. “Thank you…”

Natasha gave you a small, tight smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Just… go fix it. Go be together, finally… please.”

You stepped out into the cold night air, your heart pounding as you walked back toward your apartment, Natasha’s words echoing in your head.

He loves you. You love him. So what the hell are you doing here?

[morganbritton132]

I love how Steve refuses to do Red carpet events with Eddie but will go to big Hollywood parties. Keg King Steve lives on

Look, no one has ever asked for his opinion at a party and then published it in a magazine as a ‘scathing review from friend of Eddie Munson’s.’ It’s not his fault that the movie was not as funny as he thought it was going to be.

Plus, all those flashing lights.

Every time Eddie gets papped, there’s always a picture of Steve where he’s mid-blink or he looks sweaty, and Steve is never going to forgive Eddie for the photo of him goosing him on the carpet. The one (and only) time Steve walked the red carpet with Eddie as his date, Perez Hilton had a lot of mean things to say about the shape of his head and his bisexuality.

But on the other hand, Steve loves a good party.

Steve might not be interested in being a part of most of the celebrity parts of Eddie’s life but he does like celebrities. He has a whole photo album of pictures taken with celebrities. And Steve likes when Eddie gets to do fun things with his fame. No one tells you when your boyfriend runs off with his band that a lot of the famous-people stuff that he has to deal with fucking sucks.

Plus, the only people partying harder than famous people are teenagers in a small town. Steve has experience and he excels at this.

Even if the hangovers are awful.

Eddie posts a TikTok the morning after there are paparazzi photos of him and Steve leaving a party of him, Steve, and half of Ice Nine Kills getting breakfast in the restaurant of their hotel. He pans the camera across the table but settles on Steve next to him with his head down on his arms.

He’s not just hungover. He is ‘are you sure he’s even alive’ hungover. Enough that one of the guys asks, “Is he okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says with a grin in his voice. “Baby, you got any advice for the kiddos out there?”

“Don’t get hit in the head a lot.”

“Oh-ho, no, Stevie,” Eddie laughs. “This is not a hero babysitter Steve Harrington migraine. This is a Keg King Steve hangover.”

Steve looks up, “There was a keg?”  

[beseira]

when the stars shine

it was weird, the thing that had brought seira to korea had vanished. perhaps in the beginning when she auditioned it was more of an attempt to get away than to become an idol, but along with time, she’d grown fond of it, dancing, rapping, her members. it was a successful start, but ever since the beginning it’d only gone down. the female had hoped for a miracle, for a song to blow up, but no miracle ever happened, the group disbanded. she couldn’t help but wonder, could she have done anything differently? could it have ended differently? there’d gone over four months now, but it was still difficult to not think of it all. suddenly she lived in an apartment by herself, suddenly she was just a barista, suddenly her whole world felt like it'd collapsed.

though it’d been a while now, the thoughts still lingered in her mind, often kept her awake. she couldn’t sleep, so she made some tea and put on a movie, but it didn’t help, so she put on her jacket and shoes, decided fresh air was a good decision. it was nice for the cold air to hit her, her feet took her the way of a park. she spots a bench with someone else already sitting, so she decides to join them on the bench. she shows a slight smile to the other, “hi”.

sending it to... @bexstevie

[holylulusworld]

Yes (Steve)

Summary: You turn down every guy trying to hit on you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warning: many egos get scratched, fluff

A/N: Because so many pitied poor Stevie, he’ll get an alternative version to No. Please consider the beginning of the story is the same as Bucky’s version.

“Hi, my name is Sam. I saw you from over there and wanted to invite you to a drink or more,” he says and flashes you a smile. He’s not bad to look at. If only he didn’t eye you like his latest meal.

“No—” you turn another man down. It’s a crux, going to a bar alone. Most of the guys won’t take no for an answer or show enough decency to leave a woman alone. You wanted to have one drink after work, only to get hit on by the next best guy stepping into the bar.

The man’s shoulders sag, and he goes back to his friends’ table. They pat his shoulder, telling him to not take it to heart. You almost feel bad for him. But only until the next guy from their table walks toward you.

Great. They turned this into a challenge. Watching the next guy walk toward you, you sigh deeply. This is going to be a long night.

“Hello, darling. Name’s Tony,” the next guy drawls. He’s older than the first guy. “Why is a pretty lady like you all alone at a bar?”

You roll your eyes. “Not to talk to a guy with a goatee,” you snap at the man to cut him off. “If you would leave me alone now. The answer is no.”

“Ah, you’re the angry kind,” he leans against the bar counter, eyes drinking you in. “Why don’t you join me and my friends at our table?”

“Sorry, I’m not into gangbangs.”

The guest next to you coughs loudly because he choked on his beer thanks to your reply.

You dismissively wave your hand, sending the guy back to the table with his friends. He shakes his head and joins the bunch of guys.

“Nice comeback,” the guest next to you chuckles before grabbing the beers he ordered and walking toward the table.

“Not again,” you sigh and down your drink in one go as the next guy walks toward you. You tap the glass, ordering another one, while a tall blonde guy steps closer. He seems a little shy as his blue eyes search yours.

“Sorry to disturb you, but—” he clears his throat and points at the table with his friends. “My friends and I wondered if you want to come over and join us.”

You look him up and down. He’s very handsome. Tall and well-built, and his eyes are nice too. He nervously wrings his hands as he tries to find the right words.

Leaning back on your bar stool, you decide not to immediately turn him down. If he’s not a creep, you’ll have a drink with him. It won’t hurt spending time with a shy guy, especially when he looks like the man in front of you.

“No, I don’t want to join you and your friends,” you say, but smile at the man. He looks like a cute puppy, and you cannot deny feeling a pull toward him.

“Uh—thanks for your time,” he stammers and wants to walk off. You’re fast to grab his wrist and stop him from joining his friends. He glances at your hand around his wrist, furrowing his brows.

“Wait,” you say, earning a confused look from him. “I said, I don’t want to join you and your friends, but,” you grin, “‘why don’t you stay here, and we have a drink?”

“Oh…OH!” His eyes light up, and he flashes you a stunning smile. Damn him, he looks like the sweet boy next door, but his body screams something else. “I’d like that, doll.”

You giggle at the sweet pet name. “So, do you want me to call you blue-eyes, or will you give me a name?” You bat your eyelashes, laying it on thick to keep him from leaving.

“Crap, yes.” His cheeks burn as he holds out his hand. “Steve, miss. My name is Steve.”

“Y/N,” you reply and take his offered hand. It’s warm and strong. “Nice to meet you, Steve. What do you drink?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” He laughs as you shake your head. “Uh—beer is fine. I don’t feel the influence of alcohol, but I like the taste.”

“That’s very interesting, Steve,” you say, and pat the empty seat next to yours. “How about you tell me more about it and you? What is a sweet man like you doing at a place like this?”

Steve chuckles at the awful pick-up line. He relaxes as he realizes that you’re interested in him. “My friends dragged me here. I usually don’t go to bars.”

The guys from his table groan loudly because you look Steve deep in the eyes and smile.

“What just happened?” Tony gasps loudly. “This can’t be! Capsicle can’t succeed after all of us fail! How did he do this? How did he turn a no into a yes?”

Tags in reblog.

[unclewaynemunson]

After Vecna is defeated and the world goes back to normal for good, Steve thinks he can get on with his life. And for a while that's exactly what happens: his scars heal and, against everything he would have ever expected, Eddie heals right beside him.

But a year later, his life gets turned upside down in a whole new way. He gets one more hit to the head. It's a stupid accident, really, something involving a broken lightbulb, an old stepladder and an unfortunate fall. He loses pretty much all his sight. His once expressive brown eyes become hollow shells, one staring right ahead and one turned sideways, but both equally useless.

At first, the darkness is scary. It's frustrating, to be robbed of one of the few things he could always rely on. He has to get to know the world around him in a whole new way. There are days when he hates it, days when he wants to stay in bed in his room forever. There are days when he wants to scream, even days when he wants to cut his own eyes out like Victor Creel did before him.

But slowly, little by little, he learns to live with it. He grows a new appreciation for beautiful music and good food, things that stimulate his other senses that he now relies more heavily on. He develops a sharp ear for people's voices and intonations to make up for the loss of seeing their facial expressions. Where he used to love seeing Robin's bright eyes and Dustin's excited smile, he now treasures the sound of Dustin's laughter and the scent of Robin's cologne.

The one thing he will never stop missing, though, is Eddie's face. The way his eyes light up when he smiles. The way his mouth curves into that mischievous grin that Steve once fell in love with. The way his fluffy curls cascade over his back. Those are the things he misses the most.

There's a lot that makes up for that loss: he can cling to Eddie's arm whenever he wants, without having to worry about people taking their affectionate touches the wrong way. He gets to rely on Eddie's helping hand and to bask in Eddie's scent. And, most importantly: he gets to listen to Eddie's voice all the time, when he describes what's happening around them in lively phrases and with passion in his voice like the true storyteller he is.

“Do you know that there's one thing you're always leaving out when you're describing things to me?” Steve asks him one day, when he feels Eddie's hands move through the air around them during his excited monologue about the orange cat that is currently visiting their garden, chasing after butterflies and going after its own tail in the flowerbeds.

“Huh?” Eddie sounds confused.

“You're always leaving out the most important part,” Steve continues. He lifts his hand and slowly moves it to find Eddie's face. He feels his curls underneath his fingertips, then slides them further over Eddie's features.

“What do you mean, Stevie?”

“You never mention how you look. Only what you see. But if I could see, I'd be looking at you, Eddie. I'd watch your face. I can still remember that curve of your mouth, that crease between your eyebrows...” He lets his hand linger on the places he mentions. “But it's all becoming less clear. I'll never see it again. I don't wanna lose that.”

Steve feels his hand getting covered by another one, lets his fingers be guided across Eddie's cheek.

“You won't,” Eddie tells him softly. “There's no way I'll let you lose that.”

Steve can already feel the change in temperature underneath his fingers before Eddie speaks.

“I'm blushing right now, Stevie. Cause of what you said. And...” He guides Steve's hand further down over the uneven skin of his scarred cheek. “I'm smiling. Just a little bit. Not that wide smile I have when I'm messing with you, but the smaller one, the one that's just for you.”

Eddie squeezes his hand before he lets go. A moment later, his lips brush softly against Steve's, something that's not quite a kiss. Steve can feel that Eddie is about to pull back before it becomes anything more, but he presses back into Eddie's space, chases his warm lips with his own, and wraps his arms around Eddie's body to pull him closer.

Kissing is best without looking anyway.

[steveseddie]

home run

steddie | rating: m | wc: 3,6k | no warnings | tags: post-season 4, love confessions, first kiss, first time, dry humping, coming in pants, car sex, or technically van sex

for week two of @softsteddieseptember “confessing your feelings” and “road trips” and week two of @steddiesmuttyseptember “backseat” and “clothes on”

read on ao3 here

Steve’s fingers tighten around the grab handle as Eddie’s van skids dangerously on the wet road. “I really think we should stop, Eddie,” Steve says, finally voicing the thought he’s been having since they got caught in the rain.

Eddie leans forward on the driver’s seat, struggling to see the road through the sheets of water slashing at the windshield, the wipers failing to keep up. 

At first, Steve thinks he didn’t hear him over the heavy pitter-pattering but then he waves dismissively at him. Steve flinches when he lets go of the wheel and the van swerves.  

“No way, Stevie, if we stop we won’t make it in time for the game!”

“If we don’t stop you’ll drive us off the road,” Steve says in a bitchy tone. “And then we won’t make it to the game either because we’ll be dead.”

Eddie groans, using a rag to wipe the fogged-up windshield. “But-”

“Pull over, Munson.”

With a defeated sigh, Eddie hits the warning lights and stirs the van to the side of the road. “As Your Majesty commands,” he says, matching Steve’s bitchy tone. 

“Hey, don’t get pissy on me,” Steve protests when Eddie kills the engine. “It’s not my fault the sky opened up on us!”

Eddie slumps into the driver’s seat, air puffing out and making his bangs flutter. “No, it’s mine.”

Steve snorts. “What? You suddenly control the weather or something?”

“No, but I made us stop for lunch and waste time and got us trapped in this fucking downpour!” Eddie crosses his arm over his chest, pouting. If Steve didn’t think Eddie would throw him out of the van for it he would lean over and pinch his cheek and call him adorable. 

“We had to stop for gas anyway,” he says instead, shrugging. 

“Yeah, but we could’ve had lunch in the van!” Eddie throws his arms up, almost hitting Steve in the face. “It’s called a road trip for fuck’s sake. And now we won’t make it to the game, so it was all for nothing!”

Not for nothing, Steve thinks. They spent the last couple of hours bickering over who got to pick the music and then singing along horribly to whatever they picked to annoy the other one further, which is one of Steve’s favorite parts about driving around with Eddie. That and watching him while he drives, less worried about being caught staring at him. Not to mention the milkshakes they had at the diner where they stopped for lunch were the best Steve’s ever had. Even if they miss the game, which was the whole reason for this trip, Steve would be okay with it. 

But Eddie sounds genuinely upset about it so Steve turns to face him and puts his hand over his knee. “I bet we can catch the rerun at our hotel in Chicago.”

Eddie huffs. “That’s lame, Steve.” His eyebrows knit into a frown. “You were supposed to be there and watch it live, maybe get hit by a ball or something.”

“Eds, why are you so butthurt over this?” Steve can’t help but ask. Missing a basketball game—even a big one that they drove all the way to Chicago for—shouldn’t be getting under Eddie’s skin like this. “You don’t even care about basketball.”

“No, but you do,” Eddie says with a sigh. “And you- you’re always doing things for the kids and for Buckley and for me so I just wanted to do something for you. Wanted us to do something you want for once. That’s why I got the tickets.” 

It’s Steve’s turn to frown. “Wait, I thought Wayne got the tickets from someone at work.”

Eddie hangs a hand from his neck, watching the rain fall through the window, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Er, no, I asked him to get them for me like a month ago when he drove to Chicago for a job,” he explains shyly. “’Cause, you know, you need a credit card to get them on the phone and well, obviously I don’t have one and neither does Wayne, so-”

“Why?”

Eddie blinks at him. “Because we’re poor?” 

“No, Eds, why- why did you lie about the tickets?” 

“’Cause I knew you’d get all—” he gestures wildly at Steve, “—you about it and offer to pay for them or something and that wasn’t the point. The point was me doing this for you, y’know? Driving four hours just to sit and watch a game that I don’t give a fuck about because you give a fuck about it and I give a fuck about you. Many fucks, in fact.” He lets out a shaky laugh in the middle of his rambling. “Fuck, Steve, I actually love-”

And then Eddie snaps his jaw shut so hard that Steve is surprised he doesn’t bite his tongue off. 

One minute he’s looking at Steve like a startled deer, big cow eyes wide and spooked, and the next he’s flinging the door open and stepping out into the rain before Steve can do anything to stop him 

He blinks at the empty driver’s seat. “What the fuck?” 

He watches through the windshield as Eddie paces anxiously in front of the van, muttering to himself as the rain hammers down on him, soaking his hair and clothes. With a sigh, Steve grabs his jacket from the backseat, zipping it up before following Eddie out of the car.  

“Eddie! What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m drowning myself,” Eddie says, running a frantic hand through his rapidly soaking hair and talking just loud enough for Steve to hear him over the rain. 

“Why?”

Eddie whirls around to face Steve. His bangs stick to his forehead because of the rain and Steve wants to reach over and brush them back. “C’mon, Stevie,” he says, shaking his head. His expression is open, vulnerable, terrified. “You’re smart enough to know that was a love confession. And a shitty one at that.”

Steve blinks, feeling droplets of water fall from his eyelashes. His heart hammers in his chest. “You- you love me?” 

A laugh escapes Eddie’s lips—a mix of amusement and incredulity. “Sweetheart,” he says, his lips curling into a sad smile. “I’m so in love with you that I was down to drive us through a torrential storm to watch dudes throw balls into laundry baskets with you.”

Despite the rain soaking Steve’s clothes by the second, he feels warmth spreading through him at Eddie’s words. “Eddie-”

“I don’t expect anything, Stevie,” Eddie interjects. “You don’t even have to let me down gently or apologize-”

Steve tries again, taking a step forward, but Eddie instinctively takes a step back. “Eddie, I’m not-” 

“I know-”

Steve growls, exasperated. “No, you don’t know,” he snaps when Eddie keeps interrupting him. “God, you’re infuriating sometimes.”

Eddie laughs but it’s a little shaky. “Big word, Stevie. Twenty points for you.”

Steve shakes his head. He closes the distance between them in two long strides, trapping Eddie against the hood of the van. Eddie looks spooked at the proximity so before he can run away Steve cups his cheeks, keeping him in place. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Uh, Steve?” 

“I need you to shut up, Eddie,” Steve says, brushing his thumbs over Eddie’s cheekbones. His lips part, undoubtedly to make another remark but Steve beats him to it. “‘Cause I’m trying to tell you I’m also in love with you.”

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut immediately.

“There you go,” Steve says with a chuckle. His stomach flip-flops in anticipation. “Eddie, you know I love basketball-”

The words make Eddie frown. “This isn’t the love confession I imagined-”

“Christ. Shhh!” Steve presses his finger against Eddie’s lips with an amused chuckle. Eddie yelps but otherwise stays quiet. 

“I said I love basketball,” Steve starts again, “but I’m happy to watch it just on TV, y’know? The reason why I agreed to a four-hour drive for a game was you. I wanted to go on a trip with you. We hang out all the time and it’s never enough. I’m fucking- obsessed with you! Christ, I love you!”

His finger leaves Eddie’s lips, telling him it’s okay to talk, but Eddie just blinks at him, and for a moment, all they can hear is the rain falling around them. 

Finally, Eddie clears his throat. “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you do a love confession,” he says in an awed voice.

“Do I get another twenty points?” Steve asks with a chuckle.

Eddie giggles. Steve has to fight the urge to pinch his cheek again. Adorable. “You get all the fucking points, sweetheart, that was romantic as fuck.”

His thumb brushes over Eddie’s cheeks, warm and pink despite the cold. “Do you know what’s more romantic than a love confession in the rain?” He asks. Eddie shakes his head, water dripping from his bangs. “A kiss in the rain.”

Eddie’s eyes widening in realization are the last thing Steve sees before he surges forward, all but mashing their lips together. 

There’s barely half a second of Eddie’s frozen shock before there are hands in Steve’s hair and lips moving slowly and tenderly against his own. Steve moves closer, pinning Eddie against the hood of the van, one of his hands leaving Eddie’s face to settle on his waist. He wants to move even closer but the angle is a little uncomfortable, and he can’t lay Eddie down against the hood the way he could do if they’d drove the Beamer. Also, the rain isn’t stopping and Steve is starting to get cold after standing under it for so long.

So he breaks them apart despite wanting to kiss Eddie longer but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “Can we get back in the van now? Before we drown for real or catch pneumonia or something?” 

“Whatever you want, baby,” Eddie says in a deep voice. The way Steve shivers this time has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with how Eddie sounds and what he just called Steve. 

Hooking his fingers through Eddie’s belt loops, Steve drags him towards the passenger’s side, pausing to kiss him every few steps. There, instead of reaching for his door, he reaches for the sliding door handle. 

Eddie frowns. “Wait, I thought-”

“It’s still raining.” Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “We’re not going anywhere for a while.” He kisses the other one. “So I thought we could keep this going in the backseat.” He places one final kiss on his lips.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he nods fiercely, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s jacket and pulling him inside. They land on the backseat, Steve on top of Eddie, and while that’s exactly what Steve was after when he led them to the van, he still needs to get the door. Eddie doesn’t seem to care about that—he hooks his arms around Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. 

Steve lets it happen for a moment, already addicted to kissing Eddie but he must put a stop to it when he feels water starting to get into the van. He pushes himself up, his hands on either side of Eddie’s head, and effectively separates their lips. “Gotta get the door, Eds,” Steve says when Eddie whines. 

“Hurry up,” he says impatiently. With a nod, Steve goes about sliding the door closed and then he’s back to hovering over Eddie, leaning down to bring their mouths together again. This time he licks the seam of Eddie’s lips, and when he parts them immediately, Steve slides his tongue inside, licking into Eddie’s mouth. 

Eddie makes a small needy noise in the back of his throat and Steve takes it as approval, kissing him harder, letting one hand snake under Eddie’s wet shirt, feeling him up, while he holds himself up with the other one. Eddie’s hands make their way to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in the wet strands, tugging lightly on them, making Steve momentarily break the kiss so he can let out a moan when the tug goes straight to his dick.

Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes. He gives his hair another tentative tug to see if he can drag that sound from Steve a second time. 

He can. 

“Fuck, Steve,” he whispers like he can’t believe this is happening. “You’re a dream.” 

Steve desperately wants to hear Eddie too, so he starts kissing his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie tips his head back with a heartfelt groan, exposing the column of his throat. Steve takes that as an invitation, sucking at the pale skin until a mark starts to bloom. He bites lightly at the skin and soothes the sting with his tongue, listening to Eddie’s delicious string of gasps and whines.

His legs come up to wrap around Steve’s waist, pulling him closer until Steve is lying on top of Eddie. 

Eddie who is hot and close and already hard against him. 

Steve is hard too, he can feel his dick pushing against his wet jeans. He knows they should probably get out of their wet clothes soon but right now he doesn’t have enough patience to do that. He doesn’t want to waste any time that could be spent kissing Eddie, not until they’re satisfied. If the way Eddie is wrapped around Steve like a needy koala means anything, he doubts Eddie wants that either. 

So instead Steve slowly moves his hips to meet Eddie’s. 

A whimper slips past Eddie’s lips at the friction. “Oh, fuck, Steve,” he pants against Steve’s lips. The way Eddie moans his name goes straight to Steve’s dick, making it twitch as it begs for more friction. He rolls his hips again. “Jesus, fuck- I’m- sweetheart-”

“You okay?” Steve asks when Eddie can’t seem to finish a sentence. When he rolls his hips again, Eddie makes a noise like he’s dying, failing to utter any words. “Want me to stop?”

“No!” Eddie protests, shaking his head, hair wild and fanned out on the seat. “Don’t stop. Just uh- fair warning, I’m about to embarrass myself and come in my pants like- fuck, like this.” 

Steve groans. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” 

Nodding enthusiastically, Steve starts rolling his hips at a steady pace. “Yeah, I want it. Wanna make you come, Eddie. Wanna see you.” 

“Holy shit, Steve,” Eddie swears. On the next thrust, he pushes his hips up just as Steve grinds down and they both moan loudly.

They fall into a rhythm after that, approaching the edge quickly. Hoping to make Eddie come first, Steve wedges his hand between them, cupping Eddie’s hard dick with his palm. It feels big and Steve’s brain feels like it’s melting out of his ears when he so much as thinks about touching Eddie without his jeans and his underwear in the way, about blowing him, about Eddie fucking him. His own body jerks almost involuntarily against Eddie’s thigh. 

He does his best to rub the length of Eddie’s dick as best as he can through his clothes, pressed so close together. Eddie lets out a string of moans and whines that shoot sparks of pleasure down Steve’s spine.

“God, Eddie, you’re so- you sound so good. So fucking hot.”

Eddie shudders against him, his breaths coming quick and short. “Don’t stop,” he pleads even if Steve has no plans to stop what he’s doing, not when he’s so close to giving Eddie what he wants. Instead of stopping, he squeezes the head and strokes him faster. “Fuck, Steve, I’m close.” 

“Yeah, come on, Eddie,” Steve urges him on. Eddie sobs against Steve’s neck, hips jerking along with the movement of Steve’s hand. “Come for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

Eddie whines, high-pitched and needy. “Steve, I’m gonna-” He bites out just as Steve squeezes the head of his dick, his words trailing off into a moan as he tips over the edge. Steve watches Eddie come undone for him—head thrown back as his eyes roll into his head. It’s the hottest thing Steve has ever seen. It’s too much. He needs to come.

He grinds against Eddie’s hip, hard and desperate, chasing his own release as Eddie catches his breath. He’s so close already. 

Eddie must realize it too. “Your turn, sweetheart,” he tells him, his hand finding its way back to his hair, brushing it away from his face. “Fuck baby, you look gorgeous like this. Flushed and needy. Humping my leg, so desperate,” he whispers, kissing Steve’s cheekbones, his jaw, his neck. Little whines escape Steve’s lips as Eddie starts to run his mouth.

“Can’t wait to do this somewhere else, Stevie, someplace where I can drop to my knees and blow you.”

Steve’s breath hitches, his dick twitching when he pictures Eddie on his knees for him—lips wrapped around his dick, eyes molten as he looks up at him. “Oh my God.”

“Yeah? You want that, sweetheart?” 

Steve nods eagerly. “Y-yeah. Wanna blow you too.” 

One of Eddie’s hands cups his cheek. He runs his thumb over Steve’s bottom lip. “‘Course, baby. You can do anything you want to me.” 

Steve’s hips stutter, his brain foggy as he gets closer. “Y-you too. Anything. Fuck, Eddie, please.” 

“I got you, baby, c’mon,” Eddie whispers. His hand travels down until he’s cupping Steve’s ass, urging him to grind harder against his hip. Steve feels like he’s on fire. He’s so close, he can feel it, he just needs something more-

That’s when Eddie tugs harshly on his hair at the same time Steve grinds down, and just like that, he’s done for—he moans Eddie’s name as he spills into his boxers. Eddie kisses him through it, whispering praises against Steve’s lips that make shivers run down his spine. 

Steve can’t kiss him back at first, the aftershocks of his orgasm leaving him feeling a little stupid, yet Eddie doesn’t seem to mind—happily taking control of the kiss, licking into Steve’s pliant mouth. 

Once his brain comes back online, Steve kisses him back lazily until his neck starts to hurt and the arm holding him up cramps and he has to lower himself on top of Eddie, his head resting on his chest. 

They’re quiet for a moment, the only sound in the van is their labored breathing, as well as the rain falling outside, though not as hard as before. 

Eddie runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, which is slowly starting to dry. “We might’ve missed the game—” Eddie starts, and for a moment Steve is confused, having completely forgotten about it, “—but that was definitely a home run.” 

Steve snorts. He gives a weak slap to Eddie’s shoulder. “That’s baseball, you dork.”

“Eh, whatever. I won, ‘s what I’m saying.”

“You lost your money though,” Steve says, absently playing with Eddie’s curls.

“Worth it!” He says, and Steve can hear his grin in his voice. “Hey, it’s not raining as hard anymore. We can try and make it for the last few innings.” 

“Again, Eds, that’s baseball,” Steve giggles. Eddie shrugs, jostling him slightly. “And I told you I’m fine watching it in our hotel. I prefer it, actually. Can’t do this—” He props himself up on his elbow and kisses Eddie, “—at the game.” 

“Good point.”

Steve smirks. “Can’t fuck me at the game either.” Eddie splutters, his eyes nearly bulging out of his face. Steve laughs. “You okay?” 

“Yup! I just- I think my brain broke just by thinking about fucking you.”

“But you want to?” 

A hysterical laugh falls from Eddie’s lips. “Do I- Steve, sweetheart, baby, that’s the understatement of the year. Of the century even!”

Steve smiles, pleased. “Then it’s settled, we skip the game and head straight to the hotel.” He pauses, thinking something over. “Maybe dinner first. It can be our first date.”

“You don’t need to wine and dine me, baby,” Eddie says, “you already got into my pants.” 

Steve glances down at their still wet clothes. “Technically, I didn’t.”

Eddie snorts. “Guess you’re right. Okay! You can take me out to dinner, big boy. Though we should probably change first.” 

Steve shifts, grimacing when he feels the mess in his boxers. The fact that his clothes are soaked only makes him feel more gross. “Yeah, let’s do that.” 

They dig through their duffel bags for dry clothes and use the back of the van to change. Steve lets himself look at Eddie in a way he never allowed himself when he stayed over or when they hung out at the pool and finds Eddie staring right back, both of them smiling—giddy and slightly disbelieving. 

By the time they change, the rain has stopped completely so Steve steps out so he can move to the passenger seat. Eddie simply climbs to the front and flops gracelessly onto the driver’s seat. Steve watches him maneuver his long limbs with a fond smile, reaching over to smooth his hair down. 

Eddie smiles back at him, dimples digging into his cheek. Steve can’t help but lean over the space between them and kiss each of them before finally kissing Eddie’s lips. 

“Are you sure you’re not even a little sad we missed it?” Eddie asks when Steve pulls back. 

He shakes his head, leaning back against his seat. “No, Eds.” He grabs Eddie’s hand, interlacing their fingers together in the space between the seats. “As far as I’m concerned, I already won tonight.” 

“Steve Harrington, you sap,” Eddie teases yet he squeezes Steve’s hand, placing them on top of his leg, refusing to let go, going as far as using his other hand to switch gears as he starts the van. “Let’s make sure you score a few more times tonight.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk sporty to me,” Steve says in a deadpan tone that makes Eddie cackle loudly.

But despite the two of them joking about it, they score again that night.

And a few more times after that. 

[sideblog-ver3]

club bang (18+)

(vampire boobs) (spider webs) (big dick steve)

“oh- oh fu- fuck me… ah- ah stevie.”

the loud bass and synth of the club music echoed through the cracks of the locked bathroom door. there was whooping and hollering, people talking loudly and screeching from intoxication just outside the door.

“you like that? my cock hitting you good?” steve’s left hand wrapped in your hair tight while his right held onto your hip as he snapped himself hard against your ass. stomach pressing into the cool countertop, left hand gripping onto the sink while you reached behind with your right to hold onto steve’s wrist.

you stared into yourself, mirrored reflection bathed in the seductive red glow of the club lighting. mouth hanging open, jaw dropping off its hinges while your eyes fluttered with each thrust and deep touch from steve’s tip. your moans started to sync in rhythm with the remixed version of a pop song, you started to whine more high pitched when steve picked up speed.

“ah ah ah ah- so- go- good- ah ah ah.” head tilting foreward, eyes catching the motion of your tits bouncing.

“atta girl. taking it like a champ, baby.” grip releases your hair, giving your scalp a moment to breath as you both catch your breath and feel steve adjust you into a new position.

his legs spreading a bit wider, palms manhandling your hands to push into the mirror then gripping at your hips again. harder this time, an excited gasp as the pressure to your skin.

“be a good girl and watch me fuck you good.” lips attacking your neck, then down to your shoulders before pulling away. you couldn’t contain the whine at the lack of kisses he’s given in the last thirty minutes. “kisses later, baby. need to fuck you badly.” a growl to steve’s words caused you to clench around his slick cock.

“oh, yeah. keep- keep doing that.” steve demanded as he bent his knees a bit and started to thrust at a different angle. tip ramming into that sweet spot steve can always find, the one that turns you into putty.

“stevie… fuck…” only able to get those two words about before more oohs and aahs dropped from your gaping mouth.

“going dumb on me? cat got your tongue, baby?” a condescending to steve’s taunt. you nodded, fully cock drunk with each thrust and grunt that followed.

changing positions again, steve dragged his left hand over your bouncing chest before letting his long, slim fingers wrap snugly along your throat. then moving his right over your exposed stomach, teasing fingers taking their time to reach your clit and starting to tease at the nub.

“ah ah, the- there, yes yes yes! oh, stevie!” using one hand to hold onto his forearm. your pussy sucked him in tighter, feeling yourself getting closer with each flick. “close- so close…” declaring to steve.

“me too, fuck. i’m gonna- gonna cum inside. it’ll stay there all night, our- our secret.” reaching to squeeze at a bouncing tit. “gonna eat you out when we go home.” purring into your ear.

“ah… stevie-“ “i know, me too. just let go.” teeth biting at your left ear lobe, lips wetting the skin as he pulled away. the action only spurred you on further, feeling your heart speeding up, legs getting shaky by the second and drool rolling from your lips.

“cum on my cock baby, you can do it. and i’ll cum in this pussy, claiming it as mine” and stars exploded behind your eyes. a loud, cracked moan flooded the tiny bathroom, steve’s low hums a second after and you could feel his warm cum mixing with your dripping arousal.

steve pressed a kiss onto the back of your neck, “that’s my baby. did so good for me.” and he slowly slid out your hole, both of you gasping at the sensation.

steve worked to slid your panties back on, making sure to give the band a snap to your hips then fixed your mini skirt into place. you worked to fix your hair and what was left of your makeup while steve tucked himself back into his levi’s.

wrapping his arms from behind, steve rested his chin onto your shoulder. love struck eyes watching your face as you smiled at him through the mirror.

“ready to go back?” he asked. you knew he meant the crowd but you shook your head and bit into your bottom lip before saying, “nah. let’s go home. wanna sixty-nine with you all night.” and who was steve to say no to you.

[dreamwatch]

Ramblin' Gamblin' Man

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #20 - Prompt: Under The Covers | Word Count: 979 | Rating: M | CW: period typical homophobia (alluded to) | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: secret relationship, sharp suits, Steve Harrington is stupid for Eddie Munson, Fluff but make it lustful

Steve’s at the Grammys. Holy Shit.

It’s not the first time Eddie’s been here, but it’s the first time he’s brought Steve. He walked the red carpet alone last time, the rest of the band ahead of him with their wives and girlfriends, Eddie playing up the bachelor angle. Steve watched from their home. 

Tonight they’re ’best friends if anyone asks’, which Eddie thinks is unlikely because there are some big names here and like, who the fuck are they in the scheme of things?

They’re not nominated for anything; Eddie said they’d been asked to play a cover of Ramblin’ Gamblin Man and both Wayne and Steve’s dad are big Bob Seger fans so the band said yes. See, its little things like that that make him want to climb inside Eddie and never come out. Any other act is thinking about the prestige, Eddie’s thinking about whether his family would like it.

He loves this man so fucking much.

The band are sitting about ten rows back; he’s got a clear view of Sheryl Crow from his seat, and he’s pretty sure that’s the back of Whitney Houston’s head over to his left.

His new phone is buzzing in his pocket. Robin is obsessed with sending him messages. Tonight so far:

‘Is Stevie Nicks there?’

‘If she is please tell me she’s hot.’

‘Shit I think I just saw you!’

‘Is that Sheryl Crow in front of you?’

He deletes them to make space for new messages, hopefully something about how their friends are at the goddamn Grammys and not whether Shania Twain has a nice ass. (She does, he looked.)

Eddie taps his arm. “Okay, we have to go get changed.”

“Huh? Why?”

They’re wearing their ‘Corroded Coffin smart attire’, essentially their usual clothes minus the rips. They’re not exactly scruffy, per se, but… Steve’s in a suit here, you know? (The suit is borrowed, but it’s all about the effort.)

Eddie grins at him. “You didn’t think I was performing at the Grammys in this, did you?” He pulls at the long sleeve tee he’s wearing under his new leather jacket. 

“I mean, yeah, I kind of did.”

Eddie tsks. “For shame, Steve.” He leans in, achingly close, his breath tickling Steve’s neck. “Wish me luck.”

Just for a second Steve thinks about kissing him. Fuck everyone else, fuck the fans, the industry, he just wants to kiss his man publicly. But he doesn’t. Instead he shifts so his lips are practically touching the shell of Eddie’s ear.

“Good luck,” he whispers. 

Eddie shivers. Steve laughs.

The boys all leave, and now it’s Steve and The Wives.

Thirty minutes later the sound of a trashy high-hat fills the auditorium, lights flashing in time to the thu-thu thump bass drum pattern. Despite Jeff being their lead vocalist it’s Eddie, with his raspier, bluesier voice, that’s taking the lead tonight, and doesn’t that just make Steve’s heart fucking cry out with pride? And you know, Eddie, his Eddie, singing at a nationally televised event should be the thing he’s concentrating on, and it is! It is. But when the lights go up the first thing he actually notices is—

“Holy shit, they’re wearing suits!” 

Bonnie says it before anyone else gets a chance. He imagines the four of them are a picture right now, side by side, eyes on stalks because their men are all on stage at the Grammy’s wearing blacks suits, crisp white shirts and… fucking sunglasses. 

Look, he’s seen Eddie in a suit. It was a nice suit, but he looked about as comfortable as a priest in a lingerie store. This is not that.

These are sharp tailored suits, fitted to perfection. Eddie has too many buttons undone on the shirt, some of his chest exposed, that old Fender guitar pick necklace replaced with a solid silver copy (the original with Wayne). The stage lights hit his mirrored Ray Bans, the chain, the rings. But Steve can’t take his eyes off that fucking suit.

He’s going to devour him.

Eddie’s not a frontman, says he loves being able to just do his thing and let Jeff take care of the crowd. But he has a feeling things might change after tonight. 

The audience are on their feet, and Steve grabs the girls so they can head down to the backstage area. They have passes but even then he has to pull the ‘pregnant ladies coming through’ card to get them back to the green room. And when they get in there--

They’re still dressed in those fucking suits.

Eddie spins toward him. “Hey! What did you—“

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence, he has his hands on Eddie’s face and he’s dragging him in for a long, deep kiss, Eddie’s eyes wide and cross eyed.

When he finally comes up for air he realises Jeff, Gareth and Matt are all getting much the same treatment from their wives.

“You’re never taking this off, understand?” Steve says breathlessly. “Never.”

“What… the suit?”

“Duh, the suit, yes the suit. You’re never taking it off. I don’t care what you’re doing, mowing the lawn, taking the trash out, washing the car, don’t care. This,” he says gently pulling at a very expensive lapel, “is never leaving your body.” He goes in for another kiss. “God the things I’m going to do to you tonight.”

“In the suit?”

“Fuck yes, in the suit! Told you, you’re never taking this off.”

Eddie’s grin is slow and mischievous. “This is really doing it for you, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

It’s doing it for everyone. There are three respectable married ladies here, mothers no less, acting like groupies at an Aerosmith gig. 

Steve squeezes his hips. “Let’s go.”

“Sunglasses: on or off?”

Steve wants to sink his teeth into him right here.

“On. Definitely on.”

The song:

The inspiration: