#[ but don't point the finger just at steve ]

[navybrat817]

Just Like That

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky suggests staying in a hotel together before an undercover mission, which would be fine if you didn't have a massive crush on the super soldier. Word Count: Almost 5k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, pining, flirting, slight possessive behavior, talk of undercover mission, "only one bed" trope, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: A combination of @targaryenvampireslayer's Blind Date Writing Challenge and my Bucky Barnes Smut Menu, courtesy of @ellemj. "Only One Bed" Trope and the dialogue prompt in bold italics. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The engagement ring on your finger suited you. Not large or overly flashy, the single diamond radiated a subtle sparkle. It was beautiful and a perfect fit, a representation of the unifying love of marriage. When you looked at it under the light, it was almost as if you could feel the love that Bucky had for you.

If only that were the case.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” You asked, taking a seat at the table across from Bucky.

“So we can practice and make sure we’re a convincing couple,” he replied.

You sighed as you glanced around the hotel room for the umpteenth time. A small sitting area, a dining and kitchen combination, a single bathroom, and a bedroom. When you pointed out that there was only one bed, Bucky reminded you of the expectation that the two of you had to sleep together while on assignment since you were going on a couple's retreat. Which wouldn't be an issue if you didn't have a crush on him, right?

Right.

You were completely enamored with Bucky Barnes, the handsome former assassin turned agent for the revamped SHIELD. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Bucky, you aren't terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty.”

“You're talking to a guy who hasn't been on a real date since the 40s,” he deadpanned.

He had a point. Plus, from what you understood, Bucky wasn't exactly interested in dating anyone. Every time Steve or Natasha suggested he go on a date, he found a way to brush it off or change the subject.

Even if he was interested in dating, did he think of you as anything beyond a colleague?

Taking this assignment may have been a mistake.

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you said.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a week just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Bucky. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at a coffee shop. We both ordered the same drink.”

“An iced caramel macchiato,” he said.

“And we reached for the drink at the same time,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And I immediately asked you out,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “You did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went to dinner and talked a bit about ourselves. You told me you're a mechanic and I told you I’m a teacher. And once dinner was over, we went back to that same coffee shop and we shared an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Even proposed to you at the same shop,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone.

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, it just would've been nice if we met at a coffee shop,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“What’s wrong with how we met?” He asked, crossing his arms.

The metal arm gleamed under the light. You noticed that he had a tendency to wear long sleeves and gloves whenever he was in the building, but seeing him with his sleeve pushed up and missing glove? You would almost say he was comfortable around you.

Again, he had to play the part right.

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. “Do you not remember what happened or are you just being nice?” You asked.

Months ago, the day you met Bucky, Steve informed you that he planned to introduce you to him after he came back from a long assignment. Not only were you excited to meet one of his best friends and a great soldier, but you had wanted to make a good impression on him. What you did was make an ass out of yourself when you turned the corner only to smack right into the former Winter Soldier.

And splattered your beverage on both of you in the process.

Instacrush and a horrible impression on your part.

Bucky’s lips curled in a smile as your eyes widened. “You do remember,” you said, wadding up a nearby napkin and tossing it at his face, which he easily caught. “Oh, my God! That’s why you chose ‘coffee shop' for this, didn't you?”

You concentrated so much on getting the backstory right that it didn't occur to you that he was maybe poking fun at you. He wasn't the kind of guy that liked making others feel bad though. Tease you, sure. Outright make fun of you at the risk of hurting your feelings? He would never.

“Hey, I didn't choose how we met, but I also didn't object,” he said, raising his hands in surrender when you went to throw another napkin at him. “And I wouldn't forget meeting you, doll. You make a lasting impression.”

You wished you had done something to make him remember you besides spilling a drink on him. “I guess making an idiot out of myself is a lasting impression,” you teased.

Something dark flashed in his eyes, making your breath hitch. “That’s not what I meant. You didn't make an idiot out of yourself and I don't like you thinking that or talking down about yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, not used to someone getting so defensive at your self-depreciation. There was something sexy and heartwarming about it. “You were very nice about the whole incident.”

“You were nice, too,” he said, gesturing to his torso. “I mean, you offered to buy me a new shirt.”

“Because I spilled my drink on it! I felt bad,” you said.

“And when I said you didn't have to buy me a new shirt, you said, ‘Are you sure I can't pay for the dry cleaning at least, Sergeant Barnes?’” he said in a falsetto voice.

He chuckled when you rolled your eyes. “I don't sound like that, first of all, and I was being considerate,” you said. You couldn't believe he remembered your exact words. “And you just gave me that half confused smile of yours before I grabbed napkins for both of us to clean up.”

“You mean this?” He asked, his lips stretching in that familiar awkward grin.

“Yeah, that,” you giggled, your heart doing that funny flip that happened far too often around him.

In the beginning, whenever you smiled at him, he gave you that very look in return. Somewhere along the way, the uncomfortable glances on his end became genuine fondness. It didn't mean anything though.

Just an agent being kind to another agent.

Bucky stared at you as you continued to giggle at the memory. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“I love your laugh,” he said, almost making you choke on your own breath. Nothing like forgetting how to be a human and breathe. “And your smile.”

Maybe he had switched back into practice mode. “You do?” You asked, playing along as you smiled directly at him.

He swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, I do,” he replied, his voice thick as he unfolded his arms. “You know, you're one of the people that actually smiles at me. And you look me in the eye when you talk to me.”

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because some people are still afraid of me,” he whispered.

Your heart sank. He was a good man. A hero wrongly painted as a villain. It wasn't fair what he went through and you had no reason to fear him.

Why couldn't everyone else see the good in him?

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” you promised. And after what he went through, frightening people was the last thing he would do. “Never have been. Never will be.”

“Maybe you should be,” he muttered, some of the light leaving his eyes.

Your eyes narrowed as you tempered the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Seeing this vulnerable side of him also brought out your protective instinct. “Listen to me. You’re amazing and a good man, okay? And if I don't get to call myself an idiot for spilling a drink on you, then you don't get to say I should be scared of you, Sergeant Barnes,” you said with an air of finality.

He gave you an impressed smile. “Just like that? Because those are totally different things you're comparing.”

“Just like that,” you said, putting your hand on the table for him to take if he wished. “Do you trust that I'll have your back on this mission? Because I trust that you'll have mine no matter what.”

He stared at your upturned hand for a moment before he took it. “You're one of the only people I do trust,” he admitted.

His eyes bore into yours as you tried to find the words to respond. He wasn’t feeding you a line to make you feel good about yourself. Bucky Barnes trusted you.

“Then trust me when I say we got this,” you promised. You would look out for him and let him know that he hadn’t misplaced his trust in you.

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

“Oh. Well. My last boyfriend dumped me for being an agent. Seriously, he didn't like the fact that I could kick his ass if I wanted to,” you told him, squeezing his hand without meaning to. He didn’t object. “Which I wouldn't.”

“You could kick my ass if you wanted to,” he winked. Physically, Bucky was broad and strong. You weren’t sure you could take him in a real fight, but you could take him another way if he ever offered. “And your ex sounds like an asshole if he can’t stand beside and support an amazing woman.”

You smiled humorlessly. “Thanks, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“I swear to fuck if you talk down about yourself again, I will put you over my knee,” he threatened, his eyes darker than they were seconds ago.

You didn’t laugh as he stared at you. Neither did he. Your clothes suddenly felt too heavy, your body too warm. Licking your lips, you couldn’t stop yourself from saying, “Is that a promise?”

Bucky pushed his chair back and pointed at his thigh, his eyes still on you. “Get over here and find out.”

Oh, fuck.

The sound of Bucky’s phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,” he muttered, taking his hand from yours. “It’s Steve. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” you said, almost knocking the chair over as you stood. “I think I'm going to call it a night.”

“Wait, what?” He asked, answering the phone. “Hold on, punk,” he said, covering the screen as he looked at you. “You’re going to bed now?”

Guilt settled in your stomach at the hurt in his eyes. “Just going to lay down. I may not go to sleep right away. And we can practice more in the morning,” you replied. You just needed to step out of the room and take a breath.

He waited a beat before he nodded, the tension still lingering. “I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded, leaving him alone so he could talk to Steve.

You splashed a bit of water on your face when you went to the bathroom to change. The assignment hadn’t started and you couldn’t keep your cool. With squinted eyes, you pointed at your reflection and mentally scolded yourself. Yes, you wanted Bucky Barnes and maybe, just maybe, some part of him wanted you. At least, he wanted you enough to put you over his knee.

You couldn't have him though. Could you? Mixing business with pleasure could lead to complications if you crossed that line, but it wasn’t like you’d break some major bylaw by being his girl.

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

“Get your shit together,” you hissed, rushing through your nighttime routine and changing into your comfortable yet sexy nightgown.

Your eyes went to the bed when you left the bathroom. Just a regular hotel bed. Inviting, but not overly frilly. Large enough for the both of you, but small enough that you might end up in each other’s arms.

“It’s going to be a long night,” you muttered.

Sighing, you left a light on for Bucky to see and crawled into bed, shutting your eyes as he wrapped up his call with Steve. You tried to block out the sound of his footsteps as he made his way to the bathroom. Maybe his nighttime routine would take a bit longer than you thought and you could drift off and wake up to the sight of his beautiful eyes and-

The bed dipped as Bucky curled up behind you, your eyes opening when he placed his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. You were conscious of every shift in his body, every breath he took. How you could smell his lingering cologne as he pressed himself closer. How he ran warmer than you and you wanted him to heat you up even though you weren’t cold.

And that he wasn’t wearing a fucking shirt.

“I know you aren’t sleeping,” he whispered, his fingers brushing along the fabric that covered your skin. “Your heart’s beating too fast.”

He was right. It was about ready to burst through your chest. “Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” He asked, helping you roll over so you were on your back. He didn’t remove his hand though. “Did my ‘threat’ make you uncomfortable?”

“No, it didn't,” you assured him, heat pooling between your legs that you couldn't prevent. “I wouldn't have continued with the banter if I was uncomfortable.”

“Just making sure,” he said. “I was only teasing.”

You huffed out a laugh in an effort to cover up the crushing feeling in your chest, your arousal fading to a dull ache. “Of course, you were,” you uttered. Teasing. Nothing more. “Good night, Bucky,” you said, turning your head away.

He brought a hand to your cheek and brought your face back toward him. How did his eyes look so blue in the faint light? “Don’t go to sleep yet, please.”

“Why not?”

“You rushed to bed and now you're shutting down. I clearly said or did something wrong,” he sighed, which made you feel bad. He hadn't done anything wrong in your eyes since it wasn’t his fault you wanted his teasing to mean something. “I need to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix because you didn't break anything,” you said, the ring heavy on the finger. “But can I ask for a favor?”

“Of course,” he whispered.

You didn’t dare search out his gaze when you said, “I may need reminders this week that you don't actually have feelings for me.”

A few seconds went by before he asked in a small voice, “What?”

You took a breath to compose yourself. The last thing you needed to do was get upset for no good reason. “We’re going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and be a couple, but you may need to give me a reality check now and again that you only see me as an agent. Okay?”

Maybe he’d ask Steve for a new partner in the morning.

“You think I only see you as an agent?” He asked, sighing when you nodded. “I used to be good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Teasing. Flirting,” he answered, leaning in close. He stopped just before his lips touched yours. “Kissing.”

“Wait. You were flirting with me?” you said, not moving forward or back as you put a hand on his chest. His heart raced as fast as yours. And your brain couldn’t compute that implication that he wanted to kiss you. “You weren’t just practicing for the assignment?”

He huffed out a laugh this time. “You’re killing me, doll,” he whispered, closing the distance.

You imagined Bucky kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered.

You never stood a chance.

“So, you like me?” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole week together for this assignment and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and trusting you.” He chuckled almost shyly as his words sank in. “I took this assignment because of you.”

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Bucky Barnes liked you. Wanted you. “Thank fuck,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the super soldier was an entirely different level of gorgeous. He towered over even the largest of agents, with the exception of Steve, and his dark lashes framing his steel eyes were enough to pull you under.

And who were you compared to him? Just another agent. Average.

“Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth.

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He smirked against your skin before he reached down and tore your panties away. “I haven't gone on a date because of you.”

Your body throbbed with need as you met his gaze. “You're just saying that to get in my pants,” you joked.

His eyes raked down your body, stopping between your trembling thighs as he pushed his pants and underwear down. “If I had my way, I would've taken you out first,” he said, drawing a moan from you when he wrapped a hand around his thick cock. “But all I can think about right now is how loud you’ll say my name when I make you come.”

“Bucky,” you moaned, tempted to reach down and touch yourself to the sight of him.

“Louder than that,” he said smugly, rubbing the tip of his cock along your slick folds. “Fuck, I wanna take my time and explore you. Make you feel like a goddess. Treat you the way you deserve.”

It warmed your heart and sent another wave of desire through you knowing he wanted to take care of you. “I know you'll treat me well,” you smiled, opening your legs wider. “But for now, please, fuck me.”

He didn't ask about birth control, which you were on. You didn't ask about condoms. It didn't matter. You wanted to feel all of him.

You glanced down as he lined himself up, watching as he slowly eased into you. It was overwhelming as you took every inch, your mouth falling open with a moan. You floated in a cloud of lust, the sound of his groan reaching your ears.

“Look at me,” he ordered as he bottomed out.

Your eyes flew to his as he gripped your chin. The feel of him inside you, his eyes staring so intently into yours that he practically touched your soul. It was almost too much. And that was when he began to move, the weight of his body on top of yours as he fucked you in slow and deep thrusts. It was the kind of lovemaking that would make you crave more.

Crave him.

“Knew you'd take me well,” he grunted. You whined, the praise going straight to your core as you tightened around his thick cock. Your walls couldn't stop gripping him as he slid in and out. “Knew your pussy would be greedy for me. Won’t let me go.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, dizzy as he trapped your body under his. As he rolled his hips, you wondered if he’d let you ride him at some point. Maybe he’d fuck up into you as he brought your hips down. Or maybe he’d lay back and cup your breasts, let the weight bounce in his hands as you took all of him.

You’d take whatever he gave you.

The growing pleasure within you was like you were burning from the inside out, each movement from him stoking the flames. His low groans mixed with your whines, his thrusts increasing in speed when he brought his thumb to your clit. Your hand worked its way back into his hair as you cried out his name, your control slipping further and further away as he took over.

“Just like that,” he moaned. “Don’t hold back on me. Wanna hear every pretty sound you make.”

“Bucky, I'm gonna…” you trailed off, your orgasm building fast in your core and ready to burst.

“Come,” he finished for you, a filthy smirk on his face as he laced his fingers with yours.

One more thrust and you were gone, his name falling from your lips as you came. Your mouth stayed open as you spasmed, pleasure rushing from head to toe. You panted and didn't care if you'd ever properly breathe again. That was how good it felt.

“I’m close, doll,” he gritted, resembling a growl as he continued to fuck you and chase his release. “Gonna come inside you. Gonna own you.”

“Come inside me, Bucky,” you begged, watching through half-lidded eyes as his face contorted in ecstasy. It was such an erotic sight. “Please.”

He buried himself deep with a long moan as he filled you in hot, thick spurts, nuzzling his face in your neck when he finished. He said your name as he heavily breathed against your neck and it was the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard. You wrapped your arms around him when he stayed inside you, not at all bothered as your mixed release slowly trickled out.

You didn't want him to let you go.

“Well,” you huffed, a dopey smile on your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I don't think we’ll have a problem convincing people we care about each other.”

He chuckled, kissing your warm skin. “And we won't have a problem sharing a bed,” he said, keeping you close as you yawned. “Sleep, doll. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too,” you said, feeling him smile against you as you drifted off.

The delicious ache between your thighs was the second thing you noticed when you woke up. The first, of course, was Bucky’s arm and leg draped over you: warm, protective, perfect. He was still fast asleep, the blanket pooled around his waist, completely at ease with the world. You could get used to waking up like this.

You hesitated before you touched his cheek, not wanting to wake him as you kissed his forehead. You wished you had time to kiss every scar on his body and worship him the way he said he wanted to worship you. The two of you would have to leave the bed sooner or later. There was work to do.

“Mmm. Morning,” he said, his voice laced with sleep as he cracked an eye open.

“Morning,” you whispered, cuddling closer as he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed over the ring. The motion made you brush against his crotch and you were close enough to hear the hitch in his breath. You did it again, keeping your gaze innocent as he opened his eyes more and groaned.

Yes, there was work to do, but it was still early.

“You’re still horny? Didn’t I fuck you hard enough last night?” He teased.

“Yeah, I’m still horny,” you replied. Waking up next to him would arouse anyone. “Need you to fuck me again.”

“You won’t be able to walk if I fuck you again,” he smirked, rolling on top of you and digging his fingers into your waist.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cocky boyfriend,” you teased back, your heart thundering in your chest as he leaned down and skimmed kisses along your jaw. “Sorry, we didn’t put a label on this and there’s still stuff to figure out and the mission and-”

“Hey. Boyfriend, your man, whatever you want to call me, I’m yours,” he cut you off, his mouth drifting to your neck. “And I still owe you a date, got it? You’re my girl. You’re mine.”

“I'm yours,” you gasped when he nipped your skin hard enough to sting, his tongue soothing it after. You were his and he was yours. “So, we're a couple now? Just like that?” You smiled as he worked his way back to your lips.

Bucky answered you with a kiss. “Just like that.”

I struggled a bit with this one after having to scrap almost 2k and go in another direction, but I ended up falling in love with it. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #bucky x you #the winter soldier #suzblinddatewritingchallenge #bucky barnes smut menu

[sp0o0kylights]

Steve Harrington was wearing a Hellfire t-shirt.

It was far too tight on him, the name of the club stretched wide over his chest. The sleeves dug into his biceps, making them pop even more than they usually did, and that was before he crossed his arms. 

Worse?

It was short.

Which meant the damn shirt was constantly riding up to give everyone a nice show of the smattering of hair that trailed down past the band of Harrington's jeans. 

The same hair that Eddie was determinedly not looking at. 

“Henderson, a moment?” He crooked a finger, a smile on his face that was more feral than welcoming. 

Rather than cower or even acknowledge that Eddie was two seconds away from murder, Dustin just gave him a gummy grin, all too pleased with himself and his scheme. 

“Sure Eddie. Steve, don't just stand there, go help set the booth up!” Dustin gestured to Hellfire’s sad little table, crammed all the way in the back of the gym. 

Jeff and Gareth both reacted to the suggestion like a rabid squirrel had been set upon them, nervously inching towards the other side of the booth as Harrington sighed and--shockingly--did as he was told.

‘What,’ Eddie thought angrily, ‘in the everloving fuck.’

“Do you guys mind if I set this down on the table?” Eddie heard Harrington ask as he stormed away, Dustin on his heel. 

They wandered just around the corner, out of sight and hopefully, out of the fallen king’s hearing range.

Eddie wasn't sure if Harrington would try and white knight the very much deserved dressing down he was about to give. 

Didn’t want to chance it, considering the downright weird relationship he had with Hellfire's freshmen.

(While he’d heard many a tale at his table regarding King Steve since the newest recruits had joined Hellfire, most of them dissolved into arguments without ever really going anywhere.

 Best anyone could figure out was that Dustin and Lucas had a bad case of hero worship, while Mike owned a begrudging amount of respect that hailed from a series of misadventures. 

The very same misadventures that, despite all protests to the contrary, was clearly some sort of babysitting gig for Harrington.) 

Either way, plenty of the King’s court would have loved to take this opportunity to fuck with Hellfire.

Given that Henderson was absolutely too old to require a babysitter at fourteen, Eddie would bet his lunch money that was what Steve was here to do.

Something the club couldn’t afford since they were forever and always two seconds away from being stripped of club status and banned from school grounds. 

“I would love to know what went through that all A’s brain of yours when I said,” Eddie whirled on Dustin when they were firmly in the clear, voice low and furious.  “no Henderson, do not invite King Steve to help, he is an invading force and would ruin our peaceful kingdom!?”

He clasped his hands behind his back before leaning into Dustin’s face. “Because clearly whatever you heard wasn’t that.” 

To Eddie’s continued frustration and confusion, Dustin did not treat this like the threat it was. 

None of the freshmen had ever truly treated Eddie like a threat--had somehow skipped that part of the usual onboarding ritual entirely.

Eddie, town freak and drug dealer, who had cultivated his looks and craziness to such a degree that most everyone steered clear, wasn’t used to it. 

Everyone had been afraid of him at some point in this shitty school. Jeff, Gareth, hell even half the staff--and that the dorky trio of fourteen year old's clearly thought this all was play-acting made his eye twitch.

Even if it was--maybe, sometimes--welcome. 

“I know what you said, but I’m telling you I’m right.” Dustin argued immediately, and oh God, he was using that tone again. 

A hand went up into the space between them and Eddie groaned aloud, knowing what was coming.

“First,” Dustin ticked a finger up, “Hellfire really needs the money. Even thirty dollars would get us new figures, but more than that, if we don’t fundraise, we can’t go to Gen Con!” 

Dustin's eyes bored into Eddie’s, full of fire and conviction

“Yes,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “but--”

“Second!” Dustin cut him off, and God the little shit even threw him a look while he did it, like Eddie was the one being ridiculous here!

“We had to fight just to get our table! Principal Higgins was in algebra today practically begging the mathletes to show up, but then tried to tell us we couldn't be here? That’s messed up!” 

As if denying them a spot to fundraise was the worst thing that asshole had ever done.

Eddie sighed, breath blasting out of his mouth like a dragon’s. 

“Because people think we’re freaks and satanists, Henderson. You don’t typically invite freaks and satanists to the school’s annual Holiday Bazaar. Especially not when all the local moms are paying to hawk their bullshit crafts and tupperware!” 

It was more than that of course. The Hawkins High Holiday Bazaar was a tradition spanning several years now. Starting in the gym and spilling clear into the parking lot, everyone from local artists to even some local shops came to host a small table for the day, thus growing the event from a small school fundraiser to a Hawkins' “must-do.” 

Half the fucking town was here to sell, and the other half was here to shop, which meant Principle Higgins had wanted Hellfire banned from the fucking premise. 

Eddie had been forced to pull out one of his trump cards he’d been saving--blackmail on Higgins that related to the man’s not--so--legal addiction to Percocet that he relied on Reefer Rick for. 

(And bless Rick, that hadn’t been the only tidbit he’d shared with Eddie about Higgins. That information, however, Eddie needed just so the asshat wouldn’t give him the boot from school entirely.) 

The only reason Eddie had pulled it out to secure their rightful spot, was because of Gen Con. 

It was Hellfire's White Whale, their grand adventure, and this was going to be his year to take his friends on one last epic quest to make memories of a lifetime surrounded by people who understood them.

Come hell or high water, Eddie was going to Gen Con--but being able to fundraise by selling wares and baked goods at the stupid Holiday Bazaar would go a long way to help.

Even if he had to listen to the band repeatedly play ear-bleeding renditions of Christmas songs.

“All the clubs get to have a table, and we’re a club!” Dustin continued, like it was that simple. “But you know, I get it. We look scary.” 

He gestured down to his own Hellfire shirt, before gesturing towards Eddie’s entire outfit.

Like Eddie didn't know what he looked like, let alone that he'd made this outfit specifically to scare people away from him.

(And maybe add some rockstar flair to this dinky little hick town.)

“You know who doesn’t look scary?”

Dustin held out his hands and swiveled his body like he was presenting a prize instead of gesturing in the vague direction of; 

“Steve!”

Eddie’s left eye twitched.

‘You can't kill him, you need his character for the campaign.’ He told himself firmly, even if he envisioned strangling Dustin like a chicken.

Cartoon squawking and all. 

“The King isn’t going to help us fundraise, Dustin.” Eddie said, in an effort to break down why Harrington couldn't be here. “He's just going to cause us problems that we can’t afford to have.” 

So many problems, half of which Eddie couldn't think of because if he did, he'd start spiraling.

“Really? Because as you keep saying, Steve used to be the King. People love him, Eddie! Mom’s love him.”

Eddie had pulled himself black up to his proper height a while ago, and now rocked back on his heels while he ran a hand down his face.

There was no getting through to Henderson when he was like this. 

Not unless Eddie really lost it, and it was practically club lore that he only lost it when someone missed an important game. 

One cannot keep a herd of sheep if their flock is terrified of them, after all. 

(“Perhaps you’re just a giant fucking softie.” Tiff, one of Hellfire’s graduating members, told him once. “Honestly dude, I bet you throw up stuffing.”

“Shut up Tiffany, your choker is on backwards again.” He'd spat back, completely offended and not at all trying to distract from how true that was.) 

“We can’t be satanic if Steve’s the one selling cookies!” Dustin finished doggedly. 

“We’re not even selling cookies--that’s not the point!”” Eddie shook his head, hair flying. He was not going to be sidetracked, he wasn’t!

 “Harrington is going to end up siding with all the moms about how we’re all wasting time with D&D, if he even spends the whole time at the table. Is that what you want?” 

He stuck out a ringed finger, poking at Dustin’s chest.

“Every single person who comes by our table has to be convinced D&D is a writing and math based game. Good for the mind and souls of growing, impressionable children. A game that got a bad rep because of  a few silly images.” 

A pitch he and Tiff had come up with during the third or fourth time they had to convince an adult that no, just because their shirts had a dragon on it, didn’t mean they were summoning demons in the drama room. 

“Harrington can’t do that because Harrington doesn’t even know how to play!” 

This Eddie punctuated by throwing his hands in the air. 

Given the startled look of the mother-daughter duo passing him by, clearly was louder than he’d intended--but screw it!

He was right!

Hellfire was in a precarious position to both fundraise and do a little damage control among the slightly smarter members of this shithole small town, and Harrington rolling his eyes and gossiping about how stupid it was would hinder that.

“Okay, first of all, Steve’s played D&D with me and he didn’t even kill his character.” Dustin said it like he was unveiling a smoking gun and not lying through his ass--which Eddie would absolutely be calling him on the second he was done talking. 

Because King Steve? Play D&D?

'Ha!'

“And he’s not gonna say shit because we--me, and Lucas and even Mike!--asked him to help, and he helps when its serious. I know you have some weird grudge with him, but I’m telling you Eddie he’s our golden ticket to Gen Con!” 

“You’re killing me. You are standing here, acting as a friend, when you are bringing a-- a dark force into the midst our of mission--” Eddie hissed, because he was losing the fucking fight and he knew it.

Dustin Henderson was not a man easily swayed. 

Had never been, even when the odds were stacked against him (and Grant and Gareth were howling in his ear.) 

The set of his shoulders and the glint of the little shithead’s eye meant Eddie wouldn’t be able to use him to oust Harrington--if he even could get him out without the dick causing a massive scene anyway. 

As always when outgunned, Eddie flipped to dramatics.

“Betrayed! By my own chosen heir no less!” He moaned, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes as Dustin scoffed.

"Don’t be so dramatic! Steve will help, I promise! Just don’t be a dick to him.” 

 Conversation apparently over, Dustin turned around to head back to the table

Snidely, he added over his shoulder: “Plus we’ve all caught on to the heir thing Eddie. You tell everyone that so they do what you want.” 

The dick.

“You’re too fucking smart for your own good. I’m gonna start feeding you paint chips to bring that IQ down.” Eddie muttered angrily as Dustin went back to their little table.

He gave himself a moment to get his shit together and stomp a foot like a child when Dustin was around the corner and thus couldn’t witness it, before following his wayward sheep back.

Could only pray to any deity listening that Henderson’s meddling didn’t blow up in Hellfire’s face.

#Door Prize #Alt S4 #pre steddie #when is it not lmao #Holiday fic #well this is more of a warm up but it has another part #Ive just given up the WIPS are running my life #this is brought to you by a local high schools massive holiday bazaar I went too that had cute band kids running around #could not play music though bless them #I did FINALLY get re employed so things are slowing down but Im hoping to post one more chapter of SOMETHING before the end of dec #and probably the other half of this warm up shes short #steven harrington #eddie munson #baking #special appearance by Adopt a Jocks Tiff #Robin pops up in this in the other half #Dustin Henderson #and his scheming #Steve can bake #0o0 fanfics #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #steddie

[hellfire--cult]

Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Fem!Reader

wc: 19.2k (it wasn't intended to be this long)

+18, best friends to lovers, rockstar eddie, mentions of drug usage (not abuse), slight mention of steve x reader, jealousy, self-consciousness, reader feels insecure about her body, mentions of skin texture (cellulite, adiposities, stretchmarks, floppiness, sagginess, etc), smut, love making, p in v (protected), fingering, just pure absolute fluff.

Plot: You've been in love with your best friend ever since you can remember, and the hope of ever confessing vanished slowly as he signed a record deal and became a rockstar. His flings were now models, and singers... how can you even compete? Their perfect and smooth skin against your cellulite and stretchmarks? Their bodies completely perky?...But your rockstar kind of explodes with his feelings, out of jealousy, and shows you just how much you don't have to worry about that.

a/n: absolutely self indulgent. thank you to all the beautiful friends that read this, and were in the middle of me making this happen. i love you @munson-blurbs @andvys @ghost-proofbaby @pastel-pillows @the-unforgivenn @littlesubbyflower !

always reblog, don't be lazy

ORANGE PEEL SKIN

Being best friends with a rockstar was not something you ever thought you’d be. 

But you have been friends even before his fame took off before his songs were known. Before his band got called into a prestigious studio back in L.A to record their first-ever demo album. Before his life got turned into a life of luxury and parties. A life he always didn’t believe he would get, but he worked hard to get it, manifested it, and now he is the leader of his rock band.

Corroded Coffin.

With the same three friends from High School, and he was the shining star of it all. He insisted on his bandmates, Jeff, Gareth and Grant to trust him, and they did, ending up with this record deal, and they will forever be grateful to him. 

Now, you, well, you weren’t in the band, but Eddie invited you on tour sometimes, because that’s what being his best friend got you. You often insisted for him not to waste money on your trips, plane tickets, hotel room, and pleasantries, but he never listened. He showered you with gifts whenever he could.

He got you the latest cellphone, designer bags, and clothes, some perfumes, but he never fails to buy you the one thing you like the most in every country he visits, and it’s tiny, yet he always smiles when he gives it to you. Magnets. 

You collected them in your fridge, amazed to see every place he’s been to, knowing that the boy that lived in the small trailer in Forest Hills now brings you magnets from all around the world. The boy you’ve known since you moved to Hawkins. The boy that tried to teach you DnD in the woods at the back of his trailer, but your fourteen-year-old self didn’t care for games. Yet you loved listening to him.

Because you’ve been in love with Eddie Munson ever since you can remember.

But that love is impossible, now more than ever. He never gave the indication he felt the same, and sure you two were close, mentally, emotionally, and physically. You always sit on his lap so he can play with your hair, or you two would greet each other with kisses on the cheeks, or simply hold hands as you two watch a movie together.

Now Eddie being a rockstar, well, you have no chance whatsoever. He had a fling with Miley Cyrus, and you remember it clearly. It was a simple drunk fuck, but it was enough to make you realize that you are certainly not his type. Then he hooked up with another model, and you found out because you saw it on a gossip instagram page.

Your heart broke in pieces when you saw it, knowing the boy you loved for so long so out of reach, yet so close thanks to your friendship. Even if in pain, you could not let him go, not that easily. You just loved him so much, but even you knew it had to be stopped at some point. It couldn’t go on. You will die from a heartbreak sooner or later, and you have to avoid it.

But he makes it difficult, and even more so now that he is taking a break from tour to visit Hawkins so he can see his old friends and Wayne, including you. It’s been four months since you’ve seen him in person, only talking with him through phone and video calls, but very little. He was always busy or going to parties or meeting other bands and singers.

And even if that hurts you, you will never stop loving him. Not really, not ever.

“You okay?”

Your thoughts got cut off as you shook your head to look at Chrissy who was looking at you with a worried look on her face. Your best friend knew about your feelings for the metalhead, and Chrissy has held you many times on nights where you just cried your eyes out because of every call, of every picture, of every rumor you heard of him. 

“Yeah, I am just nervous I guess.” You responded and Chrissy only nodded in a slow motion towards you. You looked around to see everyone gathered in Steve’s backyard, the sunset giving perfect orange hues as Wayne started the fire for some burgers, and Dustin was getting the cooler with beers alongside Mike. 

You couldn’t believe these boys were almost twenty. You didn’t mind that they drink some beers at this age, because who didn’t drink alcohol being below twenty-one? But did time pass by this quickly? When did it happen?

“If you say so.” Chrissy mumbled as she pressed a hand on your shoulder for reassurance. You couldn’t be more grateful for a friend like Chrissy. You really don’t know where you would be if it weren’t for her. Probably crying in every possible corner Hawkins had to give.

“Will you two stop being lazy asses and get the drinks from inside?” Steve yelled and you just rolled your eyes, while Chrissy flipped him off, Robin and Nancy laughing while putting up some balloons and preparing the music. You and your best friend walked inside to get the glasses and the sodas for the night. 

“He seriously needs to stop acting like a mother.” You groaned as you piled up the red cups in your hands, hearing Chrissy snorting behind you as she took the sodas out of the fridge.

“And yet–” And she suddenly went silent. You started hearing cheering from outside and you shut your eyes very tight, wincing slightly at the impending pain that your heart will feel at seeing him. You could already hear his electric voice, all enthusiastic and happy, and it made your heart jump three feet up.

You heard your name being called by Chrissy and it made you open your eyes so you could take a deep breath in, slowly turning around to finally look out the window to see him, your breath being knocked out in one single glance. 

His hair, tied in a bun, scruff on his chin and jaw, curls falling on the sides of his face as he hugged Dustin tightly, swirling him around while the rest of the band greeted everyone else. You didn’t want to be a bitch to the other three, but your eyes could only see Eddie. Only Eddie. A tight tank top with ripped sleeves reveals tattoos that linger across his arms and hands. Black ripped jeans with chains hanging from his waist, and a piercing on his nose, a hoop that glistened with the orange hue of the sunset.

You took a deep breath trying to calm your accelerating heart, trying to not let the blood go all the way to your cheeks, to your body, as you looked at him. It’s not like when you two talk on video calls, it cannot compare.

Chrissy cleared her throat, making you snap out, looking at him with a wild look on your face. She chuckled softly as she walked outside and you immediately heard Eddie cheerfully yell her name, and she was yelling to be careful with the bottles in her hands. 

“You can do this… You can definitely do this. Just keep pretending, everything will be okay.” This was always what you told yourself before seeing him in person. Even at school. You often wondered if you would ever stop these feelings of yours, but even if there was a possibility of them stopping, how do you reach that?

You took another deep breath, getting hold of the stack of red cups you had bought for today, and you rolled your shoulders, once, twice, and finally stepped out into the garden. His back was towards you, so it gave you time to put the cups on the table as you looked at the back of his head. He was talking with Jonathan as Dustin walked over to hand him a beer. 

You could hear his laughter, and you wanted to stay there, yet you also wanted to run away. So far away. But you couldn’t do that now, not when Dustin told Eddie something and then pointed towards you, making him turn around and his brown eyes finally caught onto yours.

Every thought of running away evaporated because that’s what Eddie does to you. He turns you into putty, into his slave, into a submissive prey that will do whatever he commands. Just with him looking at you, and flashing a smile your way as his eyes light up with yours. A smile was immediately drawn to your lips, not pretending, because you loved him, and you didn’t have to pretend to be happy to see him.

Because you were. Extremely so.

He handed the beer to Dustin in a quick manner as he started rushing towards you, making your legs work as well, meeting him halfway in order for his arms to open wide as his smile worked all the way up, face lighting up as he sees you, and you just can’t help the extreme happiness that invades you and fills you the moment he wraps his arms around your frame.

His perfume, his scent, the smell of the shampoo of his hair, everything was engulfing you as well as his hands pressing all over your back, while your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your nose digging into the crook of his neck. He chuckles when he feels your breath on his skin, and you are unaware of the shiver that runs through his spine at the feel of it.

He pulled away with a grin on his face, and that’s when he finally took notice of how you had a different hair color, you two had talked through video call two weeks ago, so it was a very recent change. He straightened up to grab hold of one strand as he raised a playful eyebrow up.

“A new style, Kitty?” 

That damn nickname. It stuck to you when Eddie and you had a school show back in middle school, and he was spared from acting, but you were disguised as a black cat. He made fun of you, of course, but that’s what made you two grow close to one another. 

You fought the heat that was rising up on your cheeks as you giggled and looked down to the floor, giving him a short nod.

“Yeah, wanted to try something new.” He gave a nod to you and you raised your head up to look back to his eyes once more. He was looking at you with fondness as if you were the only light in his path at the moment.

“You look beautiful.”

It wasn’t the first time Eddie complimented you, but it wasn’t easier each time he did it. Your heart always leaped at his comments, always raising a little bit of hope inside of you that you didn’t know if it was healthy or not. He was just your best friend, and your fantasies are just that. Fantasies.

“T-Thanks Eds… I hope this whole rockstar career didn’t make you a wuss with alcohol.” You tried to lighten the moment and it worked as he laughed wholeheartedly at you, shaking his head.

“You are not going to beat me at chugging beer. Last time you almost puked!”

“We’ll see.”

You did not win. You just wanted to see him have fun and laugh as the foam of the beer got out of your nose as you choked on the drink. 

It was a nice night, warm, and the buzz of the alcohol was not too great, just enough to feel funny but conscious. It was nice having Eddie here, and you could notice it around the whole group. Dustin couldn’t stop nerding with him about DnD, and Robin was telling him about how she managed to get Chrissy on a date.

You were laughing with Mike as he explained to you how Nancy almost caught him and Will in the closet and you couldn’t help but wince because you still saw these two boys as little teenagers, and it was weird imagining them in this situation. 

But it seems someone was bored.

“Now that we are older, can you PLEASE play Never Have I ever with us!?” Everyone’s gazes turned to the redhead that had the beer in her hand, moving it from side to side and everyone couldn’t help but burst out in laughter because ever since these kids tried alcohol at the age of fifteen, they’ve been trying to play these games with all the grown-ups. 

“Okay, you guys are old enough. I don’t want any ews, or ahs, okay?” Steve replied and Dustin rolled his eyes at him.

“Same goes for you, Steve.”

And yeah, he was right, because it was going to be weird listening to these kids talk about their experiences with all of you. But whatever, Eddie doesn’t come often, might as well have fun with it.

You all sat around, and you were in between Chrissy and Jonathan while Eddie sat at front in between Robin and Dustin. Max cleared her throat, signaling that she was about to start, and all of you tried to stop the giggling at the whole situation.

“I’ll start. Never have I ever… kissed someone of the same sex.” 

Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, Dustin, Lucas, and you didn’t drink. Everyone else did. You knew Eddie had kissed guys before, experimenting. The one that everyone turned to look at though, was Steve.

“Seriously Harrington?” Eddie asked, completely surprised and you snorted into your beer as Steve looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“What? I never had the curiosity.” Eddie shrugged and took a sip of his beer as Robin came next.

“Okay, okay… Never have I ever… done harder drugs than weed.”

“Low blow Buckley.” Eddie said as he took a sip of his drink, Jonathan followed right behind, making Will look at him with his mouth wide open.

“What!?” Will yelled at his brother, who only laughed as he wiped his mouth.

“My best friend is Argyle, what do you expect?” And Will only rolled his eyes as Mike chuckled and patted his boyfriend’s shoulder to calm him down. You cleared your throat as you knew that Eddie had tried many things thanks to the connections he now has with the famous environment he is in. 

You remember when he once video-called you telling you he felt like shit because he took two lines of coke for the very first time. One would think that an ex-dealer would have tried stronger things, but not Eddie. He never was fond of them, yet, he felt pressured to do so that night.

“Okay, my turn. Never have I ever… puked all over a friend.” And the bastard wiggled his eyebrows your way, and you cussed at him on the low, taking a sip of your drink, as well as Robin with an embarrassed look on her face while Steve winced in disgust.

“Not fair Eddie.” You whined at him and he could only laugh. It was the first time you’d ever gotten drunk, and it took two glasses of fireball and coke for you to barf all over your best friend as he tried to get you out of the party. It was humiliating, yet Eddie held you tight and reassured you that everything was okay.

He took care of you the whole morning afterwards, telling your mom that you crashed at his place because you were tired, even if his place and yours were five minutes away. 

“My turn.” Dustin said with a smug look on his face and Steve took a sharp intake of breath, and you could only groan. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“C’mon Henderson, what do you want to know?” Chrissy laughed as she saw Robin rolling her eyes at her but with a small smile on her lips. Dustin smirked and straightened up.

“Never have I ever slept with anyone in this circle.”

Will and Mike groaned as they took sips of their own drinks, same as Max as she flipped Dustin off and Lucas laughing while shaking his head. Jonathan and Nancy also took sips of their drinks, Steve, as well, Robin and Chrissy…

And you.

Causing everyone to look at you in disbelief.

“What?” Your best friend said with a mocking laugh, thinking you were lying, but another person winced in the circle as Dustin let out a victorious laugh, raising his fist up with a pump.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!” 

“Dustin.” You groaned as you clenched your eyes tightly and Dustin shook his head, while everyone looked at him.

“No, I was right, and you two fucking lied about it!” He screamed and Eddie was looking back and forth between you and Dustin, not knowing what was going on.

“You two?” Jonathan asked and then, everyone’s eyes turned to one of the single males in the group who had his hand running in his hair with an exasperated sigh.

“Yeah Dustin, we lied.” Steve finally responded. 

Everyone, except for Dustin remained silent as the curly-headed guy let out a scoff with a shake of his head.

“And you thought I wouldn’t figure it out.” He said with a smug look on his face and you couldn’t even look up from embarrassment, but a voice made you snap out to finally make you talk.

“Kitty?” 

Shit.

“When did this happen?” Robin asked in disbelief and you sighed, finally looking up from your glass, trying to not look at your best friend who was piercing his gaze through your skull, making a shiver run down your spine.

“A month ago.” Everyone almost screamed at the confession and you sighed with a roll of your eyes.

“HOW!?” Mike now asked and Steve cleared his throat, a chuckle then escaping his mouth.

“We were drunk… blasted off drunk.” Eddie’s mouth was on the floor right now, and you could see the betrayal that was slowly plastering on his face, making you wince inwardly. You didn’t tell him. You didn’t want to tell him, and now he knew, and you felt the lump of guilt forming inside your throat and guts.

“Wait, was it after the barbeque?” Will asked this time and Dustin chuckled with a nod to his head, making you and Steve glare at him.

“Yep. I forgot my phone, and imagine my surprise when I heard moaning throughout the house and her car was still parked outside.” Everyone except for three people gasped at the situation, making Dustin proud of his discovery. “Steve told me it was another girl while she slept in his parent’s bed.”

“It was believable.” Steve retorted, making you scoff at that.

“It was fucking dumb Steve.” At your response, everyone’s heads snapped at you while Steve looked at you with an offended frown on his eyebrows.

“It wasn’t! He is just too nosy! And let me remind you, you jumped my bones first.” Gasps and whistles were now heard in your circle of friends as your mouth dropped to the floor, looking at Steve with anger in your face.

“I did not! You were the one who started it!” And to be honest, you could hardly remember that night, you were depressed and angry, and Steve was pent up. That’s all it was. 

“Okay, I don’t remember who did, we’ll just say we are both to blame.” Steve raised his cup up towards you with a sheepish smile on his face, making you roll your own, but a smile was on your lips as you raised your cup as well and took a sip from it. 

“Well, that’s something I didn’t know.” You almost choked as you looked towards your best friend after the confession you blurted out. He had a piercing gaze towards your way, a glare, anger behind his eyes with his arms crossed over his chest. The air immediately tensed and you weren’t the only one who felt it. 

Everyone else was looking somewhere else than in between the two of you. You knew you were in the wrong for not telling him anything, but you really didn’t want him to know about it. It was a one-time thing that would never happen again, so you really didn’t see the need to do so.

Steve also noticed the tense air, clearing his throat to talk once more.

“Okay, my turn, right?”

 And the game went on, but not with the same cheery atmosphere as before. You were quiet, and Eddie was angry, passing on his turn whenever he had to say something. You barely included yourself in the game, your mind racing with nervousness and guilt from not telling your best friend you slept with Steve. 

Once everyone finally decided the night was done, you helped Robin and Chrissy try to tidy up Steve’s kitchen the best you could. You didn’t want to face Eddie, the alcohol in your system was long gone thanks to the dread of facing him alone at some point in the week. You were washing the cups as Robin and Chrissy started giggling and you sent them a wink as they rushed out and up the stairs to one of Steve’s rooms.

“So they left you on cleaning duty.” Steve entered the kitchen with empty bottles with a groan as he threw them in the trash. You giggled and shrugged, finishing to wash the last cup.

“They are in their honeymoon phase, let them be.” You turned off the water from the sink as you felt Steve stand next to you with his arms over his chest.

“But chicks stain sheets, and I really don’t want to hear them having sex. Why can’t they go to one of their houses?” You rolled your eyes as you dried your hands with one of the hand towels that was hanging from the oven’s handle. 

“Put some headphones on, suck it up like a man.” You giggled and he followed with a chuckle only for the two of you to be interrupted by a clear of throat and some keys jingling.

“Sorry to interrupt. Let’s go home.” Eddie was leaning against the door frame of the kitchen, swinging his keys around his middle finger with a piercing gaze thrown your way. You looked at him in complete confusion, tilting your head.

“I– I came with my car–” 

“Let’s go home.” It was stern, angry, and fed up. It was a command. He wanted to talk, and you knew that. Your heart hammered in your chest as you sighed, giving Steve a look and he gave you a reassuring nod with a worried frown. 

“You’ll pick up your car tomorrow.” The brown-haired man said as the rockstar rolled his eyes, walking out of the kitchen. You gave Steve one last look before following Eddie out and then towards the front door.

The black matte Jeep Wrangler standing at the front in all of its glory, and it sometimes makes you miss his old van. The one the both of you smoked weed in between school periods, after school, and on the weekends. The one where you laid at the top to star gaze, completely high off your minds. 

You heard a click, snapping you out as you saw him lighting a cigarette while walking, opening the passenger’s door for you, but not waiting for you to get in. He rounded the car to go into the driver’s seat, making you gulp thanks to your nervousness, not knowing where the night was headed. 

You slowly got inside the car, closed the door, and buckled your seatbelt properly, trying to keep your heart out of your throat as it threatened to come out. His eyes were unreadable as they stared forward, making the engine of the car roar as he rolled the window down for the smoke to leave the interior. 

And then, it was quiet. Not even music was on.

He was driving, one hand gripped on the wheel while the other stuck out of the window with the cigarette in between his fingers. You didn’t know where to look or what to do as you played with your fingers on top of your lap, looking out the window. 

What were you supposed to say? Should you wait for him to say something? Or is he waiting for you? Is he waiting for a sign so he can start talking? You don’t understand why the air is so tense between the two of you, it’s not like you murdered someone, it was just–

What–

“Hang on, are you not taking me home?” You asked as you looked at the exit that would take you to your apartment complex. You received no response, making you look at him who was still looking ahead of the road, flicking the cigarette out the window as his other one clenched onto the wheel. 

You knew where he was taking you, back to his apartment in Indianapolis. It wasn’t a long ride, but it was half an hour away, meaning you would have to stay silent for the whole ride, and it was making your gut turn uncomfortably. 

Eddie and you never fought, and you for sure never received this kind of treatment from him. The only time you can remember something like this happened, was back in middle school when you didn’t tell him you had your first kiss with Richard Pax. It was in spin the bottle, and you were embarrassed about it. 

He didn’t talk to you for a whole week until he saw you crying and understood that you were just ashamed of it, and you couldn’t even face Richard for how nervous you were. Eddie apologized to you, and held your hand afterwards, telling you to not consider that your first kiss, that it should be special and one you wanted.

You could feel your phone pinging, and you looked down to see Steve messaging you if you were okay, that Eddie didn’t look happy at all. You sighed as you opened your messages to type a reply back only to get a scoff from your partner inside the car.

“You’re with me right now, at least put the phone down.” Your eyebrows pinched together at that answer, looking at him as anger started rising up inside of you.

“You’re not even talking to me, you have no right to ask anything from me right now.” 

“Mmm.”

The air was now filled with anger, you could feel it because you were the one enraged now. Who did he think he was? Acting pissed just cause you didn’t tell him one thing? You were betting he didn’t tell you many things that he does at the parties he attends or the tours he does with his bands. 

Hypocrite. 

You texted Steve back, aiming the screen away from Eddie’s gaze.

And that’s how the thirty minutes passed by till Eddie finally got the jeep inside the underground parking lot of his building. You unbuckle your seatbelt, stepping out of the car at the same time Eddie did. The doors slamming echoed all over the immense space as Eddie headed towards the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. 

You were angry, nervous, anxious, confused, not understanding why Eddie was acting this way at all. You couldn’t even look at him as the elevator finally reached the floor, and he got in. You hesitated for a few seconds, but it was no use as he held the doors open with his broad hand.

You stepped in, and he pressed his floor, the metal doors closing in front of you. The small space was suffocating you. You could hear his angry and heavy breathing. Maybe you can play it off with a joke or something. Make the air a little lighter, trying to make the tense moment go away, but the distant look in his eyes made you think twice about that. 

You were fidgeting in your place with your purse in your hands. The elevator kept going up until it reached the penthouse at the top. It was over the top, but someone who didn’t have anything growing up, wants the best of the best when he has the opportunity to do so. So Eddie wanted the best of the building of course.

The elevator doors opened and he walked out first, walking towards the double doors of his home, typing in the password in his security lock. You heard the beeping of the numbers being punched in, and you groaned, walking out of the elevator as he opened the front door of his home.

You walked in right after him, taking in the scent of his cologne as he walked further in. You closed the door behind you and it automatically locked in place. It wasn’t that big of a penthouse, not really, and he filled it with his own stuff, his mugs, his records, his guitars. It was Eddie, even if it’s not the trailer back at Hawkins.

You waited for him to talk, only to see him walking away towards the hallway, going towards his bedroom, making you frown in anger. You followed him, stomping next to the couch where you dropped your purse, not caring for it anymore.

He was in front of his king-sized bed with black covers, taking his jacket off, not giving you a second glance. You clenched your jaw at how immature he was, all because you didn’t tell him one thing in your life. Just one.

“Are you gonna talk to me now, or are you going to keep being a little child?” His mouth dropped at your words as if he couldn’t believe you were talking to him that way. He slowly looked up at you, standing in the doorway of his room with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Me? Why don’t you talk sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me about you and Stevie?” And your anger started bubbling up again. 

“Why does it matter!? I was drunk! And it was a while ago!” You answered as you waved your arms around in exclamation. 

“It matters cause you are my best friend, and you didn’t tell me you slept with one of our friends! It’s important shit!” Okay, you could see a little bit as to why he would be mad at you. The difference as to why you would not get mad at him for not telling you stuff like this, was because you would end up hurt if he did.

But he doesn’t end up hurt, because he doesn’t feel the same as you do.

“Eddie–”

“And with Steve! Why the fuck did it have to be him!?” Now this part, you didn’t understand.

“Why does it matter if it was with Steve?” He was pacing now, and you couldn’t help but feel confused by his attitude. Why is he so agitated over this? You didn’t tell him you slept with Steve, while drunk off your mind, big deal. He let out a scoff as his hands ran through his face, completely pissed, his nose flaring as he breathed heavily.

“Fuck Kitty, it’s not fucking fair!” You could see his hands shaking as he grunted at each step, and you were now worried. Did you do something you didn’t have to do? Was there something you didn’t know about Eddie and Steve? Some kind of pact or something of the sort? Did you mess up the friendship?

“What’s not fair!? Eddie, you are not making any fucking sense, and–” Your words were cut off as two strong hands held onto your cheeks, and your best friend’s face was inches away from you as he talked through his teeth.

“It is not fair he got to have you like that. It is not fair he had the chance of having you first. It is not fair he got what I’ve been wanting, for fucking years.”

And your words were knocked out of your lungs, as well as your air. 

There was no way he said that.

Because why would he?

But he just did, didn’t he? You weren’t deaf, you heard it–

“What?” Your voice was so small, and Eddie noticed, wincing slightly as he pulled away from you, letting go of your face and you immediately realized you spoke, and that he might have taken it as rejection but– what is going on?

You were frozen in your place, looking at how he backed away, running his hands all over his face as he started pacing back and forth, not even glancing at you as he took a few breaths in. You on the other hand, felt your heart in your throat, beating constantly, furiously, feeling as if you were going to pop a vein here and there for how strong you felt the pumping of your own blood course through your whole body.

You saw how he started to slow down his pacing, standing in one place, a meter or two away from you, and his eyes found yours. You could feel fear, sadness, and embarrassment in those eyes, all in one place, in those irises. 

“I– I really didn’t want to do this… this way…” He scoffed at his own words and shook his head with a fake chuckle on his lips. “Fuck, I didn’t even know I was ever going to do this.”

You were just speechless, feeling your eyes burning because it all led to what is obvious… But he never showed it in his life, so you don’t understand, it is not processing in your head as it should.

“Do… what?” It was a choked whisper, the best one you could master at this moment because your throat was just closed up, non-working. Your brain was a jumbled mess as it tried to put a puzzle together that you never thought was there to begin with.

His eyes darted towards you and then out the window as he licked his lips, thinking about his next words carefully. 

“You– You are my best friend… The fear of losing you is greater than any other feeling I hold inside.” He was struggling, you noticed the nervousness, the twitching of the tip of his fingers as he scratched his cheek.

“You won’t–”

“You can’t say I won’t lose you. I say these three words, and I won’t be able to go back, and you won’t be able to either. I’ve been holding them back for ten years, I can keep going if it means I get to keep you.” 

Three words. Three. Are those the same three words you hold dear? Those three words you’ve been fighting against for so many years? Three simple words but yet that can cause so much pain if you don’t receive them back? 

Could it be? 

Your mouth opened and closed, and you felt a tear rolling down your cheek, it was inevitable, and you saw how Eddie’s shoulder slumped down, his eyebrows knitting together in the middle in a frown. Sadness.

You had to speak. You have to fight the thrumming of your heart and the warning signs your brain is throwing your way to stop you. But Eddie and you already share one feeling. Fear. So what if there are other feelings you both share? Equal feelings?

“S-Say those words…” You pushed, you needed to make sure, you needed to hear them, you needed that happiness you never thought you would get with him. He shook his head once and twice, biting the inside of his cheek.

“No. I won’t. I can’t lose you Kitty… I can’t.” Your heart was ablaze because of nerves, of impatience, and of hope. You took a shaky breath in, your fist clenching and unclenching in order to hold back your own words.

“I– Please say them…” And as Eddie looked at you, you could see how his features softened and relaxed into a surprised expression, as if looking at you let him solve a riddle in his head. His adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he looked at you, swallowing, and you felt your bottom lip trembling, your eyes burning, your body almost shaking with anticipation.

You saw how his chest moved up and down in a quick manner, giving away how heavy his breathing turned. Your eyes were connected to his, trying to let him know, trying to make him have that courage to make the first step you are not confident enough to take. And then his shoulders relaxed, his features doing the exact same, and as he looked at you with glossy eyes, he opened his mouth to finally take the leap.

“I love you.” 

Silence overtook the two of you as the words sank. He loves you, and not as a friend. He loves you as a woman. He loves you as a partner. He loves you as much as you love him. He loves you. He loves you.

A sob ripped from your chest and you slammed your hand on your mouth, feeling new tears streaming down your face, but a smile was hiding behind your palm as you choked on another sob. Eddie’s face turned into a worried one as he took a step towards you, his hands ready to reach out for you and then you started giggling.

You couldn’t believe this. Were you that blind? Were you this stupid? Or maybe it was the two of you? Why were you the only one to blame when he also held these feelings for so long? You’re best friends for a reason, and this is the greatest example of it all. Pining for eachother since teenagers, evolving into love, and never giving any hints of it to one another. Not even flirty compliments, or insinuations.

You couldn’t help yourself as you kept giggling, eyes closed as one hand was over your mouth while the other gripped your stomach. Eddie was absolutely worried now, thinking you were losing your mind. All these years, you two could have done something about your feelings, but your insecurities fucked up your brains because, if it hadn’t, maybe one of you would have noticed something.

“This is so fucking stupid!” You yelled out loud, still laughing and Eddie only frowned as he straightened up, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Nice to know my love for you is stupid.” That made you stop laughing, only to look at his pissed-off frown and for you to burst into laughter again. The tears never stopped coming down, feeling your heart flying into the sky as you also felt the need to bang your head against a wall, repeatedly.

“I– I promise it’s not that!” You were trying to calm down, taking deep breaths in and out as you kept watching him. He wasn’t laughing, just staring at you with a hint of sadness, anger, and confusion. All together, which only prompted you to snort, another laugh threatening to come out. You raised your hand up to stop Eddie from lashing out. “Sorry!”

“Sorry? I confess my love to you and you laugh in my face. Do you even know how hurtful and disrespectful that is?” You could feel his words holding some truth, but you knew he was also finding the situation kind of comical. You waved your hands in front of you, small giggles escaping you still.

“You don’t understand, I can’t believe we are this stupid.” You snorted at the word and Eddie’s arms uncrossed, tilting his head to the side in wonder, an eyebrow raised up in question.

“Why are we stupid?” And you couldn’t help but start laughing again as new tears rolled down your cheeks, happiness just exploding from every part of your body.

“I mean, we were in love with eachother all these years, and we never knew? We really are fucking stupid Eds!” Your giggles stopped after those words came out of your mouth. Your eyes slowly found his as a ringing in your ears started being really loud, almost hurting you. His eyes were wide, incredulous, his arms dangling on the sides of his body.

“You– You’re in love with me?” His mouth was agape, staring at you with a perplexed expression as you felt your heart about to combust, only for him to start cracking up as well, slamming his hands over his face, his laughter bouncing on every wall of the room, and you couldn’t help but join him in it.

You both now know you are idiots, absolute fucking morons and you cannot believe you wasted all this time being only friends when you could have been more. The feelings were one and the same. The jealousy. The anger. The hopelessness. The yearning. The happiness. The need. The love. 

He let his hands drop from his face, a last shake of his head as he looked back at you. Your giggles slowly stopped, and you wiped the tears away from your eyes. This was real now. This was happening for you, for him, for your future. He took a step forward and the nerves were back all together. 

“Can’t believe we didn’t see it at all… I– honestly didn’t think I would ever have a chance after you signed that contract Eds…” You averted your gaze towards the floor as you took various breaths in, trying to control yourself again, center your mind back into reality, and push the shock away. He sighed at that, shaking his head once more even if you didn’t see him.

“I never thought I had a chance. I just thought and still think you are way too good for me sweetheart…” He cleared his throat as you frowned at that and looked up at him to hear him better. “I honestly… I had a bit of hope when I signed the contract. I thought I would finally be– good for you.” 

Your heart stopped and sunk into a deep sea, going to the darkest bits. Eddie felt that way with you? That he wasn’t good enough for you? That he had to be someone else in order to feel that he had a chance with you?

“Ed–Eddie, I didn’t care for that… I still don’t– I thought that you were the one out of reach… I– What chance would I have had with a rockstar that–” You didn’t want to finish that phrase. It was too embarrassing, but how could you not? How could you not compare yourself to all the women Eddie had after signing that contract? The models, the singers, the influencers… It was impossible not to do so.

He seemed to realize the doubt on your face because his features softened as he took a step closer to you, the tips of your shoes touching as he stood right before you. He scratched his cheek as he tried to find the next words.

“Well… we aren’t out of reach anymore… are we?” And your eyes found his, your heart in your throat as he licked his lips and you knew what was supposed to happen now. But–

“What if it’s weird?” He blinked two times before tilting his head and you wanted to drown in embarrassment.

“What would be weird?” His voice was a tone lower than before and it made you tremble a little, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“Well– We know eachother since we were ten… What if you find it weird to kiss me?” And it almost looked like Eddie could not believe what you were saying. 

“Sweetheart… I’ve been dying to kiss you since I can even remember.” You couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burn up, looking down with a small smile on your face. He bit his bottom lip and cleared his throat, making you look up at him once more. “We’ll just see where it goes, how about that?”

You were afraid of that because what if it really happened that he would back out cause he felt it too weird for him? Or what if you weren’t of his expectations? What if you let him down? But you would never know unless– 

“Okay…” The word ‘nervous’ runs a little short of what you were feeling. You had your own expectations of this moment, but you knew he would fill every single one of them and exceed them. Now for you? You weren’t so sure. 

“Trust me Kitty…” He gave you a nervous, yet charming smile as he finally invaded your space and leaned. You closed your eyes and waited, feeling your whole body about to collapse. You expected his lips on your lips, but you felt them on your cheek. You opened your eyes with confusion plastered in them to see Eddie grinning.

“Eds…?”

“Weird?” You giggled at that, feeling your nerves slowly leaving you.

“Nope.” He smiled as he guided his lips towards your other cheek, placing another kiss there. You two have shared kisses on the face before. Cheeks, foreheads, nose… All innocent, and now, the kisses had a completely different meaning.

“How about that?” You rolled your eyes at him and shook your head, and your heart was already thrumming with impatience instead of nerves. His smile faltered a bit but it never left as he finally leaned towards your lips. You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes at the same time he closed his. 

And finally, your lips touched for the very first time.

It was small, nervous, testing, but it still sent an electric shock down both of your bodies. Simultaneously. Your lips fit perfectly against his, and it felt right. It felt so right. He pulled away too soon, but his lips hovered over yours as he opened his eyes to look at you. You looked at him through your lashes.

“Not weird…” You mumbled and he only hummed, his own heart exploding. He tilted his head to the other side and pressed his lips against yours again, this time a little firmer than before. You felt your body craving to wrap itself around him, but you two were testing this new development. You had to be patient, but from the looks of it, it seemed Eddie was also enjoying it like you were.

And there was no lie in that because Eddie felt like he was combusting from how much he felt his body flush. He felt sweat on his fingertips and he just wanted to hold you in his arms, but just like yourself, he needed your green light. He slowly pulled away from that peck, a soft smack being heard in the room as you two looked at eachother again.

“Weird?” He asked in a whisper, and you shook your head desperately as you felt your eyes becoming glossy with need as you looked at him. 

And he dove in. This kiss was harder, deeper, and his hands finally reached out to hold your waist, pulling you closer, and you responded by raising your arms in order to wrap them around his neck, flushing your chest against his, and finally, your lips moved against eachother’s, and it felt magical. 

It felt like that puzzle piece you thought you would never find, but it was hidden in a very small corner, underneath a carpet. His arms wrapped around you, one palm on the small of your back and the other right in the middle. You felt how hot your body was getting but you couldn’t stop yourself, needing more and more from him.

He deepened the kiss even more, pressing you into him, wanting to feel more of you. Your heads moved from side to side, and he was going to be greedy and ask for more. His tongue darted out to lick your bottom lip, making your heart jump and a small gasp escaped your throat, but you opened your mouth to welcome him in.

And you two sighed in pleasure as your tongues clashed together, having a taste of eachother for the first time. You tasted like strawberries and beer thanks to your lipgloss, mints, and the alcohol you two had earlier in the night. He tasted like you always imagined he would. Tobacco, and this kind of minty taste that must be from the flavor sphere inside the filters of his cigarettes. Beer was also mixed in, and one of your hands couldn’t help but scratch the back of his neck for more grip, making him groan into the kiss.

You were surprised by the noise, but a moan escaped your mouth and into his as your breasts rubbed against his chest and his tongue danced with yours. You felt yourself sweating with anticipation, the track of time disappearing as you two melted more and more into eachother, but air was soon needed and you two broke apart, panting onto one another’s lips. His eyes were staring into yours and he gulped as he spoke again.

“Told you. Not weird.” He sounded breathless, and you could feel his heart thrumming in his chest, in fact, you didn’t even know if it was yours. You chased his lips and gave him a soft peck, your eyes half-lidded in bliss. He gave you a cheeky smile as he talked in a low voice. “Already can’t get enough of me Kitty?”

You were flustered, burning, but you wanted to show him how much you wanted him. So you kissed him again, deep, long, and slow. It was loving and filled with the emotions you wanted to shower him with for the past ten years. You pulled away with a small smile on your face as he stared at you, a little taken aback.

“Never going to get enough of you.” And you could see your best friend, this insane rockstar, blushing a deep red on his cheeks and you couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re red!”

His cheeks lose the color, just slightly, and his eyes squint at you, annoyance displayed in his features. Your smile fell down and before you could even speak, he bent down slightly in order to hook his arm around your waist and throw you over his shoulder as he stood up again. You screamed at that movement, your legs flailing a little bit as he walked towards his room.

“Cocky little shit.” He chuckled and in just one minute you were facing the floor, the other you were facing the ceiling as his mattress hit your back, making you bounce slightly. You felt butterflies flying all around inside your stomach as you raised yourself on your elbows in order to look at him.

His eyes were dark as he scanned your body, the dress you were wearing hitched up a bit on the middle of your thighs and before you could say anything, he leaned forward to help you take your sandals off. His fingers grazed your ankles and a shiver ran from your calf to the top of your head. You saw how he took each boot off with the help of the tips on the heels. He looked at you and then finally got on the bed, crawling on all fours on top of you, prompting you to lean back onto the bed.

Your breathing was fast as you looked up at him. Those brown eyes that have been with you since kids, and now, those eyes were looking at you with hunger, but was it really new? He leaned his body down, a bit closer, still not wanting to press his chest nor hips against yours.

“Kitty… We don’t have to do anything–” And you cut him off there with a shake of your head. He might have gotten the wrong idea because of your possible shocked facial expression.

“No, no… I– I want to…” He tilted his head with doubt as he inspected your face which only became hotter and hotter at the intense stare.

“You don’t sound too sure. We don’t have to do this now–”

“Eddie, I want to… God, I want to– I mean, have you seen you? I have a hidden maxi-size poster of your half-naked rolling stone cover just because your pelvis showed…” He snorted at your bluntness but seriously, it was the hottest you’ve seen Eddie look. The V shape with the happy trail going downwards, just where the edge of the cover ended was enough to make you have so many fantasies in the lapse of a minute.

“Alright. Good to know… So, is it just nerves? Cause, I am nervous too… I mean, it’s you… I built this up in my head a thousand times and it’s finally here and honestly? I am kind of afraid of busting in my pants.” You giggled at that, wholeheartedly too and he just kept smiling at you, brushing some hair off your face. You stopped laughing and gulped as shame crept all over your body.

You can trust him. It’s Eddie, and he loves you… He will understand you, there’s no need to be scared. The nervousness and anxiety of laying yourself out there to him didn’t calm itself down though, but you had to reassure him that it wasn’t him at all, nor the fear of it being weird.

“I– I just… do you mind… having the lights off?”

And that seemed to throw Eddie back. His eyebrows came to the middle in a confused frown as he looked down at you, trying to understand you. You looked away from him and you felt your eyes glossing over as more embarrassment came over your body.

“Kitty, I– Why do you want them off?” He will respect you, always, but he wants the answer out of your lips to make sure he hadn’t done anything to make you think he didn’t think you were at least pretty, but he always complimented you. Obviously, friendly compliments, not telling you the actual amount of things he wanted to say to you.

“Um… I– Well… um… I am different from all the– flings you had in the past two years…” You couldn’t look at him. You sounded so stupid, so little, but you had to be honest with him. You don’t want to have a terrified look on your face just because you pushed yourself to do it with the lights on. Eddie blinked a few times, his head shaking softly.

“Come again?” You cleared your throat, feeling as if it were closing up slowly. You have no smooth skin or toned body.

Adiposities, cellulite, stretchmarks, stretched skin, textured in every place you could look at. 

“I’m… nothing like those girls– those bodies, I don’t–” You didn’t want him to look at your body. You aren’t insecure, not always… but you know who Eddie slept with, and the insecurity with him is on another kind of level.

Eddie was stunned as he looked down at you. You compared yourself… and maybe all this time you had been doing so, and he never noticed. Were you hurting in some kind of way? Was he the reason you weren’t confident enough to talk to him about your feelings towards him? 

You gulped as you looked at him when you didn’t receive any answer. He seemed concerned, deep in thought, and you wondered if you had already driven him away with just your mere words. You opened your mouth to talk but he was faster.

“You think you are inferior to them?” His eyes were filled with confusion and some type of sadness, making you frown with worry, but he kept talking before you could even ask. “Sweetheart… Kitty, oh my god…”

You blinked a few times, trying to understand his facial expressions that were changing every second. From angry, to confused, to incredulous, to sad… you weren’t understanding what was going through his head.

“What is it?”

“What is it? Fuck… I don’t want to be blunt, but I feel like if I’m not you won’t understand one single bit of what’s going on in my head so…” He cleared his throat as a blush spread on his cheeks while looking down at you. “You have no idea how many times I popped a boner with you.”

That was not something you expected to hear, not right now, and certainly not from him.

“What?” He groaned followed by a sigh as he kept hovering over your body. You could feel the heat of his body radiating towards yours, and you could feel your blood rushing to your face, or probably your head.

“What I said. I popped a boner many times, even when we were at your house watching Sleepaway Camp and you had those pajamas on that had kittens all over… I covered my crotch with a pillow.” He chuckled to hide his nervousness but your mind was still trying to work out what he was saying.

“I– Pajamas?” He looked into your eyes and he gave you one slow nod.

“And don’t let me get started on the pool parties. One piece, two piece… Even when you didn’t even take anything off, and fuck– This sundress? I had to tuck myself when a little bit of wind helped me see the back of your thighs… Just the back of your thighs darling!” He was exasperated now, his eyes wild as he rambled but your mind had shut off.

You? You got him worked up? Today? And before? Even when in the most clothed situations? He looked your way? 

“Really…?” Your voice came out smaller than what you intended but you couldn’t help it. You were feeling emotional, this revelation trying to sit in your brain as it tried to push the possibility of Eddie actually being attracted to you after the women he’s been with away. His eyes softened and he moved a hand towards your cheek to caress it in a soft manner.

“Really. You drive me absolutely insane…” His eyes turned slightly darker and you noticed the air around the two of you change, shift into something that made you feel a little light-headed. “Will you let me show you just how insane you make me?”

And your body went limp at his question, a hunger in the eyes of your best friend that you never thought would ever be directed to you. 

But maybe those eyes were always there, just not when you were looking. Glances he stole at you at prom after picking you up himself and going together. His eyes scanning your body when you appeared in a long shimmery dress for one of his first award shows, something that made people speculate you two were dating, but then the paparazzis did their job to dismiss that. 

Feelings mixed with pure desire and lust that felt wrong to even experience. He watched you become a woman right before his own eyes, growing up together, graduating together after two failed attempts on Eddie’s part, and even with the different future paths, you a veterinarian and he a rockstar, you never lost touch.

But now… now there is no need to feel guilt. No restraints because the line was already crossed.

So you gave him a slow nod despite the nervous look on your face. Is there a possibility for Eddie to want you just as much as he says he does? More than Megan Fox? Than that chick from that rock band that opened his shows and that is exactly like him and a better match? How is there even a chance?

Your thoughts came to a halt as you felt his face lowering in order to take your lips with his, your mind short circuiting as the kiss wasn’t shy at all like the previous one. It was instantly deep, passionate, and desperate. Teeth almost knocking with eachother as your heads moved from side to side, your arms wrapping around his shoulders wanting to feel him closer.

He chuckled into the kiss, and he pulled away with a soft smack of the lips, a confused whimper escaping your lips to then gasping when his head ducked even further and his kiss was now on your neck, on your pulse point. 

“You have no idea how much I have wanted to mark you. All the guys that flirted with you, or were your hookups… I just wanted to mark your neck so that they would back off.” He mumbled on your neck and your eyes widened at that, your thighs rubbing against eachother below him for some friction.

And you would be lying if you didn’t think of doing the same. The roaring of the word ‘MINE’ whenever a girl got close to Eddie back in school was insanely big inside your head. But as the years went by, that voice only got softer, slower, until he told you the first fling he had after the contract was signed. That voice said a few last words before disappearing, ‘Maybe he is not mine, and never will be.’.

But now– It’s back, and stronger than ever.

“Then mark me Eds… But–” And it was risky, but you wanted it, you needed it, you needed everyone, absolutely everyone to know he is yours. “Only if you let me mark you back.”

And his kisses stopped, surprised by your boldness, the jeans straining a little more to the point of it being almost painful. Is he going to get yelled at by Joyce and Wayne? His two managers? Most likely. Does he care? Not a fucking chance. Not now, not ever. A smile formed on his lips as he mumbled against your skin.

“Deal.” And his lips pressed again against your pulse point. You were afraid of your sounds, but a moan almost got out when his lips pressed pecks until you felt him sucking on your skin. He was going to make sure to brand you as his. For real. His breath was heavy as he inhaled with his nose, loving the taste of you and how your nails dug into his nape and the other pair onto his shoulder.

He repeated it, three times to be exact, leaving you with deep red marks that went downwards a bit. He pulled away to look at his art, a smile on his lips as he saw how dazed you already looked as you tried to level your breathing back to a normal pace. You looked beautiful like this, and he was opening his mouth in order to ask if you were ready to keep going, but you broke silence first with a giggle.

“It tickled.” His heart only clenched a bit more at you, thinking that you couldn’t look cuter, or more endearing than you were now, but you always surprise him, don’t you? He smirked as he leaned forward, nose touching with yours, making your giggles stop completely.

“Can you stop being adorable for a second? I’m trying to be sexy here.” You really didn’t know if you had a face anymore because you just felt it combust in flames. He chuckled at watching your expression, even if his own matched with yours. “Can I keep going?”

You gulped and slowly nodded, but his eyes started tracing your neck and going downwards. You wondered what was going on and then they finally landed on your sundress. His hand raised to press against your waist and his eyes met with yours once more, pupils completely dilated with desire.

“Eddie?”

“Kitty… Can we keep the lights on?” Your heart stopped at that, your hands clenching on his shoulders and you felt your whole body break into a cold nervous sweat.

“I– I thought we were still going to keep the lights off–” And he shook his head, his eyes looking down towards the top of your sundress, a feral side of him coming to light and that he never thought he wouldn’t be able to control it when it came to you.

“We’ll do whatever you want but– Baby, I want to see the body I’ve been craving all these years. I want to see every detail, even a freckle I might have missed, or a mole in a place that I never thought I would see before…” You saw how his eyes traveled all over your body, the hand on your waist giving a press every now and then when his eyes landed at particular places.

You could feel it, even in the midst of your anxiety, that desire that wants to eat you alive, inch by inch, and your own need grows from it. His eyes are not lying, his body language is not lying, his touches, his words, his overall energy, are not lying to you. He wants you. Eddie wants you and has always wanted you. 

And that brings you an ounce of confidence. Even if small, it was enough to take the first step–

“Okay…” And his eyes snapped back towards yours, his uneasiness overlapping with his excitement.

“No– No, we don’t have to do something you don’t feel comfortable with because of my selfishness sweetheart–” 

“You– You promised you would show me…” And if you didn’t do the lights now, they would be on at some other point, wouldn’t they? You just had to rip the bandaid off. His head started turning, trying to see which was the best way to show you his true feelings, and he decided on a different approach than what he thought would be the most appropriate one.

He got a knee between yours, nudging on them. You looked down in surprise but followed the queue and parted your left leg away, very slowly, afraid of the sundress driving up even more than before. His eyes weren’t leaving your face though, needing to see your reaction as he pressed his knee against your right leg as well.

Your heart rate picked up, and the butterflies in your belly probably ate your stomach up at this point. You swallowed your nerves as you parted your right leg as well, and he was finally able to get his knees between your legs. He took a sharp courageous breath, letting a nervous sigh out, and pressed his hips against yours. 

You gasped and an electric current shot from your core to every single end nerve of your body. His bulge was harshly pressed against your center, and he groaned at finally having some friction against the strain. He was hard. He was rock hard for you.

His lips found yours in a soft peck, only to then kiss the corner of your mouth as he rolled his hips against yours and for the first time in the night, a little moan escaped your lips. The press was delicious on your clit, but it only was building your need for him, slowly, clouding your mind, your sight, your thoughts.

He groaned onto your skin, almost a growl, as his kisses traveled further into the crook of your neck. His hips kept rolling, getting a little lost in it all, drunkenness from finally having you hitting him at full blast. He sucked on places he hadn't before and he nibbled on the soft skin, making another moan escape you which only makes him twitch.

“You are the only one I’ve ever truly wanted… In every single possible way, you can imagine.” It was a low mumble, but it was enough for you to be able to hear it and for your arms to wrap around him, nails digging into his back, grabbing onto the black shirt, pulling on it at every roll of his lower half. 

He pulled away from your neck and raised himself on his knees, making your arms fall back down onto the mattress. He crossed his arms, reaching for the hem of his shirt and immediately ripping it away and throwing it across the room.

Your eyes widened when you saw his torso, his belly, the happy trail you have fantasized about so many times with, after that stupid magazine cover. His chest, which only had that skull and spider back in high school, was now littered with many random pieces, as well as his arms, even his hands. 

He was gorgeous, perfect, and has always been to your eyes, but now he is not only that but shining as if he were polished gold. Your eyes were all over his belly button and the V shape on his hips, not noticing the eyes that were looking at you with a smirk on his lips. Your eyes went downwards to the bulge on his pants and your eyes widened as you propped yourself up on your elbows to look at it better.

“Holy shit, I thought you were bluffing Eddie!” It wasn’t exactly a bulge… His dick was so hard that you could see the outline of his length as it pressed sideways against the restrictive pants. And–

“Whenever I said I was big, I meant it, and I also repeated it so many times to see if you showed any interest!” He almost yelled in a high-pitched voice which only made you giggle only to stop when you noticed his eyes scanning your every inch, making you gulp loudly. His hand reached down, fingers playing with the hem of your dress.

You two had seen eachother’s upper bodies, but in completely different situations. This wasn’t some nice summer’s day at a pool. He will see everything, and he wants to properly scan you, touch you, feel you. But– Fuck, the images of all those women pop in your head again, comparing yourself to them, their bodies, their futures, their ambitions, and their wealth. 

You close your eyes tightly, waiting for the tug of the shirt in order to help him by lifting your upper body from the mattress, but his fingers let go of the dress, and that warm touch suddenly appears on your cheek. You opened your eyes to meet his. He was giving you a small reassured smile as he looked down at your face, pupils that gave you safety and filled you with warmth.

You noticed his fingers were slightly trembling and you realized that Eddie was just as nervous as you were. He leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips, making you moan in delight at feeling him this close once more. He chuckled in between and pulled away moments after in order to talk again.

“I compared myself with Steve today.” And your eyebrows raised at that in surprise. 

“What? Why?” He couldn’t help but scoff at your question and he kneeled back up in between your legs, letting you prop yourself up on your elbows. He motioned all over himself and then looked back at you as if it were obvious.

“I am not exactly like him, baby. Steve has no tattoos, wears sunshine clothes, rich boy clothes, listens to pop music, and is a tidy guy… I am nothing like that sweetheart.” You were shocked at those words… Eddie? With who he is now, doubting himself?

“B-But… you– you didn’t have to worry–”

“I know that now… so let me show you just how much you don’t have to worry either. Please…” He was looking down at your face, waiting for a response. Your heart soared into the sky at those words, and despite your nervousness, there was a side of you that trusted Eddie blindly, and it was whispering to you that you should let him. Let him show you what he means by all of that.

So you slowly sit up and cross your arms in order to grab the hem of your dress and before you could say anything or stop, you yanked it upwards, throwing it to the side. Your eyes were not looking at him, not wanting to see the reaction to your body. A body he is not used to having anymore. It’s not firm, or perky, or smooth, markless, spotless. It’s full of those.

Instead, you felt fingers on your chin that made you lift your head up so you could look at Eddie once more. He was smiling softly as he leaned and kissed you, softly and gently. You felt yourself being lowered again, back hitting against the mattress, while one of his hands pressed onto your waist and the other helped with the leverage of moving you down.

His lips broke apart from yours and your body was burning from the small interaction only for a cold sweat to invade you as you saw him straighten up again and his eyes locked on your body. The visible part of your breasts above the cups of your bra, your shoulders, your tummy, your hips, and you needed to cover your body, or at least your face to not see his reaction.

But your eyes caught onto the twitch of pain in his eyebrows as he groaned softly into his throat. You could see his jaw clench, and a vein in his neck popping out slightly as he swallowed hard. 

“Eds–?”

“I’m sorry– I can’t hold myself back, I’m sorry.” And his hand quickly went to his jeans, unbuttoning them and zipping them down, a sigh of relief coming out and then, with an almost animalistic growl, he lunged back down on you, his lips taking yours in a ravishing kiss. Hot, rough, deep, moving at a quick desperate pace. You were thrown off at the intensity but quickly reciprocated as the butterflies in your belly exploded in retaliation.

His kiss only made the fire worse and you wrapped your arms around his neck to have something to hold on to as you raised your hips up to meet his, needing some kind of friction. You moaned into the kiss when his bulge rubbed against your clothed pussy. He grunted and bit your bottom lip gently as if to reprimand you for the action. 

His lips traveled south and you expected them back on your neck, but they kept moving, kissing on your collarbone, and then the top of one of your breasts. You gasped and arched your back slightly as his hips kept rutting against yours, slow but still very needy. His lips went to your other breast only to then continue down, kissing your chest and downwards to your tummy, his hips leaving yours as he moved down, sending shivers all over your body and you could feel the goosebumps rising up on your skin.

His hands were now gripping your hips, fingers digging on your skin, dipping into it as if he were clawing into something to keep himself centered. His lips traveled all over your tummy, and your waist, groans leaving his mouth as he bit onto your side, a nibble, causing you to jump. He was being so… needy, and desperate, something you never experienced before. 

He moved upwards again, his lips not leaving your skin, but his body moving up again as one hand traveled all the way towards your back, making you arch it upwards a little bit. You felt his fingers play with the clasp of your bra and he kept kissing over the cups of it, making you mewl a little as you felt yourself clench in anticipation.

“Eddie–”

“Please, let me see more… Please, sweetheart?” His eyes were cloudy in the darkness of lust as he raised his head up, chin resting on your chest with his mouth hanging slightly open. You gulped a bit but you felt a certain power in you that you didn’t think you would feel with him. Some kind of confidence rises up inside your chest. 

“Yeah…” You fully arch your back so he can have more movement to snap your bra open in one movement. You lay back down once he takes his hand out and immediately it grabs onto the strap of your left shoulder to push it down, surprising you by how quickly he was moving, as if he weren’t thinking anymore, just acting.

He makes a cup move out of the way, revealing your perked-up nipple, making you flush a bit in embarrassment but also in arousal, as you feel the cold air hit it a bit. You can’t even think far enough that his lips circle around it, your nipple being sucked into his mouth as his tongue presses on it. His hand was roughly grabbing onto your breast to keep it still and you squirmed beneath him as pleasure filled your senses.

You let a moan out when his teeth grazed the tip of your nipple, and his own satisfaction showed when a groan got stuck in his throat. His hips started moving against you again, the shape of his dick rubbing deliciously against your heat, over and over, destroying your underwear each second it passed but you couldn’t care less. 

With a ‘pop’ he let go of your left nipple in order to raise up and rip your bra off your body finally. Now, without the elastics of your bra, you know your breasts are not in perfect shape, gravity, changes of weight, and the years doing their job with your skin. The stretch marks pronounced around the nipple area, which made you a little self-conscious only for that thought to be thrown out the window when Eddie talked once more, almost in a whine.

“The most perfect pair of tits I’ve ever seen baby, so fucking perfect, jesus christ…” You felt a wave of embarrassment at the dirty talking. You will have to get used to how it makes you feel coming from your best friend’s mouth. But he sounded so delighted as if he were drunk, staring at them, back and forth, trying to decide if he should go for the other neglected nipple but then his eyes hit your surprised ones, and you see how they widen in realization.

“A– Are they?” And he covered his face with one hand to cover up his reddened cheeks. 

“I uh… Yeah, I just– Fuck, I said that out loud, didn’t I?” And you couldn’t help but giggle, making your breasts jiggle a bit at your laughter, his eyes flickering to them instinctively. 

“Well, glad to know that…” And you honestly were. No one has ever looked at you the way Eddie was doing right now, so desperately, wanting to ravish you but waiting for you to give him the green light to do so. The fire inside of you and all over your body needed to be extinguished, and you also had to show him how eager you were for him, your own patience after ten long years wearing thin.

You sat up, looking up at him as your fingers hooked on his boxers and jeans. He licked his lips nervously, his eyes scanning your face as he gulped harshly, his hands moving to go over yours and help you drag down his clothes. 

Your head slowly moved downwards when you felt his bulge forbidding you to move the boxers even lower, prompting you to stretch the elastic even more and your eyes widened when you finally saw him. His cock slaps against his belly, and your face must be one of awe because Eddie had to clear his throat to center you back to reality.

“Um, you okay there?” He tried to say it with a hint of comedy, humor, but he was nervous, just so fucking nervous. 

You two know eachother since kids, and even with that thought in mind, it doesn’t feel weird to be right here with you like this, knowing what the two of you were about to do. But maybe you don’t think the same. Now seeing him completely naked might make you rethink what the two of you were doing, thinking about the past, about what–

He hissed in surprise when he felt your hand over his shaft, your thumb pressing onto his red leaking tip, causing him to lock eyes with you again. You were smiling up at him, an innocent little grin that stirred the lust inside of him and renewed it. He was big in your hand, that you were slowly moving, lazily, feeling the warmth of it on your palm. 

You wanted to dart your tongue out, feeling like being a little filthy, show him how eager and needy of him you were. You were looking at the tip, your eyes clouded with desire, and your mouth started to open, only for Eddie’s hand to press on your cheek to make you look up at him.

“As much as I would love for you to make one of my many wet dreams about you come true, I don’t want to lose the small bit of dignity I have left.” You tilted your head in confusion at that only to be pushed back onto the mattress, making you bounce on it, opening your eyes after you gasped to see Eddie taking off his clothes, and almost falling off the edge of the bed in the action, making you snort, covering your mouth after he sent a glare your way.

“I’m sorry Eds, but– I think you just lost that dignity you mentioned.” You giggled and he growled as he crawled over you, his finger hooking into the elastic of your underwear, yanking it and letting go so it hit against your skin, making you yelp at the 

little sting.

“Don’t mock me now.” Your giggles stopped when you met his dark eyes, just looking down into yours, his head tilting to the side. “Can I keep going or are you going to keep laughing at me? I am on a mission, Kitty.”

Your eyebrows frowned in confusion as you stirred a bit below him. Before you could ask, his face went back to the crook of your neck where he could continue with the soft featherlight kisses and as you were about to close your eyes, you felt his fingers playing with the elastic of your underwear once more, making your breath hitch.

You felt him nibble on your pulse point at the same time his fingers sneaked in, a little bit of self-consciousness filled you when you realized you hadn’t shaved properly, just trimmed, and maybe those women he slept with had the laser hair removal you cannot afford. You opened your mouth to apologize but the words were stolen away when his index finger grazed your clit softly, yet perfect.

“Eddie–” You breathed out, and he only gave a low humming with satisfaction as he felt how wet you were for him. He was twitching, wanting to rub himself on you to relieve himself a bit, the friction very much needed but– he wanted to do this. He wanted to make you come undone underneath him, show you just how good he could be for you, how eager he is to give you pleasure.

His middle finger pressed on your clit, a little harder now, slow and lazy circles being done as your breathing turned into held in moans, and whimpers as your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Yeah, mark him. Mark him. He wants you to mark him, just like he always had wanted you to do.

“So fucking perfect for me– I’ve always known but fuck–” You whimpered at his words, trembling underneath him as he kept rubbing you, deliciously so. His mouth left your throat to then peck your collarbone and shift a bit lower, his back arching so his lips could land on your left nipple. 

His middle finger ran through your slit, coating it with your wetness before slowly starting to nudge inside. At the same time, his mouth started sucking and flicking your hardened nipple with his tongue, causing you to throw your head back onto the pillow, a strangled moan escaping your lips, making him smile with victory against your breast as his finger was engulfed by your warmth.

He couldn’t help but groan at the feel of you, reaching deep, his dreams and imagination out of the window as you gave another whimper when he pulled his finger out, only to plunge it inside again, easily. He needed to worship you. He wanted to make you cum on his fingers, on his tongue, many times, putting you first above everything, needing to hear you moan his name repeatedly… but your breathy moans make it hard to be patient.

He pulled out of your cunt in order to rub his ring finger along his middle one now, rubbing fast-paced circles on your clit, making your hips jerk against him. He had to bite his bottom lip as he raised himself a bit to look down at your face. Your eyes were clenched as moans started coming out of your mouth, embarrassment no longer in you about those. He groans at the angry twitch of his dick. 

He licked his lips as he slowly started pressing both his fingers inside of you, stretching you, preparing you. You gasped when he got them inside of you in one move, eyes opening to see him looking down at you with a fucked out look on his face. Your eyes were teary because of the pleasure, face, and body burning up in a thousand degrees. 

“Eds…” You called him out as he pulled his fingers back out and then in again, the palm of his hand slamming against your clit, making your back arch at it as he kept repeating the action, his pace increasing. You could hear the squelching now, making you slightly embarrassed but the pleasure he is giving you right now completely overshadows it.

“Yeah, baby?” You whimpered at the nickname, loving the way it sounded in his mouth, the nickname you always fantasized about. Imagining his voice saying it to you in random moments, but mostly in these kinds of situations, where he was slowly breaking you apart.

“P-Please–” What were you begging for? You didn’t know. You weren’t that talkative during sex, but… you wanted Eddie to know, or hear you, anything. Just let him know you were feeling good. You gasped a moan out when his fingers curled, the squelching becoming even nastier, filthier, but he was hitting that spot that you sometimes have a hard time figuring out. “O-Oh fuck–!”

“Found it.” He said with a smug smirk as he saw how you clenched your eyes again, moaning louder, one of your hands shooting out to grip the sheets while the other dug into his bicep, tightly. Your legs were shaking as he kept going, his fingers just making you clench around him, your pussy being filled and satisfied.

“I’m– more, more!” He was surprised by your words, not knowing if you were normally vocal or not, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. He groaned as he leaned down to your right nipple, engulfing it with his teeth and giving a soft pull, pressing his palm against your clit in order to move his hand up and down. His fingertips rub your G-spot while the heel of his hand rubs against your clit.

Your eyes widen at the new feeling. It was raw, rough, desperate, and he moaned against your skin as you started fluttering around him, the pressure building in your belly like never before. It was going quickly, a fire that was spreading, not letting you run away. You were almost crying out his name as you kept trembling underneath him. He pulled away from your nipple in order to hover over you, his nose nudging yours.

“You close, love?” You whined at the nickname as your hips met the thrust of his fingers. He gave you a soft kiss, the opposite of what he was doing in the lower part of your body. The elastic band was stretching and stretching, your belly contracting at the pressure. Your moans came out in sharp breaths, chest heaving up and down as now both your hands flew to his shoulders as your back arched against him.

“Yes– Yes– Eddie, Eddie, baby–” And the elastic band snapped while Eddie moaned at the nickname, the first time you called him that and not his name. Your walls clenched tightly around his fingers and he moaned with delight as you spasmed underneath him, his dick threatening to finally shoot his seed, not being able to hold it back anymore, but he held back, with all of his strength.

Your moan was loud, satisfaction rushing all over your body as you trembled, legs giving up almost. You felt his fingers still moving, helping you ride it out, until you slowly calmed down, a few twitches of your legs here and there. It was probably the best orgasm you received… for now. He slowed his movements as he stared down at you, a pleased smile on his face as you opened your eyes to look at him, your breaths heavy.

“So? How was that?” He cocked his head to the side as he gave you one more thrust and you whined at the overstimulation, your hips moving away slightly and he got the clue so he pulled his fingers out of you. You looked at how he took his hand out of your underwear, the wet fingers grazing your pelvis slightly and you looked at how he raised his fingers to his mouth and your eyes widened.

“You–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence when his fingers entered his own mouth. No person had ever done that to you. So eager to taste you that they licked their fingers with so much delight. He moaned at the taste and he cursed at himself for not going down on you. But maybe he can have a small taste…

“Couldn’t help myself Kitty. Needed to know, and I am gonna grow addicted to it, I can already tell.” He raised himself back up on his knees and you looked down to see him still hard, and you winced with embarrassment.

“Let me do something Eddie–” He shook his head at you, his fingers digging into the elastic of your underwear, pulling it away. Your face flushed as you raised your hips up and– He will see it. What if it’s not pretty? What if there’s something he doesn’t like? Or too bushy, or maybe–

But as soon as your underwear is off, and you lay bare beneath him, he can’t help but tremble as his hand reaches his length. The number of times he had imagined you like this, there’s not even a way of counting them. It’s years of imagination, of dreams, of songs he wrote about your body. Songs you might not even know they’re about you. 

You didn’t know what to do as he stared down at you, wanting to close your legs but he was in between them. Your eyes widened when he scanned your body and he started to slowly stroke himself, just soft grazes. Was he touching himself by just looking at you? Did he do that before? Were you the protagonist of some dirty dreams he had?

He suddenly moves backwards, just three small movements with his knees, away from you. You tilt your head as you raise yourself on your elbows to look at him. His body bends down and your eyes widen when his eyes cannot leave your center, wetness all around, and he just looks drunk. 

“I’m sorry, can’t help myself…” It was his soft mumble as he gave a pointed lick in between your folds, and you groaned as your hips bucked towards him. He moaned as he gathered some of your juices, gulping them down and straightening again. 

Your eyes locked again, and the need was worse than it ever was before. The desire burning you both alive. It prompted Eddie to move quickly from in between your legs, his knees guiding him slightly to the side so he could reach over and open the drawer of his night table. You turned your head to watch how he took an unopened box of condoms. 

He cursed when he couldn’t open it from how nervous he suddenly got. He was finally going to get what he had always wanted, and now that it’s here… His thoughts were cut off when he felt your soft hands engulfing his, taking the box in your grasp, thumb pressing onto one edge to pop it open. 

He gave you a smile, a fond, caring one, and took the box once more, pulling a foil out. He moved again, his hands gripping your knees that had closed slightly, reopening them with a tut as he placed himself in between. You looked at how he ripped the foil open with his teeth, throwing it somewhere, and then rolled the latex over himself. 

Your heart was on your throat now, knots of nerves inside of your belly, needing to simply detangle or explode. He looked down at you and crawled on top of you, his forearms coming to rest on either side of your head in order to support himself over your body. His nose nudged yours, a hum vibrating in his throat.

“You okay princess?” He asked and you sighed in delight, giving a small nod.

“Yeah… you?”

“I’m fucking nervous.” He admitted, no playfulness in his tone and it surprised you. “But I am also very excited.”

And you decided to be the one to diffuse the tension a little bit this time. You raised your hips and rubbed your center along his shaft, coating it with your wetness, making him groan and raise an eyebrow at you. A smirk played on your lips as you looked at your best friend.

“I can feel that alright.” And Eddie’s lips turned into a smile, his eyes filled with love just as much as yours were. One of his arms left the mattress to get in between you two, grabbing onto his cock, and rubbing the tip of it against your folds and clit, making you whimper. 

“Bratty little shit.” And his hips pressed in, his arm returning to the same position as before, and your mouths fell into an ‘o’ shape, a choked breath in your throats as he slowly thrusts himself inside of you, inch by inch. 

Electricity ran all over your body, on every nerve and artery, from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You could feel it everywhere, every single thing in the world making sense for some reason. You didn’t care about anything else but him at this moment. Him and how he felt as he slowly filled you, finally, after so long. Your legs raised up, thighs pressing against his sides as the heels of your feet dug into his hips.

He moaned when half of his cock was already inside of you and he cursed when he felt himself twitch. He had to hold it back for a little longer, he needed this to be perfect. He needed to make this last, though, he knew this wouldn’t be the last time. He hoped it would be the first time of many.

His lips desperately pressed against yours as his hips kept pressing in, deeper and deeper and you wondered how much you could possibly take as he stretched you open, your wetness making it all a little easier. There was a small pressure, a little sting at the sudden intrusion but it was still so delicious.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you kissed him back, hands moving to his hair and you remembered the bun he had on. It was a little loose, and you wanted to see his mane all over his face, just like the Eddie you had been pining for since high school. You needed to see him like that as he made you scream his name.

Your fingers dug into his ponytail and started to yank, trying not to rip his hair when doing so. He winced a bit in between the kiss and you giggled, having some trouble in freeing his hair. He groaned and pulled away from the kiss, his hips stopping as his arm reached up and swatted your hand away in order to take the hairband off himself. 

You heard a few hairs being ripped out and you winced at the sound but he didn’t care as his curls fell down. Your eyes softened as you finally saw your Eddie. You loved his hair up, but… his hair down just reminded you of the first time you looked at him with different eyes. It was when it was getting longer after deciding to never let anyone give him a buzz cut ever again.

“Happy?” He asked and you giggled, his hair now all over his face and shoulders, falling on your face as well, making your cheeks tingle. You moved your hands to gather it up and pull it all over to one side only. He shook his head at you, fond eyes and a smile directed your way. “You shouldn’t have taken it off. It will be a little bothersome.”

“I wanted to… Your long hair is one of the things I love the most about you…” He tilted his head to the side as his eyes filled with confusion. 

“My hair?”

“Yeah… When you decided to let it grow, it’s when you turned into… you.” You smiled up at him, eyes filled with love and stars and he could see them all as his heart combusted inside of his chest. 

He can now truly absolutely believe that you were meant for him. No woman could make him feel the way you do. You love him with everything in you, he can see it in your eyes. You have loved him before his fame, and he cannot be more grateful to destiny for bringing you into his life. He will never be able to say thank you enough.

But his feelings made his body twitch, a sudden electric shock sent to his whole body as his hips moved by themselves. Your smile slowly vanished as your mouth fell into a breathless moan, eyes widening as he stared down at your face and how it slowly contorted. He needed to be fully inside of you, his feelings making his body take what it has been craving for so long.

You gasped as your head was thrown back against the pillow when his hips suddenly slammed against yours, making him bottom out and fill you entirely. He was big, a definite stretch, but god it felt wonderful. Right. Meant to be even as your back arched against him, his lips falling to your exposed neck, groaning against your skin as he kept himself from moving, letting you adjust and for his mind to help him not end this as soon as it started.

Your nails were digging into his shoulders for some grounding, your mind and heart racing and you felt everything a little too much. You gave a small groan as you pressed your back against the mattress once more, and his face raised up from your neck in order to look down at you. 

“I love you.” His words were not new, not anymore, yet they made your heart skip many beats now. The butterflies in your stomach exploded and you gave him a small smile. You opened your mouth in order to reply only for a moan of yours to occupy where your words should have been as his hips moved backwards and in again. 

“I– I love you Ed– ah!” You couldn’t even finish it correctly because as the first letter left your mouth, his movement quickened just a bit. His hips swayed back and forth, moving slowly still but you felt the drag of him against your walls. His face lowered, his elbows on each side of your head, his forearms and hands holding onto your head, fingers running through your scalp as he used that hold to keep himself up and for his hips to move faster.

His lips were against your cheek, and now the hit of skin against skin started being heard and you felt your whole body flush in embarrassment, or pleasure, or a mix of it all. Suddenly his breath hit your ear as he groaned at each thrust of his hips. He felt too good, and you felt your mind drifting away, further from consciousness, until you heard his words again.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He kept repeating them in your ear at each thrust his hips made, his fingers on your scalp as his chest rubbed against yours. You moaned when you felt his tip just graze your g-spot but not quite there yet. Your nails ran from his shoulders and down to his back, scratching him, and your eyes opened when you realized you hadn’t done your part of the deal yet.

So you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck as your nails dug even deeper into the skin and your mouth opened. Your lips latched onto his skin and he groaned, hips stuttering slightly at your possessiveness of him. He could feel the burning in his back and now, the one on the side of his throat as you marked him in two places of his body.

You knew he liked to get shirtless in his concerts, of course you did… And he can’t wait to show everyone, his fans, his band members, his team, his staff, what you did to him. What you are to him. What he is to you. To finally show everyone who owns him, in body and soul.

He felt you nibble, suck, lick, kiss, and he knew it was going to be a big mark, just like the one he left you. He pulled away from your ear and raised himself up on his hands in order to look down at you. Your eyes were glossy, just like your lips which are also plump from all the kissing you’ve done to his skin. He wants to devour you, a fire that had always been there, but now it was scorching hot, almost painful. 

So why hold back?

His hips draw back and strike against yours in a forceful thrust. It was deep, so fucking deep, that he couldn’t help but groan, almost growl at your tightness. A choked moan escaped you from the surprise and the sudden punch to your spongy spot. Your eyes met his, now clouded in a dark cloud of pleasure, hints of love and devotion here and there, but you could see that he needed to ruin you, take what is his.

Your fingers are on his biceps now as he literally, absolutely, starts railing you into the mattress, like a madman, as if it were his first time ever. Reckless, sloppy, harsh, but still perfected. The bed made the both of you bounce, helping the movements, and your moans turned into whimpers and cries of his name.

“Eddie–!” You didn’t even notice that drool was coming out from the corner of your mouth, not noticing how long you had your lips parted for your moans to come out. You saw how intensely he was looking at you, as if he were to try to remember each trace of your face. Nervousness invaded you as well as some kind of self-consciousness, not knowing if your face was scrunching too much due to the pleasure, making your eyes avert away.

“Oh no, I’m having none of that.” You felt his hand grip your jaw and turn your head so he could look at you once again. Your cheeks were on fire, and you could swear tears were beginning to threaten to leave your eyes. His hair was all over his shoulders, moving at the pace of his hips, sweat on his forehead and tattooed chest. He was gorgeous. He was so beautiful that it hurt.

Your moans were still coming out steadily out of your lips until his hips shifted, just slightly, and his thrusts were now in a more upward direction. Your G-Spot was being punched by the tip of his cock and your belly was turning deliciously at each movement. 

He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to prove to you that he is the only one you will ever need, that he is the only one that can make you feel this good. He took his time fingering you in order to know where your spot was correctly. He has a lot to learn about you, and you about him, but there will be other times for that. 

For now, he just wants to see you come undone underneath him.

“F-Fuck–Fuck!” Your right hand was holding the wrist that held your face, while the left one was still gripping his bicep. You wanted to scream, the pleasure being too much yet not enough, trying to reach that high once more. A smile appeared on his lips, and you dared to say that it looked evil, cheeky, snarky, cocky.

“Weird?” And that bastard– He was mocking you. He was mocking you for ever thinking that this would feel weird for the both of you, considering the years of friendship. You growled a bit at him, a warning which only made him chuckle as he kept pounding into you, a particular drag making him groan.

“S-Shut up!” And oh you sounded so amazing like this. Breathless, needy, frustrated, pleasured… It was a mixture of everything, and he needed more as he felt his dick twitch inside of you. He hasted his movements and you could only whine in question as your confused, glossy eyes looked up at him. 

He groaned with displeasure as he pulled out of you and let go of your face, kneeling up and moving backwards slightly. His hands came to your hips, and he motioned for you to the next position he desired, which made the blood completely leave your body. 

He wanted you on all fours. He would have a perfect view of everything. Every single spot of texture, every stretchmark, all of your cellulite… just everything. And the lights are still on. Fuck they’re still on. Your hands were not fast enough to stop him from using his strength in order to turn you around on the mattress, your legs flailing as you were now on your belly onto the mattress.

You opened your mouth, embarrassment already too deep, afraid of even turning your head to look at him. You didn’t want to see the scrunch on his face when he looked at your skin. You are no professional model, and you certainly don’t have the money for all the treatments they can afford on their skin. 

But what you didn’t expect was the ferocious bite you received on your left ass cheek, making you yelp. He was behind you, his hands digging on your hips in order to pull your ass up, getting you to press your knees on the mattress and finally be in a formal all fours. You were almost shocked at how easily he manhandled you, at how quick he was. You slowly turned your head over your shoulder and you clenched at the sight.

Eddie looked drunk as he looked at your behind. He was even stroking himself as he looked at you, careful to not roll the condom off. You were stunned, hands and knees on the bed as he kneeled behind you. One of his hands came to rub your left ass cheek, to then give it a slap, causing you to whimper and jump at the action. 

“Eddie!” 

“Fuck, look at you…” His hand left his dick, and now both of his palms were engulfing your ass, pressing tightly, digits digging urgently into the skin as his face leaned downwards in order to kiss the small of your back and then one cheek. Your face was on fire, but you didn’t know if it was embarrassment or shame anymore… you felt loved. You felt like a goddess. Eddie was making you feel like an absolute goddess.

A bite landed on your right ass cheek this time, gentle but enough to grab some skin and pull gently. He groaned desperately, needing to swallow you whole. You weren’t aware of the state you put him in. He was feral. You were perfect, so fucking perfect and he was gonna make damn sure you knew this.

“Eddie please…” You whined one more time and he gave a small nibble to your ass cheek. He can bite on them a bit more later on. He straightened up and guided the tip of his cock to your sopping entrance, and pushed right in once more. Not slow, yet not fast, just easily.

The two of you groaned with relief as he thrusted a few times, before fully bottoming out inside of you. He growled into his throat as he took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. He is not going to last long, but he for sure was not going to end this without you clenching around his cock.

His hands are now on your waist, gripping your skin in order to guide himself in and out of you, the smacking of hips now echoing once more around the room. He looked at how your ass jiggled underneath him as his hips hit you. He was smirking, a small smack landing on one of your cheeks, making you yelp in between your moans.

He felt you clench a few times, and he cursed into the sky as he had to get a hold of himself so he wouldn’t spill too fast.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight Kitty– You gonna cum for me?” A dumb ‘Uh-Huh’ was heard from you as you nodded as best as you could. Your arms and legs were trembling, the squelching of your juices with his thrusts a little too loud. It should shame you, but it’s the whole contrary now. You want him to know just how wet you were for him. How good he is making you feel right now, emotionally and physically.

“Y-Yeah Eds, yeah, please–” And you didn’t have to ask twice. His right hand left your hip and guided it underneath, reaching your clit with his index and middle finger. You gasped as your belly suddenly turned at the attention. “FUCK!” 

“I know baby, I know…” You whimpered at the nickname as his fingers moved on your sensitive nub, while his dick kept hitting your spot in a perfect rhythm. Your mouth was open, sometimes moans came out, sometimes only drool, but you couldn’t close it. Your pussy clenched around him, making him wince and curse under his breath. “Fucking shit…”

“Baby, baby–” You were warning him and he nodded with determination, his dick twitching inside of you until he saw stars at the same time you did. “EDDIE–!” 

Your walls clenched tightly around him, your legs trembling as your belly exploded with bursts of heat. He didn’t stop the rubbing of your clit, making you choke some moans out, wanting to move away from his grip, but he held you tightly in place so you wouldn’t stop the ride of your orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck– holy shit–!” And he groaned loudly, almost whimpering at how hard he came inside of the condom. He gave a few hard thrusts at each spurt of his cum, making you whine at the last strides of your own climax. Soon, your walls slowly unclenched, legs trembling ever so slightly, and his hand left your clit.

The two of you were panting, completely breathless from the lovemaking that just occurred. He took a sharp intake of breath as he slowly pulled out of you, making him wince and you whimper at the loss of him. You immediately flopped on the bed, face hitting the pillow. He chuckled a bit hoarsely and took off the condom, tying it off and looking around.

You turned your head in order to catch him in time, a frown appearing on your face as you turned to your side so you could point a finger at him.

“Don’t you dare throw it on the floor.” He raised an eyebrow at you and then a fond smile appeared on his lips. The two of you were covered in sweat, your breaths slowly leveling out again, a sight he never thought would occur. 

“You gonna boss me around in my own home Kitty?” You rolled your eyes at him and he smiled, getting up from the bed on wobbly legs. “Woah–” You covered your mouth in order not to laugh, but he only glared at you as he straightened up once more.

“Sorry–”

“Yeah, I wanna see how you get up from the bed. Come on.” You shook your head and immediately crawled underneath his sheets, covering yourself completely, and hiding from him. He chuckled at that and threw the used condom on his trashcan to then almost sprint to the bed and jump on top of it, making you bounce and yelp on the side you were on.

It made the sheets move away slightly, uncovering you from the waist up. Eddie looked down at you. Your hair was a mess, your makeup smudged… but fuck you were so beautiful. All of you. And you were now his.

“You’re mean…” He chuckled at you and got inside the sheets as well, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you on top of him, making you giggle.

“I’m anything but that…” He bit his lip and then cleared his throat as nerves filled his body once more. He was a rockstar, yet you made him more nervous than any concert he ever played in his life. “Kitty… I want– I want you. Like, I want this to be official.”

And that was the other part of this love that you were afraid of. Official? With Eddie? You?

“I–” You gulped as shame coursed through your body. “I am– no one, Eddie… I am not famous or– I mean, you might lose fans if we come out as official…” 

And when you looked at Eddie’s eyes, you saw them become doe-eyed, a sad frown appearing on his eyebrows, as he looked at your face. A hand came up to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, making you sigh. 

“Baby, I’ve been wanting you for god knows how long… I don’t care what happens to my reputation… and if my fans are truly my fans, they should be happy that I finally got the chick I’ve been singing about for the past two years.” 

Your heart felt like it melted with his words. Your eyes were tracing his face, the shape of his eyes, his nose, his lips. Every expression he did out of happiness or excitement, was because of you now. He definitely loves you, doesn’t he?

“You– Will you show me which songs were the ones about me?” You smile cheekily at him, and he raises an eyebrow at you, grips your hip slightly in warning and you can’t help but giggle.

“Yes, only if you’re mine.” 

And this wasn’t the last you’ve seen about the lack of confidence, you knew that. But there is something you are definitely, most certainly, confident about. Eddie Munson loves you, with everything in him, and wants you desperately.

“Deal.” A cheeky smile appears on his lip and you give him a pointed frown. “Apologize to Steve.”

And his smile faded, tilting his nose up.

“Never.”

You’ve got one cocky little rockstar of a boyfriend.

end

a/n: orange peel skin is what we call the skin when it looks pitted, formed by cellulite most of the times.

i hope you all enjoyed this little thing (not so little)

always reblog your artists

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x y/n #fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson

[buckyalpine]

you know what I live for? Misunderstandings. Angst. Fluff.

You bit your lip hearing Bucky's conversation with his two closest friends, the three men sitting together in the living room. It clearly wasn't a conversation for anyone else's ears but you couldn't move from the spot you were glued to.

“I-I think I should tell y/n” Bucky sighed, pacing up and down the living room while Sam and Steve were silently judging the super soldier.

"Seriously? This little affair still going on?" Sam shook his head while Bucky gave him a small nod.

“I really like her” He whispered, fiddling with his fingers.

“Well you got tell her, no point keeping it to yourself at this point, she deserves to know. It's been going on for long enough Buck” Steve gave Bucky a pointed look.

“She makes me feel safe. It’s different. I love y/n, but-" Bucky flopped onto the couch, staring up a the ridiculously high ceiling.

“But?”

“This-this is different. I-I think I love her-”

“Do you hear yourself right now” Sam said incredulously, not feeling an ounce of sympathy for him, "You brought this on yourself so deal with it"

“I know” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's just-you should see the way she looks at me, her eyes, I didn't mean for it to get this far-

"Save it. Tell y/n" Steve stated, not willing for any of this to go on any longer. This wasn't the first time his bestfriend brought up this topic and he was certain it wouldn't be the last unless Bucky came clean.

You hadn't even realized you'd started crying until you struggled to choke back a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth and running off to your room instead. Bucky frowned at the soft sniffle he thought he heard, craning his neck to see an empty hallway.

"Did you hear that?" He turned to Steve who shared the same look of concern. "Fuck, do you think that was y/n?" His heart raced further, desperately wanting to run over to you, looking at the clock and realizing it was also time for him to see her. As much as he loved you, he had to go to her first.

He didn't have a choice.

-

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your misery, your boyfriends pleading voice muffled on the other side.

"Baby?" Bucky knocked again, desperately hoping you'd let him in and give him a chance to explain himself. He never intended for any of this to happen. He finally decided to let himself in, opening the door, his heart dropping seeing your sad, pouty face, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. He knew you'd overheard him so there was no point in hiding anything anymore.

"This isn't how I wanted you to find out" Bucky spoke softly, shuffling at the door, guilt plastered all over his face. He closed the door behind him before walking over to the bed and sitting beside you. Before you could say anything, he shifted closer to you, nervously biting his lip.

"Her name is Alpine" Tucked into the crook of his arm was a tiny white kitten no more than a few weeks old, happily cuddled into the warmth of his chest. She looked up at him with bright blue eyes, blinking slowly while he cooed, seeing she was up from her nap.

"This is who you were talking to Sam and Steve about?" You asked nervously while Bucky sheepishly nodded, giving you an apologetic smile for his dramatics.

"I've been taking care of her. I know we're not allowed to have pets but I couldn't just leave her there in the cold" Bucky whispered, petting her small head with his finger while she batted at his tags. You giggled at how soft your boyfriend was for the tiny kitten, the furbaby having him wrapped around her little paws.

"I found her while I was out on a run, she was by one of the bushes. I don't think her mom came back for her, she was alone. She was so tiny, she would've died" Bucky felt his throat tighten, remembering the day he'd heard her cries from the garden, her tiny form fitting into the palm of his hand. She'd been days old, waiting for someone to find her.

"I've been feeding her every couple hours, got a box set up by the bush with some blankets but she can't stay there forever. Steve caught me checking on her a few days ago" Bucky looked at you with puppy eyes, hoping you'd understand what he was asking.

"Is this where you've been running off to?" You shook your head while he smiled down at the kitten, proud of how much she'd grown.

"Can we keep her? I don't to put her in a shelter, she'll be scared and she just got comfortable letting me hold her, I don't want her to feel abandoned-"

"We'll keep her. Let's talk to Tony tomorrow" You hushed your boyfriends nervous rambling with a soft kiss to his sweet lips, rubbing your thumb along his jaw.

"Really?" His eyes lit up, bright and blue, matching the baby that stole his heart.

"Really, you big softie" You teased, loving your teddybear of a boyfriend.

"I'm sorry I worried you" Bucky whispered, pulling you to sit in his lap, his two favorite girls cuddling into him.

-

"He finally came clean" Sam snorted, seeing you and Bucky sprawled on the floor, surrounded by a bunch of cat toys, with a blur of white fur jumping between the two of you. "How'd you convince Stark"

"Didn't take much to be honest" you giggled; Tony tried to put up a stoic front, melted instantly as soon as Alpine crawled up his leg, purring into the crook of his neck. "He bought her a heated cat bed and automatic food dispenser"

Alpine stretched across the warm giant couch, curling up under a patch of sun while Bucky looked at her with hearteyes.

"I have competition with a cat" You playfully frowned while Bucky shook his head, scooping you into his arms immediately.

"Never babydoll, you're my everything"

I thought I overheard you saying she's different" You nudged him while he tried to defend himself again, only to fail miserably.

"He's lying y/n, he talked about her eyes and the way she looks at him" Sam chimed in, while Bucky hid himself into the crook of your neck. "And how he thinks he loves her"

"Shut up Sam"

"Such a softie"

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky barnes angst #bucky banres #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanfic #bucky x fluff #bucky x angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #marvel angst #avengers fluff

[lives-in-midgard]

Don't tell Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After a night out with Natasha and Wanda reader gets drunk and tells someone about her secret crush on Bucky.

Word Count: 642

Masterlist

The elevator door opened with a ping, and you stumbled out with Wanda and Natasha following you. Natasha, Wanda, and you were in a bar and had a lot of fun but unfortunately you got a little too much to drink. You saw some other avengers sitting in the living room, so you walked to them.

“Heeeyyyy.” You screamed and waved them. Tony laughed while the others turned around and looked at you. You walked over to where they were sitting and sat down on an empty spot beside Steve.

“What happened to her?” Sam asked Natasha while Wanda walked into the kitchen to bring you a glass of water.

“She is definitely not drunk.” Tony answered instead of Natasha, and you turned to him.

“He didn’t ask you! Sam asked Natasha.”

“Oh, sorry.” He said and tried to hold back a laugh. While Natasha talked to Bucky who asked her why they let you drink so much and how this could happen Wanda gave you a glass of water. They all know that you can’t drink much without getting drunk, so it surprised him that you got so drunk. You didn’t really understand what they were talking because you were now busy singing and dancing around. Bucky looked at you and smiled. You smiled back and ran to Bucky and said, “Come on let’s dance with me.”

“I think you should go to bed, doll.” Bucky said in a soft tone, and you giggled.

“Bucky calls me doll too.” You said and he looked at you confused while Tony and Sam started laughing again. Bucky looked at them with a warning look and they stopped.

“Wait, where is Bucky?” You asked him and then turned around to the others. Tony and Sam looked at each other trying not to laugh and Steve pointed at Bucky next to you.

“I’m right here, doll.” He said and gently touched your shoulder.

“Oh, hey.” You said and waved.

“Hey.” Bucky chuckled.

“Come let’s get you to bed.” He said and guided you to your room with his hand on your back. When you reached your room Bucky took out a shirt from your closet and gave it to you to change. When you got back from the bathroom Bucky was still in your room. You sat next to Bucky on your bed.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You asked him with a hiccup coming through.

“Sure.”

“But you can’t tell Bucky!”

“Okay.” He began to blush and got nervous.

“I think Bucky has the most beautiful eyes and smile in the whole world and I-I love taking to him or just being in a room with Bucky. I think I have a crush on him.” You finished.

“You have a crush on me?” Bucky nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

“Not on you. On Bucky.” You said again.

“Right.” He said with a chuckle.

“Why don’t you tell him.” Bucky asked you.

“I don’t think he likes me the same way.” You nervously said.

“What? I don’t think so.”

“You think he likes me too?”

“Definitely. Every time when you come into the room his world lights up. Bucky is so in love with you.” You began to smile and couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“Wow, maybe I should tell him.”

“Yeah, or Bucky should tell you. But for now, you should try to sleep.” You nodded, stood up and laid down in bed. Bucky walked to the door and before leaving the room he turned around.

“If you need anything call me or go to my room.”

“Or you just stay here.” You quietly said.

“Are you sure?” You nodded and Bucky walked over to you and made himself comfortable on the empty space next to you. After a few minutes you felt asleep next to Bucky.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x you fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fluff #james bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes comfort #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel fluff #sebastian stan #bucky x you fluff

[rogueddie]

A gay bar is the last place Steve ever thought he'd be, yet here he sits.

He keeps looking over to Robin- not too much, just enough to keep an eye on her. Make sure she's still having fun. Although, he's sure he doesn't need to be worrying.

The girl who'd caught Robins eye is small, feminine. She looks like a sweetheart and she keeps getting Robin flustered. They're cute together, clearly into eachother, and Steve couldn't be happier.

Even sat alone, feeling completely out of place and a little uncomfortable, seeing Robin able to flirt with someone so openly is… he just feels relieved.

He should have thought to bring her here sooner.

"Hey there." The man smiles when Steve flinches. It's a soft smile, kind. "You wanna dance?"

"Oh, uh, I don't- I mean, uh-"

"Woah, don't panic. It's just a dance, right? You look uncomfortable is all and seeing you sat alone with your big fucking puppy dog eyes is just sad." He gently nudges Steves chin up when he tries to look down, feeling awkward. His finger lingers a little, brushing along his jaw. "You don't wanna have a fun night out? I won't be offended if you say no."

And, ok, Steve's a little tipsy. He's sure he'd never agree if he were sober- it wouldn't have felt fair. The guy is clearly attracted to him, not even trying to hide the way he's eyeing him.

But Steve's buzz is more annoying than pleasant and dancing does sound fun. So he agrees, accepts the hand offered and lets the guy pull him into the crowd.

The guy keeps his distance. Anytime the crowd jolts Steve toward him, he steps back the same amount, keeping a solid foot between them. But he's grinning, yelling jokes over the music, unabashedly dancing like an idiot.

It's great, it's fun. Steve can't stop grinning, stomach starting to ache with how much he's been laughing.

Eventually, a slower song comes on, stronger sexual undertones. The guy (Eddie, he'd leant in to tell Steve when asked, explaining that he knew Steve because they used to be in the same year as in Hawkins) shrugs, pulling an exaggerated face that screams 'what-can-you-do'. He's turning away.

But Steve grabs his wrist, Eddie looking back with raised eyebrows.

"This alright then, pretty boy?" He asks after stepping in close. His hands rest low on his hips.

Steve nods, flushing. He automatically puts his hands on his shoulders, letting Eddie lead him through a weirdly intimate sort of slow dance. And Steve is suprised to find himself… into it? He's not sure.

He feels less tipsy, so he can't blame the easy blushes or the way his stomach flips on the alcohol. There's no excuse for how he's started looking at Eddie either, paying a little too much attention to the way he moves, how his hands feel when they slowly start to wonder.

He gently brushes Eddies hair out the way without thinking, tucking it behind his ear so he can see the tattoo on his neck. Eddie tilts his head slightly, baring his neck a little more. When he glances up, Eddie is watching him, curiously.

"Hate to sound pressumptious," he drawls, taking a small step forward so their chests are pressed together, "but it feels like you're making moves on me, big boy."

"What if I am? What happens then?"

"Maybe I'd ask if you're sober enough to drive or if we need to call a cab." He leans back a little when Steve moves to kiss him. He hums, smirking. "Or maybe I'd ask for your number. I'm a classy lady, Harrington; what if I don't put out on the first date?"

"I've never said no to a challange."

Eddie barks out a laugh, loud enough to startle some of the people swaying beside them. "As if."

"What? You're like... pretty."

"Pretty," he repeats, rolling his eyes. "People know I'm a fag, Steve. Even being seen with me like we're 'just friends' would fucking ruin you."

"Your point?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna put money on that?"

Eddie eyes him for a second, his derision melting into curiosity. "You want to make a bet on whether you'll date me or not?"

"Why not? One of us wins money in a bet, we both score a date, and-"

"I thought you were straight."

"Yeah, me too. But I don't think straight guys think about you like I am, right now."

Eddie steps back, considering. It's a long, tense, moment before he finally sticks his hand out. Steve quickly shakes his hand, grinning.

"You've got yourself a deal."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #alittlelaughtime

[stevieschrodinger]

So imagine they're in the upside down and they're fighting Vecna, and they win.

They get back to the gate they came though, they just chose the one in the road because why not? One is under water and Chrissy Cunningham's house is still surrounded by the police, so they just go for it.

And they win.

And they get back to the gate, and everything's shaking and falling apart and all that shit because Vecna's dead. They make it to the gate and Steve's panicking, 'Wheres Eddie? How did we loose Eddie?'

And the rest of the party are shouting and trying to shove Steve through the gate because who the fuck is Eddie.??? None of them know anyone called fucking Eddie. There never was an Eddie!

Until there is, there's just a guy, right there, appearing out of nowhere, wearing leather and denim and chains and being dragged through the portal with the rest of them.

No one knows what to make of it, this stranger from the upside down hanging off Steve's back, twining their fingers together. Robins loosing her shit, "Steve, who the fuck is this guy?"

And Steve is equally loosing it, "it's Eddie! We've known him for years, he went to school with us and plays DnD with the kids and we've been together for months-"

No one knows who the fuck Eddie is, and they're all telling Steve the same, but he won't have it, argues. Because Steve KNOWS. Holds on to Eddie tighter even though all of his friends are treating Eddie like a stranger.

Like they don't know him. Which makes no fucking sense at all.

It's two days before El gets there, and Steve won't let Eddie out of his sight. When they challenge Steve, point out specific instances when Steve is the ONLY one who remembers Eddie's presence, Steve just gets a burning pain behind his eyes and has to tell them to fuck off. It doesn't matter that Eddie has no place to go in town. It doesn't matter that he's not in a single yearbook. It doesn't matter that despite Steve remembering being close to Eddie for years, he doesn't have a single photograph of him. Non of it matters.

Steve has those memories, they're real, and he avoids anything that causes the burning pain in his head.

Him and Eddie have been through too much, and Steve protects Eddie from all the disbelief and hatefulness that comes from the rest of the party.

Eddie whispers to Steve at night that the bat venom runs through both their veins, they're the same, joined together.

It makes perfect sense to Steve.

Finally El shows up, the party frantically explaining to her in the yard what's been happening. Steve can hear them saying that Eddie's fucking with Steve's head, that Eddie's a monster from the upside down.

Steve pulls Eddie behind him when El comes into the house, ready to protect his long term friend from anything.

El looks Eddie up and down, "hello, Four."

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington

[steddiealltheway]

"Yeah, I'll see you next year," Steve says as yet another girl turns him down. As soon as she's out the door, he turns to Robin. "I swear I'm striking out like I did at Scoops Ahoy."

"No, I don't think so. I think you're doing much worse," Robin replies with a laugh. "But really it's very entertaining. A great way to end my year."

Steve runs a hand through his hair and turns back to his abandoned stack of tapes only to turn back around as soon as the bell above the door rings. He turns around with a heavy sigh as soon as he realizes who it is.

"Great to see you too," Eddie says with a humorless laugh.

Robin cuts in before Steve can. "Don't take it personally. He's just unsuccessful in his mission to woo a lady and get a New Year's kiss."

"Really?" Eddie asks, leaning across the counter.

"I think I'm coming across as desperate."

"Because you are," Robin adds unhelpfully.

Steve shrugs. "Well sorry I'm a romantic."

"Sorry that you've never gone a year without a New Year's kiss since, what, middle school?" Robin asks, grabbing a stack of tape to put back on the shelves.

"Yes, and I don't want to break the tradition now."

Robin rolls her eyes as she walks away, and Eddie props his chin on his hand. "You're actually struggling to find someone?"

That's an understatement. Steve has gone beyond struggling and is full-on failing at the task at hand. "At this point, I would take anyone."

"Even me?" Eddie asks with a wide smile.

Steve stares at him for a moment and considers it, eyes dipping down to his full lips and back up at him. "Let's see if I can get anyone else first."

Eddie's hands dramatically clutch his chest. "You wound me, Steve. Am I really last choice for you?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at him and deadpans, "Absolutely."

Instead of the dramatic response, Steve expects, Eddie instead leans over the counter and lowly says, "I can change your mind about that if you'll let me."

Steve laughs and leans forward. "Yeah? How's that?"

Eddie runs a hand through Steve's hair, sending chills down his body as he lightly scrapes his nails on his scalp. His hand then settles on the back of Steve's head and drags him in close to whisper, "I guess we'll have to wait to see at midnight."

With that, Eddie gives him a wink and steps back. "Robin, tell me what movie to watch while I waste away the rest of this year."

Robin peaks her head out from a shelf and waves him over, and Steve doesn't register anything they're saying because he's too stuck on what the hell just happened between him and Eddie. Because yeah, he's a little kiss-starved and attention-starved, but even when he's given into his desperation with random girls, it didn't ever feel so... electrifying.

He snaps out of his bout of confusion when someone walks into the store. He perks up a bit when he notices it's a girl who is not only pretty but also very much alone. Steve gets his hopes up a bit as he does his spiel, "Hi, welcome to Family Video, is there anything I can help you with?"

The girl looks Steve up and down and lightly bites her lip before answering, "Yes actually. I'm looking for a romantic comedy. Something to give me some hope when going into the new year."

"You need hope when it comes to romance, too?" Steve asks as he leads her over to the romance section.

She giggles and twirls a strand of blonde hair around her finger. "Yes, but I was wishing it would come sooner. Maybe around midnight?"

Steve nods and chuckles. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

The girl is quick to find a tape and bring it to the register where Steve rings her up. As he hands her the tape, she asks, "So, do you have any plans tonight?"

And this is Steve's moment. He looks her up and down, staring at pink lip gloss smeared over full lips then her brown eyes that are... not brown enough. It's like they're missing the depth that Steve is used to for some reason as if he's expecting...

Steve swallows and glances around the store, spotting the head of curly hair quickly as he watches the interaction. Eddie gives him a thumbs up accompanied by a sad smile, but Steve gives him a genuine smile back. "Actually, I do have plans tonight."

The girl gives him a small oh before quickly hurrying out of the store, and Steve can't feel too bad about disappointing the girl when he sees a light blush spread over Eddie's cheeks.

"So, you do have plans?" Eddie presses as he makes his way back to the counter.

"It seems like I do," Steve replies, leaning across the counter.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and looks down, "And what happened to me being your last option?"

"I seemed to come to my senses," Steve flirts easily.

Eddie smiles and pulls a few strands of hair in front of his face, unsuccessfully hiding his blush. "So, I'll see you at midnight then?"

"I'll see you then," Steve says with a wink, his eyes following Eddie all the way out of the store and into his van.

Robin slowly makes her way to Steve's side and asks, "You know that he just stole a tape, right?"

Steve shrugs. "I'll make sure to let him know."

"And we're going to discuss everything that happened just now this year or....?"

"I'll save the panic for next year," Steve decides.

Robin smiles at him. "Good idea. You have other things to do tonight."

Steve laughs loudly and finds himself unable to stop smiling for the rest of their shift.

As he drops Robin off at her house, he gives her an obnoxious kiss on the cheek and says, "Happy New Year."

Robin scrunches her nose up as she wipes at her cheek, but she can't stop the smile that's spreading on her face. "Happy New Year, and have fun tonight!"

"I will!"

As soon as Robin is safely inside, Steve speeds off toward Eddie's trailer, trying to push down his nerves by giving himself a pep talk that he knows Robin would make fun of him for. He'll have to leave that part out when he retells everything to her tomorrow.

When he gets to Eddie's, he takes a minute to fix his hair in the mirror before making his way to his door and knocking quickly.

Eddie opens it with a surprised look on his face. "A big part of me thought you were joking."

"And if I wasn't?" Steve asks, hoping Eddie himself wasn't joking about the whole thing.

Eddie's eyes flicker down to his lips. "Then I'd let you know that we don't have to wait until midnight to kiss. There are no rules against kissing before then after all."

Steve smiles so wide, his face starts to ache. "You're right. There are definitely no rules about that."

Eddie almost immediately tugs him inside and is quick to close the door behind him before cupping his face and leaning in. "And you're sure you're not joking about this?"

"Absolutely," Steve says as his hands lightly rest on Eddie's back.

"Well, Happy New Year's Eve to me then," Eddie jokes before closing the distance between them and pulling Steve into a kiss that makes his entire being light up in a way that rivals all the fireworks that go off that night.

As they gently pull away, Steve whispers against Eddie's lips, "You're never going to be my last choice ever again."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks with a smile.

"Yeah," Steve says, kissing him again.

They lose track of time that night, but they still manage to get in a New Year's kiss at midnight. As they drift off in the early morning hours, Eddie announces that 86' may not have been his year, but 87' sure will be. And Steve can't help but think the same thing.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie ficlet #last minute i decided i needed to write a NYE ficlet #and that's what I entered the new year doing #and i honestly couldn't be happier #cheers to another year of writing steddie

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Just got this image in my head. Eddie is very clingy to Steve after Steve saves his life, which he doesn't mind, especially when Eddie sits in his lap because Robin does that too. It doesn't mean anything, right? Both Eddie and Steve are clueless. And because Robin does it, the kids are unphased by it as well. . .until Eddie starts running his fingers through Steve’s hair, and Steve lets him. Rule number one of being Steve’s friend: Don't touch the hair. Not even Robin is allowed.

So, the kids are all gaping. Dustin stands up, pointing at Steve, but Steve is too busy gazing into Eddie's eyes to notice. Robin does, though, and her eyes go wide. She knew Steve wasn't out yet, not even to himself, and it was something he had to come to terms with himself. She couldn't let Dustin do it. She dove over the couch and tackled Dustin to the ground. Dustin shrieked as she took off his hat and started hitting him over the head.

"Shut up," Robin hissed.

"What the hell, Robin?" Steve asked after witnessing tackle Dustin.

"There was a spider," Robin asked, getting up and handing the hat back to Dustin. "I know how you feel about those."

"Thanks?" Steve said.

As Eddie and Steve went back to being clueless, everyone was now staring at Robin.

"What?"

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #robin buckley #lesbian robin buckley #robin & steve #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates #platonic with a capital p #the party #robin really went full secret service queer #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes #ficlet

[hairmetal666]

Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.

"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."

"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"

Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."

"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."

Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."

"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."

"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.

Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.

For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."

"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"

"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."

The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.

---

They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.

"You're on time," he says.

Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."

"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."

"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.

"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"

They start with dice, with a character sheet.

"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.

He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."

"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.

"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."

"Migraines?"

"Head trauma."

"Byers?"

"And Hargrove."

"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.

"Hit me in the head with a plate."

"What the fuck."

"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."

Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.

"We've been through some shit together."

"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."

"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."

"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."

"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"

"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.

"Completely," Steve admits.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."

---

They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.

It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.

It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."

"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."

"But--"

"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."

"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.

---

Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.

It doesn't.

Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.

Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."

"Can I do anything?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry?"

"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"

"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.

"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.

"Yo--you did?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.

"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."

"Shut-up," Steve laughs.

"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.

The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.

"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.

"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.

"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #ficlet #oneshot #dnd lessons #falling in love #mutual pining #eddie's down so bad #first kiss #secret nerd steve harrington #i don't know anything about dnd actually so sorry if it's wrong #strangers to friends to lovers #alternate first meeting #big eyes soft curls full lips can't lose #“shut up” “make me” is a love language

[transmunsons]

Eddie doing a deal with Steve at that picnic table after school. Eddie’s on his second senior year and pissed off about it. He’s trying to be cordial to Harrington, but he keeps remembering how the basketball team messes with his Hellfire kids.

So he up charges him, gets a little petty revenge; he’s sure Harrington can afford it anyway. The extra money can go toward Eddie’s T payments.

Something rustles in the woods and Harrington freezes, listening. Some kind of wet, furless animal jumps out of the trees in a blur.

Before Eddie can react, Harrington grabs his hand and pulls him up, heading to the closest sanctuary, the high school. Eddie’s freaking out. They run into the building, and Harrington pulls them into the janitors closet. He lunges to the back, reaching for a mop, but Eddie hears a wet skittering in the hallway and slams the door shut. Harrington whips around at the noise and the sudden darkness. Eddie holds his breath until the creature passes.

“What the fuck is out there?” He hisses at Harrington. The closet is cramped and the floor is littered with cleaning supplies. They're right up on top of one another in the small space. “This is crazy, this is so fucking crazy—”

“Calm down!” Harrington hisses back, closer than he expects, breath brushing against Eddie's cheek.

“Calm? Why are you calm, what's wrong with you?” Eddie's heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might burst out of his chest. He can't breathe. “We just almost got attacked by some fuckin' thing!” He flutters his hands to emphasize 'thing' though Steve probably can't see it in the dark. He smacks a shelf.

“I've seen something like it before, it's some kind of demogorgon.” Harrington says. Eddie splutters. The king of Hawkins High just made a DnD reference.

“How do you—that is not a demogorgon, Harrington! Demogorgons don't exist and even if they did, they don't look like that!”

“Hey, you asked and I answered. And my name is Steve.” He reaches around Eddie and tries the door handle. He's practically hugging him.

Steve swears and flicks on the light switch, illuminating the closet. “It's stuck.”

Eddie can see Steve's face properly now in all its glory. The overhead bulb gleams off Steve's stupidly long eyelashes. He almost wants to turn the light back off. His breathing is still restricted.

“Guess we're trapped in here until somebody comes by.” Steve says.

Eddie balks at the thought of being stuck with Steve in close quarters for so long. “No we're not, just gimme a second.”

Eddie shoves a hand up under his Dio shirt so he can pull his bindings a little away from his chest.

“What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed. His eyes are wide.

“Don't get excited,” Eddie winks because apparently he has a death wish, “just need to breathe. Get me a flathead screwdriver. The door opens inward.”

Steve snaps his fingers and points at him, “Right, the hinges!” He turns around to rustle through the shelves, which Eddie, uh, doesn’t mind. Goddamn.

He faces Eddie again with a flathead in his hands and a triumphant look. Eddie grabs it with a ‘thanks’ and goes to work prying pins out of the hinges. He can feel Steve watching him. Eddie gets the door loose and shoves it open, catching it so it doesn’t make noise.

Steve stalks past him wielding a mop like a weapon.

“Where are you going?” Eddie stage whispers.

Steve looks over his shoulder at Eddie, hair artfully falling out of place. “I’ve gotta find that thing, I’m not gonna let it roam the school.”

Eddie looks at Steve, looks back at the exit, looks down at the tile floor.

“Shit.”

He follows.

#trans eddie munson #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #ftm eddie munson #steve x eddie #monster hunter steve harrington #set vaguely after the stancy alleyway breakup #steddie ficlet #autistic eddie munson

[eddiesxangel]

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x virgin!reader #Eddie Munson imagine

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

#hands on knees #this is gonna have more than three parts fffffff #FAIR WARNING I do jump between Wayne and Eddie’s pov in this. #Everything Ive written so far while in parts for tumblr would basically be chapter 1 on A03 #Eddies POV change would be chapter two #Ugh Im gonna have to put this on A03. Dammit brain. #also I updated this very fast for me #no one get excited Idk the brain is doing #steddie #beat to shit Steve Harrington #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne as a BAMF #I tried to get to the part where Eddie shows up but it just got too long for a tumblr post #pre steddie #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #tw injuries #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

[devilmademewriteit]

Playing Dangerous

part 2 of Salvatore

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: sure, the fact that he’d schemed up an entire, elaborate ruse to get between your legs was upsetting. more upsetting was the fact that he refused to fess up, insisting that you needed to be protected (or at the very least—cautious) because your life was in ‘grave danger.’ most upsetting, however? that would be the fact that through it all and above everything else, you still wanted him—badly.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content; afab fem reader; mentions of reader having long hair; bratty!reader; brat-tamer!javi; alcohol consumption; smoking; pet names (baby, sweetheart, cariño, hermosa); some angst; dubcon (slight intoxication, power imbalance, age gap).

word count: 10.7k (sorry again)

no use of y/n in this fic

hello here is part twooooo! thank you for all the love on Salvatore I absolutely love all of you so much. you don't rly need to read p1 to enjoy this, just know that: reader is the ambassador's secretary and is an asshole, Javi is also an asshole, they fucked for the first time a few days ago b/c he took her home after someone seemed to be after her life.

don’t forget to join the taglist if you’re nasty; feedback, asks, comments, smoke signals and carrier pigeons always welcome. kisses. -em<3

—

read part 3, Dark Paradise, here.

—

Let’s get in the back of your cop car, officer! - Playing Dangerous

“I am not speaking to you.”

Murphy’s eyes come alive with exasperation, a striking shift from their usual half-asleep, perpetually vacant gawp. Not quite at the point of impatience yet, his voice is soft when he responds.

“Please.”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms. An impassive sneer makes its way onto your expression.

Not a fucking chance.

Not only were you not planning on ever doing Steve Murphy—and especially, his asshole partner—even the smallest of favours throughout your remaining time on this godforsaken planet, you’d come to the conclusion (quite recently, in fact) that you’d rather dance barefoot on broken glass than be in the same room as either member of the pair.

And it was a shame, really.

After that (now regrettable, once incredible) night at Peña’s place, everything had been fine.

More than fine. Not even awkward.

For a glorious moment, waking up next to him, ruined and sore and bruised and satisfied, sharing a morning coffee and then a ride to work—peace (and the planted seeds of something else, too) had finally settled across the worn-in battlegrounds between you, solid roots spreading with each passing second spent not bickering. For crying out loud, when he’d gotten called away to Bogotá that very same day, you’d put yourself to work keeping his place clean, going so far as to anticipate his return.

Everything had been fine.

Until, of course, you’d gotten the old Chevy serviced.

“Car’s running fine, señorita. Put that missing part back, s’good to go.”

“Missing part?”

“The spark plug—wasn’t in there when we looked.”

And the missing pieces fell into place.

How he’d waltzed into your car earlier on in the day, running his fingers along the hard, hot plastic of the dash—analyzing, observing, and finally commenting on your shitty engine. Then, he’d been conveniently there, waiting for you in the middle of the night, watching you wrestle your hood open in the parking lot after work. Hell, he took you to his place after he’d told you he'd seen a shady truck parked in front of yours… and you’d trusted him.

Without bothering to check for yourself, you’d trusted him.

You had to hand it to the man; it was a clever plan. Wear you down during the day only to corner you while alone, vulnerable, and at night, with no possible avenues for escape.

All to get inside your pants.

God.

Murphy huffs, bringing you back down to Earth. “Listen,” he rubs his temples, exhaustion weighing down the curves of shoulders, “We just want to make sure you’re safe. You don’t have to stay with him, either; Connie—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you snap, narrowing your eyes in full view of his own. “I keep wondering, though... seeing as you're… thick as thieves, these days,” you lean forward over your desk, studying his swallow. “Was it you that shot off that gun? Or did he get someone else to participate in his little scheme?”

The agent tilts his head to the side, putting on the air of a wordless 'really, sweetheart?' before launching into a recitation of a sorely well-versed explanation.

But you cut him off, unforgiving in your suspicion. “Don’t bother, alright? Even if I did believe that, what, some 'cartel sicario'—” you emphasize the ridiculousness of the statement by tossing up a couple of well-timed air quotes “—was after me…?” and then you’re gesturing wildly to yourself, fingertips pointed straight to your heart. “I would rather die—really, seriously, die—than step foot into your home—or-or fucking Peña’s—Ever. Again.”

The mounting ire behind your breathless rambling finally wears him down; he surrenders his complexion to a look of genuine defeat. His arms drop to his sides, heavy and limp.

As you try to appear busy, fidgeting with the scattered papers and documents lying listlessly across your desk, Murphy turns on his heels, stooping toward the exit.

For a brief moment, he hesitates, coming to a slow halt halfway down his holy pilgrimage of freeing you from his fucking presence.

“Did you…” and he briefly trails off, anticipating your wrath with a wince. “Did you fill out that form?”

Irritation clouds your thoughts. Its manifestations in your body feel almost violent.

“What do you think, genius?”

You scare yourself with the aggression underpinning each and every word.

Inside the safety of your mind, your inner dialogue treats him even worse.

Go, motherfucker. Go, go, go, go, go or I’ll tear us both apart, I’ll explode, I’ll—

You hope that it’s Luck listening to your prayers (and not God), because as soon as your brain has time to register the nature of your wicked, near sacrilegious thoughts toward the man, Murphy’s yellow-dusted crown is drooping down in eventual resignation, leading the way as he trudges back to his corner.

A relief.

A short lived one.

Too short.

Because…

Well, because those fucking memories won’t stop replaying inside your mind, etched like crude Botticellis on the backs of your eyelids.

Overlaying the non-stop highlight reel of a vicious fight with Peña, just that morning—

“Well, I didn’t see a car. What I saw was you, whipping me over to your fuck-pad—and now? I see your whole... fucking masterplan to get me into bed.”

“You’re talking fuckin’ crazy. There’s no pussy in the world that’s worth pulling all that.”

—are flashes of his bare, glistening chest, an almost tangible haze of longing obscuring his eyes. You’d taken him in your mouth; you’d felt him all over: against you, with you, inside you.

And when you’re not seeing him, you’re forced to hear him, over and over and over again.

“You fuckin’ sing for me when you’re comin’ on my cock.”

So, you push certain memories away by calling on certain others, repeating every cruel word you’d ever exchanged with each other like a mantra, an affirmation.

They remind you of the man that Javier Peña truly was.

“You are the worst person I’ve ever had the shit-luck of meeting, Peña.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not too crazy about you, either. Got some serious growin’ up to do, sweetheart.”

A loud snap wrenches you back to your senses. You unfurl your fingers to reveal the broken remnants of a poor, innocent pencil you’d been white-knuckle-death-gripping.

What really had you ticking was that, after you’d hurled accusations and insults at him for the better part of an hour—totally monopolizing the space of the familiar, dusty old filing room—he’d had the nerve to continue on with his little act.

“You don’t have to stay with me—”

And his voice had been coated in poison, laced with the kind of fiery contempt that surely only a guilty man could achieve.

“—but do me a favour and just don’t be a fuckin’ idiot. It’s shit work, hiring new secretaries.”

He hadn’t waited around for an answer, leaving you alone with his final words and a mountain of your own unsaid ones.

So, you’d hissed a “fuck off” to the lingering ghost of his presence in the room, trying, in vain, to slow your shallow breaths.

You heave a sigh, forehead dropping to lay heavy against the desk.

If only you could take your brain out for the day. If only you could run it under cold water. Better yet, if only you could scrub it clean with bleach, put it in the dishwasher, run it with the damn laundry—anything to make it shiny and new and untainted.

Peña was lying.

He had to be lying.

What kind of shit sicario goes after secretaries who, beyond not knowing what they’re supposed to know about, don’t care enough to actually retain any of it?

Not a good sicario. Definitely not one who would still be alive in Medellìn, today.

It was all bullshit.

~

You weren’t the kind of person who attended work parties.

They always ran excruciatingly long. On top of that, you had to watch traumatized coworkers drink. A lot. Then, there was, of course, after-hours work-talk.

None of that had ever screamed 'best night ever!' to you.

Tonight, however, you hadn’t been given a choice: the ambassador had needed 'someone there, you know, just in case work stuff comes up’ which really meant that she was banking on you to give her a ride home at the end of the night.

Like that was happening. She hadn't been pleased when you'd made it clear to her that you were out of commission, off-the-clock, done-zo starting at fifteen to ten. You'd hoped that, at that point, she would've rescinded her original request. 

She hadn't. 

Still, Noonan had spent the week being remarkably kind to you—maybe her invitation was her (deeply misguided) way of trying to make up for the shit-storm she’d watched you face over past few days (whether she believed Peña’s dystopian, hitman fantasy was uncertain; either way, she’d witnessed your torment at his hands, and both realities seemed equally as emotionally taxing).

Despite all the hints you’d dropped about wanting the night off, she either hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, or thought you were just trying to be polite.

Come on.

She’d been your boss long enough to know there was no chance of you pussy-footing around out of politeness.

The event was meant to commemorate some big accomplishment—a narco sting gone right (or else, some big narco boss gone six-feet-under). The reason behind the festivities wasn’t of any importance to you—getting through the next few hours as quickly and as painlessly as possible took up all of the remaining (albeit limited) space in your head.

Because, afterwards? You were going out. 

A good friend’s bachelorette, a shit-ton of dark tequila, and the warm lips of a total stranger.

God, you needed that. Every intimate spot on your body was in desperate need of a cleanse. Your tongue, the soft skin between your thighs, the peach-fuzz on your cheeks…

They remembered him.

They made sure you couldn’t forget him.

About half-way through serving your sentence in regulatory purgatory, someone turns on the stereo. A Queen song—the one that everyone knows. You’re looking around, trying to locate the source of the sound.

It’s mostly administrative and political bodies crowding up the office's stuffy foyer. There’s an odd clink of glass meeting glass whenever someone new walks in, or else when a deal’s finally graduated beyond the negotiation stage.

It’s too highbrow, too boring and white-collar for restless DEA agents, you remind yourself.

Slowly, slowly the hours trickle by.

The music helps—every Diaz song has the minutes moving double-time.

And after what feels like centuries of excruciating small-talk, of brushing off endless, casual condescension, of staring at the clock hanging off the wall, finally, it’s time to go.

First, a last minute change (you’re not wearing a damn button-up to the bar—it’ll be a tight dress and cute shoes or absolutely nothing at all) and a quick refresher in the bathroom. Then, you’re trailing a bee-line towards the exit with 'home-free' on the tip of your tongue. 

Keep your head down. Nod. A chagrined smile to each pair of gawking eyes.

‘Cause soon? You’ll be dancing.

You’re straddling the office doors, left foot in, right foot out when an authoritative voice calls your name from behind.

Christ Almighty.

Turning slowly, you find yourself triangulated between Noonan and…

Fucking Steve Murphy.

That one looks apprehensive. The former?

A bit red in the face.

“Murphy, here,” the ambassador gestures sloppily towards the agent’s uneasy form, “Tells me he needs something. Papers, right? Think we can get that to him before you leave for your… little soirée—what do you say?”

She doesn’t catch it, but he does; your unbridled, aversive stare pierces him right between his eyes. Forcing it down (and oh, does it ever burn your throat) you etch a reluctant smile, nodding wordlessly to your boss.

God, if only money were an object. This damn job would be a short paragraph on your resume, a blip in your timeline on this Earth.

Noonan slaps Murphy on the back, harrumphing as though she’d just solved world hunger. Quickly, she finds someone new to accost (or be accosted by), swept into a different, equally-boring conversation before you can even begin to feel angry at her for putting you into such a… distasteful position.

And you whir on him.

Before the rush of accusations gets a chance to part from your lips, Murphy interrupts you, putting his hands up in mock surrender.

“I didn’t say a thing.” He sounds serious, sincere. “Swear. She came up to me and just… knew all about it.”

You narrow your eyes in suspicion. Nonetheless, your fingernails slowly retreat from their burrows in the skin of your palm.

It’s not because of his earnestness.

No.

It’s because only a serious maniac would flaunt their under-the-table bullshit so publicly, flying it right under the ambassador’s nose. Whatever those records were for (and whatever the reason why Peña and Murphy so badly needed them), it was becoming increasingly clear that they were not intended to land in either of their hands.

Murphy hadn’t been nervous because of you. He’d been nervous because of her. A little less drink, a bit more curiosity, and Noonan would've been privy to whatever it was that the pair was up to.

“Fine.”

He exhales, shoulders relaxing, dropping like stones with the release.

Without another word, you make your way down the hall, charging toward the alcove harboring your desk. Murphy trails behind, five feet back at all times like a recently-scolded school-child.

Good.

It takes a few, long minutes to get the job done.

He waits around anxiously, fiddling with your stationary (until you slap his hand away from your beloved pens and planners) and pacing around the room.

When it's done, you don’t read the form, you don’t investigate. The less you know, the better.

And frankly?

You couldn’t give less of a shit.

As the papers slide out of the printer, you warn him: “You’re gonna need a signature from their side, you know. I can only get you so far.”

He nods, taking the precious sheets in hand. “Think we got that side covered.” Then, he’s reading them over, checking to make sure everything's in order. You stand with your hand on your hip, waiting impatiently for his goddamn approval. After an eternity (really—by the end of it you’re genuinely wondering whether the man should get tested for dyslexia), Murphy hums in satisfaction, giving you an awkward, “Thanks, again.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your half-exposed chest.

Didn’t even thank me a first time, asshole.

He spins around, aiming for the exit, when another body appears before him.

And the man stops Murphy in his tracks, deep-brown eyes trailing down to the packet of papers cradled between his partner's hands.

“Noonan came through, then.”

It’s all he says.

Your nostrils flare.

The skin on your face positively burns.

Of course it had been him. He was probably the entire reason behind the ambassador’s unusual tipsyness, too. Hell, he’d probably fed her Prosecco and half-compliments ‘til she’d been more than happy to do him a million favours.

Wasn’t that his M.O., anyways? ‘Get ‘em drunk and get my way?’

Three comfortable, familiar words find themselves sliding—easily—off your tongue.

“Fuck off, Peña.”

You surprise yourself with the cruelty of your tone, the biting emphasis of each word.

He settles his onyx eyes on you. They glaze over with hunger, with amusement, with danger.

Fuck.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, sweetheart—I will in a minute,” and he nods at his partner, effectively dismissing him.

Murphy hesitates, eyes jumping between the stand-off taking place before him. Likely, he was trying to decide which one of you was going to murder the other first.

Finally, with his beloved form tucked under his arm, Murphy heaves a sigh of resignation, and then he’s gone.

Leaving you alone with Peña.

The corners of his lips pull back into an arrogant smirk as his eyes rake over your body—done up, dressed down, and positively fuming in your little kitten heels.

“You look hot.”

It’s all he says.

Some girls would’ve killed to hear those words from him. You’d spent years watching their eyes trail his movements in the office, listening to their puling voices—'is Javi there?'—over the phone.

But it just makes you want to scream.

Fearing the actual possibility of that coming to fruition, you keep your mouth sealed shut. Tight.

Silence won’t do for Peña.

“What’d you tell me, once?” He muses softly, making his way towards your desk. “Somethin’ about this place not bein’ a… a what’d you call it? A brothel?”

Dog.

He yanks a retort from your lips as if he had full command over them. “I’m going out, asshole.”

His face twitches ever-so-slightly, just enough for you to catch the hint of emotion. Then, it’s gone.

“No, you’re not.”

Casual as ever, he does that thing: runs a finger from the corner of his bottom lip down the length of it, looks up at you through thick, dark eyebrows.

You bristle at the sheer, unwinding effect it has on you.

“Yes, I am.”

He raps his knuckles against the desk in irritation; nevertheless, his voice is soft, imploring as he persists. “C’mon, baby. I need you to listen to me, right now. It’s..." and he undresses you with a mere look, "It's not a good time for you to be goin’ to those kinds of places.”

Just like any other man.

Probably, Peña’s ego was so over-inflated that the mere thought of any of his conquests colluding with another man had him on the brink of spontaneous combustion.

Because God forbid you fuck anyone else.

God forbid you even think of touching anyone else.

And this strange, uncharacteristic possessiveness, this… need for control—it was wearing extremely thin.

The man had zero authority over you. He certainly didn’t get to preside over the choices you made during your free time.

“Don’t call me baby, Peña—I’m not your baby.” The snapped retort makes you sound so young, to the point where, for a moment,  you understand why the agent had called you a brat so many times that one, fateful night.

Still, you soldier on, focussed on freeing yourself from yet another one of the evening's grueling set-backs. “And I’m not gonna ‘listen to you’ just ‘cause you think you’ve got some sort of… machismo claim over me.”

A deft muscle in his jaw tenses. He rounds the desk, moving just a half-foot closer to you; that alone is enough to jump-start your heart, and you’re almost sure he can hear it, jack-hammering away inside your chest. You both know that being the first to step away signified weakness—concession—so you stay put (even when your legs yield to a slight wobble).

And he’s almost crooning. “You can spread those legs for half the country, for all I care, baby.” A condescending look, cast down at you over the bridge of his nose. “Not what this is about.”

Yeah, right.

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Still working that angle?”

He takes a step forward. “Is it so crazy to think that I could just be tryna look out for you?” Meeting your gaze, he speaks earnestly—pleading through his irritation.

“I don’t need you to ‘look out for me’,” Your back grazes against the ambassador’s doors—you kick yourself internally for having subconsciously conceded to a back-step. “Especially not since the last time I thought that’s what this was?” your fingers gesture wildly between the (lack of) space separating your bodies, “You totally took advantage of me.”

A pause as the agent fluctuates from bafflement to genuine offense.

“Took adv—are you being serious?” he scoffs, shaking the coarse, dark hair on his crown. “I gave you, like, one drink.”

Victory courses through your veins at the sudden, intense flood of irritation marking his tone, the vein popping in his jaw. 

Anything to get to him, to make him tick, to scratch that itch. 

Dig. Dig. Dig.

A shrug. “Maybe you put something in it.”

His eyebrows jump up, eyes widening with the movement.

Just. So. Close.

“And… you know, I am a lot younger than you—”

“—okay, enough.”

Peña’s growled response has your voice fizzling out into nothingness. Closing what’s left of the distance between you, muscled form looming, he flattens you against the ambassador’s office doors. As one large hand slowly splays out next to your ear, the other comes up to grasp your chin. His fingers wrap around your jawbone, all the way from one ear to the other. 

You’re stuck, frozen under the weight of that dominant leer.

“Y’know,” he muses, deep and low, “It’s really fuckin’ obvious what all this is actually about, sweetheart.” Trapped in his glare, you watch his eyes grow dark, his gravelly voice falling into a register you’d never before heard it descend to. And he’s so, so close to you, close enough that you can smell him: that distinct, earthy scent of man that never failed to have your head spinning, your arms weak. “This… highschool bullshit you’ve been pullin’ since I got back… accusin’ me of all kinds of shit—"

You deny yourself the pleasure of looking at his lips when his words withdraw into an almost-whisper.

“Makes you feel real innocent, doesn’t it?

You don’t respond, concentrating on stifling the growing ache in your core, the thump-thump-thumps inside your rib cage, the lump forming in your throat.

A rarity, a miracle, Jesus turning water into wine: words fail you. 

“Know what I think, cariño?” His fingernails press into your cheeks, digging soft indents. Not to bruise—

To hold you steady.

To assure himself of his command over your full, devoted attention.

When he finally continues, his smoky breath raises the hairs along your exposed skin.

God, it must be, like, nine-hundred degrees in the room.

“I think”—and he’s toying with you, near-black eyes dancing with amusement—“You’re just embarrassed.”

Leaning in, his lips brush against the ridges of your ear, slow words washing over you in big, heavy waves. “‘Bout how easy it was for me to get between these legs.” Male, calloused fingers ghost over the skin of your thighs, creeping higher and higher up the length of your body.

“Remember how wet you got for me, cariño? Beggin’ me to fuck you so rough?”

And for a brief, suspended moment—

You do.

He leans back enough for you to watch his eyes harden, uttering an “I remember it all, baby,” as his thumb leaves your jaw to trace the highest point of your cheekbone.

And his tone turns to stone. 

“Especially when you’re acting like you need a fuckin’ reminder.”

Your cheeks grow red-hot. The ground feels unsteady under your feet—and the spell breaks.

Pig.

“You’re fucking vile, Peña,” you spit, wrenching his grip off your face. “And also, dead wrong.” Slamming into his shoulder, you aim to storm out.

He catches your arm, twisting you back around to face him. “If you go out tonight,” the man near-growls, lecturing down at you like a damn parent, “You’re putting your life and everyone else's on the line.”

You tear your wrist from his fingers, shrugging off his empty warning with a dramatic spin on your heels.

Strutting out, you leave him with a poison-coated, “Say ‘hi’ to the whores for me.”

And you’re gone.

~

It’s loud. Your feet are sore from dancing in your heels. A different, unfamiliar body is in reach in every possible direction from your own.

It’s perfect.

Five shots in and you still feel like you could take more, if only to forget the exhausting events of the day.

Less than 48 hours ago you’d been prepared—dear God, longing—to hand yourself over to a man you were now quite happy to never see again. With your hands wrapped around a stranger’s neck, you’re determined to cleanse yourself of his lingering traces.

He’s gazing down at you, male, hungry eyes gunning for the taking. Local, you guess, or at the very least South-American. After a daring look, you grab him by the collar, brushing your starved lips against his.

“Want to get out of here?”

The pronunciation isn’t great—but it does the trick. He nods enthusiastically, allowing you to take his hand in your own without hesitation. Too easy. The hard part is weaving through the agitated, bustling crowd with your nameless partner in tow.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid. But God, is it ever necessary.

Escaping your friends at the start of the night had been child’s play, and they could be counted on to be too fucked-up at this hour to notice your absence, anyway.

Good.

Your act of desperation would be remembered solely by its participants.

A gentle evening wind swirls around your tingling body, the day’s heat hanging thick in the air as you step onto the street, the syncopated thumps of Latin music fading unwillingly into the background.

Pivoting abruptly, you flatten yourself against the wall outside, pulling the stranger in close by the fabric of his blue button-up.

“Yours or mine?”

He smirks, gentle lines forming by his golden eyes. Internally, you commend yourself: the catch was quite pretty.

“Here is okay, I think.”

Then, his lips are on yours, parting you open in a sloppy, drunk kiss.

This could work.

His traveling hands already seem to be numbing some of the tension simmering under your skin.

This could work.

His rough kisses overwhelm your senses, slowly filling the hollow ache lodged at the heart of your core.

Please, God—let this work.

Just as a hand reaches up to cradle the back of your neck—

(let this work, let this work, let this work)—

Just as a pleased moan travels from your lungs into his own—

Tires screech against the pavement, slamming you back into your body, wrenching you straight into the dire moment. Tearing your lips from the stranger’s, you peer over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of a black Camino screaming to a stop right before you. Time stops; the windows are down, and what you know to be the barrel of a hand-gun pokes out from the backseat.

“Get down!”

Maybe it's in your head (after all, it would make sense for your psyche to summon his voice in a moment so violent); or maybe it's real. Either way, you listen to the command, hitting the ground without any reservations. And those stupid heels—you stumble, face-planting onto the pavement, scraping every exposed part of your body against hot, rough cement.

A cry of terror rips from your throat as the sound of bullets punctuates the warm, summer night—Jesus, it’s louder than anything you’d ever heard before. 

Somewhere along the chaos, the pretty stranger from the bar books it down the calle.

Everything happens so fast. A familiar Cherokee veers in the way, separating you from the attackers. The surrounding air becomes rife with lead, a terrified chorus of male and female voices joining the symphony, and you really can’t tell whether the pain in your chest is from the friction of your own harmonizing screams or if it’s bullets tearing through your body. From the ground, you watch your attackers’ vehicle take off down the street, haphazardly parting crowds of cowering civilians in its wake.

When it all stops, it doesn’t really stop.

Violence persists, ringing in your ears like a doomsday clock going off, an A-bomb alarm siren. The echoes are happy to prolong your torment.

The Jeep’s passenger door swings open. You scramble back, scampering down the pavement as adrenaline claims you in never-ending rushes.

“Get inside, now.”

You nearly sob with relief at the familiar voice. It hadn't all been in your head. Jumping up on unstable legs, you lunge into his car, jerking the door shut behind you.

Without sparing a moment, his white-knuckled hands yank the wheel to the side, veering onto a road just off the main strip.

Javier Peña’s never looked so stressed.

“You’re not gonna follow them?” It comes out as a cry, a desperate plea for retribution.

He doesn’t answer.

Which doesn’t stop you.

You want to see them punished for making you feel so helpless, and for the scrapes and bruises decorating your elbows, your knees, your palms.

“Javi,” a begging king of shout, “Why aren’t we following them?”

“‘Cause you’re in the fucking car!”

In the heat of the moment, the cutting edge of his harsh tone doesn’t bother you. If anything, it’s gentle compared to the violent sensations stewing within your body and mind.

“So?”

He takes a sharp right, slamming your side against the Jeep’s hard interior.

“Been in enough…” He grits his teeth, trying to keep his irritation in check, “Compromising situations tonight, alright? Now, just shut up ‘n let me drive.”

You pipe down, not awfully interested in getting yelled at again in your fragile state.

At first, it feels like the full-body trembles wracking your entire being won’t ever cease. And yet, by the grace of God, after a few minutes, the thundering behind your ribcage slowly subsides.

It helps that you’re still a little buzzed.

It especially helps when his driving slows and the streets begin to empty—when the shops and houses become more and more recognizable, when the night grows more and more tame.

You know where he’s headed. The safety of the intended destination has you relaxing, finally level enough to take deep breaths.

Eventually, he stops the car, cutting the engine in full view of his building's front door.

The rumbling stops, and suddenly, it's very quiet. Javier groans, leaning back against his seat, bringing a hand up to his temples. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes closed behind the palm of his hand.

And oh.

He’s pissed.

“Go inside, lock the door, don’t open it for anyone.” His command, though dripping with ire, is underpinned with genuine concern. When you don’t respond, he finally shifts his gaze to meet yours, fixing you with an intimidating, severe kind of stare.

“Do you understand?”

At first, your impulse is to respond with a bitchy retort, to meet his intensity head-on with your own brand of unpleasantness. You stifle that reflex, taking stock of the situation at hand: Peña had just saved you from a flurry of bullets.

Peña… had just saved you…

And the realization hits you like a punch to the gut.

He’d been telling the truth.

Someone was really after you. Twice, now, they'd tried to take your life.

And, still? Your addled brain can’t seem to wrap itself around the idea of Peña’s innocence. Your bursting question takes you both by surprise.

“So, you didn’t take my spark plug?”

He stares at you, full mouth parted in genuine bewilderment. Then, he scoffs, breathing an exhausted exhalation. “No, I didn’t take your damn spark plug, sweetheart. That’s what I’ve been saying. If you’d bothered to actually fuckin’ listen for once in your life…” he shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “‘Could’ve avoided all… this.”

Shame tries its best to seep into your core. You resist it, scrambling for reasons to justify your actions to him.

To yourself.

You hated being wrong. That feeling had a tendency of overwhelming everything else—of overriding rationality, itself.

So, you turn to a classic defense, an ol' reliable: deflection. “After all the shit you’ve put me through over the years, can you blame me for not, just like, blindly trusting you?”

He scowls, angling his shoulders to square off with your own.

“Never asked for you to ‘blindly trust’ shit, though, did I?” He huffs, “Jesus.” 

You try not to wince as he continues on, as the truth of his words and the seriousness of his delivery render you mute. “You’re a secretary, sweetheart. This is my job—my life—okay? When I tell you to be careful, for the sake of your own damn good, you need to listen to me.”

There’s a long pause as his words tease out your final, entangled threads of resistance.

He was right. You’d been stupid in your denial, putting yourself and dozens of others in danger.

Putting Javi in danger.

It takes everything you have to fight the tears threatening to well along your lashes. But there's no sense in allowing yourself to mourn your mistakes—at least not at this very moment.

No, now was not the time to work through your shame.

Now was the time to seek forgiveness.

To make amends.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, trying to catch his downcast eyes. 

And it’s true.

Javi shakes his head, resisting your apology. He says nothing, and your heart aches for him.

Whatever this man was—he hadn’t deserved a fraction of the hell you’d given him.

The hell you’d given him because…

Because he’d gotten close. Too close. Close enough to soften you, to see you in a way that not one single person had the right to. He’d been a novelty: the first man you’d trusted enough to be capable of handling the full breadth of yourself. And when that had started to feel volatile—as though he’d gained too much of you?

Well, you’d needed a reason to push him away. To wrench yourself back from him.

Because you’d been embarrassed.

Knowing that he’d been right about that, too, makes you feel so small, so young, and deeply naive.

Immature.

You lean over, crooning at his turned profile.

“I mean it, Javi.” His name is your weapon—you will it to wear him down—a reminder of what it sounds like leaving your lips. “I’m sorry.”

Again, silence.

It’s fucking unbearable.

Placing an unsteady hand on his knee, you trail it up his thigh—slowly. His chest hitches with the force of a deep, sharp inhale and yet, he still refuses to meet your gaze.

But you catch his reflection in the glass: a slight twinge of the eyebrows, a delicate parting of the lips, and a hint of longing within those furious eyes.

Wiggle room.

“Could you ever forgive me?” You ask timidly, seductively, fingers creeping towards the crease of his trousers and that big silver buckle looming right above it.

Finally, he turns, his expression meeting yours with a hungry (albeit still deeply annoyed) look.

That wanting you’d learned to recognize…

It excites you.

And as you tug at his belt, releasing it with tantalizing slowness, you keep your steady gaze on his undecided one, uttering a pleading, “I can make it up to you, baby.”

Wordlessly, he watches your fingers move to the button of his pants, then to his fly, working with dedication, with delicate care.

There’s movement as you reach your fingers underneath the fabric. He grows hard for you, burgeoning out of the fabric in a matter of seconds.

It’s all the invitation you could’ve possibly hoped for.

His skin is hot against your knuckles as they slide down his lower abdomen. Grasping the base of his cock, you use two hands to spring him free.

God, he’s even bigger than how you’d remembered him—bigger than even your guiltiest fantasies.

Javi groans softly when you pull him, releases a hot, shallow breath when you stroke him, and a low, breathy “fuuuck” when you finally, finally take him in your mouth.

He tastes like the salt of the ocean. This close, you can smell men's cologne mingling with sweat.

It’s heaven.

And you just don’t want him to be angry anymore. It’s all you can think about—lips cradled adoringly around his cock, tongue running up and down the long length of him—as he throws his head back in pleasure.

He eventually relaxes, conceding to the ecstasy you persuade him with. Almost drinking the uncertainty—the resistance—right out of him.

“Christ,” he groans, tangling his fingers in your hair, forcing you to take in every last inch of him. “Wanted to shut you up like this all fuckin’ day.”

It becomes a challenge to breathe, but air simply isn’t a priority with a man like him at your fingertips, as your responsibility. This, he knows, his heavy hand determining the slow, careful pace, the impossible depth, and the angle of your unspoken apology.

Growing wet and lightheaded at the same time, you loose a moan against his velvety skin.

Javi laughs, darkly. “Always got somethin’ to say, huh? Even with a mouth full of cock.”

You smile around him—taunts are good. Better than silence, anyways. “Mhmm.”

The sounds of his laughter rumbles soft and low throughout his middle—so different, so sweet and innocent compared to the wet, filthy ones produced by your mouth’s ministrations.

You give him everything you have, ignoring the droplets forming in the corners of your eyes and lips, the dull burning inside your lungs. When the tip of his cock lodges at the back of your throat, you keep him there.

Whatever Javi gives you, you take.

Happily.

Every last drop would find its home inside you, traveling down the length of your tongue and into all of your warmest places.

It was the least you could do for him.

But he has other plans. His hand bunches up your hair, tightening into a fist to pull you off of him. His cock pops out from between your lips; you’re guided up to face him.

He looks stern.

Dangerous.

Out of breath, tears sliding down your cheeks, lips glistening with the slick of your own spit—you’re a welcome sight to any man of his kind.

“Say it.”

He makes use of his free hand, wiping the coarse pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, clearing the string of saliva collecting there.

It’s not rocket science, figuring out what it is that the man wants to hear.

“I’m sorry, Javi.”

Neither of you had ever known how much an apology could sound like a prayer.

“Yeah?” Despite the gentleness of his tone, his eyes darken with lust to the point that you feel genuinely nervous about his intentions. “What are you so sorry for, hermosa?”

Fuck, the pet-names... the way his voice changed when reverting to its native tongue—rolling with confidence. At such an awkward angle, you’re forced to grip onto his forearms to keep balance. They feel strong and unbending beneath your fingertips. 

Everything… everything about him draws you in.

He just makes you crazy.

Crazy enough to smile, to turn your profile to the side, laying a long, careful kiss to his palm. Crazy enough to answer his question in a needy, whiney whisper: “for being such a brat.”

He almost smiles, near-black eyes dancing with hunger, with approval, with a playful kind of ire.

Jerking his head to the right, he gestures to the backseat. “Wanna show me how sorry you are, cariño?”

You’re nodding before the question really even registers.

He releases his hold on you, deft fingers quickly untangling from your hair.

Victory. Victory. Victory.

Then, you’re stumbling out of the passenger side, opening the door to the backseat.

(You take a second to commend yourself for driving a man so wild, making him so impatient that he couldn’t be bothered to walk the ten feet required to fuck you inside his apartment. Or, maybe he just liked letting the neighbours watch.)

Before you can even step foot inside the car, you’re being hauled by your upper arms onto Javi’s lap. He manhandles you into his desired position, spreading your knees around his thighs until your dress is hitched up, only covering your ass half-way.

After snaking a hand between your bodies, the agent runs his thumb down the slick fabric of your underwear.

Already, you’re holding back a slew of pathetic whines.

“Next time you give me head”—God, the feeling of those fingers against your clit, the bliss of them pushing your panties to the side, assessing your readiness for him—“Wanna be able to see that pretty mouth while my dick’s inside it, sweetheart.”

His lust has him speaking a bit out of breath. It makes every crude, filthy word sound sweet, almost endearing to you.

Nodding in response, you work with him—lowering yourself onto his fingers as he pushes them between your folds.

“Jesus Christ,” he smiles, head falling back in appreciation, “You’re soaked.”

His fingers curl up, pressing to please in all the right places. Your answer arrives between gasps: “You tasted good.”

That pleases him.

“Yeah?” and he’s dragging his digits out of you, letting them trail through your folds and along your heavy, sore clit before leaving you wanting, leaving that needy cunt clenching around nothing. “I bet you taste even better.”

Then, his grip is on your jaw, pressing damp spots into your skin under his index, middle, and ring fingers. With the pad of his thumb pressed firmly to your bottom lip (and the row of teeth behind it), Javi eases your mouth open, wider and wider and wider for him.

“Show me—show me how good you taste.”

His index crawls onto your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking him in until his fingernail scratches the back of your throat. He wants to be shown, so you show him: gazing intently into his eyes, you watch his brow furrow as he studies your every movement, as he drinks in your every moan.

“Fuckin' hell,” he groans, commending your efforts. “You’d do anything I asked right now, wouldn’t you, hermosa?”

Your bottom teeth graze the undersides of his index as you pull off—“yes, Javi.” Almost instinctively, you’re reaching your hand down, letting it coast down the hardness of his chest to rub circles around the slick tip of his cock, still peeking out from his open fly.

“Not yet,” he clicks his tongue, pushing his index, and this time, his middle and ring, too, back through the opening of your lips, “Need to clean yourself off every one of these fingers, first—thaaat’s right.” You listen, obediently sucking everything he gives you. He instructs and praises, “easy—easy, cariño, there it is,” as he watches you glide up and down him in slow, big pulls, all the way down to his knuckles.

It’s fucking filthy, and he loves it, unable to keep that arrogant smirk off of his face.

He’s practically in paradise, coming up with a mental list of creative ways to shut you up.

Still, Javi allows you to multitask: all the while, your fingers continue to explore the exposed parts of his cock. Only when he’s satisfied, when his length couldn’t possibly get any harder—only then does he free your mouth, letting his damp fingers trail down the side of your neck.

The feeling sends a shiver up your spine.

Without warning, he yanks down the straps of your dress and bra, pulling them all the way down until you’re postured on his lap, chest fully exposed; his abrupt movement has you loosing a stunned "Javi!" He runs his palms over the most sensitive peaks of your breasts, a hungry smile teasing the corners of his lips.

Then, he shrugs. “Told you last time I wanted to see them. Got the prettiest fuckin’ tits, hermosa.”

You don’t have time to roll your eyes, to laugh, or to really even register the vulgarity of his words, nor the taunting, degrading way they’re delivered to you. Javi’s already holding both you and himself up in one arm (and, oh, how you’d simply ached for the feel of his strength) pulling down the waistband of his pants. He maneuvers you into the proper position to receive him in, two pairs of downcast eyes watching his cock spring free, tip curving in, grazing against the fabric of his shirt.

He rushes, but it still feels torturously slow. You’re craving, needing, as he uses the dark head of his cock to ease your ruined underwear to the side, guiding himself towards your dripping opening.

This time, he’s far too impatient to make you beg for it.

Ecstasy forces your back into an arch as he pushes himself between your walls, as you feel him filling you up, up, and up—wordless mouth falling open, your heavy head collapses aaall the way back.

Immediately, a hand is at the back of your skull, forcing your gaze back downwards. “No, no, no, baby, you let me see—let me see you when you ride,” and his voice is a little strained, a little desire-stricken, a little bit softer as he settles his every last inch inside your cunt.

Your irises could be forest fires as you set your sights on his own, seeing nothing, absolutely nothing but Javier in that moment.

Moving your hips in tandem, you set your pace.

Mother Mary—it’s hard, so fucking hard to keep your legs steady when he stretches you open—wide fucking open—and as his head grazes that spongy spot inside.

He doesn’t help, either. In fact, while your hands dig anchors into his shoulders (sometimes his chest, his neck, his waist) just to keep yourself upright, his own are trailing up to the pocket of his shirt, pulling out a pack of smokes.

You mewl softly at the heat building inside your cunt, loosing an indignant whine as Javi neglects his responsibilities toward your climax.

“Gave me such a hard time today, baby,” he muses, placing a cigarette between his fingers and tossing the rest aside, “Wanna hear a fuckin’ ‘thank you Javi’ every time you come.”

His words dance around you like streetlights passing in the night, barely registering inside your disintegrating mind. How could they? With the feeling of his thighs grazing the undersides of your own, the buttons of his shirt nudging against your aching clit… how could anything else even exist?

All you can give him is an “Mhm.”

He pulls a lighter out, smirking. “‘Tough-talker ‘til this pussy’s all full, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry, baby, I’m s-sorry.”

And he laughs. “Don’t say it, cariño,” he takes your hand, placing the light inside your fist. “Fuckin’ show me.”

He rolls his hips. Your weight collapses against his chest.

“C’mon,” he coaxes, pushing you off, straightening you up before placing the cigarette between his lips, “Aaall you gotta do is light up the tip. You got it, sweetheart.”

His hands travel down to your ass, giving it a rough squeeze before his fingers splay out. He spreads you open over his thighs, watching the etchings of your lust corrupt your expression as he fucks himself—slow, deep, hard strokes—inside you.

“Fu—please, Javi—I can’t, s’too much, baby—please—”

A smile, full lips parting around the dart. “S’wrong, baby?” The words are low, breathy, teasing, contorting around the smoke in his mouth. “Can’t focus?”

God, just make him happy.

It’s the only thought you seem to be able to form. His request doesn’t seem to be up for debate, either.

So, summoning every last bit of control still lingering inside you, you bring a trembling hand up to the unlit end, a string of moans and ‘Javi’s rising from your throat.

And fuck, he’s beautiful, brimming with playful passion, orange filter hanging off those pretty pink lips.

Trying to still yourself, you flick the lighter on—the flame dances between you, illuminating the expansive darkness lurking inside his gaze. It takes everything, everything you have left to light it for him, to make that white tip glow red hot, to stay steady enough, to keep from burning him.

And also, to hold your pace. That grip of steel wrapped around your hip serves as a constant reminder—

Keep taking it.

In those final moments, he picks up his pace, of course. Your simmering blood bubbles to a boil, the flutters inside your cunt graduating into pulsing throbs.

As the flame finally takes, you feel every muscle inside your core tense—when Javi inhales his first drag, you straddle the precipice of your orgasm.

Your weight falls onto his shoulder. One of his arms reaches up to ash the cigarette; the other wraps tightly around you, bouncing you against him as exhales a cloud of smoke into your hair.

“Baby—Javi, I’m coming, I’m coming, I'm c—”

Heat builds between your thighs, and as that bundle of nerves grows heavy, pulsing with the rush of your orgasm, his thrusts only deepen.

He pulls you in close.

“I know, cariño,” Javi coos, condescending into the shell of your ear, basking in the feel of your cunt near-strangling him in adoration. “Can feel you, y’know? Got such a grateful lil' pussy,” he places a kiss to the side of your neck, groaning against the soft skin. “Always lets me know how much you love having my cock buried inside it.”

As he speaks, you try to catch your breath. To come down from your high.

It doesn’t work. Not while his hips continue to grind against yours, not while cradled between his arms like his holy beloved, and especially not with his tip still pressing against every available, wanting spot on your walls.

Javi takes another long drag from the dart. “What do you say when you come, baby?”

A big, laboured inhale, and the words come out in one, rushed exhalation. “Thank you, Javi.”

He responds with a downright cocky laugh. “You’re welcome, cariño. Good girl.”

The praise… it makes you melt.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, nails grazing the skin of your scalp, he pulls you off of his chest. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the stale heat of the Jeep Cherokee. 

You buck up, doing your best to keep pleasing him as he studies your devoted movements, as he leans back against the seat—groaning.

His hand—often glued to your rolling hip—provides you with only a mere hint of stability.

“That guy you were with,” he takes a drag from his cigarette, using his free hand to toy with one of your peaked nipples. “At the bar. You’d’ve done this for him?”

Your lips part, but no sound crosses the threshold of your lips. You’re dazed—still coming—and building to yet another peak. His unwillingness to move starts to ground you; the long length of every hard muscle beneath his arms, the round, bulging ridges of his shoulders… they become your salvation, places to lay your weight into. Riding him becomes second nature: you’re attuned to his rhythm and the desperate, commanding desires of your body.

Suddenly, you’re a part of him; when he exhales, the smoke creeps out of his lungs and into your own.

You burn right along with it.

He drops the still-smoking cigarette onto the seat next to your entangled bodies, bringing both his hands to rest against your dampened skin. One comes down hard, delivering a quick, harsh slap to your ass.

It would leave a mark.

“Tell me. Use that pretty mouth, hermosa. ‘Know you know how—used it—ran it all fuckin’ day.” Javi grunts, angling to bend over you, pushing into your guts as he wraps you in his arms, finally taking the burden of your weight off of your scraped up, wobbling knees. He continues on, “Tonight, too—been so easy, baby, lettin’ me put anything I want in there like a good lil' slut,” drinking in your cry of pleasure. He almost says it to himself, eyebrows furrowing as he reminisces, as your cunt begins to throb around his hardening cock once more. “You'd've done that for him, cariño?”

You swallow, trying to clear the stars dancing before your eyes, and that fuzzy sound of static. It muffles the symphony of Javi’s hoarse breaths, your own, helpless cries, and the filthy sound of skin colliding with—grinding against—skin.

He quickens, now, using you like a damn toy. Every rough thrust brings you closer to heaven; every ardent, breathtaking squeeze of his arms around your middle feels like angels sighing.

“No,” you breathe, closing your eyes. Your arms cling around his neck, fingers fanning through his thick hair—everything is him, him, him. He leans forward again, ducking down to kiss the hollow of your throat; you pull him in faithfully, moaning softly at the feel of his lips, his teeth under the valley under your jaw. “Only you.” It sounds like worship, sliding up an octave as that low ache worsens, as he compells a second climax out of your already-quivering body. “Only you, Javi.”

He growls, lips dragging up to your ear as the hairs of his mustache tease your cheekbone. “Prove it,” he breathes, deep thrusts growing even more erratic— needier, sloppier. You can barely hear him over your own noises, but he continues his gravelly coos inside your ear nonetheless. “Gimme another one, baby—wanna feel you comin' on my cock when I fill you up so fuckin' full, baby—show me that you’re mine—z’this pussy mine, hermosa?”

“Yesyesyes—oh God, y-yes—m’yours, Javi, y—”

Your legs seize as yet another release tears through your body. The skin of his neck anchors you in place, and you hang off of him like a rosary, digging your fingernails into the warmth of his flesh with every ounce of strength at your disposal.

He fucks you through your second climax, headed straight for his own.

“S-such a good girl, cariño—f-fuck—” Arms, wrapped around your waist, tighten enough to snap you in two as Javi crushes you against his chest, using the momentum of your entire, shaking body to finish himself off. He comes with a grunted “s-shit”—and you pay attention, wanting to commit the divine sound to memory. Swelling between your silken walls, Javi spills everything he could possibly give inside you.

A final, abrupt thrust, married with the non-stop, involuntary clench-and-release of your cunt works to cover every square inch of you with him.

When it’s over, the man refuses to let you part from him (not that you had any real desire to do so, anyway). A big, shaking hand keeps your head cradled in the firm crook of his neck, and he slowly, slowly  softens inside you. He basks in the final, weak flutters of your cunt as you lose yourself in the smell of his cologne.

His heart hammers in his chest. You can hear it with your ear pressed to his neck. Going limp, your damp forehead rolls onto the hard roundness of his shoulder.

That aching, sore opening soaks the skin of his thighs. You shiver softly, dripping onto the base of his shaft.

“Say it, cariño,” Javi murmurs, laying a rough kiss to your temple. He runs his hands up and down your bare spine, fingers dancing along your sticky skin.

You loose a breathy laugh against his golden skin. “Thank you, Javi.”

And you pull back just in time to catch his genuine smile.

It fucking melts you. Adoration, pride… spreading like tree-roots under rich, forest soil throughout your still-heaving chest.

He rubs the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, wiping clean some of the going-out makeup that had no-doubt become a total, leaking mess.

“‘Pretty when you’re nice, y'know,” he mutters, moving to cup your cheeks between his warm, hardened palms. And then he pauses, reconsidering his words. “But fuckin’ hot when you’re mean.”

A breathy giggle. “What can I say,” you whisper, trailing a few appreciative fingers up and down his forearms. “You bring out the very best in me, Peña.”

He scoffs, but smiles all the while.

Off in the distance, there’s music. Sounds of debauchery and excitement travel through the warm summer air, audible even through the closed windows. The night is alive for the rest of the city; somewhere far, far away, an engine growls, rubber tires squealing against the pull of hard pavement.

It takes him away.

Javi grasps your shoulders, pushing you up and back to effectively slide you off of his half-soft length. “I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he says, yanking his pants back up over his hips, tucking himself back into his briefs. “Make sure you lock the door, alright?”

Pause. 

What?

“You’re leaving?” You mirror him, hastily rearranging yourself—skinny straps find their way back above your shoulders, your short dress finds itself yanked down to its rightful place.

It’s awkward work, given the confines of the space.

The agent slips out from underneath you. He opens the door, rising from the backseat and straightening up with a groan. “Think I know where he was going,” he responds, mostly to himself. “I’m only, what…” a flip of his wrist as he checks the time, “Thiiiiiirty? Thirty-five minutes behind him?”

Before you know it, you’re bristling with irritation.

Again.

You throw your heels down on the street, unceremoniously shoving a cramping foot in each one. “Don’t be an idiot, Peña,” and you try your hand at standing, buckling slightly on a pair of Jell-o legs.

He comes around to your side, steadying you on your feet. Reflected in his deep-brown eyes is the same annoyance flashing across your own gaze. “D’you just expect me to be there, sweetheart? Z’that it? Every time your ass needs saving?”

Shame heats the soft skin of your cheeks. Your eyes trail down to the ground, volatile, incomprehensible emotions building with every passing second.

“It won’t happen again—I won’t-I won’t be so stupid, or-or—I won’t go out, anymore.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, well, that’s nice 'n all, but it’s sure as shit not gonna change anything.”

When you don’t respond, when you don’t look up, his edges soften. “They went to your house, sweetheart.” With his hands on your shoulders, he implores you to see sense. “It’s either we get them or they… get you.”

You exhale, hard. “You’re being dramatic.”

That does it for him.

After an exasperated shake of his head, he’s grabbing your hands in his own, placing a set of keys in the cradle of your palm.

His tone is low, demanding, unbending. “Lock the doors.”

Then, he’s turning to leave, walking to the front of the Cherokee.

Before rounding the corner, he turns his hardened profile to the side. The glare of the building’s lights dance on his tanned skin, turning the whole scene into a sort of lucid dream.

“Y’know, you’re really starting to piss me off with this whole… utopian fantasy you’re livin’ in.” He barely even addresses you, mumbling the rest of his sentiment mostly to himself. “I’m fuckin’ tired of being the only one looking out for you.”

Utopian fantasy?

You try to dismiss him—to call him ridiculous, to throw yourself into the familiar task of poking holes in his arguments—but… you can’t. Over and over, his words rush you in waves: “the only one looking out for you” “utopian fantasy” “the only one looking out for you” “utopian—”

Suddenly, you’re on a different street. In the same clothes, and in the same body, but somewhere far, far away, facing a different man. It’s somewhere very loud, where tires and knees come to a screeching stop against cement, where the downbeat of every Latin measure is punctuated by the sound of a bullet, inscribed with your initials, ripping through the static summer air.

Panic hits you like a bolt of lightning.

It doesn’t go away, either.

Not even once you’re back on Javi’s street, fossilized in amber, watching him move to the driver’s side of his Jeep.

All the fear you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel…

You’d forced him to shoulder it for you, instead.

But, inevitably, what goes around comes around. And he’s dropped your burden right back onto you with a few well-timed words.

Truth bares itself to you, settling heavy atop your bones like an ancient, primal wound. The result is a pair of unsteady legs, a perennial tremor in both, white-knuckled hands, and a crackling voice, resisting use.

“Javi…”

Only when you hear the sound of your own terror echoed back to you do you permit yourself to cry.

And there you stand. Disheveled, confused, broken—clothing misplaced, ruined, broken—

And you just don’t want him to leave.

Not now.

Not when you need him.

Not when you need someone.

Not when you think you’ve finally got it figured out, and especially not when you’re so damn close to speaking it into existence.

Realization. Acknowledgement. Expression.

It’s not a customary pattern, in your experience.

Javi stops in his tracks, stunned to a halt at the sheer emotion in your plea.

It stings when you clear your throat. “I just…” and you falter, strange, unfamiliar words sticking to your throat, sickly-sweet dried honey. Each vowel reverberates back to you, amplified by the acoustics of the empty street and their novelty.

Still, you’re not quite sure how he’s able to hear you, given that you can only bring yourself to speak a handful of decibels above a damn whisper.

“I’ve just never been important, Peña.”

You wipe a self-conscious hand across your face, clearing the sea-salt from below your downcast eyes.

Before you’re able to put a stop to it—it all comes rushing out. Averting his gaze, you ramble on in agitation.

“Not beyond being a-a pair of hands to make fucking photocopies—or as the butt of some sort of “prissy receptionist” joke or even just as some—as-as a kind of fucking challenge to men—men like you, Javier—because I… well, because I’m mean, and I-I guess it’s just fun for everyone to see how far they can take it before—before I…” You give your head a fervent shake, trying to reel yourself back in, trying to close off the monologue.

But the cracks had formed, and with nowhere to go, the mounting pressure of the seven seas washes away the rest of your weakened dam.

The agent can't even get a word in.

“Anyways, that’s-that's not the point. The point is that it just… it didn’t seem possible that anyone in this whole fucking country would even think twice about me—even if it was just to… to kill me…”

A lump forms, lodging behind your larynx.

You start to rush.

“So I really am sorry that I acted like such an asshole, but none of this makes a fucking lick of sense to me—I’m-I’m a secretary, for fuck’s sakes—I’m nothing, no one, I’m not—” and then you’re frantic—

The gunshots, the tires, the music, the spark plug, a Camino—

“Just please, don’t go, don’t—I-I know you’re mad, just—please, just don’t—”

It’s impossible to catch your breath. Every heaved sob racks your lungs, shaking you all the way down to your buckling knees.

You want to turn, to run and hide, to fling yourself into oncoming traffic—anything to end the interminable humiliation you couldn’t seem to keep from putting on display in front of Javier Peña.

And shit. No man could see a woman in the same way after this. No man would care for a woman like this, destroyed and pathetic and—

“Oh, cariño—”

And he’s there.

Those arms—so used to taking—they wrap you up, pulling you into the heat of his body, protecting you from the pointed echoes of laughter and song breezing through the night air. Those hands, the ones that bruised, slapped, grabbed—they hold—the right unburdens you of your oppressive weight, pressed flat against the small of your back. His left cradles the back of your head, laying your temple to the side of his throat.

“You’ve always been important to me, sweetheart.”

His soft murmurs tumble down your spine. That smoky breath envelops you; it reminds you of those blankets in the movies—the ones that the firemen hand out after the disaster’s over, the survivors rescued. In the denouement.

“S’okay, S’okay. I’m sorry, baby, alright? I’m not mad, cariño, it’s okay.”

Running his fingers through your hair, supporting your head like a delicate, sacred object, murmuring comforts against the softest parts of your neck—Javi goes on and on. Despite the frequent shifts between Spanish and English, you manage to catch the main gist of his crooning.

“I could never be mad at you, baby.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m not mad, cariño.”

“And I’m sorry, baby.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad.”

“I’ll stay.”

“I’m sorry.”

After an eternity, you feel calm enough to pull away. You’re a wreck, gazing up at him with big, silver-lined eyes.

And it’s then that you see him.

That you really see him.

The concern, the anguish, the affection… You’d punished him for doing the very thing that you were incapable of doing.

Protecting you.

Caring for you.

As tears continue to leak from your eyes, you take note of his beauty. Not just of his looks, but also in the sheer power radiating from him, towering like a knight over you. In those capable, caring hands—hands that had torn others apart, that had put you back together—there was beauty in them, too.

You wipe your face dry.

And you soften your tone, aiming to lighten the mood. “Stop trying to get in my pants, Peña." A sniffle. "I don’t sleep with cops.”

He rolls his eyes, the ghosts of a smile tugging at his lips. “Y’know,” he cups your face, drying the final, lingering remnants of your melt-down off your cheeks, “I waited outside that fuckin’ bar for hours  tonight. Just in case.”

Oh.

God, you’d never even bothered to think about how he’d gotten to you so quickly.

Of course he’d been there.

That truth feels… warm.

He goes on. “Watched you… saw you with that guy.” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head. “Had to look away when you came outside. S’why it… took a minute. To get there.”

That has your gaze trailing off, eyes cast down in shame, studying the worn-in rubber on the Jeep’s tires.

It would have never worked, anyway. There wasn’t a man on Earth who could ween your mind off of this one.

With the pad of his thumb against your chin, he brings you back to him. Javi commands your full attention with the just the sincerity of his stare.

“Even when you want nothin’ to do with me... I’m there, alright? I’m here, baby.”

Those eyes… softened with affection, hardened with conviction. Javier always had a way of straddling both worlds at once.

He waits for your signal, your quick nod of acknowledgement.

Then, he’s kissing you—softly. Fingers curling around his forearms, you borrow his strength to keep yourself from swooning. He holds your face as tenderly as he caresses your lips, and with every synced inhalation, he speaks yet another unspoken word into existence.

After giving you enough to make you feel whole again, he pulls away.

With his great-big-palm to your cheek, he says everything you need to hear.

“Let’s go inside, sweetheart.”

—

part 3

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Officer Officer Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, officer No, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure The house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar (Well) I'm a little shaken, but I'm fine, thanks for asking Tell me, do you always work alone so late? Gosh, I'm a little shy standing here in my night gown Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?

Looking at me, then suddenly

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer You can ask me anything you want Anything, anything

Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger Well, that's interesting Have you ever thought of dating a singer?

The flames are getting higher So is my desire It's kind of exciting Don't you think?

Then suddenly he's uncuffing me

I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

I've been bad, I've been wrong Playing a dangerous game I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane, hurricane, hurricane

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I'm in love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane I can be the bad girl I'm getting you so hot You can be the good guy Tell him please stop

Love, I'm in love Love in a hurricane

You can be the good guy (Officer) I'm in love Tell him please Stop (Officer) (Officer) You can be the good good (Officer) I'm in love Love in a hurricane

—

#Javier Peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos #Pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal smut #javier peña x y/n #javier peña narcos #javier pena narcos

[littleseasiren]

Hypothetically speaking

Summary: Hypothetically speaking, Bucky Barnes is the perfect man. You have a list that proves it. What happens when someone overhears you telling Natasha about it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Words: A drabble at 800 words

"All I'm saying is, hypothetically, Bucky is the perfect boyfriend," you whisper to Natasha over the kitchen table. 

"And why do you think that?"  Her green eyes stare past you, making you nervous for a second before her gaze meets yours. "Hypothetically speaking, of course." Natasha knew how you felt about Bucky but humoured you nonetheless.

You don't hear anything so you continue, "Well, I mean, he's the full package. Just look at what he's like," you chuckle. You lift your thumb as you start counting the points. "He's handsome with his dark hair and his eyes to die for." Your index finger goes up, "He's quiet but authoritative, like the time he saw a guy bothering me at the bar. He didn't hesitate before threatening him with bodily harm if he didn't stop bothering not just me - but all the ladies in the bar." Your middle finger rises, "He's got muscles galore like we've seen when he and Steve burn off extra energy in the gym and take their shirts off." Your ring finger raises, "And he's kind - too kind sometimes. Remember I told you about that time we were stuck in the rain in the middle of nowhere on a mission? He gave me his jacket and stood freezing in the pouring rain for more than an hour while we waited for our pickup." Finally, your pinkie raises, "Then there's the vibranium arm," you say as you drop your hand, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Natasha smirks at the look that crosses your face when you talk about Bucky's prosthetic arm. "What about his arm? Most people would think it's a bad thing."

"Huh, as if! If they think that, then they're stupid. His arm is amazing. The black and gold design makes him look like a masterpiece painting. If I were an artist, I could spend hours watching him, getting every shadow and groove perfectly immortalized on the canvas." You giggle softly before continuing, "He's super strong - even stronger than Steve is, with that arm. He has amazing coordination and precision, and the temperature difference between his human hand and his vibranium hand is awesome. On a hot day, you can hold his left hand without sweating like crazy, and on a cold day, his right hand will be nice and toasty. But the biggest thing?" You take a deep breath, "His arm is vibranium, so I'm 100% sure his arm won't fall asleep like a normal man's when spooning with him in bed. A woman can lie on that arm for hours - I'm sure Bucky won't move an inch. That's the type of man he is..." A dreamy look passes over your face as you imagine yourself in that situation.

A perfect eyebrow raises in question, "Honey, why don't you just tell him you like him?" 

"What? No, I don't! I was speaking hypothetically!" You aren't like Natasha, you can't just walk up to Bucky and confidently tell him you like him. Just thinking about it makes you anxious.

Natasha's smile is huge as a shadow hovers over you, making you feel like your heart is beating out of your chest.

Please, please don't let someone be behind me.

"Hypothetically speaking," a deep, confident voice starts behind you, making you drop your head into your hands, "if I do my best to live up to your expectations, would you go out with me tonight?"

You slowly raise your head, seeing Natasha leave the kitchen quietly and Bucky take her spot opposite you.

Why can't I keep my big mouth shut?

You can't meet his eyes, your cheeks burning with humiliation as your eyes focus on your wiggling hands. "Uh, Bucky, how much did you hear?" 

This time, Bucky's voice is softer, unsure. "Pretty much everything. I know I shouldn't have listened; I couldn't help myself. Not when I heard your hypothetical. How about it, doll? Do you want to go out with me on a date?"

"Bucky, you don't have to do that just because I embarrassed myself. You don't want to go out with me."

You slowly meet his blue eyes, a smirk plastered on his handsome face. "Of course, I want to, doll. I honestly just never thought you would want to go out with me. You're so sweet and beautiful. I just never thought someone like you would be interested in me. Not with all my baggage." His gaze becomes nervous at your hesitation. "If you give me a chance, I promise I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Can he be any sweeter? "You could never disappoint me, Bucky. You're amazing." 

His face lights up at your honest reply. "So, how about it, doll? Let me take you out on a date. If you play your cards right, I'll let you test your theory on my arm tonight. I promise I won't move an inch if I get to hold you all night long. I won't even cop a feel tonight; I'll be a perfect gentleman, I promise." 

You can't stop from giggling, feeling mischievous. You weren't making stupid promises like that, something he might figure out soon if all goes well. "It's a deal, Sarge," you reply as you grasp his hands, shivering from the hot and cold sensation. 

This is going to be fun. 

Tag List:

@cjand10

@buggy14

@crazyunsexycool

@tripleoyaa

@mandijo17

@fluffysucker

@moviegurl2002

@shelbygeek

#bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barns x reader #bucky fluff #the avengers #bucky x you #bucky x female reader #natasha romanoff #avengers tower #james barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine

[rogueddie]

Hair Care T | 1,749 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is what makes you brave

Steve learnt early on that if he makes his hair all soft, fluffy and big, then girls would play with his hair. He's always loved having people touching his hair.

But after the Demogorgon, after he gets his act together? Suddenly, no one wants to touch his hair. No one comments on it, or even looks at it like they're so much as thinking about it.

And it is driving Steve insane.

"I can't just ask for it!" He complains. "That's weird and- and what if they take it the wrong way? What if I sound too weird or desperate?"

"I'm the wrong person for the weird complaint," Eddie points out. "And I still don't get the problem. What about Robin?"

Robin is convinced that all his little lines, trying to encourage attention towards his hair as subtly as he can, are all pick-up lines.

To be fair to her, she has only ever seen him using said lines when he's flirting. But they're supposed to be little hints, a nudge and a wink. Friendly- playful even.

But, because of that, he has a nasty feeling that she would take any hint or request about his hair as romantic. And the last thing Steve wants to do is make Robin uncomfortable.

"Ok, yeah, I see the problem there," Eddie hums, considering. "What about the kids? El and Max. They adore you and love playing with each others hair."

El had asked to play with his hair once.

She'd heard, somehow, that his hair is 'famous' in Hawkins and had wanted to see why. She encouraged Max to join her, even though she mostly ended up petting him like a dog.

Max had seemed to enjoy it more than El, but not by much, and the snickers from the other kids had been enough for him to refuse to let them "go again".

He's the babysitter, he needs at least some dignity.

"But did you like it?" Eddie presses.

"Well, yeah," Steve mumbles, snuffing his slipper on the carpet. "It was nice or whatever. Not worth the jabs though."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Didn't feel worth it."

"Hmm..." Eddie pauses again, frowning as he looks him over. "Well... what was it specifically about what they did that was so nice? Has anyone else done that for you?"

Tommy used to play with his hair constantly. He was a quick learner and, with how much Carol visibly and vocally enjoyed watching them, there wasn't any shame.

They both seemed to enjoy themselves more whenever they could convince Steve to sit on the floor, so Tommy could scratch at his head more effectively.

"Which..." Steve pauses, frowning. "In retrospect was probably some weird power play thing. Like, I was the king at school but a dog at home."

"Yikes."

"Yeah."

But they knew exactly what he liked and they were good at it.

Tommy knew that he loves the back of his ears scratched, likes the small strands at his neck tugged. He knew that Steve loved the feeling of fingers brushing his fringe back, especially when he'd get rough and push his head back a little with the motion.

They knew what he needed.

"Well... I could do that," Eddie suggests. "I mean... if you want. It's not like it would be a hardship."

"Really? You wouldn't be uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. As long as you're ok with it, it's all good."

"That- yeah. Yeah, I'm on with that."

That's how it starts.

Steve had sat on the floor, in front of the sofa where Eddie was sat. It reminded him of Tommy for a moment, but Eddie quickly brought him back to the moment with a hand on his shoulder.

"This alright for you?" He asked, squeezing gently when Steve nodded. "Alright. Just let me know if it's bad, too much or you want to stop."

"Okay."

He had thought that would be it, though. Moments when they hung out in private, a thing for them that no one else was allowed in on.

But Eddie starts playing with his hair. All the time.

If he can find an excuse, he abuses it. Even in Family Video, busy with people and customers lining up in front of Robin, right next to them. Eddie just... leans forward, reaches out and pushes his hair back.

He does it so casual, so out in the open, that- somehow- Robin is the only one who gives them a strange look.

On movie nights, he's started putting a pillow down on the floor between his feet. When Steve comes in with popcorn, Eddie gives it a pointed look and raises an eyebrow at him.

It's so much, so often. Steve loves it, has never been so happy for so long. It leaves him feeling high sometimes.

All good things, for him, come to an end though. And his comes in the form of Robin Buckley.

"I'm not saying I have a problem with any of it!" She clarifies, right off the bat. "If it's just a friendship thing, that's amazing. I love how happy you are, really, and I don't want that to go away, and I know-"

"Robs," Steve interrupts. "Slow down. I don't know what you're trying to say."

She stood, staring at him for a moment, seeming to vibrate with her need to speak, before finally blurting out-

"Are you and Eddie dating?"

"Wh- what? No, that's... no. Why do you, uhm, think that?"

"Steve," she whines. "I know about your hair lines, remember? One of them must have worked with how addicted he's got to yours."

"Oh, that... no, that's not what's happened. Those aren't lines, I just... I really like people playing with my hair."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Wait, that still sounds suspicious. He plays with your hair all the time because he knows how much you like it?"

"No one else was going to."

"Oh my god," she rolls her eyes, stepping closer so she lightly tug at his hair. "I would have been doing this all the time if I knew it was ok!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

"No apologies, just tell me when you started crushing on Munson."

"How-?"

"I know you, dingus. Apparently not as well as I had hoped I did, but I do. And you're gone on him. When. Did it start?"

The first time Steve realized that he was feeling more than 'friendship feelings' for Eddie was when he was eating at his new trailer.

Wayne had come home early and was surprised to see that Eddie had a guest over.

But Eddie was too busy jumping up, excited to introduce them, to notice.

"Wayne! This is Steve, I've told you about Steve, he's great," Eddie said. "Steve, this is my uncle, Wayne. He's amazing, don't worry, he doesn't bite."

Steve had quickly stood extending an arm, and introduced him properly. He made sure to add a quick 'sir' at the end.

Wayne had quickly dismissed the title, turning to Eddie with a fond look, and said, "what was it you called him? Pr-"

"Shut up," Eddie was fast to interrupt, hands waving around.

And Steve realized that he was feeling hope. He was filled with hope that Eddie had said what his uncle seemed to about to say.

He realized that he wanted Eddie to think of him as pretty. He wanted Eddie to find him so pretty that he told his uncle.

It was a warm feeling, fluttering through his stomach- a feeling that he is all too familiar with.

"I'm gagging," Robin says, monotone. "But that does help."

"Help? How?"

"Uh, because he's obviously into you too!"

"Robs, I don't know..."

"Come on, it'll be easy. He already likes you, so you don't have to try so hard. Just a little thing that lets him know you like him. One of your moves-"

"No, Robs... I'm sure that he likes me too, at least a little, that's not the problem."

"What is them?"

"I... I've never, like... been with a guy. What if I do it wrong?"

"Steve," Robin grabs both of his shoulders. "He likes you. All you have to be is yourself."

"I don't know if I c-"

"You can, and you will. We'll think of a plan that cannot fail, you'll put on your brave pants, and we'll kick this problems ass."

"My brave pants? It's brave face."

"No, I mean those pants that you're always saying make your ass look good. Those are your brave pants."

"... Ok, yeah, they are."

It doesn't take them long to settle in a plan. It's simple, easy. It shouldn't give Steve enough time to doubt himself.

Eddie arrives on time, knocking on the door at the exact time it turns four p.m.

"Hi!" Steve greets, wincing at how overenthusiastic he is. "Come in."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, fine, just... slow day. Too much energy. Come on, I made too much food earlier if you want some."

"You know I'll never turn down free food, Stevie."

Over dinner, Steve starts to finally relax. Eddie is, as always, easy to talk too.

When they step into the living room, Steve snatches the pillow off Eddie before he can put it on the floor and places it in Eddies lap instead.

"Oh, uh," Eddie stutters, eyebrows high, staring down at Steve who did not hesitate to rest his head on the pillow in his lap. "You- yeah?"

"Yeah," Steve agrees. "You alright with this?"

"Yes- yeah, this- of course."

"Great!"

Steve stretches to the coffee table, handing Eddie the remote.

He doesn't pay attention to whatever Eddie puts on though. He can't stop thinking about how he's laying, how Eddie's hand feels so much more gentle in his hair.

Eventually, he turns so he's on his back. He catches Eddie's hand before he can pull away, waiting until Eddie looks him in the eye before pulling his hand close enough to kiss his palm.

But, instead of surprise, Eddie sighs. His shoulders drop, smiling wide- relieved.

"You're so pretty," Steve says, pushing through the confusion he feels at Eddies reaction. "And I, uh... I really like you, Ed."

"Yeah?" Eddies eyes scrunch with how wide his smile is, shifting his hand out of Steves hold so he can brush the back of his knuckles along his cheek. "Little ol' me?"

"Yeah. I'm- I mean, you're funny and you care... you're just... it's too soon to say love, I know, but-"

"I love you too."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm