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sweatervest-obsessed · 8 months

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I Should Probably, Probably Not

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

WC: ~2.3k

TW: swearing, mentions of sex, making out, definitely pg18, mdni, poor decisions, bar bathrooms

A/N: this song is so Steve post breakup and I legit couldn’t not write it. Hope y’all enjoy it!!!!

Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now and I'm all fucked up

“Robin. Robsssss.” You tugged on her sleeve. Your shirt revealed a bit more cleavage than usual, and your hair had been done up for just one last hurrah before you became a senior in college. The gang had all decided to go out, bar hopping, but after the first bar, you all ended up going to your favorite bar and staying there anyways. You were sitting in your usual booth, all six of you, well would be seven, enjoying the last night of summer together.

Steve opted out of the night, which you were more than happy about, really. Steve had broken up with you at the start of summer, citing his internship as taking up most of his time and distance would be too hard, as if your almost two year relationship meant nothing to him. But whatever, it’s fine, who cares about him anyways. You do.

“What babes.” Robin took another sip of her beverage and looked at you, cheeks flushed with tequila and rum.

“I have to pee and I don’t really wanna crawl under the table or go alone..”

Robin giggled slightly. “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to come with me!”

“Fucking mind melded we are.” The two of you touched your foreheads together before bursting out into laughter.

“Stop, stop I’m gonna pee my pants.” You were trying to catch your breath, Robin looking anywhere but you because if she did, she’d laugh again.

“Bathroom Robin! Go go go.” The two of you hopped up, grabbing your phones and heading towards the bar's bathroom, doing your best to keep your laughter to the occasional giggle. It wasn’t gross in there, but you tried to touch minimal surfaces.The two of you sat in the stalls next to one another, talking about whatever came to mind, and when you went to wash your hands, your phone in your skirt pocket buzzed. You pulled it out to look at who was texting you.

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone And I'm sensing some undertone

“Oh my god.” You said, unable to stop the gasp you let out.

“What what what.” Robin leaned against you, peering over your shoulder.

“Steve texted me.” You whispered.

“What did he say.” Robin answered back in a whisper.

Your phone started ringing and you dropped it on the sink. “FUCK. Robin. What do I do??”

“Don’t answer him.”

“But—“

“Don’t do it.”

“You’re not my mom.”

“Don’t—“

“Hello?” You had picked it up on the last ring. Robin shot you a glare, peppering her hand along with your mouth, making fun of you. Her face made you giggle a bit. You heard him exhale your name.

“You picked up.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah baby.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to pretend like the nickname didn’t make your mouth a bit dry. Robin assumed it was for her and stuck her tongue out at you.

“What’d’ya want Steve?” You hummed,

“I‘ll text you my new apartment’s address. You should come over.”

“I’m drunk, not stupid Steve. If you wanted to see me then maybe you should’ve come out with all of your friends tonight.” You hung up, giving Robin a small little smirk before the two of you headed back to the table.

“What a douche.” She muttered, holding the door open as she left. She missed the way you bit your lip and looked down at your phone.

And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sending me your new address

Steve texted you his address anyways, and you liked it, telling him that you’d be there in twenty.

It was only a three minute walk, lucky you.

You were sitting at the table, now on the edge of the booth, listening to Jonathan’s new ventures while Nancy was telling Robin about some cute girl that came in while they were in the bathroom.

You sighed, content, finishing up your drink, enjoying the company of your friends, but fifteen minutes passed by painstakingly slow, and Robin watched as your interest drifted away.

She was correct in assuming the text from Steve had made you reel into your own mind, but she was wrong when it came to how upset you were about it.

“I think I’m going to call it first guys.” You smiled at them, slamming down five, five dollar bills—leaving first meant you paid the price for it.

Robin gave you a quick smile and handed you your coat.

Your goodbyes were quick and filled with promises of seeing everyone tomorrow since you saw each other almost every single day anyways.

As soon as you were out of the bar, you took in a breath of fresh air before sending the text.

“omw”

And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

This was not your smartest moment, but you were drunk, you were horny, and you were still in love with Steve Harrington.

And Steve doesn’t do distance well, you knew that, but you weren’t expecting him to ask you for a break over the summer since you thought Steve loved you the same way you loved him.

Steve.

Steve. Steve. Steve.

Nothing but Steve.

Not a single thought in your head was about anything other than Steve. The ways his eyes would rake over you, that stupid infectious laugh of his, his easily pullable hair, the kisses on your forehead, his fingers grabbing at your soft thighs, the pretty little sighs that left his pretty little lips—your body shivered the more you thought about him.

You chalked it up to the cooler air outside since it was almost midnight.

Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not

One singular moment of doubt entered your head as you made it closer to his apartment. Only one moment.

“This has to be such a bad fucking idea right?” You mumbled. But no one answered.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

“Think of the consequences here babes.” You sighed, pulling out your phone, realizing you missed a text from Robin:

"let me know when you get home babe!"

You sighed and liked the text before opening your notes app, a pros and cons list has just got to help...right?

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Pros would include:

Sex. Obviously. If one person was good at making you feel like a goddess, it was Steve Harrington. That man knew how to work your body like a violin, just to get you to make the sounds he wanted. You hooked up with someone a week after the breakup to try and get your mind off of him, but not only did you not orgasm, this bitch was a minuteman.

Steve’s Arms. No explanation needed.

Seeing Steve after a couple of months. You missed him, of course you missed him. Falling out of love is a difficult process and while the post breakup glow up is real, and beautiful, you couldn’t help but wonder how it affected Steve. He was one of the prettiest people you had ever met, so why wouldn’t he get even hotter?

Steve’s Hair.

Being able to see Steve and be held by Steve. God you were desperate, it felt embarrassing.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Cons:

Seeing Steve. Obviously. That was going to wreck you. If you go and see him right now, you might never be able to get over him, and while you wanted to be under him, this might be a bad idea.

Learning to not settle for good sex because making someone else make you cum is clearly more difficult that you truthfully wanted to deal with. High expectations for sex is technically good, but not when your ex was an Adonis who literally was addicted to eating you out…that’s something you might never be able to let go of again.

….

Seeing you tonight Fuck it, it's fine

More Pros than Cons. Clear winner in your eyes.

Yes, I know that he's my ex But can't two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend (The biggest lie I ever said)

It’s not like he said to come over and rekindle your relationship. You’re just…hooking up, friends with benefits. God you were a booty call for him.

You haven’t seen him since May, since he broke up with you. At least he had the decency to do it in person, before he left. What a great guy.

You're not sure who you're trying to lie to, but it doesn't stop you anyways.

Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans I know I should stop, but I can't And I told my friends I was asleep But I never said where or in whose sheets

You double checked the numbers on the brownstone with the text he had sent you, confirming you were standing outside the right place.

You shot Robin a quick text, hoping she wouldn’t notice that you got home too quickly this time.

“About to get in bed! Kiss kiss bitch”

“Sweet dreams babes ;) <3”

“You have no idea.” You mumbled, walking into the apartment complex once you had been buzzed in.

And I pull up to your place on the second floor And you're standing, smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when

“Missed me Harrington?”

“How could I not, gorgeous.”

“Who let you get hotter. Certainly wasn’t me.” You smirked at him, still feeling the liquid courage you had downed earlier. He looked good. You could spend all night eating him up, and you were going to. His tan was back, freckles along his face, and probably arms and back--you were surprised you weren't drooling when you looked at him.

“I could say the same for you. That’s a good look on you, how come you didn’t dress like that for me.”

He was looking at you and you simply couldn’t decipher which emotion he was feeling. You saw lust, front and present, but there was a wave of something that kept flashing through.

“You never asked.” You crossed your arms, grateful for the shirt you had chosen for the night, watching as Steve tried to give you the decency of pretending like he wasn’t staring at your chest. “Gonna make a girl stand in the hallway Harrington or…?”

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

Steve took one step forward and pulled you into him, lips on yours. You could melt right then and there, letting out a soft moan into his mouth. He tasted like bourbon and smoke and chapstick, plus something you never could figure out—Steve. He tasted like Steve.

Your hands were around his neck, yanking on his hair, earning a moan matching your own.

His hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him, as much contact as possible. Sparks flew off your skin when his fingers pushed your shirt up slightly, giving him the skin to skin contact he desired desperately.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

After about thirty seconds of making out like teens in the hallway, you moved your hands to his chest and shoved him lightly, making him stumble back a bit. His grip on you tightened, causing you to stumble into his apartment with you.

“Feisty.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, but your mouth betrayed you curling into a slightly smug smile.

You were enjoying this, maybe too much.

Seeing you tonight It's a bad idea, right?

You kicked the door shut with your foot, kissing Steve again, wanting to get as much out of this as possible because you don’t know what comes after this. But that’s a later, sober you problem.

Steve moved his mouth down to your neck, swearing up and down how beautiful you were, how he couldn’t get enough of you, how much he fucking missed you.

He lightly bit your neck, sure to leave a bruise in the morning, but you didn’t care, not even remotely. He sucked on another spot, knowing it would elicit the sigh he wanted.

You felt a finger tap your ass and you took your cue, hopping up onto his kitchen counter. You’ll make it to the bedroom eventually.

Seeing you tonight

You pulled away for a second. Steve’s eyes were lust-blown, lips kiss bitten and puffy, hair messed up from your hands tugging at it.

“Should we…” You mumbled, watching the way his eyes flickered up and down from your lips repeatedly. “Do you…”

“Y/N. I swear to god. Just kiss me.” He mumbled, lips back on yours, sparks cascading to the floor.

You got the memo.

Not a single bone in your body regretted your decision.

Fuck it, it's fine

#x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader drabble #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader one shot #Spotify

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symbioticsimplicity · 1 year

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Based on an idea @thediktatortot and I workshopped in the tags of this post. Enjoy Tommy, Steve, Eddie and Billy being trapped in a room together!

Part 2! Part 3! Part 4! AO3 link!

The world was hell bent on making Steve Harrington suffer. He was sure of it, dead-set, knew it in his soul.

Why else would he have gotten trapped in the high school teacher’s lounge with Eddie Munson, Tommy Hagan, and Billy Hargrove of all people?

“--you didn’t skip gym every fuckin’ year then maybe you could have kept up, freak.” Tommy hissed at Eddie, his teeth gritted as he leaned against the door a demodog was currently trying to knock down.

“Oh yeah cause tackle fucking football really prepares you for the goddamn apocalypse!” Eddie snarled back, marring the effect a little by tripping over his feet as he brought over a chair to prop against the door.

“Shut the fuck up!” Billy growled at them both, “‘M tryin’ to fuckin’ focus!”

He had his back pressed against the door, and was probably the real reason that it hadn’t been caved in yet. Ever since he’d survived his face off with the mindflayer last summer, Billy had been different. Not just in such that he didn’t try to take a bite out of anyone who got too close to him half as often, but in that he could bench his fucking car. Steve knew, because he’d seen him do it one of the days he’d picked Max up for whatever dumb thing the kids were up to.

“Oh sorry Lou, don’t let us get in the way of your ‘roid rage.” Tommy snitted back, unable to keep his mouth shut for love of life or limb.

“Tommy, for fucks sake shut your mouth for ten goddamn minutes and help me move this vending machine.” Steve cut Billy off before he could escalate what was quickly devolving into a miniaturized Lord of the Flies reenactment.

Tommy aimed an ugly look his way while Eddie snickered.

“King’s callin’ Hagan, be a good little pawn and attend him.”

“Munson, get your ass over here, you’re helping too.” Steve turned his disapproving glare on Eddie too.

Tommy bowed dramatically, “Ladies first.”

“Age before beauty.” Eddie bowed back.

“Hurry. The. Fuck. UP!” Billy was losing ground by inches.

Tommy and Eddie took their places on either side of Steve and the three of them started to push the vending machine, inch by screeching inch, across the floor and in front of the door. It filled almost the entire door frame. While it wouldn’t keep a pack of demodogs out for long, it would give them long enough to get their shit together again.

“Okay, so plan?” Steve looked between the three men he now found himself stuck with, “Anybody got a plan?”

“Munson’s the ‘Dungeon Master’, isn’t coming up with plans to beat monsters kind of your thing?” Tommy poked again, securing his place on the mental list Steve knew Eddie kept of people he would eat first in a crisis.

“What the fuck is your problem, douchebag?” Eddie turned his full attention on him, “We’re in the middle of some supernatural life or death bullshit, and your go-to is still ‘Shit on the Freak’? My fuckin’ plan is to trip you while we’re running so they slow down to eat your stupid jock ass.”

Steve pressed his fists into his eyes, trying to force himself to breathe through the headache he could feel forming at the base of his skull. Of all the combinations of people…

“I was trying to be nice!” Tommy shouted back, and even with his eyes closed, Steve could see the way his hands were gesturing, “That stupid game you play with your weirdo friends has a lot to do with making shit up as you go along! That’s a skill!”

“....did you just admit to knowing what DND is about?” Eddie sounded more confused than angry, like all the fire just burnt right out of him.

“I-! No- I just…”

“Table that,” Billy cut in, “I’m not getting torn apart by another one of those fucking things because you two can’t focus for shit.”

“Who died and made you boss, Hargrove?” Tommy snapped reflexively.

“Your fucking Dad, Hagan. It’s why I’m fucking your mom now too.”

“ENOUGH!” Steve shouted in a voice that sounded so much like Richard Harrington he hated himself a little bit for it, “None of us like each other, we all know that, it’s whatever, old news! But I’m pretty sure none of us want to die, either. You two know better than anyone that this shit is not a game.”

Steve pointed a finger at Billy and Eddie each in turn before turning his attention on Tommy.

He was scared, of course he was. Tommy had always used his sharp tongue to cover up his weaknesses, and right now he had to have been feeling about two feet tall and made of tissue paper. Steve had stopped flinching about bodies years ago, but Tommy hadn’t been by his side for that change either.

So he tried to make himself sound calm, familiar, like they were just talking like they used to when they were dumb little boys sharing secrets during the secret hours of the night where nothing had to mean more than it meant.

“I know it’s scary as hell, but we’re not going to let you die, Tommy. No one here is dying, not tonight. We’re all on the same team here, and that means we’re going to look out for each other. Okay?”

He held Tommy’s eyes for a moment more, before letting his attention move to Billy, then Eddie in turn.

Eddie was the first to respond, because of course he was.

“Alright, fine. For one night only, coming to an amphitheater near you, the freakiest Friday you’ve ever fucking seen, Off Brand Motley Crue!” Eddie imitated the distant cheering of a crowd and to Steve’s surprise Billy fucking snorted.

He shoved Eddie’s shoulder almost affectionately, muttering “You’re a fuckin’ idiot, Munson.”

Tommy was still staring at Steve when he looked back at him. There was so much going on in the valley between his eyebrows, Steve could practically hear him thinking.

“Spit it out, Tommy.” Steve sighed while Eddie and Billy wandered off to see if they could scavenge anything of use.

“Is this why you stopped talking to me?” He asked with no preamble.

Fifteen different responses flashed through Steve’s head, all in varying degrees of bitchiness. His patience was more like a roulette wheel than a chord close to snapping at this point. There was every chance he’d say something stupid by sheer chance.

“Kind of?” He shrugged, relieved he’d started off neutral at least, “Some of it, I guess.”

“But not the big part.” Tommy laughs humorlessly, filling in the gaps between what Steve means and what he says as effortlessly as he ever did, “Well shit. Here I was telling myself my best friend ditched me to save me from some crazy horrible death or some shit.”

He laughed again, but the sound was as cruel as it was watery.

“That’s not-- you know that’s not fucking fair Tommy!” Steve could feel his expression folding in on itself.

“Not fair? So you’re saying you didn’t completely bail on me instead of being like ‘Huh we’re kinda assholes and I don’t really like that maybe we should work on that’ like a normal fucking friend would?” Tommy snapped.

“If you’d said you just wanted to yell at him yourself, I would have ceded the floor to you without a fight, Harrington.” Eddie weighed in from across the room.

“Shut up!” Steve and Tommy chorused together, causing Eddie to raise his hands in surrender with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

He turned back to Billy, the blonde rolling his eyes as he tore through a drawer full of seasoning packets.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Steve.” Tommy said firmly, his expression looking far more present and alert than Steve was used to, like he’d come out of whatever place he sent himself when there were other people around, “I know you hated what we were like. You’re a nice guy, you always have been. Even though you’re also a total bitch sometimes.”

Steve almost laughed, but the noise caught in his throat instead.

“Yeah well maybe I didn’t think about it. Maybe I was too caught up in needing to change that I told myself I had to get rid of everything to do it.” Steve clenched his jaw, remembering how hard everything had been back then, how alone he’d felt in the canyon between who he was and who he wanted to be.

“I would have changed with you.” Tommy said to his shoes instead of to Steve, “You know. It’s never been about-- about popularity. It’s always been about making you happy.”

The admission caught him like a blow to the stomach. He felt his eyes tearing up and pressed his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose.

“I think near-death experiences with monsters from other dimensions are pretty good catalysts for second chances.” Steve said, when he felt like he could without his voice breaking on him.

“Catalysts?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “You spend a couple years around a group of nerds and suddenly you start using the big words?”

It’s an insult but it’s good natured, it’s barbed, but like one of those foam prop spiked bats they sell for Halloween. It’s familiar, and it’s easy, and God has Steve missed bantering with someone who knows how to tease him without actually hurting his feelings.

“Pretty face isn’t gonna get me by my whole life.” Steve replied, a smile sneaking onto his lips as a matching smile spans Tommy’s.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder, “Damn straight, once you hit forty that hair is gonna move onto your back and then you’re screwed.”

Steve laughed, feeling relieved by the resolution of something he hadn’t been aware was still bothering him.

“Yeah, yeah, you can’t say that like your skin isn’t gonna melt like your uncle Fred’s did when you hit thirty.”

“Don’t you dare bring Uncle Fred into this!”

To Steve surprise, the demodogs didn’t come crashing through the vending machine door. After about an hour, they stopped trying to get through entirely.

They thought for a moment that they’d left, but when Billy started pushing the vending machine aside to check, the growling started back up and he quickly moved it back.

“They’re keeping us pinned down.” Eddie muttered around his thumb where he was nervously biting at the skin, “Out of the way.”

“Yeah.” Steve agreed, trying not to let himself think through all the reasons that could be, “Split the party, classic.”

“So you do listen when I talk to you about DND.” Eddie beamed, “Knew it. Closet nerd.”

Billy muttered something that vaguely sounded like ‘closet something’ but he was standing on Steve’s bad side and he couldn’t really be sure.

Steve rolled his eyes, “You try having six kids and a really hyper metalhead talking your ear off about the same thing all the time. See how much you remember.”

“Jock to nerd pipeline not withstanding, you know why splitting the party is a problem, right?” Eddie continued stubbornly on.

“We’re most of their muscle.” Billy answered instead, “Take us out or pin us down, the rest of them are easier to take out.”

“Ten XP to California.” Eddie clapped.

“So you think they’re trying to keep us out of something?” Tommy asked, surprisingly mindful of his tone.

Eddie nodded, gnawing at his nail again, “We need another way out.”

“Not a lot of options.” Steve glanced around quickly, his leg starting to bounce.

“Pretty much just the front door.” Billy agreed.

“So we need a battle plan.” Tommy summarized, “Okay, right. Munson, what are you good at?”

Eddie frowned and Tommy threw his hands into the air.

“I’m not trying to start shit, I’m asking so we can figure out where the fuck to put you. Hargrove is a one man demolition team, Steve has that bat and he’s really good at taking a punch, I’m good at defence and I can lift a lot more than those things, so what’s your deal?”

Eddie thought for a second, and Steve honestly couldn’t tell if he was considering his answer or if he was pausing for dramatic effect.

“Well,” He started eventually, “I’m good with a shield, and I’m pretty strong too. Don’t look like it, but I can manhandle Stevie here pretty easily.”

Tommy shot him a look that he pointedly ignored. There was no way he was explaining any of that right now, or ever if he had the choice.

“Steve is easy to manhandle. Barely even fights it.” Billy replied, “That’s not a good gauge of strength.”

“You could rip an airplane in half, you’re not a good gauge of strength.” Eddie gesticulated in Billy’s general direction.

“I fought him way before that.”

“He’s right though.” Tommy shrugged, “Steve never fights being manhandled.”

Eddie scoffed and Steve was pretty sure he was going to choke to death on embarrassment long before the demodogs ever got him.

“Anyway, back on track, guys. You thinking Billy as the spearhead, you and Eddie flanking and me taking up the rear?” Steve tried to guide the conversation back to safer ground before they did something stupid like bond over having all manhandled him at some point.

“Yeah.” Tommy nodded, “Exactly.”

“That’s what I would have said.” Billy shrugged.

“Jock mindmeld.” Eddie shuddered, “Normally, a sign that conformity is alive and well, but right now? Might just save a life. I hate to say it boys, but sportsball might just save the day this time.”

“I’m telling everyone you said that.” Tommy grinned.

“That tripping you plan can still be enacted.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #billy hargrove #tommy h #steve harrington #harringrove #steddie #mungrove #harringroveson #stommy #is there a ship name for the four of them?#cause if I continue this i'm gonna need one #this was super fun to write #its the bitching for me

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apomaro-mellow · 1 year

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Part 3

"You guys really don’t have to do this.”

“Yes we do”, Robin and Eddie said in unison.

Every once in a while Steve wondered if he had a type and this was not helping things. But he knew he’d never be able to stop them, so he just threw his hands up and went into the kitchen to finish helping Ms. Henderson.

“I can’t believe you made that book club homemade brownies”, he said as he wrapped a plate in plastic. “I mean, after what Sheila said...”

“Oh I can’t afford to burn any bridges there”, Claudia said. “Or else I’ll have to go back to the women’s bible study group.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

“Besides”, she continued, “It won’t be all bad for long. I’m planning a coup.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He didn’t know when he became the type that thirsted after book club drama but that’s the kind of guy he was now. Before he could ask her to spill the details, Dustin called from the living room that they were starting. He returned to the living room while Claudia took her brownies and was out the door.

“Your mom is going to war, did you know that?”

“I know, I gave her the idea”, Dustin said while shuffling some index cards in his hands.

“I think you’ve got more important things to worry about now”, Robin said.

“Seconded”, Eddie said.

Eddie and Robin sat on the couch next to each other. Dustin had a whiteboard with both of their names, ready to be tallied up with scores. And a handful of question cards, custom made for the occasion.

“This is ridiculous”, Steve said, standing behind the couch and leaning forward, hoping to talk some sense into everyone.

“I think you’re forgetting about the strange correlation between relationships and this game”, Dustin said. “Ever since that first round at the cabin, you and Eddie got together, Mike and El broke up, and now Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle are in this weird, trio thing.”

“And while correlation doesn’t always equate to causation, this game seems a pretty decent measure for how well you know a person”, Robin said.

“And the stakes are too high to give this up”, Eddie said. He and Robin had been fighting over shotgun rights in the car as well as the prime real estate that was Steve’s lap.

Seeing an opportunity, Steve leaned in close to Eddie. “If I promise you a ‘good time’, will you give up the game?”

“You’re playing favorites again”, Robin complained.

Steve covered Eddie’s ears. “He’s just easier to bribe. You’re too pricey, Rob.”

“Hey, I heard that. You callin’ me cheap?”, Eddie accused.

“Can we get started with the game, please?”, Dustin brought them all back to the task at hand.

“Get ready to lose”, Robin started.

“Not on your life, Bucks.”

“Alright. First question: How does Steve spend his days off.”

“A jog, a big breakfast, then he spends the rest of the time lookin after you guys”, Eddie answered.

Robin looked at Steve incredulously. “You jog? On your days off? Steve, I think we might need a jock intervention.”

“It’s not just a jock thing. It’s a I can’t believe how many times I’ve had to run for my life thing.”

Dustin put down a tally for Eddie. “Next question: his go-to dancing song.”

“Take On Me!”, Robin nearly shouted.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve.

“It’s good head bopping music!”, he said defensively.

“Said the human bobblehead”, Robin teased.

“His worst date?”

They answered at the same time. “Lina Williams.”

Steve groaned. “I regret telling either of you now.”

“Who is Lina Williams?”, Dustin asked.

“Bad kisser.” “Chatterbox.” “Compulsive liar.” “Kind of a klepto.” “Won’t take a hint.” “But also never stops dropping them.” “Also a name dropper.” “Bad at head-”

“Okayokayokay”, Dustin stopped the duo’s back and forth. “That was more than I needed to know.”

The next few questions they both answered correctly as well. “Where is his grandma from?” “Describe his hair care routine.” “Favorite thing to cook?”

Steve looked at the scoreboard. They were still tied. He sat down between them and laid his arms against the back of the couch. “You know, I don’t see two competitors. I see two people who care about me very much and just want my attention.”

That made Robin pause. “When did I become the kind of girl who fought for Steve Harrington’s attention?”

Eddie stared into the distance. “Yeah...when did that happen?”

“Yeah, he kinda creeps into your heart, don’t he?” Dustin grinned. “Like a little stray.”

Robin nodded. “Like a little, wet stray.”

“Like a little, wet, sad stray.”

“Okay, feelin’ less loved here”, Steve said.

“Well let me give my stray a collar then”, Eddie smirked. “‘Cause I’m never lettin’ him go.” He leaned in the kiss Steve on the lips but then quickly went to his neck.

“Eddie!”, Steve protested in shock. “Eddie~”, he breathed out next, this one less of a protest.

Dustin covered his face and began voicing his own protests, as did Robin.

“We gotta have a rule for this, right?”, Robin said before removing herself from the couch.

“Yep”, Dustin said, still not uncovering his eyes. “We’re gonna bring it up the next time we have everyone. These two are not allowed within five feet of each other.”

“Dustin, make up your mind”, Eddie said when he came up for air. “Do you want me and Steve to get along? Or be apart?”

“This is like the wish you get from a genie. Or a monkey’s paw”, Dustin lamented.

“So are you two fine with calling it a draw?”, Steve asked.

Eddie and Robin shared a look.

“I call indefinite shotgun rights”, she said.

“Then that means his lap is reserved for me”, Eddie replied.

“Okay. Now that that’s settled”, Steve adjusted his position and Eddie immediately sat in his lap while Robin got comfortable at his side. “Dustin. Tell me about this book club coup.”

Dustin didn’t hesitate. “My mom’s gotten fed up with Sheila’s crap, right? And she’s not the only one. So she and like two other moms are going to...”

Steve didn’t know exactly when they’d all changed. Because there was definitely a time in his life where if you told him he’d be sitting in Dustin Henderson’s home, listening to the drama of middle aged moms, while cuddling up with a band geek and the school freak, he would’ve thought you were insane.

But somehow, someway, here he was. And there was no place he’d rather be.

END

Tag Team

@cassaloopa

@thefreakandthehair

@bidisastersworld

@eddiemunsonswife

@mixsethaddams

@lightwoodbanethings

@darkwitchoferie

@thebig-smoke

@captain-daryn

@hagbaby420

@bribopper

@mightbeasleep

@beeing-stuupid

@kill-me-in-my-dream

@onionanddeadgaywizards

@silversnaffles

@ineffablecolors

@urmomsbestie31

@shinekocreator

@thegingervulcan

@hotluncheddie

@spectrum-spectre @archerwithmanybows @henderdads @menamesniall @bornonthesavage @grtwdsmwhr @vi-the-best-you-can @kardinalkalamity @leather-and-freckles @resident-gay-bitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @snowstar2368 @alienace @martzja @fangirltofangod @saramelaniemoon @lexyvey @ape31 @gay-stranger-things @beautifully-useless @freddykicksasses

#apo writes #fanfiction #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #dustin henderson #with a guest appearance from claudia #thanks for readin this lil series yall

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drabbles-mc · 7 months

Text

First on Speed Dial

Steve Murphy x F!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Absolute Filth: Create a smut fanwork that includes three different kinks and/or sex acts

Warnings: 18+, smut, language, phone sex, masturbation, orgasm denial

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I know that today was supposed to be a day of Absolute Filth but i am who i am and i feel like there is just as much not-filth in this as there is filth. But i still had a good time writing it so fuck it, we ball 😂

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Once he didn’t answer the phone at his apartment, you knew that you’d catch him at his desk. Despite knowing that, you still covered your bases and dialed Javi’s apartment next. When he asked why you were calling him, you gave the easy, mostly honest response of, “Tried to get ahold of Steve and didn’t get an answer—figured he might be with you.”

Javi chuckled, that easy way he always did. “I got better things to do this late than hanging out with your husband—no offense.”

You laughed. “None taken. I’ll try his phone at the base. Thanks, Javi. Have fun doing whatever it is that’s better than hanging out with Steve.”

Steve answered his desk phone on the second ring. The annoyance and exhaustion in his voice was impossible to miss. “Yeah, Murphy.”

You laughed, twirling the phone cord between your fingers. “Thought you’d be a little happier to hear from me.”

He huffed out a tired laugh, tension melting out of his muscles instantly at the sound of your voice. “Hey, baby. You alright? It’s,” he checked the time on his watch, “it’s late where you are.”

You hummed in amusement. “It’s late where you are too, and yet you’re still at work even when everyone else went home, so…”

He leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his hair. “And how do you know I’m the only one here?”

“Well,” you melted back into the couch, your head resting against the arm of it, “I called your partner and he was at home.”

“What are you callin’ Javi for?”

“You!” you replied with a laugh. When you both stopped laughing, you said, “I miss you.”

“Yeah,” he conceded, “I miss you too. How much longer you back home for?”

“One more week.”

“And you’re sure you gotta stay the whole week?” he laid it on thick, drawl cranked up to ten as he laughed.

You rolled your eyes, wishing he could see it. “Pretty sure.”

“Damn.” He paused. “You need somethin’?”

“Hmm,” you hummed in thought, dragging it out a little longer than necessary. “Kind of.”

Leaning forward again, Steve propped his elbows on the edge of his desk. One hand was holding the phone to his ear, the other was serving as a resting perch for his chin. “What’s going on?”

Your heart started to speed up a little in your inside your chest as you asked, “You really alone?”

His face contorted in confusion. “Am I really—” he stopped himself short, recognition washing over him. He couldn’t help but to laugh. “I’m not doin’ this here.”

“You said you’re alone. Why can’t you do this there?”

“Because I—I mean what if—” he stammered out the starts of a few sentences, “What if they’re list—”

“Like they don’t listen when you do this from your phone at home?”

He laughed, moving his hand from his chin so that the heel of his palm was pressed to his forehead instead. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” you casually reminded him.

“I do.” He paused, long enough for you to say something but you didn’t, wanting him to give in instead of offering him an out. And then he did, because he always did. “If I get fired for doin’ this on my goddamn work phone…”

You smiled, face warming before it even started. “I’ll upgrade your one-way ticket home to first-class.”

He was a little hesitant at first, you could hear it in his voice. It was a little amusing to you, hearing him like that when he usually wasn’t like that at all. It added to the fun of the game for you, your quickened heartrate skipping a beat or two as he spoke, voice hushed like he was afraid someone was going to walk in and hear the things that he was saying to you. After a couple minutes, his typical cocky, self-assured demeanor came back.

You would have much rather it been Steve’s hand slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. Of course you would rather that. But given the circumstances, having his voice in your ear, prompting you along, telling you how good you were doing for him, was a good substitute. It was still enough to make your breathing hitch and your legs start to tremble.

A soft moan slipped out past your lips. Despite the fact that it was impossible, Steve could’ve sworn it trailed its way through the phoneline and straight down his spine. He took a deep breath, like that was going to do any good at helping him keep a shred of self-control.

“You sound so fuckin’ pretty,” he said, voice low, hand opening and closing on the top of his desk as he sat there wishing he could touch you and not just listen to you.

“Steve,” his name fell from your lips in the form of a choked whine, like you wanted to say something more but your mind was too preoccupied to come up with the rest of the sentence.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, fighting the urge to follow your lead. There were plenty of things he was willing to do at work, or so he’d learned a handful of minutes prior, but there was still one line he had no intention on crossed. Especially not if it was going to be over the fucking phone. If he was going to do that he’d just as soon wait for you to—

You cut his thoughts short as you let out a needy, “I fuckin’ miss you.”

The laugh he let out was weighted down with just how much he wanted you. “How much?” he teased.

The noise you let out was somewhere between a laugh and a moan. Pulling your fingers away from your clit, you slid them down a little farther. The action pushed your panties a little farther down your hips. You dragged the tips of your fingers along your folds, collecting your wetness so that you could slide your fingers into you. They slid in with no resistance, and you arched into the contact.

“If you were here,” you rasped out as you started to find your rhythm, “you could feel it for yourself.”

“Fuck,” Steve muttered out, one hand gripping his thigh just above his knee so hard that he was sure he was going to leave indents even through the fabric of his slacks.

He still egged you on, willing to endure the insanity it inflicted on him as long as he knew he wasn’t the only one. He listened to you, each shift in your breathing, every sound you made and word you managed to say, each time you repeated his name over and over again. Even with the hundreds and hundreds of miles between the two of you, you still managed to drive each other just as wild as if you were sitting in the same room together.

“Steve,” you said desperately, “I’m, fuck, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” the words came out before Steve even clocked what he was saying.

You whined, a pathetic little sound. “Steve please.”

“Not until you’re here,” he said, voice firm now that you were both on this playing field. “Not until you’re here and I can really,” he chuckled, the sound a little more cruel and smug than it should’ve been, “really make you cum.”

You spent a long couple seconds weighing the pros and cons of telling him that he could, quite literally, go fuck himself because you didn’t ring him up this late at night to not get yours. But in the end, you gave in, the way you did with him almost as much as he did with you.

Letting out a shaky breath, you reluctantly pulled your hand back out of your panties. “Fuck. You, you owe me.”

“Just one week and I’ll gladly pay the debt,” he said with a chuckle.

“I hope your boss walks in,” you said, no malice in your breathless voice as you tried not to laugh. “’Cause lord knows you can’t possibly be looking very professional right now.”

“That’s just mean.”

“Yeah? Is it? Know what else is mean? Not letting your wife, who called you this late at night because she missed you very much, cum.”

He laughed, raking his hand back through his hair. “I love you.”

“You say that, but,” you pinned the phone with your shoulder so you could adjust your underwear and shorts with both hands, “it certainly doesn’t feel like it.”

“You know I love you,” he repeated, a little more warmth in his voice rather than the smugness he’d had before.

You let out a sigh. “Yeah, I know.” You paused long enough to make him squirm even though he didn’t have to. “I love you too.”

He chuckled. “That’s right.” He checked the time on his watch again. “Would you look at that? It’s after midnight. Only six more days.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh. “Go home, Steve. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“During business hours?”

“Hmm,” your hum turned into a laugh, “we’ll see. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#narcoctober #day of absolute filth #narcos #narcos netflix #steve murphy #steve murphy x reader #steve murphy x you #x reader #x reader fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos netflix fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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sparkling-ariaria · 9 months

Text

Eddie Munson fics I read and want to keep...no°3

*Complete fem or non-gendered reader insert fics* Updated: 16.08.2023

Shy boy, my boy by upsidedownwithsteve prompt: can I hold your hand? Shy Eddie, some yearning and fluff.

Enchanted by you by andvys Eddie finds you sitting on bench with tears rolling down your cheeks after your breakup with your boyfriend. He takes matters into his hands and takes care of you, making it one of the best nights of your life.

Eddie my love by itsoutrageouss - gf!Reader Dancing in front of Eddie in his room, having the time of your life with the boy you love.

It’s nice to have a friend by lilacletter Every morning Eddie sits on the porch with a stray black cat who he has quickly grown to love. When his morning routine gets disturbed by her not showing up for three days, he goes to find her, only to see she and multiple other cats are in very capable hands.

Taste test by eddiebaghetti - gf!Reader Pressing your lips to Eddie’s cheek and giggling at the glossy red print it leaves behind..

Fluff blurb by eddies-ashtray - gf!Reader Eddie finds out he’s finally graduating. You and Wayne have a surprise for him.

New girl headcanon by swtnrcmnt - girly!popular!cheerleader!Reader

Marking his territory by writingdumpster - gf!Reader Eddie doesn’t like it when Steve lets you borrow his sweater.

Forget-Me-Nots by galaxy-siren Eddie finds a flower in his locker and Dustin explains that he might have a secret admirer sending him messages through the language of flowers.

Two’s Company, Three’s a Crowd by galaxy-siren - gf!Reader Dustin meets a nice and smart girl in the science club and ends up talking about her at the lunch table, claiming he has fallen in love. Eddie gets jealous when he learns that Dustin is talking about his girlfriend.

If the slipper fits by galaxy-siren When one of the leads of the school play gets injured, Robin asks Eddie to fill in. He’s not to keen on the idea at first but when Robin mentions that you are in the play, and he would get to play your romantic interest, he changes his mind.

Concert date by lovebugism - shy!Reader The one where Eddie rejects you when you ask him to go to a concert with you, thinking it's a joke, and immediately regrets it.

Bedtime stories by galaxy-siren - gf!Reader Eddie can't sleep, so he asks you to read to him.

Cute girls don't play D&D by galaxy-siren You're new at Hawkins High and ask Eddie if he can teach you to play D&D. Unfortunately he thinks you're trying to pull a prank on him.

Eddie brings home a baby kitten by wroteclassicaly - gf!Reader

Good to me by huntingingoodwill Running through the rain with Eddie and him just being sweet and going out of his way to spend time with and take care of you.

Eddie x soft!shy!crybaby!Reader thoughts by biancadjarin

Him ordering food for you by bruisedboys - shy!gf!Reader

Drunk Eddie by eddies-ashtray - gf!Reader

Drunk Eddie being clingy and insecure by eddies-ashtray - gf!Reader

Breathing deeply, walking backwards by eiightysixbaby An evening at the fair leads to a big confession from your best friend (who you just so happen to have feelings for).

Whipped by mstigeress37-blog - sunshine!cheerleader!Reader Eddie never knew why you hung out with the cheerleaders. They were terrible people OR Eddie’s whipped for a cheerleader.

You callin' me a liar? by sailortongue - gf!cheerleader!Reader Eddie tells the boys that he has a girlfriend, but they don't believe him. Eddie vows to make them eat their words.

Lovesick!Eddie asking Steve for hair care advice because he’s about to meet your parents and gets all insecure by eiightysixbaby

I adore you by sunflowerdaydreamer - gf!Reader A picnic date with Eddie on your birthday.

"Don’t you dare touch him” by lovebugism - shy!gf!Reader The one where Eddie melts when his quiet gf sticks up for him in front of Jason.

A Sure and Steady Thing by majestyeverlasting - gf!Reader A rainy evening in Hawkins sets your lake plans awry, but brings you closer together back at his place through a confession you didn't quite see coming.

#fic rec #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff

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half-oz-eddie · 8 months

Text

Hawkins finally got a local radio station. Billy was hoping that the eclectic mix would mean he'd hear some new bands to broaden his tastes, but no! Because apparently, the DJ of this backwater town station was none other than Steve "The Hair" Harrington who only appealed to his friends, accepting requests for Madonna, The Clash, Duran Duran, and occasionally letting Mr. Clarke stop by to talk about the weather and "sciency bullshit."

Where was the Scorpions, the Metallica, the Mötley Crüe?!

"This station is for fuckin' losers." Billy groused as he changed the station. Just another reason to hate Hawkins even more.

Billy put on one of his preferred mixtapes for his drive. He always took long drives to get out of the house and calm himself down.

Eventually, he found himself near the station's center. He thought now was a good time to march right in there and hassle Harrington for his shitty music selection.

He parked right out front next to Steve's pretty little BMW, resisting the urge to ding it up before heading inside.

It was late, and fortunately for Billy (But unfortunately for Steve), Steve was all alone.

Billy ignored bright, blaring ON AIR sign and opened the door, walking right into the booth.

Steve's eyes grew wide and his brows deeply furrowed.

"Aaand now for a commercial break!" He turned off his mic and hastily pulled off his headphones, jumping out of his chair and approaching Billy who obnoxiously leaned against the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He questioned through his clenched teeth.

"I was in the area, figured I'd stop in and make a formal complaint...in person" Billy smirked.

Steve rolled his eyes. "What's your problem?"

"My problem is the music. Do you not have any taste?"

"I have taste!" Steve argued. "I play what the town likes to hear."

"So, I'm not part of this town?" Billy wondered, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I never said that." Steve quickly contested, almost worried he'd hurt Hargrove's feelings.

Billy chuckled, blowing out the smoke. "You didn't have to. Guess that's fine. I'm not much of a...small town golden boy like you."

Steve let out an annoyed sigh. "If you wanted to make a request, why didn't you just call the line?"

"Because I gave King Steve the benefit of the doubt. Thought being a DJ would actually make you look cool. But it's doing nothing for your reputation."

Steve tusked, folding his arms and rolling his eyes. "My reputation is fine, actually."

"Oh yeah? When's the last time you had any bitches, huh, pretty boy? I hear all the girls do is laugh at you."

"Y-well..that's—that's not true." Steve faltered, unable to meet Billy's eyes as he laughed in his face.

"Hey, look. If you wanna be cool, stop playing music for just the dweebs and Hallmark Card families. Throw some party mixes in there. I can't crack open a beer to this, or play your station at a party."

"And I'm supposed to be taking advice from you?"

"You need my help, and you know it." Billy brushed past him and sat in his chair.

"Hey, hey, hey—"

"What's happenin', Hawkins? This is DJ Hargrove taking over the graveyard shift, bringing you the latest, the greatest, and the baddest. Grab your lady, grab a beer, and enjoy!"

Billy switched the cassette to his favorite mixtape as Steve threw his hands into the air, mouthing "I'm screwed, I'm gonna get fired."

"C'mon, this isn't a toy, get up."

Billy pushed Steve away as Steve tried to pull him out of the chair, when the phone rang.

Steve's heart nearly fell out of his ass. "That's probably my boss. If you got me fired, you're gonna pay."

Billy laughed and shrugged. "Worth it."

"H-hello?"

"Hey, just callin' in to say that DJ Hargrove's graveyard shift mix is bitchin'!"

"I'm so sor—wait, did you say you think it's bitchin'?"

"Yeah, man! Keep it up!"

Steve slowly put down the receiver, unable to shake the shock. He turned to Billy, annoyed by the smug smile on his face.

"So...it's bitchin', huh?"

"Ugh." Steve scoffed. "I guess...you...were right."

"Of course I was right. I'm never wrong."

"Hey, you...wanna swing by and play your mixes on the air sometimes?"

"Oh, now you need me?" Billy laughed. "I'll think about it. How much do I get paid?"

"Paid?!" Steve let out a defeated sigh. "I'll talk to my boss."

"In that case, I guess we'll be co-workers."

Steve smiled. Maybe Hargrove wasn't so bad. Maybe it would be nice to get along with him for a change.

Tagging @cassandracorvo @intothedysphoria @monsterpegger001 in this lighthearted ficlet to thank you all for being kind and positive this week <3

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #harringrove fanfiction #ivy.doc

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rookthorne · 1 year

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭

Threatening Bucky’s club — his family — would only lead to the reaper knocking on your door. Nothing would stop him from burning the world to the ground if it meant his family would be safe.

It’s a pity the poor fool didn’t realise this, until it was too late.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes & Biker!Steve Rogers ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes & Biker!Peter Parker

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Gun violence, car/bike chase, light angst, fluff, Bucky is protective

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✰ I wanted to develop Peter and Bucky's relationship in this AU, and what's better to do that than some fast action and putting lives on the line? ✰ For those who have watched SOA as religiously as I have, you may recognise this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Burn It Down by AWOLNATION

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It was widely known amongst everyone in the club that the President’s patience was not to be tested, not if you wanted to keep all of your teeth. Patience was relative, in this case, and it made Steve nervous. Bucky could see it - the click and twitch of Steve’s jaw, the slight pinch to his brow that made him look about ten years older.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that, Stevie,” Bucky snapped, inhaling another drag from his cigarette. “You’ll end up in Stephen’s fuckin’ office, beggin’ him to fix your pretty face.”

Bucky did not make it a habit to smoke, let alone chain smoke, but today had been the exception. Sitting on the precipice of tumbling down the cliff and into that rage that simmered deep in his veins, god, it was too tempting.

“Do I need to call Sweets?” Steve asked as he scuffed his boot against gravel, watching as their ‘partners’ drove off from the meet up.

“Fuck no,” Bucky growled, lighting another smoke and taking another drag. “She doesn’t get involved in club business, you fuckin’ know that.”

Steve sighed quietly and fished his phone out from his pockets - no doubt to text Nat.

The meet up hadn’t gone as planned, and now Bucky faced the prospect of cleaning out their cash stores, or armoury - depending on whether he wanted to start a war - to make good on a deal that would only bring trouble.

Bucky shoved the cigarette into the dirt and stubbed it out with the heel of his boot. “I want Church in an hour,” he looked up at Steve to find him already watching his every move. “No one can skip, this shit needs a solution.”

“On it,” said Steve, when the sound of Bucky’s phone ringing gave them pause.

Bucky pulled his phone from his kutte and stared at the ID. Peter. “Why the fuck is the kid callin’ me?”

“He went out on errands this mornin’,” Steve answered, mounting his bike and settling in for the ride back. “Might be calling to see if we want somethin’ picked up.”

“Who fuckin’ knows,” Bucky sighed. The phone rang once more and Bucky answered. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for what happened next.

“Boss! I need- I need help!”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to Steve who sat straighter in his seat. “Peter, hold on-”

“Please! I don’t know what happened, I was riding back but these cars came outta nowhere and I can’t shake ‘em!” Peter sounded winded, the panic was constricting his chest like a vice and the sound of wind in the speaker was a sign he was moving, and fast.

“Fuck.” Bucky nodded at Steve once but he was already on the phone, rallying the family. “Peter, listen to me-”

“I dunno what to do, Boss, please!”

It was moments like this that reminded Bucky just how young Peter was - he wasn’t scarred by the life, he was a smart kid, but he didn’t have the same level of street smarts as the rest. No doubt after this, that would change.

“Listen, Peter!” Bucky barked, his bike roaring to life. “We’re gonna give you an escort home,” he looked to Steve who was still on the phone, his Harley rumbling as it idled. “Head down the interstate, we’ll catch you up!”

“Okay! Okay, I’m sorry, Boss, please-”

“Peter, just go!” Bucky snapped, hanging up and shoving the phone back in his kutte. “Let’s go,” Bucky directed at Steve, and they rode away from the abandoned lot, kicking up gravel in their wake.

Their bikes tore down streets and around corners ‘till they came to the interstate. “It’s too busy!” Steve yelled over the wind and Bucky nodded.

“Good cover!” Bucky shouted back as they merged, weaving through cars and trucks when loud rumbles sounded behind them. Bucky watched in his mirror as Sam came up next to him, Thor and all the others following in formation behind.

The gun in Bucky’s holster was loaded and set, his family was here - now they just had to find Peter.

Bucky led them around another truck when he spotted two cars chasing a bike - a Dyna. “There he is!” Bucky shouted over the wind and redlined his bike, the engine roaring as he took off like a bullet, weaving between cars. Steve was just behind him while Sam and the others rode down the shoulder.

Bucky would never admit it aloud, let alone to you, but he had a soft spot for Peter - the kid learnt fast, he was almost fearless, and hell, he had balls of steel when the need arose.

Peter wouldn’t get hurt, not on his watch.

The bikes behind Bucky roared when he gestured to circle around, Sam in the lead while he and Steve took a direct route, right next to the cars chasing Peter. They were sleek, subtle; if they weren’t chasing a member of his family, Bucky likely wouldn’t have picked them out on an interstate.

One of the cars swerved to run Bucky off the road and he snarled, pulling free his gun to aim at the carriage of the car. The shot rang out like a whip crack but the car didn’t slow. “Steve!” Bucky yelled and Steve’s Harley tore past him towards Peter, the hive mind of brotherhood working in his favour - protect our own. “Fuckin’ dare you to run me off the road, bastards!”

Sam and the others were surrounding Peter, and for the singular second Bucky could watch, Peter’s shoulders were shaking while Steve rode next to him. An untethered rage overtook his body and his mind screamed at him to protect, to maim.

He fired off another shot, this time directly at the car’s front tire. The explosion of rubber was deafening and the car swerved towards the barrier out of control, narrowly missing the tail of Bucky’s Indian. “Fuckers!”

Bucky shifted gears and rode to take his place right next to Peter, the back riders parting like the red sea to let him through. “Back to the clubhouse!” Peter nodded and Bucky could see the tear tracks down his face and the trembling hold on his throttle. There was nothing he could do to comfort Peter here, they had to get home.

The second car gave chase until they hit the turn off towards home, and Bucky knew Steve had memorised the plate - he would get Peter to run it once the edge of his panic had worn off. Whichever enemy of theirs had targeted Peter, they wouldn’t live to regret it.

However, facing both you and Nat when Peter was on the verge of nervous collapse also wasn’t ideal, either. “Pull off!” Bucky yelled, gesturing to the service road that was surrounded by a grove of trees on one side. The bikes purred as they turned and pulled into the wide bay by the trees. “Christ,” he breathed, yanking off his helmet and dismounting.

Peter was chalk white, his eyes wide with fear - whether that was of the prospect of Bucky losing his shit at him, or the fact that he had just been chased, Bucky couldn’t tell. “What happened?” Bucky asked once he had forced Peter into sitting down on the gravel before he could actually fall.

Bucky watched Peter’s throat work furiously around the ball of emotion that had wedged itself, preventing anything intelligible making its way out. “Sam, water,” Bucky ordered. A second later a bottle was pushed into his outstretched hand, and he offered it to Peter wordlessly.

“I dunno what happened, Boss,” Peter rushed, and Bucky crouched down, careful to move slowly. “They came outta nowhere, I was just starting to ride back home when I saw them.” A slight pause interrupted his tirade. “You guys came outta nowhere, you were faster than bullets!”

Sam chuckled and shifted. “We protect our own, Pete.”

Without moving his gaze from Peter’s pale face, Bucky addressed Steve. “You got the plates?”

Steve crouched next to Bucky and nodded. “We’ll run ‘em when we get back home,” Steve’s hand rested on Peter’s shoulder and he squeezed. “You did the right thing, son.”

“I was so scared, I d-didn’t know what to do!”

“Get up, c’mon,” Bucky said, standing up from his crouch while Steve took his cue to stand by their bikes again. The gravel scuffled under Peter’s unsure footing. “You did good, kid.” Before Peter could protest, and before his pride could stop him, Bucky pulled Peter into a tight hug. “We’ve got you, you’re safe.”

The muscles in Peter’s shoulders went lax in Bucky’s hold, and he sniffled weakly. “Let’s go home.” Peter nodded at Bucky’s words and moved to sit on his Dyna, his shoulders rising and falling with the deep, grounding breaths he took.

“Nat and Sweets know we’re comin’ back home,” Steve murmured to Bucky, who sighed heavily. “They’re fine, jus’ worried about Pete.”

“Better not deprive them of the opportunity to fuss over ‘im, then, huh?”

Steve chuckled and kicked his bike into life, Bucky following suit.

The ride home wasn’t a long one, but it afforded the opportunity for him to think. There were so many possibilities of who exactly was behind this random attack - they had no shortage of enemies, everyone knew that.

Time would tell… he just needed a stiff drink first.

...this may or may not lead into a new arc. 👀

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #biker au #biker bucky #biker!bucky #Brotherhood & Bullets #B&B #BAB #rookthorne's works

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Sparrow Of The Dawn : Chapter Five

Sam x Willa (Fem OC)

Warnings: Swearing, One mention of the word 'Daddy', mentions of boners? Mild accidental groping, light talk of spit kink if you squint, a lot of movie references, Jumpscare Warning: Jeremy Allen White, mentions of very minor injury, Girls Night (gender neutral term), guys being dudes, mentions of avoiding a car accident, fluff, and per usual Sam just being his usual self.

Word Count: 8k.

Author’s Note: Taco Bell IS on the boycott list and just included for entertainment purposes. Also, if you need help with figuring out which companies are on the boycott list you can download the “No Thanks” app to keep track!

Summary: Sam unfortunately finds himself in not so meet cute with Willa. Hopeful that he doesn't cross her path again; the world works in mysterious ways and not always in your favor.

That's Not My Name - The Ting Tings “Are you callin' me darlin', are you callin' me bird?”

‘If it weren’t for bad luck, we wouldn’t have any luck at all’ is a phrase my grandfather repeated growing up. I feel that a little more deeply these days, especially when it comes to my truck. As I sit here, willing her to turn over every time I twist the key, I lose a bit more hope. I have got to get her looked at. I pull my phone from my back pocket and text the group chat, praying that someone is awake this early.

Me: Is anyone awake that loves me enough to drive me into work. Edith wont start again ☹️

Tweedle Dee 🦐: It’s your lucky day.

It only takes about ten minutes before Josh pulls up in his white Jeep truck, and I’ve never been more thankful that we all live so close.

“You look awfully dapper for 7:30 in the morning,” I remark, eyebrow cocked.

“And you are just a pair of cargo shorts away from being Steve Irwin, but you don’t hear me questioning you.” He retorts. Touche. “I thought I was dropping you off at the newspaper office?”

“You are, but we’re going to Wolfe’s Neck to take some nature photos for the assignment we’re working on. I’m meeting her at the office first.” Josh and I haven’t spoken much in the last few days; he’s always busy lately, working at the bar or devoid of his phone for hours, so I fill him in on the project.

“An incredible idea, Sammy. All hers, I assume?” He chides.

“Not.. all hers. I helped.” I speak a bit more defensively than I mean to.

“Convincing.”

“I did! We’re even using a couple of my film cameras because I’m so nice.” I further defend my stance.

He pulls up to the curb, effectively cutting our conversation short, thankfully, and I exit his car.

“Sam!” He yells jovially, and I turn around, his window fully unrolled. “Have a good day, Sammy Boy! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He twists the dial on his stereo volume. The soundtrack of my suffering plays to the tune of ‘Barbie Girl’ by Aqua. I wave him ‘goodbye’ with a simple middle finger as he drives off. As I make my way back to the front door, there she is.

Birdie.

She greets me with, “I bet he’s a nightmare in the morning.”

“You have no idea.” I reach for the door, opening it for us both and letting her walk in first because I am a gentleman; however, I am still a pain in the ass. “Is it not too early in the morning for my voice today?”

“It's always far too early to hear your voice, Samuel.” She presses the button on the elevator and twists her shoulders toward me.

“How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to talk to me, huh?”

“It’s not like taking pictures requires conversation.” The sound of the elevator dinging catches our attention, and we both enter. Birdie reaches to press the correct floor button.

“How about,” I start, facing her and smirking with a cocked eyebrow, “we stop for coffee and breakfast, my treat? Since now, I don’t have to break the news to you that you have to drive.”

“You.. have my attention.” The elevator arrives, and we exit right, down the hallway, through the glass door, and past the reception desk. Sharon greets us warmly with a wave; she’s no Daisy, but she is lovely. Once we reach the cubicles, we separate, unloading our belongings on our own desks. Birdie looks good today. Her earth-toned Patagonia pullover fits snuggly, along with the black leggings on her legs. The tail ends of her brown bob poking out the bottom of her tan Carhartt beanie.

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Oh, uh yeah. I couldn’t exactly wear my Steve Maddens in the forest.” She stares down at the white socks and brown hiking boots I know are on her feet. “Where are we going, by the way? You never told me, just said, ‘I have a place.’”

“Wolfe’s Neck State Park, you been before?”

“Surprisingly, no. It’s on my list though.”

“It doesn’t open until 9, so we have a little bit of time to kill before we have to leave; it’s only a half-hour drive. Maybe forty-five or fifty with breakfast.”

“Did you wanna hit up Dunkies for breakfast?” she asks.

“Please, god no. They can never get my food right. I swear they have a secret vendetta against vegetarians.”

“I didn’t know you were a vegetarian. Is it an animals with faces thing?”

“Nah, Daniel, bet me fifty bucks I couldn’t do it. I never turn down a bet.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. Looking at her over the divider.

“How’d that turn out for you?”

“A new diet and fifty bucks richer,” I snicker.

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The trail I lead her down is not a very long one. I can hear her small feet padding behind me, breaking branches and rustling leaves in quick steps. She takes two to match my every one. I figured one of the shorter trails would work better for getting in and out with enough time to head back and finish our project.

“Ooooh, it's giving Twilight,” she beams, eyes huge with excitement.

I turn to follow her gaze toward the large, moss-covered rock wall. A few fallen, slimmer trees lay around the bottom. She runs over toward it.

“This is the skin of a killer, Bella.” Reenacting a scene from the movie. A movie I’ve definitely never seen. “I don’t care. You won’t hurt me.” she quotes dramatically, switching from Edward to Bella. She matches Bella’s awkward movements perfectly. It’s hard not to laugh, her head bobbing, arms flailing, jumping back and forth between spots for each character. I haven’t seen this side of her yet, A fun side. Who knew Birdie had it in her?

“You know I’ve never seen Twilight before.” I lie as I slip one strap off my shoulder and pull my bag around to the front of my body. Unzipping the compartment that has her camera in it, I pull it out and give it a wiggle. She walks over to meet me.

“Never had a girlfriend in high school who forced you to watch it?” she smiles, jokingly as she takes the camera from my hand and slips the strap around her neck, checking over her settings.

“Nope.” popping the ‘p’, “Never really dated til I got to college.” I take out my own camera.

“Aw got no game huh?” She makes a mocking frown at me as we walk down the trail.

“Got no game, huh?” I mimic her. Way to go, Sammy. Wicked come back. That’ll teach her.

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We take our time, snapping photos as we go until we reach the water. It's beautiful here. Large formed rocks surround the lake that makes up an amazing scenic view. The sunshine only adds to the effect. It's breathtaking every time. I can’t believe she’s never been here before. We slowly walk up to the edge of the water. She finds little crevices that the water runs through. In her continued child-like wonder she can’t help but kneel down to run her fingers through it, picking up small rocks to inspect before dropping them back into the tiny flowing river. The sun’s rays bounce off the water, the reflection a bit blinding, but I’ll take it on a day like today. It sparkles off the waves created by the small gusts of wind, which keeps me comfortable, but I notice the little shivers that run through her shoulders. Despite the minimal clouds in the sky, the sun isn’t strong enough to truly warm you from within this time of year.

I watch as Birdie steps onto one of the taller rock formations. She brings the camera to her eye, the clicking sound pleasantly mixed with the sound of all the petite rivers running nearby. She drops her camera and tilts her face toward the sun, eyes closed, taking in the warmth from the sunshine above. She looks as peaceful as it feels out here. I snap a photo of her. She brings her arms out as if she's standing at the head of the Titanic; I snap another one. That is what Maine is about, the simplistic beauty of being with nature. Any time of year, any weather. Just enjoying the feeling of connecting to nature. Water, trees, rocks, sunshine. All of it. Always.

I’m so lost in thoughts of her and home I don’t notice her suddenly standing in front of me.

“Earth to Samuel.” She sing-songs, fingers waving in front of my face.

I shake my head, willing my brain to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, what.”

“Can I put this in your bag?” She’s holding a rock. A damp, white-ish looking rock clutched between her delicate fingers.

“Uh, sure?” I’m very confused. I open a compartment, and as she places the rock inside, she shivers again. I guess it is chilly despite the day’s sunshine. It's still March after all, though I’m not a great gauge for temperature because I run warm.

“Are you cold, Birdie?” I question.

She scrunches her nose in response. I fight with the thought of how cute that is. “I’ll be fine,” she dismisses. “I’m always cold.”

“Here, take my scarf. I’m hot anyway.” Pulling my scarf from around my neck.

She immediately gives me a side-eye.

“It’s.. not gonna bite, Birdie?” I tease her with a little wave of the scarf.

“Not my name,” she scrunches her nose again, apprehensively reaching out to grab it. “Biting I'm not worried about. It being magically cursed into strangling me when I least suspect it, on the other hand.” She tosses her hands back and forth like an invisible set of scales. Her hands work intently as she folds the scarf in half and places it around her neck, taking the ends through the loop and pulling it tight.

“What am I? Harry Potter?” I scoff.

She lets out a cackle. “Not even remotely. More like Lucius Malfoy.” She raises an eyebrow at me.

“Wow, straight to Lucius. Not even Draco, huh? Yeah, I guess I am Daddy.” I stop in my tracks as I watch her pluck another rock from the tiny river leading out toward the water.

“Ew. God, no.” Her infectious laugh hits me right in the gut.

“See, Lucius was evil.” She stands, and her eyes give me a once over before placing the rock in my hand, presumably to be put in my bag with the other one. “Draco had a good heart even if he was a little chicken. Plus,” raising her pointer finger, “he was hot. And you are neither of those things.” She turns back to the small river of flowing water.

My mind flashes back to the other night at the bar, where she’s sitting with her friend. “No, you’re right, Wilson. Sam IS cute.” Replaying in my head.

“Oh, really?” my mischievous side coming out to play. I step toward her.

“Mhmm.”

“OH, REALLY??” I repeat louder, taking another step. She stands to face me.

“YES,” she says pointedly.

I smile wide, now looking down at her.

“That’s not what your friend said the other night.” I bite my lip, tilting my head to the side and running my hand along my jawline. I watch as her eyes follow my movement, a fire lighting behind them. I know I’ve gotten under her skin by calling her out.

She raises both of her eyebrows, this time taking a step toward me to fully bridge the gap between us. Nearly chest to chest, nose to nose, she says, “Wow, I’m actually shocked you were able to pull your head out of your ass long enough to hear someone speak besides yourself.”

I chuckle, running my tongue along my teeth. “I don’t hear you denying it. Go on, you can say it. You think I’m hot.”

“And why would I need to deny such a clearly false statement, Samuel?” Confusion etched across her face. “You know, when you come up for air, usually you can hear better. You should try it sometime.”

“So, that’s not what I heard, huh? ‘You’re right, he IS really cute.’ ? Your friend never said that?”

“No, you didn’t. Because no, they didn’t.” She huffs. I pick up on the use of ‘they.’

“Right, right.” I nod my head. “So, do they frequently lie to embarrass you?” a silent acknowledgment between us.

She pulls out her phone, tapping away.

“Whaaaat are ya doing?” I question her clear deflection.

“Just looking to see if there is a quick care clinic open on our way home because, obviously, you need to have your ears checked out,” She pockets her phone. “Can we continue, please?” A swift eye roll follows as she turns to walk back toward the little river.

“Wait, wait, wait,” a breathy chuckle falling from my lips. “If it's not you who thinks I’m cute. Then it must be your friend, right?” She opens her mouth to try to cut me off before I even get started, but, “So, can I have their number then?” slips out before she can manage. I relish in the fact that I know I’m bothering her.

“No, no. Absolutely not.”

“Wow, for being Birdie, you’re not much of a wing-woman, are you?”

“First off, they would hate you. Second off, what makes you think I’d ever be your wing-woman. And THIRD-OFF, that’s not my name.”

I feel a bit of satisfaction and a warm swell of my belly when her nose scrunches in distaste.

I wander off back toward the trail we came down, keeping my gaze pointed toward the opening in the trees. Trying to focus in between the little gaps for anything interesting or photo-worthy. The leaves are not quite growing yet, and the ground still wet with leftover melted snow. I can hear the squish of the damp soil with every step I take. The lead into spring is probably my favorite time of year. Most people enjoy the summer because the weather is nice and warm and the surrounding cities are alive with tourists and events. But those moments of fresh life leading into spring show you that despite the dark coldness of the winter, you can still grow and bloom into beautiful potential. The hope of it all, to come out the other end of the darkness to greet the sunshine, is why it's such a valued season to me.

Just then, Birdie comes padding over to me with two more rocks in her hands.

“Sam, I found more.” She calls on her way over. I, once again, pull my bag to the front, and she opens a pocket, attempting to deposit the rocks herself.

“No, not there, I have a lens in there.” I zip it back up and choose a different one. “Try this one.” As she’s trying to fit the larger of the two in there, something clicks inside my brain.

“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?”

“One of what?” Her brows are knit in frustration when she realizes the rock is too big. She picks another, thankfully empty, pocket.

“One of those girls that sits around with her crystals and her tarot and her moon water.” I chide.

Her hands stop what they are doing and she slowly looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “How do you know about moon water?”

“It’s a long story.” I shake my head and sidestep the comment so I don’t have to talk about ‘she who shall not be named’. “You know my brother is into all that shit. He’s got crystals all over the place.”

“The brother that owns the bar or the one with the mustache?”

“Uhh.. both of my brothers have a mustache.”

“You sure about that.” She smirks. Oh, they’re both gunna just looove that. “Actually, why don’t you give him my number since we seem to actually have things in common.”

“No.” immediately denying her. “If you refuse to be my wing-woman. I refuse to be your wingman. No way.”

“Fine then, at least make yourself useful and find some space to fit this in your bag.” Flashing the rock, she couldn’t fit before.

“Seriously, how many more of these do you need, Birdie? My bag is getting heavy.”

“How about you hold this one.” She pulls a small crystal from her bra, and drops it into my open hand. “It’s good for grounding. Maybe it’ll help center you. Woo sah, Sam. Woo Sah.”

Very funny.

I offer to drive the way home and now I’m curled uncomfortably in the driver's seat of Birdie’s car. Partly to get warm again and partly because of the intense growling of my stomach.

“We should stop for lunch before we head into the office,” I suggest.

“Where?” She pulls out her phone, searching for options.

“Is there a Taco Bell nearby?”

“You can eat at Taco Bell? I wouldn’t think a Mexican food place would be vegetarian friendly.”

“Taco Bell is hardly Mexican, but you can sub almost anything out for beans. Plus, I’m craving a crunchwrap.”

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We pull up to the drive-through speaker, and I place my order. “I’ll have a cravings box with a black bean crunchwrap supreme, a spicy potato taco, and cheesy fiesta potatoes, and a Large Dr. Pepper, please.” Her eyes are boring holes into the side of my skull as I pull out my card to pay. I scrunch my face in question.

“Nothing.” is all she says.

She leans over the center console to place her order, elbows perched and ass off the seat. I know she’s trying to be able to project her voice from across the car, but she is so close. I shrink back into my seat to try and give her space, but I can't escape her sweet floral perfume. Oh, she smells so good. I close my eyes, reveling in the mixture of orange blossoms and vanilla as it clouds my brain.

“I’ll have two soft taco supremes and a medium Baja Blast, please.” She plops her ass back in her seat, “Ready?”

I open my eyes again. “Yep.”

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I hand the cashier my card and receive the receipt and we pull up to the second window. She is staring at me again with the most unpleasant face.

“Okay, what gives. Why are you looking at me like that?”

The worker opens the window and hands us our order. Birdie's own customer service voice shining through her ‘thank you so much!’ Unwrapping our straws and sticking them in our respective drinks while I slowly pull away from the building. I reach for my Dr. Pepper and take a large, satisfying gulp.

“How can you possibly drink that?”

“A Dr. Pepper?”

“Yes! It's like.. Against the law in at least 22 states to not order Baja Blast when you go to Taco Bell.” she quips.

“Oh, you’re not gunna like this.” I pause.

She stares intently.

I take a deep breath in and exhale slowly, “I.. don’t.. Like Baja Blast.”

She stares some more. This time, the brown of her eyes barely peeking through the thin space between her eyelids.

“Dr. Pepper just hits better.” I shrug.

“We- Are not friends.” Turning back to the food in her lap.

“Consider it one of my 19 crimes,” mumbling around a bite of my lunch.

“Every sip is a little act of warfare, Sam.” She argues a bit further down the road. “I cannot believe you would commit such.. Such TREASON in my own car.” Her hands wave theatrically in front of her.

“Oh, you’re a Queen now, are you?”

“It is my car, so if I say I’m the Queen of my car, then I’m the Queen of my car. And I rule that drinking Dr. Pepper is an act of treason.” She crosses her arms, chin raised high, a playful smirk sitting on her plush, chapstick-covered lips.

I laugh, a good, full-bellied laugh. She’s fun when she wants to be. When she’s not being so combative.

“I’m so sorry, Your Grace,” I respond and enthusiastically take a bite of my spicy potato taco. She rolls her eyes at me.

“How much food did you order?”

“What? I’m a growing boy!” I argue.

As soon as I take another bite, chipotle sauce comes out the bottom and lands right in my lap. “Oh shit!” I once again say around my food. She starts to rummage through the bag for some napkins. When she finds one, I reach my hand out to take it, but she bypasses me completely, leaning right over the center console with her head nearly in my lap, hands working to try and get the sauce out before it stains.

That’s how I ended up praying to the Gods above that I don’t accidentally pop a boner while she cleans up my crotch. What have I done to deserve this?

“It’s fine. It’s not on the seat. It’s just on your pants. Hold on.” I squirm under the pressure of her fingers as she tugs to flatten out the fabric of my khakis to make sure she gets it all.

“It's fine, Birdie. Birdie!” raising my voice to catch her attention, to no avail. “I can take care of it when we get back. Or we can stop off at my apartment, and I can change.” I plead, desperately wishing for this to be over.

“I almost got it. Stop moving!” I glance down as she slaps my thigh. Holy shit. She licks the napkin then and I swear I see Jesus in the middle of the freeway. I press the brakes to slow down to avoid a collision. Trying my best to focus on the road ahead, but instead, now all I can think about is her spit on my dick. Oh God. My eyes go wide as soon as the thought crosses my mind, and my dick definitely twitches.

Oh, don’t go there. Not now. Think Sam, Think. Grandma Althea. Her house is old and smells like moth balls. Her hands are always dry from all the fabric she touches because she’s always sewing something. She coughs really loud and wet because of the cigarettes she smokes. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief when Birdie sits up. She clears her throat, “I uh think it should be all set.”

We drive the rest of the way back to the office in silence. I really hope she didn’t notice. But then again, I do have terrible luck.

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When I walk into the dark room, Birdie is already in there; the red lights casting a glow on her that reminds me of the first time she walked into my brother’s bar. Though now she’s rifling through the lower shelves.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“I uhh, I haven’t developed film since college. Tryna find some instructions.” Her ass in the air as she continues her search.

“I don’t have nine film cameras for nothing, Birdie. I know how to develop film I can help.”

She stands and faces me, the uncomfortable expression on her face taking on a completely different view under the light. I wish I knew her well enough to know why she’s so uncomfortable.

I get us set up with our film canisters and developing mixture while she grabs the rolls of film from my bag. We each carefully cut the film off the cassette. I try to focus on what I’m doing instead of how our fingers gently brush each other while loading the film onto the reel. I pour the developing mixture into each canister while she watches on.

“We have to shake them every, like thirty seconds for a few minutes, and then we can do the stop bath,” I instruct her, and she nods.

Her small, delicate hands hold the rather large container as she shakes it back and forth. “Like this?” She questions, her brow furrowed. And.. I am only a man. Staring too closely at the motion of her hands, I freeze. For christ’s sake Sam. Be normal for 5 seconds. As I clear my throat to answer, I drop my canister. In her attempt to help me we end up crashing our heads together.

“OW.” “Oh Fuck.” We mumble at the same time. I feel around for the edge of the counter and end up knocking the other film canisters into the sink.

“For fuck’s sake,” I whine. I reach to grab those, and Birdie bends down to grab the one I dropped. And, it is so dark in here she ends up ramming her head right into my junk.

“Fuck!” I yell. At the rate we’re both complaining, I’m sure they think we’re trying to fuck. If only I were that lucky. Instead, I now need to ice my goods.

I hold my breath, willing the pain to stop.

“Sorry.” her apology is small.

A strained “It’s fine” tumbles from my lips.

We continue awkwardly fumbling around each other, trying to make sure the rest of the containers stay properly agitated, and instead, she gets properly agitated. If this was a cartoon, I’m positive that steam would be coming out of her ears.

“It’s too small in here; you are far too large, and it's too dark.” She huffs.

“I don't know what to tell you, Birdie. It’s a darkroom, and I cannot get any smaller.”

“That’s not my fucking name.” Angrily, setting down the container with a loud thud.

We add the stop bath and then the fixer, making sure to keep a good distance from each other, and then finally rinse and soak the film.

When we hang the film up to dry, I realize I have about a foot on her.

“Need me to get you a stool, shortie? Or should you just hop on, and I could lift you up.” A cocky smirk spreads across my lips.

“Nah, you’re the man you could do the heavy lifting,” she makes air quotes around ‘heavy lifting’.

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Once they’re fully dry, I gather the film strips and bring them to the lightbox. Scooting our stools close and setting each strip up one by one to see the negatives of our photos. Shooting nature is one of my favorite things but Birdie really does have an incredible eye for it. Of course, I’d never tell her that because she would hold it over my head. Our styles are very different, which is clear to see lined up next to each other, but they still look amazing together.

“These.. Are really great, Birdie.” I smile down at her and bump her with my shoulder gently. Her face softens a bit and I can’t help but think how beautiful she looks. I am a man- I’m not blind.

“The hard part is choosing the best ones. It feels like choosing my favorite children.” Her infectious laugh plays through my ears, and I smile back.

We take some time discussing which ones have the best lighting or the best proportions. Which ones we think will make great features and finally settle on eight ‘prized children’ to print. The other eight photos selected for our presentation will be digitally edited and printed outside of the darkroom, making at least half of this project easy. At least the editing and printing we can do from the comfort of our homes in our PJs. Which is exactly what I will be doing after I see Daniel for dinner.

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We settle back in the dark room using the projectors to print our respective photos. I don’t know what’s in the air today because I keep messing up. Either exposing for too long or too short and I keep running back and forth between the developing tray and my projector to try to correct it. On one of my passes, I run smack into Birdie. In my effort to stop the collision, I put my one unoccupied hand out to cushion the momentum and ended up grabbing her boob instead. For fucks sake. How does this shit keep happening?

I pause, slowly backing away. She just heavily sighs.

“Well.” She brushes her hands off and adjusts her beanie. “That’s the most action I’ve had in a minute.”

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “Is that why you’re such a tight ass?”

“No, I have,” she emphasizes, “such a tight ass because I do squats.” And now I’m thinking about her in tight gym pants doing squats.

“Well, if you ever need help loosening up a bit, you know who to call.”

“Jeremy Allen White?”

“Who?” I match her confused expression.

“Oh, you know, he was in Shameless. The bear?” her brow further knits each second that passes. “He just had that big ad campaign for Calvin Klein?” Calvin Klein? As in.. models. Cool. First Edward, then Draco, now.. models.

“Yes, because I definitely seem like the kind of guy who keeps up with Calvin Klein campaigns.” Really trying to drive the point home with a snarky tone.

“Oh..” I try to read the expression on her face before she continues, “I just thought because of you.. You know, actually know how to dress yourself.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t. Your competition is the genre of men who pick up a shirt off the floor and go, ‘yeah, this smells clean’.” She stands on her tiptoes as she hangs her last photo and then promptly exits the darkroom.

A few minutes later, she returns through the circular door. It always reminds me of something a magician would have on stage. A weird sort of contraption to ensure the light stays out and doesn’t ruin the developing process for those inside.

“Sam.” her voice is quiet again, just above a whisper. I look up at her and can barely make out her petite frame in the dark. She’s just standing, a strip of film pinched between her fingers, head hung low.

She continues just as quietly, “Did you.. Um. When did you take these?” The realization hits me. I forgot about the pictures of her.

“Oh. Uhh. You were just.. Ya know in your element. And I sorta thought. Well, this is a big part of what Maine is like. Ya know. Outside, nature. You just seemed.. Happy. Thought it should be captured..” I trail off. Oh God, she’s gonna think it's weird. It's not weird, though, right? No, Sam, it's fine.

The length of silence kills me. The longer she doesn’t talk the more I start to internally freak out. As if being a naturally warm-blooded person wasn’t bad enough, I feel myself start to sweat. I wipe my forehead of the perspiration gathering there and grab at my wrists for a hair tie, of which is conveniently missing at this moment. Please say something… please.

“This.. um.” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath. “They’re lovely, Sammy. Thank you.”

Sammy.

“Yeah.. yeah. You’re welcome.” I shift my focus back to my photo.

“So, uh.. Anyways,” she says, calling my attention back to her. “Since we’re printing the photos here and we’re editing the digital ones at home, you can just email me the finished ones when you’re done, and we can talk about the bullet points we’ll go over for the presentation.” She turns on the projector light until she gets the desired contrast, and then turns it off and carries her photo to the developer bin. I grab my own photo and walk over to meet her, dropping it in the solution to join hers. She idly uses the tongs to move her photo around the bin to help the developing process. Just like shaking a Polaroid picture, it doesn’t really work; it only passes the time.

“That sounds good, Birdie.” I reach to grab the other set of tongs and end up blindly bumping her arm in the process, knocking hers to the ground. She bends down to retrieve them, and I set my sights on a different pair of tongs to my left. Two things happen at once. First, I bend slightly to reach the other pair. Second, she headbutts my ass. That’s two parts of me she has head-butted today.

“We’ve touched more today than I ever thought we would in this lifetime.” She groans.

“Think about us touching often, huh?” because I can’t help but try to get under her skin every chance I get.

“Why are you like this?” she complains. She tosses the tongs back on the counter and goes to fish the photo out with her fingers. I lunge to stop her, but I’m too slow.

Now, it’s definitely not life-threatening to handle photo-developing chemicals without gloves. But they are, at the end of the day, chemicals and can sting like a bitch if you have opened wounds. Given how clumsy she is, I anticipate –

“Ouch, FUCK!” she yells, cradling her hand. I grab her by the wrist and shimmy us over to the sink, where I turn the water on cold. When the temperature is cool enough, I pull her finger under the running water.

“That was stupid of you.” I gently scold her. There’s no weight behind my words, just concern.

“How stupid, Sam? I didn’t realize I had a cut. Is it bad? Do I need to see a doctor?” She rattles off.

“Hey, hey, hey.” I leave one hand on her wrist, keeping it in place under the faucet, the other one I place on her cheek. Settling in the crook of her neck beneath her ear. The palm of my hand burns against her cool skin; she really is always cold. Despite the darkness of the room I still pull her gaze to meet mine. “Calm down, okay? You’re fine, I promise. A little stupid, maybe. But you’re fine.” I rub my thumb along her cheekbone, hoping to soothe her worries. I can barely make out her eyelids as they flutter closed for a moment and then open again.

“You promise?” I can feel the anxiety radiating off her.

“I’d pinky promise if you wanted me to.” I joke, and she lets out a small giggle. Pride settles in my chest, knowing a crisis is averted.

“God, that was stupid.” she laughs again and rests her forehead against my chest.

“Lil bit.” I shake my head and slide my hand down to rub her back. Part of me doesn’t want to move from this spot, knowing she's comforted, but I ruin the moment anyway. I pull back from her, hand resting on her shoulder now.

“Lesson learned, huh?”

She zips the top portion of her Patagonia pullover a little higher when we make it outside. I pull out my phone to see who is available to be my chauffeur home.

“Did you need a ride home, Sam?” She asks, pulling her collar up to her ears. The ends of her hair start to stick out.

“I was just going to see which brother was a spare and could swing by.” I drop my eyes back to my phone.

“I can give you a ride home if you want? I know you’re not too far out of my way, I can just.. Drop you off?” placing her foot on the next step down and pointing toward the parking lot.

“You don’t have to do that. None of them do anything productive anyway.” I laugh.

“Do you have more than just the two?” I bite my lip and smile when her brow furrows in confusion.

“No, but you know Daniel? The bouncer? We went to grade school together so he’s been my best friend since we were like six. He's basically a brother at this point. Ya know, brotha from anotha motha.” Her gentle laugh bringing forth another swirl in my belly.

“Oh, I was about to say. I’m not sure the world could realistically handle any more of you Kiszkas.” She says when we finally reach the sidewalk.

“Yeah, they broke the mold with me. Realized I was peak Kiszka genes and said, ‘all done’.”

“Seriously though, I can give you a ride. It’s no big deal.”

I fall in step with her, “Why not? None of my degenerate brothers are answering me anyway.”

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The drive back to my apartment is quiet. Almost too quiet for us. The awkwardness of the day still lingering in the air. I clear my throat to cut the silence, but I can’t think of anything to say to fill it. I just fidget with my fingers instead.

“How are you getting to Boston tomorrow?”

“Uhm, well, the plan was to ride the train in like I did last time, but Edith almost made me miss it.”

“Edith. Right. Your truck.”

“She’s having trouble turning over.” I run a hand through my hair.

“Well, I don’t want to have to worry about you missing your train and messing up this presentation for us by not being there, so i'll pick you up at like 6 a.m. if that’s fine with you.”

“You don’t have to do that. I told you I live close to my brothers. I'm sure one of them can take me.”

“It’s really fine. I have to make the drive anyway and I really want this presentation to go off without a hitch. It would make me feel better if I knew for sure you’d be there.”

I don’t read into that sentiment. She just wants the project to be successful, and I know that. So I agree, much to my dismay. I hate feeling like a burden to people, and with Edith giving me trouble, I feel pretty much like a burden to everyone who has to deal with me.

When we reach my apartment, she pulls over to the sidewalk out front.

“Why don’t you put your number in my phone, and I’ll text you when I leave my apartment. I’m only like ten minutes away.” She pulls her phone out from the center console near her gear shift, and I put my contact info in. Entering my phone number and email under Sammy Kiszka with the camera emoji.

“I put my email in there so you can flag it, but shoot me a text with yours when you get home so I know where to send the digitals.” I place her phone back in her palm. “Thanks again for.. carting me around.” I let out an awkward laugh and scratch the back of my neck.

“No problem, see you in the morning,” she gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I grab my camera bag and hop out of her car. Shutting the door with a small wave through the window.

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When I hear the signature knock, I know Daniel’s arrived. Two quick knocks, a pause, a single knock, another pause, and ending with two quick knocks. I don’t know when he developed that habit, but he only uses it on my door. Penelope lets out a loud boof of a bark and runs ahead of me, her shaggy hair swaying with her little jumps. Well, little for Pen. When I open the door, she’s already sniffing and pawing at his legs.

“I brought beer.” He says as he holds up the 12-pack of coronas, careful not to trip around her. “Hope you got limes.”

“It’s me. Of course, I do.” Gesturing to myself and stepping aside to let him in, “Plus, I have an extra large meat-lovers pizza on the way.” I resist the urge to make a joke about ‘meat-lovers and guys night.’ “So.. tell me what’s wrong.” I continue, following him into my kitchen. He's stacking the beers one by one inside the fridge to keep cold, Penelope impatiently waiting for her attention from her favorite uncle. Her words not mine. I can tell by the expression on his face he’s struggling with whatever is on his mind. He closes the refrigerator door and shrugs off his coat, setting it on a nearby chair.

“Hello, Penny girl. I wouldn’t forget about you, I promise.” She laps at his fingers as he playfully pets her face. Still reaching for her head as he stands, he takes a deep breath. “I, uhh, went on a date last night..”

“Still living up to your name, I see. How was it? Awful? Terrible? Did she have a big head or lipstick on her teeth?”

“Very funny.” He snarks back. “It was terrible, thank you very much.”

Eventually, I get the full story out of him. His date, named Allie, a very adorable waitress he met through a friend of a friend, was completely horrible (pleasant), didn’t let him pay (she wanted to split the bill because her drink was expensive and she felt bad), and.. the kicker? She opened the door for him (she got to the door first). We’re each two slices and a few beers deep, and I can’t figure out where the awful comes in.

“She sounded completely fine, Daniel. I don’t get it?” I lean back against the couch, Penny quietly snoring by my feet.

“She ordered a salad, Sam.” he looks at me expectantly as if that answers everything. “A SALAD!”

“Oh no. A salad. How completely terrible of her.” I roll my eyes.

“I.. want a girl who isn’t afraid of eating a burger.” he shrugs, drawing a sip of his corona and lime.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes in frustration.

“Always.”

“Bro.. you have got to get over Melody.”

He stands, effectively scaring Pen awake, and I watch him pace back and forth in front of my TV. She pads over to him, nails clicking against the hardwood until she can get her paws on him.

“This has nothing to do with her.” He stops and reaches down to run his fingers through her fur for some comfort through this uncomfortable topic.

The subject of Melody has always been a touchy one. He dated her in high school, and we were all pretty good friends for most of our childhood. I really liked her for him, actually. Until she broke his heart when we all graduated and ran off to college, leaving him in the dust and I was the one who was left to clean up the mess. The mess being Daniel because he was.. A full blown mess. He would never admit that, though. But what can you expect when you get your heart broken for the first time? I kind of get it. He has always been and always will be my brother, and I’ll always be there for him. No matter what. Which naturally means I’ll always harbor a severe distaste for her, even if I know I don’t have to worry about seeing her ever again.

“This has everything to do with her. You haven’t been able to make it past the first day with a girl since you broke up. It’s been what? six years?” I shoot him a pointed glare. He stops pacing and crosses his arms, waiting for whatever else I have to say.

“Have you considered that trying to get to know someone while eating food is actually incredibly awkward? Or is this really just about the monstrous salad?”

“She also wanted to go for a walk after dinner.” He defends. The sigh I let out.. My God. “Why would I wanna go for a walk when I stand all day at work?”

He cannot be serious right now. The weakest arguments known to man.

“You’re an active guy, Daniel. Why wouldn’t you want to go for a walk? Doesn’t Linda always go on about your golf arms or whatever?”

“No, that’s completely different, and you know Linda is the love of my life.” he smiles wide, his tongue poking out just beyond his teeth.

“Right. So what other red flags did she have?” I dig a little more.

“Okay, well, she tried to kiss me?”

“GASP.” I feign shock. “She wanted to kiss you? How very dare she. Daniel, that’s absolutely insane. It’s not like you guys went out on a date or anything.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.” he plops himself back down on the couch beside me, his shadow following him until she perches her head on his knee. I swear, when he’s here, it's like I don’t exist. “Tell me about poking girl. How’s that going?” He lays his head back and pulls his trucker hat down over his eyes.

“Good. Project is good. I still can’t ever tell if she likes me or not. We bicker and banter all day long. It’s entertaining as hell for me. Then, there are some moments where she acts like a sweet, normal girl. But most of the time, it's just bickering.” I take a swig of my beer. “I gave her a nickname to get under her skin, and she makes this face every time I say it. It's very.. Samantha from Bewitched.” I swallow my laugh down with another sip.

“Whaddya call her?” he asks with a smirk, eyes poking out from underneath the brim.

“Birdie.”

“Birdie? Why on earth does that get under her skin?”

“Dunno.” I shrug. “But it does. And I take sick enjoyment out of irritating the fuck out of her.” I set my empty beer back down on my coffee table.

A maniacal laugh escapes him. Clutching stomach, he bends forward. I start to wonder if he got high before he came over because what the hell is so funny?

“Oh god.” He wipes a tear from his eye and rights himself on the couch. “So you think she’s cute, huh?”

“I mean.. I.. have eyes, yeah?” I answer with confusion heavily present in my tone. “But we don’t get along. As in cannot go five minutes without bickering, don’t get along.”

“You always did like em’ psychotic, Sam. None of us are stupid.” he chuckles.. to himself because I am not laughing.

“No, I don’t!”

“Right, and Chelsea was what? Totally normal? You didn’t listen to a single one of us on that one, and we all told you.” I forgot about her. The girl I dated right before ‘she who shall not be named.’ We saw each other for only a few months but what a whirlwind it was. We went to a concert an hour away, and she ran off with one of the roadies. A fricken roadie? Left me there to get home by myself, considering, yep, she drove. But again, she was hot, so what was I to do?

“Hey now! She wasn’t.. that bad.” I say innocently.

“Right, that’s what you always say. Sam – I never take advice from anyone – Kiszka.”

“Yeah, alright, keep laughing. As if I’d take advice from ‘One Date Daniel’.” I elbow him in my defense. “Besides, I’m not sure I have much to worry about. Once the project is over, I won’t have to see her again unless we actually do well.”

I get up and head to the kitchen to retrieve another beer from the fridge, and my own dog doesn’t even glance up at me. She just rests peacefully by Daniel’s side. I open the drawer to the left and pick up the bottle opener, and pop the top. I take a long drink before I reenter the living room.

“I uhh, actually the receptionist at the Boston Globe is really cute. Her name is Daisy. We hit it off a bit when I was there last.” I point to the flowers laid on the shelf. “I stopped by the farmer’s market after work and picked up some daisies. Thought I might ask her out tomorrow.”

“Daisies for Daisy. Real creative, Sam.”

“Hey!”

“How’s Birdie gonna feel about that?” he inquires. I pick up the flowers from where they rest and give them a light sniff.

“Oh, she’ll hate it. She already chirped me about hitting on Daisy last time we were there. Said something about ‘it's easier watching teenagers flirt.’ or whatever.” I set them back down and take up my spot on the couch.

“Yeah, you never did have any game.” He tips his corona back, finishing the remaining liquid and setting it on the coffee table.

“You say that like your game is any better.” I shove his shoulder.

“I may be ‘One Date Daniel,’ but at least I get dates.” he chides, linking his fingers together with a crack of his knuckles in front of him and placing them behind his head.

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Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Masterpost | Taglist (or reply and let me know if you want to be added!)

Other fics / one shots are here

Taglist bestiees! (I missed you all week and i'm so glad that we're back together again 🫶🏻 I hope you enjoy the chapter!!)

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @ourlovesdesire , @threadofstars , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @takenbythemadness , @i-love-gvf , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

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winterspiderpurrs · 10 months

Text

"Have you been wearing my shirts?"

Bucky paused and then turned to Tony, raising an eyebrow.

" Babe I would end up ripping it if I tried it on. And yes before you start you have muscle too. Delicious too. But I'm definitely too bulky for your shirts."

Tony frowns and tugs a little on his shirt. " My clothes are tailored to fit me... they shouldn't be this loose"

Bucky looks Tony over, " Well you have lost weight... not enough thats unhealthy though."

" I have noticed I have been more energized lately... but you know Cap makes sure I eat. I should be gaining weight with all the meals he keeps bringing me..."

Tony finishes buttoning up his shirt, tucking his gun in his waistband. Natasha laughs at the door and states, " I'm surprised you're just now noticing... Pepper hired a new chef who is actually making you heart healthy meals."

Tony scoughs moving to slide his arm into the jacket that Bucky is holding out for him. Giving him a quick peck on the lips. " I think I would know if we had someone living in my house cooking"

Natasha stares before moving to check the time on her watch. " Yes, well, he doesn't live here. He lives in the townhouse next door. The buildings share a basement, you know. Food gets deposited there. He has no access here. He has been vouched."

" I didn't vouch him. "

" Captain did. Even though he doesn't know it. He knows the chef as Queens"

Bucky almost tripped as they headed out the door. " Our chef is Queens? Awe shit that punk is gonna be tripping over himself. "

" Why? "

Bucky smirks " You know how Stevie got that Brooklyn tattoo on his abs and refuses to say why he decided to get it?"

" Yeah?"

" Apperantly... he met this Twink at his gym, and they started callin' each other those names... and well ... Queens challenged him to get one, and if he did, he would too....Punk can't say no to a dare"

" Cute so they got their nicknames tatted in the same place"

" Well... Queens got his just under his ass cheeks...and Steve said his ass rivals his own."

" Damn"

"Language Boss"

They turn to see Steve coming into the room holding a brief case. " What's got you cussing this early in the morning?"

Tony chuckled before clapping his hands together, clasping his hands to rub them together with THAT smirk on his face.

" Well I have lost weight since I've been tricked into having healthy but delicious home cooked meals. So now WE are off to meet this chef and see about setting a tailor appointment so I can get re-measured. "

**********************************************

Hope yall like it! I may or may not continue this ( if someone wants to pick it up lemme know!) I kinda like a mob polycule for this but doesn't have to be.

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ashwhowrites · 10 months

Note

HI! IVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR REQUESTS TO OPEN!

Can we please get a song fic with "dial drunk" by Noah kahan??? Definitely gotta be a sad ending. I was thinking either Eddie or Steve, but you can pick! Thank you so much!

(I'd give you a kiss, but I've seen SB get jealous over less 🤭)

Jealous SB is one of my favorite versions of SB

Never proofread

I’m rememberin’ I promised to forget you now But it’s rainin’ and I’m callin’ drunk And my medicine is drowning your perspective out So I ain’t taking any fault Am I honest still? Am I half the man I used to be? I doubt it, forget about it, whatever It’s all the same anyways

Breakups were easy for Eddie because he never bothered to fall in love. He'd get into a relationship, hold himself from falling in love, and get over the girl a week after the breakup.

But now he's on month two of his breakup with Y/N and it hasn't gotten easier. She was the first girl that showed him what falling in love felt like. And she showed him how painful falling in love was.

Everything he touched, he ruined, and she was another thing he shattered. He held her heart in his hands and kept it safe for years and years. He took that heart with him to the bar and held it close while he got drunk, feeling the beating of her heart when he kissed someone new. Leaving her heart on the shelf while he felt the inside of another girl, not noticing the damage the heart would take.

Until the morning when he woke up with a girl that wasn't her, the heart burned when he touched it, glazed over with betrayal. He returned the heart to her with guilt in his eyes, and apologies were on his tongue. It wasn't enough. Her heart was in pieces, and she took every piece back.

Eddie promised himself he'd get over her, he vowed to forget about her in weeks, just like every other girl. But the rain was pouring as he drove to the bar, the same bar where he lost half of himself.

I ain’t proud of all the punches that I’ve thrown In the name of someone I no longer know For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone

Eddie lost count of how many drinks burned down his throat, but he was aware of how many times the guy next to him commented on the picture of Y/N. He took it out to stare at her, slamming the liquor down as he looked at the girl he missed.

His pity party was cut short when he heard the sexual comments the guy next to him had to say.

19....20....21..by the time the guy got to his 22nd comment, Eddie was yanking him off the bar stool. Shoving the man to the ground and trying to heal with every punch he landed.

I don’t like that, when they threw me in the car I gave your name as my emergency phone call Honey, it rang and rang, even the cops thought you were wrong for hanging up I dial drunk, I’ll die a drunk, I’ll die for you

Eddie heard the commotion all around him, but all he could focus on was releasing the anger, sadness, and regret that had built up in him. He heard sirens, and he felt hands grabbing him. His body was being slammed down with his cheek pressed into the sticky floorboards. His hands were yanked behind his back, feeling cold metal on his wrists as they were cuffed together.

He ended up in the backseat of a cop car, one place he vowed to never be in. But here he was, drunk, alone, and arrested. Just like his father.

When he arrived at the station, the cops asked for the number for his emergency call, and he gave her number. Eddie had no one in his life, she was the very last person, and she didn't want to be.

He listened to the call ring and ring. His heart raced the longer it rang; no trace of life on the other line.

The cop looked sadly over at him, a sense of pity in his eyes as Eddie heard the phone die out. He shouldn't be surprised that she didn't answer. This wasn't the first, or even the tenth, time he called her wasted off of his ass. She never picked up, and he hated that he wished for the outcome to be different every time.

I’ll rot with all the burnouts in the cell I’ll change my faith, I’ll kiss the badge Just wait, I swear she’ll call me back Son, why do you do this to yourself?

The cop was getting ready to move him to a cell, but Eddie pleaded just to have another minute. He'd do anything for another minute just to have a gamble to hear her voice again.

He'd rot away with the other burnouts in a cell. He'll change his views, believe in new fates, and discover a new god.

"Please, sir, just wait. I know she'll call back." Eddie pleaded

The cop didn't seem convinced, the pity look taking over his face as he watched Eddie almost in tears.

"Son, why do you do this to yourself?"

"Because I know she will call back."

It was a lie Eddie would continue to tell himself.

Because in the end

I dial drunk, I’ll die a drunk, I’d die for you

tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #ashwhowrites #eddie munson song fic #eddie munson angst x female reader #eddie munson angst imagine #Eddie munson angst fic

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

Note

dear slim, I wrote you but you still ain’t callin,

Req:

reader is the oldest of many siblings and is in college, eventually drops out of college to help more. readers single parent (can be mom or dad) relies heavily on reader to do things for the younger siblings, pick them up for school, make supper etc. any entertainment for the kids is purely on the readers dime but it all goes unnoticed. She finally decides to do something for herself and is scrutinized by her parent for not being there. Eddie comforts her during all of this and helps in anyway he can. Telling her she is worth more than just being a rely on for her parent.

Stan.

@trashmouth-richie 🫥💕

Here it is, bb <3 I hope you like it!

Warnings: absent parent, some language

WC: 1.6k

Thank you to @firefly-graphics for the phoenix dividers!

You didn't realize that the day could already feel long at 7:30 AM until you had to raise your younger siblings.

"Let's go! Up and at 'em!" You try to sound chipper as you rouse your 10-year-old sister and 8-year-old brother. "Time for school, you little gremlins!"

Annie squints at you, grimacing at your wake-up call. "Five more minutes," she grumbles, pulling the covers to her chin.

"You said that five minutes ago," you remind her, exasperated. "C'mon, I can't be late for work again or Keith is gonna fire me."

Your sister begrudgingly obeys, and you breathe a sigh of relief before battling the demon that is your little brother. "Wake up, Nicky," you call out, only to be met by a pillow chucked at your head. It narrowly misses your glasses, and you march over to him angrily.

"Get. Up," you hiss, wrenching the blankets off of the pajama-clad boy, "or I will loudly announce to your class that you're late because you wet the bed." The threat works, with Nicky dressed and downstairs in a flash.

Your mom is in the kitchen, talking to Nicky while running around to gather her wallet and keys.

"Ask your sister to make you pancakes," she's saying absently. "I'm sure she won't mind."

You clear your throat. "Actually, today's menu includes cereal or...cereal," you report. There's no time for anything beyond that, anyway.

"But I...want...pancakes!" Nicky cries, stomping his feet on the tile floor.

Your mom rolls her eyes as Annie strolls in. "Oh, and don't forget to pick them up from school today."

"Got it," you reply tersely, pouring some Cheerios into a bowl despite Nicky's wailing protests. She's out the door before you can say anything else.

After school drop-off, which somehow happens on time, you drive yourself to work. Pulling on your ugly Family Video vest, you make your way into the store.

Wednesdays are the worst because you're stuck with Keith for the day. Steve has off today, and Robin doesn't come in until you leave, which means your shift will drag.

"Morning," you mutter. Keith unsurprisingly doesn't even respond. He barely says a word to you until an hour into the day.

"Oh, I need you to cover the first half of Robin's shift," he tells you casually. "She called in sick and Steve can't make it in until 4."

You shake your head. "Sorry, Keith," you say, though you're not the least bit apologetic. "I pick up my siblings from school, remember?"

Your manager gives a little laugh. "Okay, well, how about this," he leans in closer to you with a sneer. "You cover the shift, or you never work another day here again."

"But...I need this job." Your mouth goes dry, and you feel your palms moisten with sweat. Everything the kids needed beyond food, clothes, and shelter--whatever your mom was legally obligated to provide--fell on you. You'd just spent a third of your last paycheck sending Annie on a field trip to the zoo.

Keith just shrugs, heading into the break room to snag a bag of chips from the vending machine.

Fuck. You can't lose your job, but you also can't afford after-school childcare. Your chest tightens, making you feel like you're breathing through a coffee stirrer. Blinking back tears, you run through your options: you can leave work and hope that Keith is in a forgiving mood, you can use the extra cash you make to pay for the childcare, or you could beg your mom to pick up Annie and Nicky. The fact that you'd have to plead with her to take care of her own kids leaves a sour note in your stomach.

"Hey, Y/N!" a familiar voice pulls you away from your thoughts. You glance up to see your best friend, Eddie Munson, burst through the doors. "Sorry it's a little late, but could you waive the--whoa, what's wrong, sweetheart?"

You can't hold back anymore, and the dam bursts. Tears stream down your face and plop onto your shoulders. "It's t-too much," you sob. "I can't k-keep running myself ragged like this." You explain your problem through heaving breaths, Eddie rubbing your back comfortingly.

"Why don't I pick up the little rug rats?" he asks gently. "I can stay with them until you get home."

You shake your head. "No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Eds," you murmur.

"You're not," he replies with a laugh. "Technically, I'm asking you."

You offer him a wry smile. "Are you sure? I don't wanna put you out."

"Positive," Eddie says. "Let me do this for you, okay?"

"Okay," you agree hesitantly. "Pick-up's at 2:30; if you get there later than 2:45, they'll charge for after-school care."

Eddie contorts his face, making you giggle. "Jeez, really? Don't worry, I'll be there at 2:30 sharp." He gives a little salute, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I owe you," you promise him, taking the VHS from his ringed fingers. You feel a spark of electricity as your hands touch.

"Nah," he smiles, "just waive that late fee for me, will ya?"

After your extended shift, you trudge through the front door. Dinner tonight will probably be something from a can, and as much as you can barely stomach the thought of Spaghetti-os or Chef Boyardee, you're too exhausted for anything more strenuous.

The scent of burgers and fries wafts past your nose. When you walk into the kitchen, you see Eddie sitting at the table with Annie and Nicky. Your siblings have kids' meals, and Eddie's chowing down on a bacon cheeseburger. The three of them are laughing so hard you'll worry they'll choke.

"Y/N!" Eddie calls out excitedly. "You're home!"

"Yup!" You muster up a tired smile. "You're relieved of your babysitting duties, sir."

Nicky speaks up from his seat. "Eddie was just telling us about how he broke his leg trying to crowd surf at one of his concerts." The mention of the story sends him into another fit of giggles.

"I remember that," you say. "What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," Eddie responds, shaking his frizzy mane. He looks over at the grease-soaked bag on the table. "Oh, here--this one's for you." He pulls out a burger and a side of curly fries. "I specifically asked for curly, because those are your favorite."

Your heart melts at the kind gesture. "Thank you," you murmur. "How much did it cost?" you ask, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

"Um...seven million dollars," Eddie replies cheekily.

"I'm serious!"

"So am I!" But he can't help but chuckle. "I'm tellin' ya, this inflation thing is out of control."

You shelve your response, too tired to argue with him now. Instead, you turn to your siblings. "Did you two finish your homework?" Their silence answers for them. "Go to it; let me know if you need any help." They scamper into the living room, leaving you and Eddie alone.

"You're free to get home, if you want," you mutter, taking a bite of your burger. It's the best thing you've ever tasted. "Or you can stay. I don't wanna keep you..."

"Do you even know how amazing you are?" he blurts out without thinking. "I never met someone who did so much for other people."

"I mean," you stammer, "I-I kinda have to." You gesture to the living room. "My mom doesn't take care of them like she should."

"But that's the thing," Eddie insists. "You shouldn't have to. You shouldn't have had to drop out of college to pick up extra shifts at work so you can pay for their stuff. You shouldn't have to be at your mom's beck and call for free childcare. You shouldn't have to constantly pick up the pieces when she makes mistake after mistake."

You gaze at the ground, unable to meet his big brown eyes. "I guess I just want to be the big sister I wish I had when I was their age," you admit. "I wish there was someone looking out for me the way I do for them."

"I'll take care of you," Eddie says softly. "That's all I've ever wanted, if you'll let me."

"It's not just me, though," you tell him. "It's me and Annie and Nicky. At least until they're old enough to take care of themselves."

"Okay, so then I'll take care of the three of you." He says it without any hesitation, like he's been waiting for you to ask. "I can help out with pick-ups, and dinners, maybe throw together a PB&J sandwich for their lunches..."

"Why?" you utter suddenly. "Why would you do that for me...for us?"

Eddie rests a hand on your thigh. "Because I love you," he confesses. "and it breaks my heart watching you give so much of yourself to others and not getting the same in return."

You're stuck on his initial statement. "You...love me?" you squeak out. Surely he just means as a friend, right?

He nods. "Love you so much; always have, always will." And he leans into you, his plush lips meeting yours for a soft kiss. The hand not on your thigh reaches up to cup your cheek. "Was...was that okay?"

You nod breathlessly. "It was more than okay, Eddie. And...I love you, too." It feels so good to say, and even better when his face splits into a grin.

"Really?"

"Mhm," you say, your smile matching his. "Always have, always will."

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