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scekrex · 20 days

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Okay, hope I'm doing this right, but can you do an Adam x male reader where the reader is an angel who doesn't has wings and is Adam's assistant, and Adam ends up falling in love with him. Also, can you make it smutty since there's barely a lot of 'em.

Don't ya worry hun, ya did it just fine, here's assistant!reader x Adam w a very happy end

Reach out and touch faith

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, blowjobs

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam didn’t know when this all had started, when his tummy had started to feel funny when he was around you. You were supposed to be his assistant, someone who would do the lame and boring work so that he could continue to enjoy being the first man and not bother with the work Sera gave him. And yet he grew quite fond of your company over time. By God, he even found himself disappointing whenever you canceled boys-night. A thing Adam had invented once the both of you grew attached.

Tonight was yet another boys-night you had to cancel, a thing that happened more often than you liked it, but as Adam’s assistant there was a shittone of work to do, especially since Sera knew you’d tear off a limb in order to hand in paperwork on time. Fucking bitch. Adam was not very amused about the fact that you couldn’t hang out tonight, it had been a couple of weeks since he had seen you on boys-night. It wasn’t like he wasn’t hanging out with you after work, that man spent every free second with you as long as time allowed it, but boys-night excluded other people. Boys-night was a you and Adam thing. It was very dear to the first man, though he’d never say that out loud. So the second he got your text that you couldn't make it, he left his apartment and headed for your office. It only took him a couple minutes to barge through your door.

You flinched at the sound of the door hitting the wall and when you looked up you expected many people, but surely not Adam. “The fuck you mean you can't tonight?” the first man asked, he was visibly pissed by the fact that you had work to do. You tried to offer him a smile but he wasn't having it at all, he crossed the room until he stood in front of your desk, his hands slammed down onto the white wood and he hovered over you. “You’ve been canceling this shit for weeks, are you fucking avoiding me?” At that you had to chuckle - oh please you couldn't even avoid you even if you would try. You liked him too much to avoid him - too much to consider him just a friend. But that was the closest to him you could get, a friend, a homeboy. And maybe that was enough, it was certainly more than just being his random assistants he only talked to because he needed to. And yet you longed for him and while Adam had made it quite clear that he was not gay, you felt like he longed for you in the same way. Though that was probably just his thing, the possessive, flirty behavior was simply Adam. Right?

It was normal for colleagues to bond over physical touch, wasn't it? In the beginning Adam had strictly avoided touching you, not because he thought of you any less but because he didn't know you. Soon the both of you grew closer though and with that came cuddling. He often wrapped his arm around your shoulder whenever the both of you had to attend a meeting with Sera, it grounded the both of you. And sometimes - when you work until you pass out at your office - he'd come in late at night and carry you home. Your way home was quite long and due to your lack of wings it took you longer than the other angels.

The wing situation. Another thing that Adam had been surprisingly gentle with. Of course the first man had cracked jokes, now more than ever given that you were friends now - cose friends even. But he had always been quite sensitive with the topic itself, in God's mighty name, he even defended you a couple of times when strangers were to comment on it. I mean it was Adam, most of the time he flipped those people off and yelled at them to go fuck themselves. But he stood up for you and that was what counted in your book. He stood up for you when you kept quiet and you were quite thankful for that - even if he did that in his own adamish ways.

“I’m not avoiding you, dingus,” you rolled your eyes at the brunette who had taken his mask off in order to look at you properly. A huff came from the taller man hovering over you and your desk, “Yeah? Then why the fuck do you keep cancelling boys night? I only ever get you when fucking Lute is around.” But he liked Lute, didn't he? What was the problem with Lute being part of the group? Confusion clouded your eyes heavy enough for Adam to notice, even in his rage - but was it truly rage, or was it anger that only burned because fear fueled it? “Adam I don't understand the problem we're having, we still see each other daily, I-” Adam interrupted you by slamming his hands on the table loudly, causing you to flinch away from him a little. “It’s not about how fucking often we see each other, shithead, it's about when and where we fucking see each other,” his words only caused more confusion on your side, what was his deal? He knew you had a shit ton of work to do, mainly because he and his behavior was causing all this work in the first place. You sighed, “Look I'd rather chill on your couch too, eat shitty food and watch a fucking boring movie, but I can't okay? Sera will murder me if I don't get all of this shit done by tomorrow.” Adam's eyes roamed over your desk as if he was considering something and with a swoop of his wings all the papers that had been sorted through fell to the floor. “The fuck?” you asked surprised and annoyed. It had taken you ages to sort through every sheet of paper and now you had to start all over again. Adam reached for your chin, forcing your eyes to look at him instead of the mess he had just caused. Again. “We’ve known each other for a fucking while now, babes,” he hummed as his eyes took in your face as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Behind cool golden eyes flames were burning, flames hot and bright enough to set your own on fire. “You keep slippin’ away from me and I don't fucking like that,” you had made your own fair share of experiences with Adam and his possessiveness but this felt different, more intense, more real. “Adam, I should-” but yet again the first man wasn't willing to let you finish your sentence. “You should shut your fucking mouth and come home with me, you've worked enough for today.” - “But Sera-” Adam huffed, he was clearly fed up with how things played out and he pulled you closer, forcing you to not only get up from your chair but also to lean over your desk, you inhaled sharply as his face was suddenly so close to yours. “Sera can suck my fucking dick. I say you're done for today.”

Your brain was going wild, there was no way you could respond to his words, it was all a buzz. You felt like someone had wrapped your body in cotton. It felt soft and warm and yet not quite enough. Your eyes were focused on his, golden orbs staring into golden orbs, his expression was serious, left no room for debating things while you were still surprised, lips slightly agape and eyes wide. You wanted to lean closer, to capture his lips with yours and fight with your tongue against his, knowing well that he would win. But you didn't, you couldn't. Your body was frozen in place, still trying to process how close your face was to Adam's.

Being physically close to the first man wasn't new at all, Adam was quite touchy, resting his arm on your head every now and then, wrapping his wing around your back when watching movies at his place. But being so close to his face? That was new and that was clearly something your brain struggled to keep up with. Something in his eyes shifted as he took in your facial expression and it took you a little too long to recognize the emotion that was suddenly on display. Desire.

“Adam I'm being serious, you just caused more-” No. No, Adam was done listening to your excuses. All he wanted was to spend the evening with you, to relax and forget about the sometimes stressful days in heaven. The hand that had been holding your chin in place tightened a little just to pull you in all the way. You let out a surprised gasp as you almost crashed down onto the table, however his wing stopped you from doing so, the soft feathers pressed against your chest to keep your body up while the other wing of his was being wrapped around you. His lips were onto yours and despite your expectations the kiss was surprisingly gentle and slow. You had always taken Adam for the type of guy that would kiss women like they were a five star rated meal, eating them up greedily. But you weren't a woman and Adam's kiss was gentle - so maybe you should throw your expectations aside.

The first man was eager to deepen the kiss, clearly aíming for more, but you pulled back. Confusion was written all over your face. The kiss had been pleasant and warm and had lulled you in immediately. Yet you didn’t quite understand why. “Adam?” you questioned and you watched as the confidence in his eyes faded and was slowly replaced by uncertainty. It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to continue the kiss, maybe even deepen it, but you also wanted answers. Was this some one-time thing? Or was he looking for more, something more permanent, something that would go beyond just having sex? “Can you- fuck,” he pushed his hair back in frustation only for it to fall back into place, covering his forehead. “Can we just fucking leave and go home already?” And you wanted to tell him no, wanted to madly tell him that he had just created so much more work when he had pushed all the documents off your desk. But you were tired and Adam’s warm breath on your face felt like a promise, a sickly sweet promise that there would be more than just a kiss - if only for the night or for all of eternity suddenly didn’t matter anymore as you closed your eyes and leaned in again, your lips meeting his to dance with each other yet again. His feathers tickled your chin and you breathed out a laughter that bled into the kiss. This time it was Adam who parted from you instead of the other way around and when he did many emotions laid heavy in his eyes. Trust, desire, comfort, want and love. “Adam I can’t leave, I have work-” “You clearly need to fucking relax, babes, “ he hummed as he stepped around your desk, just to push you down into your chair. Perplexed, you looked up at the first man towering over you. With wide eyes you watched as the brunette dropped to his knees in one fluent motion, his hands were quick to undo your pants and you yelped in surprise as his wings lifted up your body in order to get rid of the fabric, revealing an arching hard erection. Adam shot you a proud grin, you simply rolled your eyes at him, “Don’t interpert too much into it, I haven’t had sex in- oh holy fucking shit,” you interrupted yourself with a loud moan as Adam’s lips wrapped around your penis without a warning and you threw your head back against the backrest of your chair, the gigantic wings made sure you stayed in place.

Confidence reflected in his eyes as he watched you react to his actions, his surprisingly skilled tongue played with the tip of your dick, licked your slit and effortlessly turned you into a whining and moaning mess. If this was Adam’s way to make you relax, you definitely wouldn’t mind him dropping by more often. Sure, you’d probably get even less work done, but who cared about that now, you certainly didn’t, not with your dick shoved down Adam’s throat. The first man moaned around your erection, sending shivers down your spine, his golden eyes were focused on your face, he wanted to see every little reaction of yours, didn’t dare to miss even the slightest bit of desire that was written on your face as he started to move his head up and down your shaft. Your hands clenched down onto the armrests of your chair, nails leaving scratches on the leather that covered them, oh dear lord have mercy. Your eyes were closed and yet Adam felt like you were looking at him with just as much adornment as he held in his eyes for you and only you. Was this how he had thought your first sexual interaction would play out? No, definitely not, but he didn’t mind it at all, not when you were the most divine looking creature he had ever laid eyes onto, and for the record: Adam had seen God himself before so that meant something.

“Adam,” you cried out as you felt your orgasm approach, you knew it had been quick, knew that you lacked the amount of self control it would’ve taken you to keep you from coming undone, it had simply been too long since your last sexual interaction involving someone else and the fact that it was Adam on his knees for you, Adam who you have had a crush on ever since you had first met him, Adam who had always been making jokes about fucking your brains out or giving you the head of your life - well, afterlife - only made it harder to resist. “Adam, ‘m-” With a popping sound he pulled back from your dick, he quickly licked his lips, drinking in every little drop of precum that had stained them so far as he responded, “Fucking let go then, this shit isn’t about holding back.” And then he dove in again, the pace was quicker than before, sloppier as well and with the knowledge that the first man’s only goal was to push you over the edge, no matter how soon that might be, you did as he had told you to and let go, your body physically relaxed underneath Adam’s touch and only a moment later the brunette felt your dick twitching violently against his tongue before he tasted the salty liquid. The taste of cum was gross, Adam wasn’t going to lie about that and it certainly wasn’t the reason why he swallowed it down. He swallowed your load because he wanted to take what you had to offer, no matter how gross it might taste - besides, cleaning it off the floor later wouldn’t be better so he might as well keep the surroundings as clean as possible.

The brunette pulled back yet again once he was sure you were all spent, licked the tip of your dick clean, then his very own lips. His warm hand gently patted your thigh which made you look down at him through hooded eyes, a small yet very thankful smile was on your lips and the brunette couldn’t help but smile back at you. “Feeling better, babes?” You only managed to hum in agreement, too tired to properly respond, as Adam got up from his knees and lifted you off the chair as if it was the easiest thing he’d ever done, “Good. So can we go home now?” You simply nodded as you wrapped your arms around his warm, comfortable body. You weren’t sure when Adam had dressed your lower half again, nor were you sure when he had carried you out of the building, your eyes kept falling shut and you obviously struggled to stay awake. “Get some fucking rest while I fly us home,“ was all you heard before you finally fell fully asleep in Adam’s arms as the cold air of the night surrounded your body, yet Adam’s body heat kept you warm.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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strawberryspence · 2 years

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Eddie Munson first falls in love with the water at the age of seven. On his seventh birthday, his Mom and Dad drives him to California. It was one of the few times he remembers being happy with his family. His father stole an RV, just for them. His mother wasn’t really happy with it, but had to let it go when Eddie lights up at the news of a road trip to California. He remembers seeing the beach, the feeling of the sand on his feet, the blueness of the Pacific Ocean and the warmth of the water against his skin. In his room, one of the few items he packed when finally ran away from home, is a small seashell. It’s small enough to hold with your fingertips. On bad days, Eddie holds it near his ear and tries to hear the soft whisper of the ocean.

Eddie Munson is thirteen when he starts hiding behind the bleachers to watch a boy swim. He knows he’s gay, has known since the age of nine that he doesn’t feel what the other boys feel for girls. Eddie finds the swimming stands by accident, he just wanted to find a smoking spot when he finds a screaming crowd. It’s nothing like the ocean, no sound of waves crashing against the shore, the blueness only reflects with the light. A boy swims, he swims like he was born to be in the water. When he comes out of the water, he shines against the sun, golden hair wet and smile bright. Eddie falls in love. Eddie Munson’s first love is the ocean, second is Steve Harrington.

Eddie Munson is seventeen when he learns how the water can be used as a cruelty. Wayne drives the both of them to help look for this boy, just a small boy, lost in the woods. Wayne tells him that if he sees a mother, looking for her son, don’t look away, don’t glare, don’t give her pitiful looks. Give her a gentle smile, a helping hand. They trek the woods, a few times for the next few days. Eddie will never forget that day, Wayne was driving them back to the trailer when they see flashing red and blue lights just below the quarry. They both stop, looking over the edge of the man-made water, watching as Chief Hopper pull Will Byers’ body out of the water. Only then did Eddie realized how dark and menacing the water could be at night.

Eddie Munson is twenty when he starts hating the water. He’s in a boat, again, after having the worst three days of his life. Steve Harrington is more grown now, Eddie’s not entirely in love with him anymore, not when he spent a few years in high school with a group that bullied Eddie. But he doesn’t deny the way his heart beats out of his chest when Steve dives into the water, because he was born to do so, always meant to be in the water. He doesn’t know why Robin and Nancy are scared, Steve can do this, he belongs in the water. He watches as Steve lunges, breaks the barrier, and a split second of relief before Steve gets dragged down. Eddie follows the girls down the water. It’s cold and dark and it pulls him into the mouth of hell.

Eddie Munson is twenty-one and he hasn’t been in the water in almost a year. He knows, the golden boy with the the heart of gold, the boy he knew who was born to be in the water, hasn’t been in a pool just as long. Eddie understands, after the night at Lover’s Lake and after learning that Barb died in the pool. He watches the kids, splashing water around and playing games. He finds Will, laughing and smiling as he floats in the water and Eddie forces himself to remember this moment and not his fake body floating around the Quarry. Steve’s fixing the snacks with Nancy and Robin’s reading a book beside him, her head on his shoulders.

The kids have been bugging him to get in the pool, but Eddie has been dodging their requests for almost a year now. It’s suspiciously quiet for a moment and before Eddie can understand what’s happening the girls are counting down as the boys hold him by the shoulder and by the feet and throw him in the water. He hears a stream of screaming before the water hits his ears, and it swallows him whole. It’s nothing like the soft and warm embrace of the ocean. It’s cold and dark and suddenly it’s pulling him back into the mouth of hell. He wants to swim up, he needs to swim up, but he sees the vines pulling him and tries to fight it, trash against it. It doesn’t budge, so he let’s himself be pulled in.

Steve Harrington hasn’t been in the water in 11 months, 24 days, and 8 hours. But at that moment, every thought and fear in his body vanishes when he sees Eddie sinking into the pool, fighting the water before letting it swallow him whole. Steve dives so fast, he forgets how much he’s hated the coldness of the pool. But Eddie’s down there, and no place with Eddie in it will ever be dark. Eddie’s eyes are closed, as he scoops him in his arms, swimming back to the surface and immediately laying him down on the poolside.

“Move!” Steve shouts, and the kids are so surprised that they pave a way for him, they’ve never seen Steve this mad at them. He gives Eddie CPR and suddenly, he’s back in the Upside Down. His hands are red with blood, Dustin’s begging him to help Eddie, Robin’s cradling Dustin as Nancy tries to stop the bleeding. He does the same prayer as he pumps at Eddie’s chest, please let him live please let him live please let hi— Eddie coughs water. The kids collectively sigh as Robin and Nancy both wrap them in towels. But in the chaos, Steve just cries, trying to remember how to breathe again because they’re in his backyard, not in the Upside Down. Eddie’s okay. Eddie’s okay. He’s not bleeding and in the cusp of dying.

“Oh, love. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay.” Eddie holds him, wincing at the pain in his chest, but still holds him in his arms. Eddie glares at the kids, looking up to Robin and Nancy to gesture for them to go in the house and leave them. When it’s finally just them, Eddie pulls away, wiping at Steve’s cheeks and cupping his jaw. Eddie preens at the fact that Steve doesn’t pull away.

“Hey, you good?” Steve laughs at the question, “I should be asking you that.” Eddie chuckles at the sound of his laugh.

“I am okay. I’ll live. How about you? You haven’t swam in a while and you gave me another CPR. I am sorry.” Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t say sorry. I’ll do it all again for you.”

Eddie does what he’s always wanted do since the age of thirteen. He kisses Steve for the first time, and it’s like falling in love with the water all over again. He remembers the light, the blue, the warmth. It's like being seven again and wiggling his toes in the sand for the first time.

Eddie Munson is twenty-seven when he gets married. Not legally, but married in the eyes of their family. Steve’s laughing with the kids as they play chicken, the water splashing around. Eddie lets himself enjoy the sand beneath his feet, the sound of the water crashing against the shore, the sounds of Robin and Argyle arguing about the snacks and the kids laughing.

“Eds!” Eddie looks up from his book.

Steve is calling him from the water, golden hair wet and smile bright, “Come in the water! It’s warm!”

Eddie smiles back at him, slipping a bookmark between the pages before running to Steve’s arms, making both of them fall into the water. There’s no fear, not when he’s in the arms of his husband, the boy who was born to be in the water. It’s warm and soft and it’s home.

Eddie will always come back to the water, always waiting for it, always watching it, will always love it.

Because Eddie Munson is the shore, and Steve Harrington is the ocean.

"Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the [shore] refuses to stop kissing the [ocean] no matter how many times it [had went] away." — Sarah Kay

#LMOAOOOOOOOO THIS TURNED INTO A FULL FICLET IM SORRY #this was honestly horrible i hated this but here you go #steddie rants #daeheadcanons #dae writes #steve harrington x eddie munson angst #steve harrington x eddie munson fluff #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #steddie headcanons #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfic #tw trauma #tw ptsd

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tiredofthehumanlife · 3 months

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all of the above.😈

Warning: strange and peculiar behavior, whimpering pussy boy Luke, i never read nor watched Percy Jackson i have no lore, don’t treat real people like this it’s probably abusive, i hoped this pleases you anon I’m new to this side business ngl, hmu if you hate it and wanna burn me alive and I’m only speaking to anon no one else thanks guys, sexual? Content, bon appétit ig

Luke was a splendid boyfriend. He brings you the flowers he finds on his walks. Luke always has a plate for you already made for you by the time you wake up for breakfast. He spars with you, like a true gentlemen. Luke smiles at you the second he finds your eyes in a room. Luke was so caring and gentle to you. He just wanted to please you and make you smile. However, he messed up this morning. Acted entirely disrespectful. You know you deserve better, you know he can do better, so you may or may not have been upset at him the whole entire day. When Luke asked to spar with you, you said “oh so sorry I’m busy.” Luke’s smile dropped. He looked away from you to hide the already forming pout. When Luke looks back to you, he’s smiling again but you can see his passion behind it has dissapered.

Good.

It’s what Luke deserves after this morning. Then when he left to go on walk, Luke moved to give you his regular ‘see you after my walk in think you’re cool love you until my last breath exists my lungs and the earth takes back my body I think you’re cool talk to you later babe :)’ kiss on the cheek. You wiped it away with the back of your hand without looking up from your book. You heard him let out a sad ‘oh’ no louder than a very small cricket on his last breath singing to his long lost gay cricket lover. You didn’t mind him. You knew if you looked into Luke’s sad puppy eyes right now you’d lose all determination and cave. Luke seemed to know this too because he kept bumping your cheek with his nose. You groaned and pushed him away. You turned your back to him as you repositioned in your seat, continuing your book. You heard his feet slowly slink away in defeat.

Finally, when Luke returned from his walk with a handful of flowers he found, you didn’t wait for him by your usual tree. After Luke finally found you in the same spot he left you, nose stuck in your book. Luke ran over to you showcasing his bouquet to you. You didn’t look up from your book. Luke noticed but he assumed you were just finishing your sentence. When you turned your page and silently continued reading, he felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know what he did to upset you but he knew he wanted to make it up to you.

So after he whined and begged you to just look at him and tell him what he did, you caved. Not without a little just a tad punishment. After you finally told him what upset you he promised to make it up to you. He’d “do anything” in his words. So you had him entirely naked on his knees. Staring up at you. You kept all your clothes on, making the power imbalance entirely clear to him. You made him hold his hands behind his back. If he even so much as moved his pinkie you took a step back away from him. When he was good, you moved closer to him. Luke had pathetic apologies slipping off his tongue every second you weren’t touching him. Which was a lot considering he seemed to be a very bad boy tonight. His dick achingly ignored, pressing against his stomach.

“You’ll be good now, right baby?” Luke quickly nodded at your words. You tut as you noticed him looking away from you, exactly what you told him not to do. He noticed his mistake instantly and met your eyes again. You saw tears brimming in Luke’s water line. Pathetic. A sinful grin creeped up your face as you slowly tilted your head down to his. Luke let out a whimper as he felt your breath fall over his lips.

“Say you’re sorry.” You whisper, taunting him with your mouth just millimeters from his. Luke repeated his apology over and over again sounding more and more pitiful with each breath. When you leaned back he sobbed. Luke stared up at you with pleading eyes. You saw his tears had fallen down his cheeks, following the path of his scar. Luke looked so heartbroken and he was whispering out pleads between his sobs. You gently raised your hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears. Luke leaned into your hand and moaned at the feeling. You hummed. You ask him in a whisper if he’s learned his lesson.

“Yes, yes. Gods please, touch me, please.” He kisses your palm over and over hoping it will win you over more. You smile and pull your hand back. Luke groans and his shoulders sink. He knows better than to break your eye contact. You tilt your head and clasp your hands behind your back, mocking him. Luke whines and closes his eyes a brief second before snapping his eyes open again. Luke wanted to be good. You gave him a sympathetic look, mocking him even more. You decide to give him a little grace and lean back down towards his lips. He leans his face higher up just barely brushing his lips against yours. Luke begged the gods you’d move your head down just a little bit lower so he can feel you properly. He can’t reach you without breaking your rules. He’d have to use his hands or get off his knees to get to you. Luke cried more when you back away.

“I’m not touching you until after tomorrow’s breakfast and you prove to me you will be good.” With your terribly unfair punishment stated, you left. You walked to your cabin and slept wonderfully. Luke’s never felt more pathetic sobbing on his knees in the middle of his empty cabin. He went to bed after some time. The next morning he was on his best behavior, so you rewarded him very well after everyone was certainly busy. Luke never stole your bacon again. Unless he wanted the punishment.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #percy jackson x reader #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #save me a seat in hell #ekko look over there

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corrodedbisexual · 7 months

Text

No more unicorns for Eddie Munson

Steddie | E | ~6.5k | AO3 link

For Kinktober Day 7: Virginity

Featuring: Loss of Virginity, Fluff and Smut, Established Relationship, Gay/Virgin/Bottom Eddie Munson, Confident Bisexual/Sweetheart/Service Top Steve Harrington, Tender Sex, Communication, Porn with Feelings, Dorks in Love, Laughter During Sex, Boys Kissing, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, POV Steve Harrington, Minor Steve Harrington/OFC

When Steve’s boyfriend interrupts their makeout session and very, very nervously confesses that he’s never been intimate with anyone before… oh, boy. It’s fucking Christmas. *** Steve deflowers Eddie, and he's incredibly soft and gentle about it. Because Eddie deserves his first time to be absolutely perfect.

Snippet below!

When Steve’s boyfriend interrupts their makeout session that got rather steamy at some point and very, very nervously confesses that he’s never been intimate with anyone before… oh, boy. It’s fucking Christmas.

As if Steve hasn’t already been walking on clouds for the past month, overjoyed at the fact that he finally got to touch and kiss the boy he’d been so helplessly infatuated with that he just had to take a chance, and pray that he hadn’t been reading into things wrong. (Who ever came up with “God hates queers”? Eddie Munson kissing him back that nerve-wrecking night a month ago is proof of exactly the opposite.)

Eddie must have misinterpreted his brief stunned silence and absolutely goofy grin, because he starts to squirm away, averting his eyes, and Steve has to tighten his hold around Eddie’s waist to keep him from escaping.

“Where do you think you’re going, baby?” Steve purrs, and Eddie’s already flushed cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red. (He always blushes when Steve calls him that. Damn, now that Steve thinks about it, that should have been an obvious clue.)

“I dunno,” Eddie mumbles, rubbing a palm across his eyes. “Anywhere. Somewhere you’re not laughing at me, preferably.”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Steve replies softly, tucking a strand of Eddie’s unruly hair behind his ear. His fingers linger on the earshell, tracing its shape, and Eddie absolutely melts into the touch. “We can take things slow, if you want. But you don’t need to worry about this. It’s not a bad thing, Eds. It’s great, in fact.”

“How the hell is me being a lame 20-year-old virgin great ?!” Eddie stares at him in disbelief.

Steve’s smile turns into yet another grin.

“‘Cause I get to blow your mind.”

“Oh my god, of course you’d be cocky about this,” Eddie groans, rolling his eyes, but fails to conceal a giddy smile on his lips.

Steve can’t resist pressing his mouth to it. Eddie’s so, so fucking cute when he smiles.

One kiss turns into another, and another, and soon they’re back to where they paused when Eddie spoke up; this time, when Steve slides his hands into Eddie’s back pockets and draws him closer, makes him grind down, Eddie doesn’t pull away. He just groans and rolls down again, without Steve’s guidance, and breaks the kiss to stare down at Steve, panting, pupils fully blown.

“Fuck, Stevie, I don’t wanna take things slow,” he blurts out, immediately ducking his head to hide behind the curtain of hair, but Steve tugs on his chin to make him look up again. When Eddie does, he cups his cheek, strokes his thumb along the cheekbone gently.

“Okay," Steve says. "If you’re sure.”

“Oh yeah.” Eddie lets out a nervous chuckle. “Totally sure.”

“Okay,” Steve says again, his thoughts slightly hazy with horny anticipation. His brain is momentarily flooded with images of getting Eddie naked, laying him out on his bed, kissing and touching every inch of his skin; he feels his cock twitch in his pants at the prospect. He pats Eddie’s thigh twice, barely concealing his impatience. “Lemme up, then. Let’s go upstairs.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open.

“Oh. Right now? ” He points with a finger.

Steve blinks and frowns, wondering if he misunderstood.

“I mean, unless一”

“Nonono, now is good.” Eddie nods rapidly. “Totally cool. My schedule’s free today.” He snaps his mouth shut and drops his head back, groaning. “God, I’m a moron. How the fuck did I land you again?”

Steve chuckles, nuzzling at his neck.

“By being really hot and irresistible.” He doesn’t need to look up to know Eddie’s blushing again. “But also, not a moron at all.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s chin, then finally pushes him gently to land on the couch beside him, and stands.

Eddie looks up at him, slightly dazed; he’s fidgeting with his rings, always a dead giveaway of his nerves. Steve grins and holds out his hand, bowing slightly.

“May I have this dance?”

It’s definitely the right move, because after a brief stunned silence, Eddie bursts out laughing, dropping his head as he takes Steve’s hand and lets himself be pulled up to his feet.

Full work @ AO3

#steddie #steddie fic #kinktober #virginity #virgin eddie munson #smut #steddie smut #virgin eddie my beloved #misha-bawlins fanfic

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koifish67 · 1 year

Text

Overwatch x GN! Reader adopting a kid part 1

Tw mentions of vomit

(Since solider 76 is CANON gay, his section will have have he/him pronouns for you(

(The baby is a girl)

Mako is a good dad, a great dad even.

You’d think he’d get annoyed easily by the crying of the baby, but he simply will just scoop up the small human and cradle them ever so gently.

His nickname for his baby? “puawai iti” (little flower in the Māori language)

He’ll put his baby on his stomach with a hand on them and omg it so adorable.

You catch him staring at you while holding the baby, he’ll lie if you ask if he was smiling. (He 100% was)

When he’s out and about he has his baby in a sling on him, it has lil pachimari all over it. He also dresses her in a cute pachimari onesie!

Is scared to feed her but after you show him he’s a bit more confident. Does the airplane thing 100%.

Scared but happy, he genuinely is scared that he’ll accidentally hurt his baby by doing something stupid. But happy cause he finally gets to have a kid with you.

Makes baby clothes and it looks cute! Probably goes crazy when he sees baby shoes.

Puts all his dangerous explosive stuff on a very high shelf.

Cant change diapers for the life of him, like he will gag and vomit if he has to, so it’s your job now.

Giggles so much if she farts or burps, he takes videos of it and sends it to you with him giggling in the background.

Dresses her in very funny costumes and onesies.

ROADHOG BABYSITTIER!!!

Hanzo

Omg is so so happy he finally gets to have a kid with you. He always wanted a kid, and a kid with YOU, his dream is coming true.

When he finally gets to see his child, he starts crying and hugging you and his new baby girl.

Dresses his baby in cute little dresses! He found a cute dragon onesie and is obsessed with it.

Calls her “my little dragon”

Is a pro at feeding, changing diapers, calming her down, and making her laugh.

He spoils her so much that her room is engulfed with stuffed animals, blankets, and the cutest baby bottles.

The dragons love her, they cuddle her all the time.

Mcree

Is super excited, like omg I’m gonna be a father finally!

Dresses her in a lil cowboy hat sometimes it’s so cute, its brown with little bees on it. Has her own little cow boy boots to.

Feeds her like a pro!

Does that thing where she’ll toss her in the hair and catch her, gently of course.

If he’s out and about he has a baby carrier with horses all over it.

Doesn’t smoke when she’s with him, refuses it and will never do it. He actually stops a lot and rarely does in the future.

Has pictures of her and you in his hat, takes it out to show it off to his teammates.

“Look at my amazing husband/wife/partner and our baby!”

Calls her “my little cowgirl”

Doomfist

Very excited! He’s gonna be a dad! It makes him so happy to have a baby with you.

“I cant be evil today I’m to busy being a dad”

I’m sorry but he’s really bad at matching her outfits, but she’s dressed so it doesn’t really matter.

So gentle to her, he treats her like the most breakable glass in the world.

Lots of plushes, so many omg.

He makes her dance, like he does that thing where he moves her arms and legs to make her dance and it’s adorable.

Her first words are “dada” and he starts fucking sobbing.

Solider 76

OMG HES FINALLY A FUCKING DAD! He crys in your chest when that happens

Loves taking her around everywhere in a stroller, especially at the park when he’s on his daily run.

“Where’s the wife today?”

“My HUSBAND is at home making lunch.”

Mercy babysits for you

Stricks me as the guy who builds everything, like he built her crib, a shelf, her diaper changing paper.

Has 20 books on parenting, and asks Ana a lot of questions to.

Starts crying when she touches his face and giggles, his heart is all warm and fuzzy.

Goes to check ups with mercy with her

Dilf

Starts crying when she says her first words.

#gay fanfiction #mlm blog #overwatch #overwatch x male reader #overwatch x reader #junkrat #junkrat x reader #mlm fanfic #overwatch x you #roadhog x reader #doomfist x reader #doomfist #roadhog #hanzo x reader #Hanzo #mcree x reader #cole cassidy

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5461

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

8. Banana-Dulce Cheesecake

Bucky

It occurs to him to tell Steve about the kiss later that night, when Steve is three fingers deep in him and Bucky wants some leverage to make him get in him already. He’s told him four damn times already to move things along.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, making an effort to control his voice so that Steve doesn’t know just how well he’s getting at his prostate like this. “If you don’t listen to me and get your dick in me in the next fifteen seconds, I’m tying you up and riding the dildo while you watch.”

Steve’s rhythm falters and his eyes widen, because he knows his husband and he knows it’s no idle threat. Sexual denial is one of Bucky’s favorite cruelties. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, okay.” His fingers leave a sad absence inside of Bucky, but he gets right to work in reaching for the lube bottle to slick himself up.

“Aht, forgetting something?” Bucky raises his eyebrow and watches Steve huff in exasperation as he stretches across the bed to reach for their beside drawer. Bucky takes the opportunity to smack his ass, enjoying the slight jiggle and the clenching muscle. “Good boy,” he purrs, as Steve comes back with a condom in hand.

Even when he’s fucking Bucky, Steve isn’t allowed to come inside of him. Only Bucky gets the privilege of leaving a load up inside his husband's ass, a possessive reminder left behind to slide out, slow and filthy. He watches Steve roll the latex down his dick and then give himself a few indulgent pulls with the lube. He's red and throbbing, and Bucky can tell by the way he keeps sucking his bottom lip back into his mouth that he’s feeling very sensitive. “That feel good, Honey?”

“Nngh.”

“That’s enough. C’mere.” He hooks his heels in behind Steve’s ass to urge him forward. Steve drops his dick and climbs over him, settling into the spread of his legs and reaching down to line himself up. Bucky feels the wet drag of his cockhead over his hole.

Obedient boy, he thinks with a smirk. But it slips off his face when Steve starts to push in. He inhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes as he focuses on letting Steve in. “Ungh,” he grunts quietly, brow furrowed at the stretch.

“You okay?” Steve’s hovering, not pushing any further. Waiting for permission.

Bucky swallows and nods, because he is okay, but goddamn. Sometimes he forgets just how big his Stevie really is. (No better reminder than to have it shoved up his ass.) “Yeah,” he pants, sliding his hands up the backs of Steve’s arms and feeling up the tension in his triceps—he’s straining so beautifully, trying so very hard to hold still for him. It makes Bucky melt when he opens his eyes again and gets a look at the beautifully pinched expression on Steve’s face.

Oh, his golden boy.

“C’mere, you,” he husks, pulling him down by the jaw for a kiss. It forces Steve’s cock a little bit further into him, and he groans at the stretch. “Ff-uck, uhn, Ssteve.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

He shoves his tongue into Steve’s mouth like it’s payback for the way he’s invading his body right now, the lewd, wet swipe of his tongue a counterpoint to Steve’s dick. Bucky just wants to get inside his man, any way he can. Steve makes a filthy, tortured noise when their tongues roll together, and Bucky relishes it. He growls and drives their mouths together again and again, making it sloppy, taking Steve’s breath away, tongue-fucking his mouth before he gets any real chance to start fucking him.

“Buck,” Steve breathes, the word wet on his lips as he holds himself still. He’s looking so pleadingly at Bucky, near-pained self restraint and begging eyes that make Bucky want to destroy him. “Please. I gotta. Gotta move.”

Bucky feels that ever-familiar dark thrill zip through him. “Yeah?” he asks, mock sympathy lacing his tone. He strokes Steve’s hair. “Is that what you want, big guy? You wanna bury that fat cock up in me? Wanna go to town?” Steve nods, of course he does, and Bucky forces one more harsh, unyielding kiss onto him before he pulls back and relents. “Okay Baby, push it in a little. Go slow. Make yourself feel good.”

Steve sags with relief, instantly sinking deeper into Bucky’s body. He goes slow like he’s been told, easing in each of the seven plus girthy inches he has to give, and since Bucky’s just put up with God knows how much time and lube and fingers softening him up for this, it doesn’t hurt.

It’s just so fucking much.

Steve waits once he’s settled all the way inside, because he knows he needs permission to start thrusting. Bucky strokes a tender thumb just under his eye, taking the time to soak up his expression, his pretty features when he’s feeling good like this. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, y’know that?”

Steve grins shakily and knocks their foreheads together. “That why you married me?”

“Mmm. Had to do somethin’. Couldn’t let somebody else get at you.” Bucky grinds up, feeling Steve’s hot length rub inside him, so big. “Oh, Honey.”

“Fuck,” Steve says tersely. “Fuck, Bucky please. Say I can. C’mon Baby.”

Bucky nods, and that’s all the permission Steve needs. He starts moving, thrusting into Bucky with short, deep rolls of his hips. Steve’s a goddamn savant when it comes to getting at Bucky’s sweet spot with his dick, and now’s no exception. Bucky hisses as sparks fly up his spine, his balls pressed deliciously by Steve’s pubic bone every time he rocks in deep. It’s so damn good. “S-sumthin happened today,” he says, stuttering over his words in a way he almost never does.

“Mm.” Steve starts necking at him, humming in acknowledgement. “What?”

“With Mary,” Bucky grunts. “I—nnh—I kissed her.”

Against his neck, Steve makes this tiny, appreciative sound that just about makes Bucky's blood boil. His hips jolt down in an uncontrolled thrust. “Yeah? She liked it?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, a dirty thrill shooting through him at this: at talking about someone else while Steve fucks him. Talking about her. “Yeah she did. She felt so good, Stevie. Felt so nice in my arms.”

Steve groans again. "Tell me."

“Wanted more, God, I wanted to squeeze her, y’know? Trap her. Right up between me and you.”

“Fuck, Bucky. Uhn.”

“Yeah.” They’re grinding filthily now, all firm and deep, skin slapping quietly, Bucky’s legs wrapped up around Steve’s waist to draw him in hard again and again. “I wanna do something about it,” he pants. “Want to have her.”

Steve moans and nods, his face pinking from the effort, from the thought of the three of them together. This, the idea of the two of them in a three-way relationship with a woman, used to be one of their biggest fantasies that they’d talk about. “Can we?” he asks, looking to Bucky for permission. Always to Bucky. It gets him hotter than anything, so in love with his man.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching down to grab handfuls of Steve’s flexing ass, urging him on. “Yeah we can. We’ll take her apart. Fuck her so good.”

“Oh, God. How?” Steve’s back to kissing on his neck while he grinds into him, dirty pants against sucked-wet skin going straight to Bucky’s dick. “Tell me.”

“Mm, I dunno. Maybe you can hold her, huh? Hold her open while I go down on her. Or maybe we’ll—ugh, shit—maybe we’ll both have her at the same time, yeah? You behind her and me in front, taking turns dipping our cocks in her ‘til she screams.”

Steve groans, his hips slowing and his head sinking over Bucky’s shoulder—He’s close and doesn’t want to come.

Bucky bites sharply at his neck. “Did I say you could stop? Keep fucking me.”

Steve, trooper that he is, whimpers and gets back to it. Bucky grits his teeth, angling his hips into the thrusts just right so that his prostate is getting it good. “Aw, fuckyeah. Like that, Honey, juust like that. Shit. You’re gonna make Daddy cum, y’know that?”

Steve whines, his hips stuttering at the words. Bucky rarely calls himself “Daddy” when they’re together, it’s usually something he only utters when he’s domming a sub. But with Steve topping like this, Bucky needs the extra dominance. The growled words get to Steve too though, and he starts to come, shoving harder and uncoordinated. “Ohn ... shit,” he whimpers, the high pitched, desperate sound of it making Bucky’s cock pulse dangerously.

He growls and smashes their mouths together, shoves his flesh hand down between their bellies and grabs himself, starts stroking off hard and fast as he feels Steve’s jerky final thrusts. They finish seconds apart, with Steve still grinding his orgasm out as Bucky’s cock starts shooting up his belly and over his knuckles. “Uh, ughn, godyeah …”

They slump against each other with exhaustion once it’s done, panting against skin and reveling in the aftershocks. Steve eventually takes the initiative to pull out, getting rid of the condom and snuggling back up against Bucky’s side. Bucky hums and wraps his arm around him, pressing a kiss to the edge of his temple. “S’good,” he mumbles, letting Steve pull the blanket up to cover their legs, even though they haven’t even wiped off yet. It feels too good to move right now.

“So,” Steve says a few minutes later, his voice softened and lax from the afterglow. He’s got his head pillowed on Bucky’s chest, and Bucky begins to play idly with his hair. “The Mary thing.”

Bucky inhales deeply, his chest rising and falling underneath Steve’s cheek. “Yeah. The Mary thing.”

“What’s the plan?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, picturing various scenarios in his sated brain. “Hell if I know.”

Bucky

Steve’s already back from his ass-o’clock morning jog and putzing around the kitchen by the time Bucky has finished dressing for work and emerges from the bedroom. He hears (and smells) the coffee pot percolating, and sighs gratefully as he walks into the kitchen to join him. “Mornin’ babe. Thanks. for getting that started.”

Steve gives him a cheerful peck on the lips as he passes to open one of the upper cabinets. “There’s a piece of cheesecake in the fridge for you,” he says.

“Cheesecake?” Bucky’s slightly distracted by the shape of Steve’s muscular back through his tight Under Armour top as he stretches to reach his preferred to-go mug. “For breakfast?”

“I may have mentioned that it’s your favorite dessert of all time.” Steve shoots him a knowing smile when he turns back around. "Enjoy the view?"

"You know it," Bucky says, shameless. "I'll have to have a talk with her about making cheesecake. The first step is admitting you have a problem, and I have a problem."

Steve snickers and goes to grab the coffee pot and fill the mug. “At least take it to work with you for lunch. She’ll be bummed if you don’t.”

“Sure.” In the fridge, Bucky discovers a clear plastic clamshell box with a single slice of cheesecake inside. Previously unaware of any hunger, his stomach suddenly turns over in a growling vote of confidence for the cheesecake. “Damn,” he mutters, reaching in and pulling the clamshell out. “So that’s what the banana threats were for.”

“Yep.” Steve chuckles. “I already had a piece. And Buck:” He turns around and looks at him with theatrically wide eyes. “It’s really good.”

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Bucky checks the time on his phone, decides that he has enough time to sit down and eat it there before he leaves for work. He goes to grab a fork from the silverware drawer. Seated on the stool at the breakfast bar, his eyes slide shut as the first bite of dense, creamy goodness slides over his tongue. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” he moans. “Caramel.”

“I know, right?”

He opens his eyes again and gives Steve a withering look. “We’ve gotta set some boundaries for ourselves. Or she’ll have us rocking dad bods in no time.”

Mary’s laugh sounds from the hallway just before she appears, dressed in sneakers and workout clothes. “With the way you two work out? Yeah right.” She shoots a cheerful finger gun in Bucky’s direction. “And it’s dulce, not caramel.”

“Oh. Well I stand corrected, then.”

“Basically the same thing as American-style caramel.” She makes a face. “Which hardy counts at all. Just wait until I make you a real caramel. Where the sugar’s actually cooked dark enough to taste.” She nods with an adorable amount of conviction. “Your mouth’ll know the difference.”

“I’m sure it will,” Bucky drawls, looking her over with the same sort of appreciation that he’d just done with Steve. Mary wears leggings on a regular basis, which is always very enticing, but her gym leggings are even tighter, and it’s a total cocktease. Bucky waits until she has her back turned before he lets his gaze drop to her hips and ass. Jesus, help him. “You going to the gym?” he asks, knowing that it’s her day off.

“Yeah,” she huffs, going over to grab her jacket from the catchall. “I’ve gained so much weight since Halloween, it’s not even funny. Got about fifteen pounds to work off now. Blegch.”

Bucky actually puts his fork down, he’s so disturbed by the casual way that she throws it out. “What?” he says, and Steve echoes him with a stifled noise in his throat that basically means the same thing. “Fifteen pounds?” He lets his eyes drag over her body, mouth agape. “Mary, wait.”

“What?” She’s shrugging her jacket on with a humorless laugh. “It’s true.”

“No it is fucking not,” Bucky snaps, and at hearing his tone, she stops laughing. “Mary,” he says sternly. “You do not need to lose any weight. And certainly not fifteen pounds. Jesus. That’s ludicrous.”

She turns around with an incredulous expression. “Seriously? I literally just heard you complaining about dad bods. Have you seen yourself? And you’re gonna talk to me about what’s ludicrous?”

Bucky frowns at how defensive she’s gotten and how fast. “Mare,” he says, trying to soften his tone. “You look great. Now I’m fine with you going to the gym if you want, but let’s not get out of hand, here.” Something about the tense determination in her features sets off alarm bells in his head. “You should wait to go to the gym with Steve when he goes in the afternoon,” he decides, making it an order. “You don’t need to be going by yourself.”

Her entire face screws up. “Excuse you,” she scowls. “I’m not a child. I can go to the freakin’ gym by myself.”

“No,” he says firmly. “I want you to wait.”

For a split second, he sees her expression smooth over at how calmly and firmly he’s said it—her own natural submissive reaction to a direct order from him. But that quickly bleeds back to astonished anger. “Sorry, Daddy, but I’m ready to go now. I already took my pre-sup and I’ll just waste it if I—”

“Pre-sup?” he hisses (forcing himself to ignore the ‘Daddy’ thing—holy shit). “What supplements are you taking?”

“None of your business!” She laughs meanly, and Bucky sees Steve shift out of the corner of his eye at how quickly this is devolving. “Jesus. I’m a grown woman, Bucky.”

“I know that, Mary,” he grits. “Now take your coat off and wait for Steve.”

“No.”

“Have you even had any breakfast?” he growls.

“I don’t like to eat before a workout,” she says, grabbing up her purse from the catchall.

“Mary,” Steve pleads, looking worriedly at Bucky. “You should have something for fuel. C’mon, let me make you a piece of toast at least.”

She huffs, shouldering her purse and heading for the door. “You guys’ bread has like a hundred and thirty calories a slice. No thanks. I’m fine.” She unlocks the deadbolt and reaches for the doorknob.

Bucky lets loose his full Dom-voice when he warns, “Mary, don’t you open that door.”

Her shoulders visibly tense, as if she’s fighting off the full-body urge to obey him. “I’ll be back in a couple hours,” she says, then pulls open the door and leaves.

Bucky stares, furious. “A couple of hours?!” The barstool’s legs scrape against the floor as he hastily pushes out from the counter, intending to go after her.

“Babe, wait. No.” Steve stops him with both hands on his shoulders. “That’s not a good idea.”

“She just willfully disobeyed me!” Bucky snarls. “I can’t let that go!”

Steve’s fingers curl over his shoulders in a squeeze and he ducks his head to fix him with a meaningful look. “Buck, hey, take a deep breath. You’re not handling this well.”

The message is clear. This is the way Steve talks to him when he’s trying to calm him down from domspace—and not the good kind of domspace, either. Bucky jerks away from his hold, but Steve arches an eyebrow, and so Bucky takes a few deep inhales and exhales, glaring at his husband the whole time he’s doing it. “She can’t get away with behavior like that,” he reiterates once he’s done. He forces his tone to be more calm so that Steve can’t hold it against him. “That was out of line. She needs to be corrected.”

“I know,” Steve says, still looking at him cautiously. “But we don’t have a discipline plan in place, so what’re you gonna do? Go grab her in public and drag her back here kicking and screaming?”

Bucky's jaw works in frustration. “No," he grits. "No, that won't work."

“Good. I'm glad you can see that.” Some of the tension releases from Steve’s shoulders, and Bucky instantly feels bad. Poor Steve. He’s already married to one erstwhile/sometimes mental case, and now he’s got another one on the extreme opposite end of the spectrum to deal with.

“Sorry,” Bucky says tightly, turning away in embarrassment. He can still feel the ticking of his pulse in his veins, and the desire to control pulled tight throughout all his muscles. “Sorry,” he says again, going back to sit at the breakfast bar.

“It’s okay, Babe.”

He scoots back in to the counter and grabs his fork, moodily spearing another bite of the cheesecake. His thoughts still linger on the showdown with Mary as he chews, and after he swallows he mutters, “The hell’s gotten into her?” Normally she’ll go soft as a stick of butter the second he starts talking sternly at her, but this time she’d seemed to actually harden against him the more he tried it.

Steve comes over with the to-go mug, emptying a Splenda packet into it. “You think it has anything to do with you kissing her?”

Bucky frowns, not having considered that. He shakes his head grumpily. “No. She’s been coming down every night. It doesn’t make any sense for her to be acting like this."

“Okay, but Babe … maybe we should try to get her in to see Linda this week. See if there’s something she needs that we’re not—”

“What she needs is a quick trip over my lap,” he growls, left hand flexing. “She’s bratting.”

“She does like to go to the gym,” Steve hedges, but he shuts up when Bucky shoots him a withering glare. “Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right.”

“Damn right I’m right. Call the Center today. Try and get us in. The sooner the better.”

Steve nods. “And what do you suggest I do about her when she comes back?”

Bucky grunts and eats the last bite of cheesecake n his plate, vaguely aware that he would’ve savored it a lot more if he wasn’t so riled up over Mary’s behavior. “Just leave her alone. You’re right: we don’t have a discipline plan in place.” (Though he plans to correct that very soon.) “We’ll sort it out at this next visit. Linda already said she has strong indications for impact play.”

Steve winces. “Why do they need to put the word ‘play’ after everything?” Bucky shrugs, and Steve looks rueful. “You know she’s gonna throw a fit when you bring it up.”

“I know.” And he really doesn’t care. A dark thrill of dominance zips through Bucky at just the idea of putting Mary over his knee, of trapping her wrists at her lower back and holding her down, giving her a good spanking until she’s crying and grinding and sorry. “She’ll learn real quick that it’s what’s good for her. That girl needs consequences like a fish needs water."

“Uh huh.” Steve seems almost amused, but he holds up his hands again when he gets another glare from Bucky. “I’ll call and make an appointment, I will,” he promises. “But what about you, Babe?”

“What about me?”

Steve gives him a look. “You could stand to go in yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

His eyes slip down to Bucky’s left hand. “Babe ...”

Bucky looks down—Somewhere in the past few minutes, he’s bent the fork in his fist a little bit. Huffing, he sets it down.

“Take the morning off and go get a session in with one of the Pros,” Steve coaxes. “Spare your poor coworkers.”

Bucky scoffs and takes his plate to the sink to rinse it. “No. I’m fine.”

“Uh huh.”

“I am,” he insists, giving Steve a warning look when it seems like he’ll argue further. “Steve,”

“Okay, okay.” Steve holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help.”

Bucky softens, feeling bad. “C’mere, you. Hey, I’m sorry.” He gives Steve a big hug, and then a kiss that’s equal parts possessive and apologetic. They part, and he smiles a little, nudging Steve’s nose with his. “You still having fun in the nuthouse?” he murmurs.

Steve ‘tsks’ at him for the joke and give him a chiding squeeze. “Yes,” he insists. “Now get going, nutso, before you're late. And don’t forget your coffee.”

Bucky gives him one last peck on the lips and then grabs his things. He puts his coat on and drapes his suit jacket over his arm at the door. “Try to keep her here once she’s back,” he says, frowning once again as he thinks about the “hours” remark Mary had made. “Ridiculous,” he mutters.

“I’ll head over to the gym in a bit. Make sure she isn’t overdoing it,” Steve promises. “Now go on, try to have a good day. Try not to make your secretary cry.”

Bucky huffs, though he is smiling a little as he heads out the door. He’s only ever made his secretary cry once, and Steve will never, ever let him live it down. “Bye Babe. I Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve

That evening, they bite the bullet and show Mary the letter that came in the mail: addressed to Bucky, from the circuit court of New York. It lists the court date for review of Mary’s case of custodianship.

Steve’s expecting a meltdown, but what they get instead is a morose sort of silence. He’s not sure he wouldn’t prefer the meltdown. Mary just sniffs and doesn’t talk much, picking her portion of dinner to smithereens before deigning to eat any of it. After their nightly tv time and Bucky's low key domming, she goes off to bed without bidding them goodnight like she usually does.

Steve wakes in the early hours of the morning, having to take a piss. He’s just flushed and is considering being naughty and slipping out to the kitchen to grab himself a slice of cheesecake, when he sees that Mary’s bedroom door is open. He sticks his head in to check on her, but she’s not in her bed. “Mary?” he whispers.

That’s when he hears soft noises coming from the kitchen.

It’s Mary. Steve stalls in place when he sees her, leaning back against the cabinets and face splotchy from crying. She’s dressed in her workout clothes again, hair messy like she’s already been out and back from another workout. Steve frowns worriedly when he spots her house keys and empty water bottle on the counter next to her phone. “Hey Mare,” he says quietly, so that he doesn’t spook her.

She sniffles as she sees him and hurriedly scrubs her face. “Oh. Hi Steve.”

“What are you doing up?” He takes a few cautious steps closer. “It’s late."

“Just wanted to get a snack,” she says, voice sounding tearful and pitiful. It’s such an obvious lie, Steve doesn’t even bother remarking on it.

“Were you at the gym again, Honey?” he asks. He’d had to intervene at the gym yesterday, when she’d been approaching hour number three with no signs of stopping. Now, he walks over and leans against the countertop’s edge right next to her. The room is dark, but he can just make out the silvery tracks left behind on her cheeks, the puffiness around her eyes. He smiles sadly at her. “You want to talk about it?”

Her expression pinches and she looks away. “No.”

“Okay.”

“... I went to the gym,” she eventually murmurs.

“Yeah, I cry at the gym, too. All the time.” Steve nudges his bare foot against her sneakered one. “Come on,” he coaxes. “I’m a good listener.”

“You’re a good tattletale,” she grumbles.

“Hey.”

“Well you are. You tell Bucky everything I say and do. And he’s always on me about everything and I just …” she huffs. “I just don’t want to deal with it sometimes.”

“Well …” Steve hedges, knowing that he shouldn’t say what he’s about to say. “You could still tell me,” he offers. He lets his hand inch over on the counter’s edge and hooks his pinkie over hers. She looks down at it, then up to him. Steve’s mouth quirks. “Bucky can be a lot. I know. But he’s just trying to do what’s right. And you’ve gotta remember that he isn’t perfect. He has to live with this thing just like you do. Some days he handles it better than others.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Steve sighs. “Look, if there’s something you want to talk to me about, but you don’t want him to know, it can stay between us.” Mary looks over in surprise and Steve cringes. “Just ... promise me that you’ll talk it out with Linda, too?”

She hums noncommittally. “Walk me back to bed?”

“Course, Hon.”

She shuts herself into her bathroom and returns after a few minutes, dressed in pajamas and her hair towel dried. She seems surprised that Steve has stuck around when she sees him standing there, toeing the line of the doorway. "Oh."

“I didn’t know if you meant …” he shrugs. “Tuck you in?”

She smiles a little, though it’s sad. Steve thinks she might’ve been crying again in the shower. “Sure,” she says, tucking her head down. She gets into bed and Steve covers her with the blankets, then sits on the edge of the mattress for a moment. “So do you want to talk?” he asks softly.

She chews her lip for a long moment, and just when Steve thinks she’s about to turn him down, she whispers, “... I don’t think it’s working the same anymore.”

“What isn’t working?”

“The stuff with Bucky. The drops.”

Steve’s lips part in understanding. “Oh. I see.”

She nods and won't meet his eyes. “It doesn’t feel the same as it did before. Like it’s not as strong, or something. And it’s wearing off faster.” Her face pinches and for a second she really looks like she might cry.

“Honey?” Steve reaches to tuck her damp hair back from her face, and that seems to be what does it. She starts crying and turns into the pillow, hiding there as her breath hitches in tiny sobs. Surprised, Steve lets his hand fall to her shoulder, where he gives her a comforting squeeze. “Hey,” he soothes. “Shhh, it’s okay. It's okay.”

She shakes her head with a little whimper. “No it’s not. I th-thought they’d stop now. They did stop, for a while.”

“What stopped?” Steve asks, confused.

She sniffles, face crumpled up in distress. “I have bad dreams sometimes. That’s why I was up. Went to the gym to try and run it off.”

“Bad dreams?" Steve says, concerned. "You mean nightmares?" Sometimes Bucky has them too, so he's under no illusions about how debilitating they can be. "Mare?" he prods gently. "What are the nightmares about?”

She burrows further into the pillow, turning onto her side and curling up in a little ball. “Just stuff,” she mumbles. “From when I was a kid.”

Steve gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he has to really consider his words carefully before he speaks. He finally settles on a quiet, “Your dad?”

“... Yeah.”

Ouch. Steve swallows. “Honey … you really need to talk to somebody about this.”

She sniffles and shakes her head, and when Steve puts his hand on her shoulder again, she doesn’t try to shrug him off. “You promised not to tell Bucky,” she says.

Steve winces. “Yeah, I know.” Bucky and he already had a pretty good idea about this, but he doesn’t feel the need to point that out right now. “And you promised you’d talk with Linda,” he reminds. “It’s not safe for you to be sneaking out of here at night.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. "It’s just that ... the only thing that ever really made ‘em stop was getting drunk. And then with Bucky …” Her body shudders in a quiet sob. “But now it’s not working the same anymore! So what am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, Mare.” Steve rubs her shoulder. “Shh sh sh, Honey, it’s alright. It’s a process. We just gotta figure out what works for you." He gives her a comforting squeeze. “We’ve got an appointment for tomorrow, okay? We’re gonna talk to Linda and figure this all out. It’ll get better, I promise.” He bends to kiss the top of her head, and soothes her with a gentle litany of murmured words as she cries. “It’s okay, Mare. We’ll figure this out. It’s all gonna be okay.”

She calms down after a while of that, and Steve gives her one last hug before he stands to leave. “Goodnight, Sweetheart. Tomorrow’ll be a better day, you’ll see.”

“Steve?” He turns back around to see her peeking at him from over the top edge of the covers. “On the dresser. On the top, there's a ... You can take it.”

He’s confused, until he goes over and sees the only thing that’s sitting on top of the room’s highboy dresser. His heart all but stops. Carefully, he slides it into the palm of his hand, dread filling his chest like cold water. “Mary,” he says, fearful. “Did you—”

“No,” she says. “But I was thinking about it.”

With a sinking sense of horror, he realizes what a massive mistake it was to tell Mary he’d keep secrets for her. “Mary,” he says warningly, “You know I can’t keep this from—”

“I’ll talk to Linda,” she says, looking at him with tearful, angry eyes that dig into Steve’s heart. “I gave it to you, didn’t I?”

Steve’s lips thin and he frowns, pained. “Where did you get it?”

“From work.”

“Why would they have these at your work?”

Mary squirms, looking embarrassed. “It’s for a lamé. For scoring the bread before it goes in the oven.”

Steve sighs and drops his hand, letting his fingers curl loosely over the razorblade. “There’s a limit to this, you know,” he warns. “I want you to feel like you can talk to me without worrying that I’m gonna tell him every little thing, but he’s still my husband. And that means that my responsibility is to him, first.”

Her eyes lower in defeat. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “I know.”

“Hey.” He holds up the blade and gives her a pointed look. “And you can’t be doing this. Because at the end of the day, he’s still the one who’s legally responsible for you. He has to do what he thinks is in your best interest. We both do.”

She frowns and won’t meet his eyes, but after a moment she nods, and Steve believes that she means it when she mumbles a tiny little, “Kay.”

“Kay. You gonna try to get some sleep now?”

She nods, still tearful, but calmer. Steve gently bids her goodnight and heads for the door. When he’s almost got it closed, Mary calls out softly one more time. “Steve?”

“Yeah Honey?”

“Thank you,” she says, so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear. “I feel like … I just needed that. To talk to you.”

Steve’s shoulders relax and he smiles grimly, relieved to hear that he’s made her feel a little better, and that he’s able to be someone she can confide in. He even feels a little bit proud that she trusts him enough to tell him these things. It’s almost enough to take away his guilt over promising to keep secrets from his husband.

… Almost.

“G’night, Mary,” he says. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Night, Steve.”

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soulofapatrick · 7 months

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Piano Lessons - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader

Summary: Alex gets turned on by your piano skills

Words 1.7K

Warnings: Smut; gay smut; rimming; cockwarming; anal sex; idk what this is anymore

Notes: I promise I'll write some fluff for Alex and Henry next !

Y/N’s POV

As I sit at the grand piano in Kensington Palace, my fingers gracefully glide across the ivory keys, coaxing a melodic symphony from the instrument. The rich, resonant notes fill the room, dancing in the air like fireflies on a warm summer night. The piano is set against a backdrop of regal red, pristine white and the deep blue hues that embody the spirit of the monarchy past. It’s a symbol of tradition and history, much like my family itself.

Today, the atmosphere in the room is different, and it’s all because of Alex Claremont-Diaz, the charismatic and intelligent man I’m fortunate enough to call my boyfriend. He’s visiting me here at Kensington Palace, and his presence has added a touch of vibrancy and excitement to the usually stated surroundings. As my fingers continue to play, I can’t help but steal a glance at Alex. He’s seated on a luxurious, plush chair nearby, his russet eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His admiration and affection are palpable, even from across the room.

The strains of the piano’s music seem to weave a story of their own, a story of love, passion, and the unbreakable bond between two individuals who have defied the odds. Alex and I come from different worlds, but our connection is undeniable. He’s the love of my life, the one who has shattered all expectations and brought colour into my world of duty and responsibility.

I finish the piece with a flourish, letting the final notes linger in the air for a moment before they fade away. Alex rises gracefully from his seat, his eyes never leaving mine, and his smile could light up the darkest of rooms. He approaches me with that same confident stride that has always captivated me. The way he moves, with an air of self-assuredness, is a testament to the strength of his character and the love that binds us together.

He doesn't stop in front of me; instead, he reaches out and gently takes my hand, drawing me to my feet. Our eyes lock, and it's as if the world around us disappears, leaving just the two of us in this intimate moment. He moves around to stand behind me, settling on the piano stool. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he’s wrapping his muscular arms around my waist and pulling me back onto his lap. It draws a surprised gasp from me as there’s something poking me in the ass and fuck, I know exactly what he’s doing.

I don’t protest, letting myself melt into his embrace, my head falling back against his shoulder, relishing in the comforting and exhilarating feeling of his arms around me. The warmth of his body against mine is a soothing balm to my soul, reminding me that I’m not alone in this world of duty and responsibility. A soft sound escapes my throat when Alex presses a loving kiss to the back of my neck, each one sending shivers down my spine.

His hands slip from my waist down to the button of my jeans, a gentle kiss pressed to my jawline and I’m fighting against it as Shaan is just outside the door and could walk in any moment. But, Alex’s hand is driving me crazy, palming me through my tight jeans, knowing exactly how to turn me on.

“Baby boy,” Alex’s voice is low and resonant, exuding want and love, and it’s breaking down the last of my reservations about what he’s asking, “Need you baby.”

I rock my hips back once, drawing a deep rumble from Alex’s chest, and it’s all he needs to pop the button on my jeans and tugging lightly. I lift my hips for him, letting him draw my jeans and boxers down far enough to expose me to him. Instead of freeing himself from the confines of his jeans like I expected he’s gripping my hips and pushing me to my feet, pressing a large hand to the base of my spine and bending me over the piano. His hands spread my ass, kneeling the flesh between those fantasy inducing hands and before I can process what’s happening I’m yelping in surprise.

At the first lick I almost faceplant the top of the piano, never expecting so many nerve-endings where Alex is currently ravishing me. Alex supports my weight, bringing me back against his mouth, and it draws an embarrassing sound from me, a high pitched whine that gets caught in my throat. My knuckles are turning white with how hard I’m gripping the edges of the piano, trying to spread my legs even further to give him more room. Alex wastes no time, tongue flicking and licking broad stripes against my hole, moving every so often to nip at the plump skin. It’s erotic, more than I could have imagined. The two of us with Alex’s lean but muscular body holding me up as he devours me, my dick twitching as he eats me out like I’m his last meal. His hands are massaging my thighs, oh so close to my aching dick, dripping precum onto the keys of the piano, making me arch my back to try and get the warmth closer to my dick. It doesn’t work but instead gives Alex more space and before I can react his tongue is inside me and I’m crying out before slamming my head against the top of the piano trying to muffle my cries.

“A-Alex please.” My voice comes out broken and hoarse, causing Alex to grin against my skin, “Alex. I need you.” I’m almost crying, feeling embarrassed about begging but I need to feel him inside me properly.

It’s all it takes it seems. Alex is pulling away, giving me time to steady my breathing while I hear the zipper on his jeans and then, with gentle hands I’m being guided backwards. I’m so glad for Alex’s grip on my hips as my knees are shaking like crazy but that’s soon forgotten when the head of his dick pushes its way past my now relaxed opening. I’m gripping his wrists, taking a deep breath as the stretch still burns but not as much as before, Alex’s spit acting as lube and I can slide further down quicker than before.

I go to raise my hips again as soon as I’m settled on his lip, the button of his jeans digging into the back of my thigh but his hands still gripping my hips stop me and he’s leaning forwards, warm breath ghosting my ear, “Play.”

“W-what?” I choke out.

“Play me something.” His voice is tight and his hips betray him when they thrust up ever so slightly, drawing a sound from both of us but he reiterates his point, “Play for me.”

I take a deep breath, attempting to focus on playing another piece despite the situation, knowing I’m getting nothing from Alex otherwise. I place my fingers on the keys, trying to muster the concentration needed to produce a coherent melody. But as I begin to play, Alex’s hands find my thighs, massaging them and his lips are coasting teasingly along my neck. His proximity is both a blessing and a challenge, as his hips jerk up again, teasing himself as well as me.

With each note I strike, I can sense Alex’s playful energy intensifying. He digs his nails into my inner thighs, drawing a sharp sound from me and an off key as my hands jerk. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s clear he intends to draw this teasing out as long as he can. His fingers trace light patterns on my hips, sending delightful shivers down my spine. He whispers sweet, teasing words in my ear, his voice laced with affection and a hint seduction. It’s incredibly difficult to maintain my composure and focus on the music when he’s gently circling my hips in his lap.

The piece could not end quicker for both of us because as soon as I’ve played my last note Alex’s regains that firm grip on my hips and lifts me until just the head of his dick is indie me before he slams me down, a loud cry of pain and pleasure escaping me. I’m a whimpering mess already, Alex moving a hand to wrap around my aching dick, moving his hand in time with his almost brutal thrusts. I can feel my muscles tightening and thighs shaking as I reach that precipice, but Alex, my sweet, frustrating Alex. He pulls me down so he’s fully sheafed inside me and circles his hips, just missing my prostate and leaving me almost begging for that sweet release.

“Now now baby,” Alex nips at the back of my neck, “Wait for me.” With that he thrusts as deep as he can, circling his hips every few thrusts until I’m almost crying again, my thighs clenching and stomach rolling over with effort of trying to stave off that sweet release. I’m mumbling stuff, unsure if it’s actual words or gibberish but Alex knows exactly as he reaches around to take my dick in his hand one last time. He doesn’t jerk me off but runs his thumb over the slit that’s leaking precum and before I can stop myself I’m cumming. My body lurches forwards and my whole body shudders with pleasure as ropes of my seed hit the piano and I should be embarrassed but all I can think about is Alex holding me tightly, breath hot against the back of my neck as he pumps me full. His hips jerk a few times more before he’s sinking into the stool, holding me against his chest as we try and catch our breaths.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” I mumble, throat raw and voice cracking.

Alex chuckles into the crook of his neck before a muffled reply comes from him, “I think everyone heard.”

“Oh god.” I’m burying my face in my hands, cheeks heating up and not wanting to ever leave this room again.

“Come on darling, let’s get ourselves sorted out.” He’s easing me off of him, both of us wincing in oversensitivity and I sort myself out the best I can, feeling his seed already leaking down my legs and knowing I need a nice, hot bath now.

Alex takes my hand and leads me out of the room, past a very red faced Shaan who won’t look our way. He leads me down the hall, towards my room but before we get there we hear a shriek from Philip:

“WHAT THE BLOODY HELL HAPPENED TO MY PIANO!!!??”

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mc-i-r · 8 months

Text

Disposable Heroes

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!

Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay

———

It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.

He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.

With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.

“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.

Kids and their manners nowadays.

“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.

But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.

“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”

He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.

“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.

Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?

Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.

Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.

When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.

It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.

Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.

He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.

Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.

It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.

Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.

“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”

Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”

Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.

Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.

Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.

And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?

He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”

Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”

He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.

“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”

He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.

“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”

He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.

Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.

“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”

“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.

“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.

“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.

He noticed that Steve was looking at him.

They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.

“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”

With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.

Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.

That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.

That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.

And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.

So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.

“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.

“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”

As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.

“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.

So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.

Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“

Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.

“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.

“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.

“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…

“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.

He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.

“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.

“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”

He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.

He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.

“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.

“Pure instinct.”

Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”

“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?

“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”

There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.

“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.

“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.

“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”

“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.

That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.

“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”

She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.

“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.

“Answer the question!”

“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.

“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”

The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—

The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.

He instinctively takes a step back.

“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.

“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”

Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.

“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.

“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.

“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.

“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.

Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.

He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.

Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.

“Why do you think that, Eddie?”

What?

“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.

“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?

“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”

Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“

“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.

“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.

“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”

“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.

“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”

“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”

“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”

Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.

“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”

Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”

“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.

Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”

Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.

“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.

He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.

“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”

Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.

Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—

Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.

“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.

“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.

“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”

He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”

Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”

“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”

“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.

“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”

“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”

“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”

Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.

“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”

“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.

“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.

“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.

Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”

“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.

“What did we do this time?”

“What?! We didn’t do anything!”

“What did Dustin do, now?”

“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”

“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”

“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”

Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.

“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.

“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.

“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”

Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.

“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”

Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.

“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.

“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.

“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.

“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.

Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.

“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.

“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.

“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”

Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.

“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.

“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”

Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.

“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”

Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.

“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.

Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.

His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.

“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.

“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.

Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’

Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.

“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”

At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’

“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.

The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.

“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.

“We’ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.

Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”

He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.

It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.

When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.

He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.

“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.

A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.

In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.

He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.

“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.

“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”

Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”

“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.

“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”

With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”

“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”

She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”

A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.

“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”

“Where?”

“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.

“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.

“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”

A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.

“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.

“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”

“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”

Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.

He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.

His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.

There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.

He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.

The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.

“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.

“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”

At that, his whole world fell apart.

His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.

His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.

“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.

“But why?”

“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.

She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”

She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.

“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”

Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”

His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.

“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.

That was the last time he saw his mother.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.

He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.

His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.

“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.

“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”

“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”

“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”

His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.

Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.

“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.

They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.

He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.

His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.

He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.

His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.

“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.

“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“

“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”

A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”

“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.

“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”

True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.

“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”

“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“

“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.

“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”

“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”

As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.

Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.

It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.

That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.

So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.

“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“

“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”

“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”

Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.

“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”

“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”

“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”

She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.

“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.

“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”

She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.

“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”

The room fills with silence as the words sink in.

“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”

The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.

“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”

He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.

“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”

Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”

Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.

“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away.

Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin.

Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier.

"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."

"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly."

Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.

"Well?"

"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"

"Go apologize!" She yells.

“Okay, okay, geez!”

Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang.

“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance.

Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all.

He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before.

He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers.

No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve.

He just hopes Steve will let him.

———

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