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adrinktostopyourthirst · 1 year

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Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader

Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.

Words: 4OOO

“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.

You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.

“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.

Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.

“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”

“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”

The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”

Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.

“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.

…

“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”

“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.

“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”

As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.

Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.

Did he just ogle a queen?

…

Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.

He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.

Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”

You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.

“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.

“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.

“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”

“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”

Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”

“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.

“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”

“You fuck it out, don’t you?”

Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”

“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.

“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.

“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”

Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”

“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”

It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.

Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.

He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.

Speaking of him kneeling–

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.

“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.

Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.

“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”

Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”

If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.

“Then do it.”

Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”

Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”

You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”

“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”

As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.

His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.

My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.

“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.

He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.

His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.

Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.

You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.

“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”

“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.

“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.

“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.

Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”

Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.

Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”

You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.

Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.

Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.

…

He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.

Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.

The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.

You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.

Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.

“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”

You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”

It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.

Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.

“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.

“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”

You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.

Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.

“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He laughs, “Again?”

You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.

You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.

“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”

“It would be an honour.”

“Likewise.”

“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”

“The honour?”

He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”

#Oh my god #i did it jfc this took me forever to finally get to i apologise #i have genuinely NO idea if this is good i am in a daze i actually finished something #im trying my hardest to stay original and I'm sorry if its not what you expected #i wanted a simp bucky though sorry not sorry #please tell me what you think?#bucky barnes #writing #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #IT DELETED THE LAST TWO LINES SO I ADDED THEM NOW

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fuctacles · 9 months

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Eddie, begrudgingly: Dustin's older brother is kinda fine :/

I had a craving for best friend's older brother AU so I wrote some but it's not my forte I'm out of ideas so that might be it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Edit: jokes on me I guess

[Part II] [Part III]

Eddie was about to knock on his freshman friend’s door when there was a loud commotion on the other side and the door opened by itself. A guy, probably around his age, nearly ran into him in his haste to leave the house. He startled, taking Eddie in. And then taking a double take, the way Eddie was used to people doing at the sight of him.

“Who are you?” the guy asked, scrunching his nose and not meeting Eddie’s eyes.

He felt his hackles rise, venom building in his throat and ready to spit. He wasn’t expecting this on a Saturday on his friend’s doorstep, but he guessed this was the kind of town where you just couldn’t wear your battle vest in peace anywhere. His upper lip twitched ready to form a snarl, when suddenly the guy's features softened, a spark of recognition lighting up his eyes.

“Wait. Let me guess. Eddie?”

Eddie faltered, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. He frowned.

“Yeah?”

The guy's face warmed up with a smile, and Eddie was not ready for that kind of emotional rollercoaster this early in the morning.

“Dustin’s stories do not do you justice,” he says for some reason, eyeing him again. Eddie wants to shrivel up and hide. What the fuck was happening. “He’s waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said, stepping to the side to invite him in. “I have to go to work, so you two be good, okay?” he says before waving a cheery goodbye and closing the door, disappearing just as abruptly as he showed up in front of Eddie. The inside of the house suddenly seemed dull.

Another ray of sunshine peeked from the kitchen, toothy grin and hazelnut curls.

“So you’ve met Steve!” Dustin grinned in place of a greeting.

Eddie gawked at him.

“That,” he pointed at the closed door. The sound of a car leaving the curb tickled his ears. “Was Steve?!”

“The adopted brother Steve? The Star Wars fan Steve? The badass older brother Steve?”

“Yes, all that,” Dustin nodded enthusiastically.

“I thought he was, like, 16!” Eddie flailed and it sounded like a petulant whine even to his ears. He winced.

Dustin frowned at him like he was being stupid. Eddie didn’t like that gaze, but unfortunately at this point, he was getting used to it. His younger friend leaned on the kitchen door frame watching Eddie toe off his shoes.

“He’s 19. What gave you that impression?”

Eddie frowned at his scuffed Reeboks. He nudged them with his toe to line up, looking for an answer.

“The adopted part, I think? He’s almost an adult, who adopts that old?”

He knew he had said the wrong thing as soon as he said it. He looked up at Dustin, whose face twisted uncomfortably.

“Shit, sorry man. I didn’t mean-”

Dusting clicked his tongue impatiently, interrupting him.

“It’s fine. This is an unconventional arrangement,” he said in that way when you heard something repeatedly. “I can tell you more, but after we make that character sheet, okay?”

Eddie nodded, eager to abandon his social faux pas. The Henderson’s were an unconventional unit, and that’s what he loved about them, at least from the stories Dustin shared. The guy was a little freak, just like Eddie, so it checked out his family was just as unconventional. So was Eddie’s after all.

The parallels made him warm up inside, the familiar need to protect his younger friends flaring up.

“Deal,” he nodded, following his friend inside the kitchen, where notebooks and DnD manuals already littered the table.

A couple of hours, two coffees and an unsolved argument about the intricacies of multiclassing later, they decided to take a break and Eddie could finally feast his eyes on the family photos on display. He stood in front of the newest one standing front and centre on the mantle. Steve was smiling shyly to the camera while Claudia Henderson had her arms around his shoulders and Dustin was grinning wide from his other side, hair ruffled by the older boy's hand.

“How long he has been living here?”

Dustin’s head popped out of the kitchen where he was rummaging for snacks.

“About a year. Remember the Starcourt fire?”

“Yeah?” Eddie frowned, taken aback by the seemingly unrelated question.

“Well, he’s been there and-” the boy frowned, fully stepping into the living room and crossing his arms. “Shit, Mom says I shouldn’t be babbling it around. That it’s Steve's story to tell.”

Eddie hummed, cocking his head.

“Your mom is very smart.”

Dustin unwrapped his arms, clenching his hands together.

“I guess I could tell you I mean who are you gonna tell? You just-”

Eddie raised both his hands, stopping him.

“Dude, he interrupted with all the disapproval his drug dealing nonconformist self could muster. “She’s right and that would be breaking your brother’s trust.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Dustin gulped, looking adequately ashamed at proposing the idea. “You’re right., he nodded.

This lasted about half a second because nobody could stop Henderson from being an egocentric know-it-all and since he was wrong he was now going to overcompensate for it. Of that, Eddie could be sure.

“We can go to his workplace and you could ask him!”

Eddie raised his hands again.

“Hold your horses Henderson, we’re not harassing your brother at work.” The boy was actually pouting, the little shit. “I am not that determined to hear it. I’ll just catch him another time I visit.”

That was the wrong thing to say because he wasn’t planning on being a recurring guest initially. Or maybe it was the right thing to say since Dustin positively beamed at the implication.

Maybe it was because the kid’s presence has been a good influence on him as well.

Also, while the story of Steve’s adoption didn’t seem that interesting before, the idea of a mall fire being somehow involved raised questions that were now itching the back of Eddie’s tongue. He had to ask them at some point.

“There’s this guy,” Eddie starts one day during lunch break.

“Oh-ho,” Gareth murmurs with disdain, the crumbs from his sandwich falling from his lips.

“Not like that,” Eddie glowered at him, slapping against his arm. Even though it was kinda like that. “He’s picking up Henderson after Hellfire today and if we run into him, I want you guys to be civil.”

“We’re always civil,” Jeff frowns at Eddie’s backhanded accusations.

“Yeah, especially when you guys are mooning after Mrs. Wheeler.”

The comment raised a wave of loud protests from his friends.

“I am just saying-”

“You’re just saying that guy is hot and we shouldn’t ogle him?” Gareth, the worst friend he has, raised his eyebrow.

“No, I’m just-”

“You calling dibs, Munson?” John the Traitor, the Backstabber, joined in. Johned in, if you will.

‘No!” Eddie protested, maybe a little too loud. A couple of heads turned but when they saw the ruckus was coming from the freaks table, they quickly lost interest. “He’s the worst. A hunk of jock with stupid hair but!” He rose a finger. “He’s Henderson’s family. And what do we do with family members in Hellfire?”

“Lure in.”

“Lull into a fake sense of security.”

“Cast charm person.”

“Exactly,” he smirked, pointing his finger at each of them in approval. “This case is no different.”

“It feels different,” Gareth murmured under his breath, earning himself another smack on the shoulder.

Eddie wrapped up the session and was giving out experience points to his players when a soft knock interrupted his counting. He frowned at the door.

“Speak ‘friend’ and enter!” he hollered to his sheep’s utter glee. He grinned at them.

Dead silence was all the response he got, so he assumed whatever normie was bugging them got discouraged. But then, Henderson was turning around in his seat, yelling at the door.

“It’s from Lord of the Rings! You know this one!”

There was a shuffle on the other side where apparently, Steve came already to pick up his brother.

“Oh! Um… Melon? Was that it?”

“You may enter!” Eddie commanded with a grin straining at his cheeks. Dustin was doing a good job educating his jock brother, apparently.

The guy pushed the door open, taking in the table full of teenagers. He waved hesitantly.

“You guys finishing up?”

“I’m handing out points, we need just a few minutes,” Eddie waved his hand. “And it’s Mellon.”

Steve frowned.

“That’s what I said.”

“Sure you did,” Eddie cocked his head condescendingly, ignoring the eyes of Corroded Coffin members staring at him. “Now sit and wait,” he gratuitously offered, snapping his fingers and pointing at a nearby bench, like Henderson’s older brother was some kind of dog.

To his surprise, he nodded shortly and obeyed, sitting down and watching him expectantly. Eddie took it as his cue to proceed. He coughed to gather his sheep's attention and went back to his meticulous calculations.

“That didn’t look like Charm Person to me,” Gareth hissed as soon as the younger members of Hellfire had left.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” Eddie scrunched his eyebrows, throwing him a look while he stuffed his campaign notes into his bag.

“You told us to be nice, but you ordered him around like he was one of the kids,” Jeff pointed out, arms crossing.

“I did not”

“You totally did.”

Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he straightened up.

“What is this? Mutiny? Among my own kin? Ungrateful little herd I had nurtured on my own breast-”

He was interrupted by a cacophony of grossed out noises.

“Spare us the imagery, please.”

Eddie huffed indignantly, closing his bag.

“Then quit yapping. It was a singular lapse of judgement on my part,” he said with finality, throwing his bag over his shoulder. Without looking back, he walked off, hand raised in a goodbye, “Toodles, bitches.”

And he was gone.

Gareth sighed.

“Man, I love Eddie, but sometimes…” John cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s been on the fence about it for some time now. But the time was ticking and he did say more than once that ‘86 was gonna be his year, so maybe it was time to pocket his ego and make some calls.

Some very, very humiliating calls.

Sighing deeply he imagined himself going to the woods and digging up a deep hole. There he imaginary buried his pride, made a fancy map to find it later, hopefully in time for his graduation, and finally dragged himself back home and in front of his phone. Next to it, he tacked on a list of numbers of all his newest sheepies in case of emergencies. Like Hellfire scheduling.

He sighed once more, slumping dramatically before dialling the first of the numbers. As he listened to the dial tone, he squared his shoulders, decided a more confident pose was in order. He was now a man of action, taking his fate in his own hands. His pride was buried deeply in the darkest corners of the forest and only a courageous-

“Har- Henderson residence, this is Steve speaking.”

Eddie’s mind went blank, completely thrown off. Who was he calling again? What for?

“Hello?”

“Is this how you pick up the phone? Did I get the wrong house? Is this the British Queen?”

“... Eddie? Is that you?”

Busted.

“What gave me away?”

“Ah, only the dramatic nonsensical ramblings.” Steve answered, amusement in his voice.

“Thank you, I pride myself in those.” No pride! Pride is buried deep in the putrid soil of a forgotten battlefield! “But I’m here for the superior Henderson, please and thank you.” Ah yes, the Charm Person again. Somebody could think Eddie buried his Charisma along with the pride.

“Sorry, Claudia is at work right now.”

Eddie scrunched his nose, confused, the gleeful tilt to the voice in his ear irking him. Then he remembered the mom. A staple in most households.

“Har, har, Steven. The smart one.”

“Please never call him that to his face,�� the man said with a resigned sigh.

“There wouldn’t be enough space in the room for both our egos if I did.”

Steve laughed then, softly and genuinely, before calling out for his younger brother.

After a loud rattle, Dustin’s lispy voice finally reached Eddie’s trailer.

“What's up?”

The man braced himself for what he was about to request.

“I need your help with an assignment.”

The door opened before he could even knock. Again.

“I thought I told you not to inflate his ego.”

“No, you told me not to call him smart. It is merely a by-product of my desperate attempts at graduating,” Eddie shrugged matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t respond to the likes of you.” He punctuated his words by seizing the guy up before brushing past him inside the Henderson’s house.

“The likes of- Excuse me?!”

Eddie was skipping towards Dustin’s room.

“Hey big guy I’m here for my tutoring!” he announced himself, standing in the open door to his friend’s room, who quickly beckons him inside. Steve’s heavy steps follow and soon he’s the one standing in the door frame, arms crossed, while Eddie bounces on Dustin’s bed.

“What do you mean the likes of me?” he asks, almost pouting.

“Mainstream,” offered Dustin, shuffling through stuff on his desk.

“Jocks,” added Eddie, still bouncing with glee, hair following up and down.

“Normies.”

“Pop listeners.”

“Mom friends.”

“Conformists.”

“Okay, I get it!” Steve threw his hands in the air, stopping the list that probably wouldn’t come to an end otherwise. “You’re the cool guys, have fun having your cool stuff,” he huffed angrily, grabbing the doorknob. Before he closed the door he threw one seething glance at Dustin. “Do not. Ask me for snacks,” he hissed before slamming the door shut.

Eddie flipped back on the bed, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Man, your brother is so easy to rile up,” he chuckled gleefully.

“Right?! He’s so bitchy,” Dusting turned around towards him, signature smile in place. Eddie hollered.

“He is!”

Alas, a slap of palms interrupted his delightful trashing around.

“I believe we have some physics to cover?”

Eddie groaned. Right. He didn’t come here to bother the older Henderson. Booo.

[Steddie masterpost] [Ao3] [ko-fi]