#poor Steve hes havin a go of it

[sp0o0kylights]

 Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You  have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?"  He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but  what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

#steddie #adopt a jock #once again we are discussing Nancy #no hate #plus its an OUTSIDER pov #Nancy does come in later in AaJ but what were seeing is Eddie seeing the fallout of Stoncy or whatever that pairing is called pre s3 #She's a complex character and I like playing with the effect their relationship and general dynamic has on Steve #Steve harrington #eddie munson #gareth emerson #tw drugs #tw weed #tw drinking #(beer) #steve harringtons shitty parents #no one panic eddie does not drive under the influence even if it is the 80s lol #I mention Steve not partaking as much for a reason #lab tiiiime #poor Steve hes havin a go of it #hey we're getting closer to adding Robin!

[ssweetleaf]

stevie really loves fingering you while making out so you can cry against his mouth and he can sloppily make out with your neck and just be close to you while you cry for him

includes: SMUT 18+, fingering, daddy kink, praise

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You were sobbing into his kiss, mouth parted and tongue lolling from your mouth, little dribbles of spit sliding down your chin with how fucked out you felt from just his fingers alone.

Steve’s thick digits pumped inside of you, curling upwards and nudging at that sweet spot that resided in your gummy walls, easing out whiny mewls, just to swallow them down when he pressed his mouth on yours.

“There ya go, atta girl,” he mumbled, speech muffled from your spit slick lips, running his tongue along your teeth and sucking on your tongue, crude, wet sounds filled the stuffy bedroom. “Don’t even have to think, honey, I’ll do all the thinkin’ for ya.”

You garbled out a high-pitched moan, squealing when he brought his thumb up to rub against your poor little clit. Steve pressed kisses to any expanse of skin he could find, suckling at your neck and marking you as his, pupils blown completely, the only thought in his head was you and your sweet pussy.

“Daddy’ll do all the work, don’t you worry, hon.” You whined at his nickname, feeling yourself completely drop into that subby space, pussy clenching tight, creaming on his fingers, your arousal squelching and slipping down his wrist.

He mouthed at your neck, nuzzling his face into the crook of it and nudging his nose over your pulse point, sponging a fat, wet kiss to the thumpthumpthump of your heartbeat he felt.

“Could do this for hours, sweet girl,” he hummed, eyes squeezing shut at the throbbing inside his pants. “Love having my fingers inside you just as much as I love havin’ my mouth on ya, honey.”

#Steve harrington smut #Steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things blurb #stranger things headcannon #stranger things imagine

[rebelspykatie]

that green light, i want it

Part 3

Steve takes off towards the other side of the cemetery, not looking back to see whether Eddie’s following. 

“Wait,” Eddie stumbles after him, crunching loudly through the leaves, trying to catch up, “are you taking me to your lair to kill me?” 

“Lair?” Steve looks over his shoulder incredulously.

“Don’t look at me like that. Jesus H. Christ, you have fucking light balls coming out of your hands.” He wiggles his fingers in the air in a poor imitation. “I don’t know anything about this shit. Do you need potions or spells or is that all just coming out of you naturally?” He nods towards Steve’s hands, now striding along through the woods at his side. 

“There’s no lair.” Steve doesn’t answer any of the other questions, but he does say, “I’m not going to kill you unless you don’t shut up. If you’re not more careful, they’ll find us and do the job for me.” 

“Who the fuck are you even talking about, man?” 

“The coven.” 

“There are more of you?” 

“Did you think I was just out here by myself figuring this all out?” He scoffs. “Of course there are more witches.”

“Aren’t witches normally chicks?” 

“You’re really testing the whole will this guy murder me thing, you know?” Steve comes to a stop, holding out his arm to stop Eddie in his tracks. He flicks his hand in a complicated gesture and a car blinks into existence in front of them. 

“Holy shit, dude,” Eddie reaches out and touches the hood of the car, testing whether it’s real. “Was that a cloaking spell or like did you shrink it down?” He spins around and gestures wildly with his hands. “Wait, was it teleportation? No, no. You probably would’ve teleported out of here if you could do that. Unless you can do it with objects, but not people.” He looks at Steve expectantly. 

All he gets is a blank stare.

“Cloaking,” he finally answers. “Get in.” 

“My uncle taught me to never get in the car with strangers.” Eddie says, but he’s already pulling the passenger door open and climbing in. Wayne’s going to murder him if this guy doesn’t. 

“You’re not a stranger, anymore,” Steve reminds him as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You’re Eddie and I’m Steve. Not strangers. You’re about to learn a hell of a lot more than you bargained for. I’m sure your uncle’s really proud of you right now.” 

“Bullshit, man,” Eddie huffs and tugs on his seat belt as they go careening around a curb. “Knowing someone is about more than a name. And leave Wayne out of this.” 

“You want to know more than my name?” Steve questions, speeding out of the graveyard and onto the deserted highway. 

“I just risked losing my job to follow a known necromancer to an unknown location to potentially get answers about whatever the fuck I just witnessed. So, yeah man, I want to know more.” 

He really hopes this guy doesn’t murder him. This is the most interesting thing that’s ever happened to him and he’s seen some shit, burying dead bodies and all.

“You have no survival instincts.” Steve sounds disappointed, like Eddie is somehow letting him down with his inability to shut up.

“Duh,” Eddie laughs, a harsh sarcastic thing, “I’m the cat.” 

“The way you were stomping through the graveyard you’d think you were an elephant,” Steve mutters.

“Sorry some of us can’t be stealthy assholes that dig up graves in the middle of the night,” he brings up again, just to be a little shit. 

“I’m sorry about that, but I had to find the right one.” 

“The right one?” Eddie gapes at him. “You mean the right corpse?” 

“The right witness.” 

“Witness to what?” 

“The murder.” 

It takes Eddie a minute to put the pieces together, to recall the conversation he had with Wayne. To remember the ghost stories passed around Hawkins about the girl that disappeared.

“Is this about Barbara Holland?” Steve’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “You know who killed her?” Steve nods. “What are you going to do with that information?” 

“Hide,” Steve says.

“What do you mean hide?” 

“They’re going to come after me now.” 

“Who?” Eddie’s having trouble following. 

“The coven.” Like that’s supposed to make any sense to Eddie. “They knew we were looking for answers, but not how. If they find out I know what those people knew, I’m as good as dead.”

Steve turns into a nice neighborhood, one with the kind of houses Eddie’s never even seen the inside of, one’s that would have kids playing outside in the streets if it weren’t for it being the middle of the night. There’s a mansion, tucked into the trees that you could almost miss if not for its size, directly on the other side of the woods lining the graveyard. They pull into the driveway, but it doesn’t look like anyone is home. 

“Come on,” he says, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. 

“I’m not sure I understood anything you just said,” Eddie clamors after him, almost tripping over a hose left in the driveway by a well kept garden. “Are we robbing this place?” 

Eddie gets another incredulous look thrown at him as Steve says, “I live here.” 

Fuck. This witch is fucking rich. Of course the wealthy have time to dabble in the dark arts. Eddie’s out here working a shit job and this bitch is learning how to make zombies. Life really isn’t fair. 

Once they’re inside, Eddie whistles as he takes it all in. The pristine, cleanliness that feels foreign to Eddie, who grew up in a cluttered, but warm home. It’s almost clinically clean. Off white walls and spotless furniture. No knick-knacks or clothes strewn about.

“Guess your maid didn’t have the day off,” Eddie wonders out loud before he can stop himself. Steve rolls his eyes and heads upstairs, Eddie trailing after him so he’s not left standing in the foyer like an idiot. There’s a part of him that’s afraid to be left alone, like Steve might just disappear out of thin air if Eddie takes his eyes off him. 

What must be Steve’s room is infinitely worse than the rest of the house. The walls are an atrocious plaid pattern. Eddie’s eyes cross just glancing at it, but there are at least some personal touches in this room, even if Eddie wants to turn his nose up at them. 

But that all fades away when Steve pulls a bag out of his closet and starts going through the items like he’s taking an inventory. Pulling out potion bottles and little leather bound notebooks. There’s a larger book that looks ancient, which must be a spellbook. 

Eddie’s fingers itch to go over and riffle through the contents himself. His curiosity might actually get him killed one day, but he knows better than to pick up a random witch’s spellbook. It’s probably cursed. There are likely numerous unspeakable ways in which Steve could kill him, it would be a shame to die from his own stupidity. 

“What’s the plan here?” Eddie leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and legs, watching as Steve carefully repacks the bag and starts haphazardly throwing clothing into a second bag. 

“I told you,” he sounds frustrated, and a little panicked, “Hide.”

“And then what?”

Steve pauses, glancing up guiltily, “I haven’t thought that far ahead. I didn’t expect to find answers. Nancy and I didn’t prepare for this. We both lost hope a while ago, but we just kept trying anyway.” 

“Who the fuck is Nancy?”

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Epilogue | AO3

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #katie writes

[stevenose]

🖐🏼 i would like to talk about Steve mocking you and ur overstimulated clit

contains: reader with vagina, overstimulation, the slightest bit of humiliation, ruined cunt, oral (reader receiving), steve is like. kinda jerkin reader’s clit off lol. piv, cumming inside, reader goes a lil stupid from the pleasure, steve baby boy 🫶🏻 he cum in he pant 🫶🏻

ok. imagine.

steve has had you on your back with your legs spread for the last two hours. he’s made you cum four separate times so far, edging you before overstimulating you. his tongue lapping at your cunt, fucking into your hole - and then he’s sucking on your clit, quite nearly nipping at it. for a while. two of the four orgasms you’ve had were just from him abusing your it.

by now, your arousal has soaked the sheets - and mattress - below you. you’re equally hot and freezing, goosebumps on your flesh, nipples perked. you pant under steve, eyes glazed over and unfocused. he kisses you gently as you come down from your high, giving you a few minutes of gentle comfort before sinking back down to his position at the end of the bed. you’re sore, but steve’s hands knead at your flesh, trying to ease the pain that’ll be there in the morning. and you know it will.

the fifth time steve shimmies down the bed to your pussy, you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. you’re fully aware that steve could go at this all night. and you’re equally aware that you can stop him at anytime with a single word. but you really don’t know if you want to. feeling so taken care of and so blissed out, so stupid on the pleasure, is really kind of nice. and steve’s been nice, too. up til this point.

he’s cooing. you don’t have the energy to tilt your head to look down at him. you feel his index and middle fingers come up to frame your clit, squeezing it, and you cry out. “st-eve!”

“jesus,” he whispers, giving it another tug. “she’s so fuckin’ hard, baby. looks ruined. all puffy -“ and then he’s tugging and tugging and tugging, his fingers pulling back and forth on your poor little clit. “christ. shit. ‘s like i’m jerking it off.”

you wail, trying to kick him in retaliation, because that’s not funny. it’s hot, it’s got your stomach tightening, but it’s not funny. neither is the pain-pleasure shooting through your nub as he continues the assault, watching in awe as slick drips out of you. “think you like that, huh? like havin’ a ruined pussy. ‘n she’s all for me, right? all mine to jerk off and taste? she tastes so good, baby, she loves this.”

“i can’t!” you cry, trying to squeeze your legs shut. but your safe word isn’t “i can’t”. you both know that. and steve can’t help but to smirk, tugs on your clit a little more before enveloping it with his hot mouth again. it’s an instant relief, then torture as he sucks on it. “steve!”

and steve’s all cocky, because he did this to you. he’s made you cum four times. he’s made your clit erect and hard. he’s made your cunt all red and sensitive with just his mouth. and he’s gonna make you cum again, just one last time - wants to make you truly dumb and speechless, and then he’ll clean you up and hold you. tell you dumb jokes while you punch his arm and he’ll tell you how much he loves you til you’re both asleep. (p.s - he’s already cum in his pants.)

two fingers slide into you, pressing right up against your sweet spot, and the torture on your bundle of nerves is eased by the blinding, white hot pleasure of the pads of steve’s fingers. his cheeks are so warm on your inner thighs and he’s making these lewd sucking and slurping noises that shouldn’t be so fucking hot. his warm brown eyes flick up to watch your face as you writhe. his free hand pins your hips down to the bed, but it’s really not enough.

“i - c - c -“

“you can,” steve whispers, right against your clit that’s somehow even more pathetic looking than a minute ago.

you wail in protest, fisting at his hair, trying to get him away from you. and when he does move away, getting concerned, you pull him right back in, making him let out a shocked chuckle. he’s never seen you so fucked up. why did he ever give that camera to byers? should have kept it for himself.

he’s so lost in your expression that he nearly misses when your back arches and twists off the bed. he laps at your clit, breathing heavy against it, fingers pressing right where you need them - and then you’re screaming without humility up at the ceiling. your body quakes and quivers and jerks and steve does his absolute best to keep you still, helping you ride it out on his tongue and fingers. you’re creaming on them, he can feel the burst of liquid - and oh, god, he might just cum in his fucking pants again.

you’re really fucked stupid now. steve pulls back as slow as he can, trying not to jolt you. he can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but the look on your face says a lot. he’s startled at the tears streaming down your cheeks, pausing to press some kisses into your thighs before gently pulling his fingers out of you. “i’m done, baby, i swear.”

and then you’re crying harder. making these grabby hands at him. trying so weakly to pull him up by the hair. he works his way back up to your face, his chin and lips as shiny as your eyes. “what is it? huh? i’m so sorry, baby, think i went too far -“

“get off,” you moan, and steve, hit with regret, pulls back - but you’re pulling him right back in, glaring at him. “on me.”

“oh,” he says. “i - i don’t need anything, peach. think if i touch your cunt again you’ll kill me. or i’ll kill you.”

“sh-up,” you mumble, hands reaching for his ruined jeans. “need to feel full.”

steve knows you can’t take that. his eyes move back down to your clit, still swollen and red and pronounced. if even a single hair touches it you’re gonna launch into space. and this really isn’t about him. “sweetheart -“

you move your knee to brush against the wet spot on his jeans, and even though you’re more than fucked out, you smile at the dampness. steve clenches his jaw and thinks of anything other than your pussy. because yes, he wants to fuck you. god, he really does. wants to see exactly where the line is with you. wants to feel that loose, relaxed cunt take him to the hilt after hours of hard work. and he, himself, in similar fashion to your clit, is extremely hard. your knee is still pressing into him, into the cum spilled in his jeans, and with a loud groan he starts to unbutton them.

“you’re sure?” he asks. “i’ll be careful with your clit. won’t even last long, baby, just gotta feel you.”

you nod, tears finally subsiding, hands moving up to play absentmindedly with your nipples. steve’s eyes roll back in his head at the sight as he pumps himself a few times before lining up with your entrance.

it’s a single push. easiest you’ve ever taken him. so slick and plush and sticky and steve lets out such a pathetic groan. he’s careful to angle himself away from reaching your clit, but the contortion of your face points to you still feeling it. still, you let him, watching as he pushes in and out of you with such ease. more perverted noises coming from down there.

“f…fuck, peach,” steve rasps, hips moving slow, heart rate picking up. “never felt somethin’ so fuckin’ good.”

in your blank headed state, you wish you could get him back for the last few hours. get him right on the edge and then pull back. watch him cry and wail and short circuit when you finally let him cum somewhere boring and pointless - into his own hand, maybe. getting him all fucked up before taking pity on him. but right now, your head is filled with the need to feel steve’s warm cum filling you up and easing the pain.

“inside,” you whimper, reaching for his hands and letting him hold yours into the bed.

his eyes roll back again and his cock kicks. “sure?”

you nod again, fluttering your walls around him, and with a low and soft growl he cums, finally filling your pussy up. the look of ecstasy on your face just from him cumming inside of you almost has him going for another round, but he pulls out nice and slow again before peppering your face with kisses. “so perfect, so pretty, there ya go. so nice for me. love you so much, baby, i really do.”

neither of you know how you’re gonna get to the bathroom after this.

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #steve harrington smut #this got SO LONG im sorry. i’ve been thinking abt this

[crappymixtape]

you gotta help me, baby

even though you could definitely apply for any other job at the mall or stupid family video it still wouldn’t pay as much as babysitting does, but god you’re one more spilled tray of food on the floor from quitting until your boyfriend shows up to save the day | (  2.3k, modern!day au, fluff, established relationship, steve x you, steve x reader ) REQUEST ↪ nonny, i hope your babysitting goes okay and even if it feels like it sucks i know you got this!! ♥️

Y O U G O T T A H E L P M E, B A B Y 🎶 manly man, delacey & emily weisband

You were covered in it. What it was you didn’t know, but between the spilled bottles, thrown food and horribly executed idea of finger painting you reckoned you looked a mess. You would’ve brought the kid to the park just down the street, but it was way too hot. July sun beating down and turning the slide into something that would melt off the backs of your thighs the second you touched it.

And the only thing that made this shit tolerable, the only person that kept you sane these long days, was working overtime and every time you checked your phone it stared up at you blankly.

No notifications. You’d open your messages. No little blinking dots. Nothing. Nada. Why you??

Fingers swiping across your screen you texted Robin, begging her for the fifth time to please let your boyfriend leave early, but you heard it before it happened.

A squeal of delight and then the splat of chocolate pudding all over your phone and hands and bare legs and shirt and–

“Yummy!” the little girl kicked her feet happily in her high chair as you dragged your eyes up from your lap and tried to smile. She was 2. Of course Bea was throwing pudding across the room, but you were at your wit’s end and your chest squeezed with the thought of having to clean up again.

“It’s only pudding,” you muttered under your breath, screwing your eyes shut, trying to count to ten until a knock on the door shook you from your attempt at calming down.

Were they home already? There was no way.

Getting up from the table you swiped an already messy washcloth across Bea’s face, ignoring the abysmal state that you were in, and hurried to the entryway. Pushing yourself up on tip toe you looked through the little peephole in the door and the sight of what was on the other side nearly brought tears to your eyes.

“Oh thank god,” you unlocked and yanked the door open, nearly throwing your arms around Steve’s neck, but stopped short when you remembered the pudding.

You were a sight. Cheeks dotted with red and blue and green paint, white shirt covered in chocolate and cut-off shorts splattered with…was it macaroni? Steve’s first reaction was to laugh, but the look on your face made him soften and he gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Awh, baby. That bad?” he asked, hands reaching out to tug your hips into him by your pockets despite the mess all over you and you melted into his chest. Your mmhm was muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt and he tsked gently. Poor you. Glancing over your shoulder he saw Bea in her highchair, still kicking her feet happily and giving a little squeal at the sight of him.

“Stee!” she shrieked and Steve laughed.

“Hi, Bea,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked you slowly backwards into the house to keep the heat out. “Are you havin’ fun today?” he asked and she giggled.

“Yummy,” she said and put a chocolatey hand to her mouth then stuck it back out to him, offering to share.

“Oh! Wow, that does look good,” pulling his hands from your pockets he tucked away the hair that had fallen into your face. “Why don’t you go take a minute, babe. I got this,” he said softly, pressing another kiss to your cheek before stepping around you to take the washcloth off the table. “Bea, I gotta say, this looks like the best pudding ever made,” he tutted a bit as he wiped more chocolate from her cheeks, her nose, her chubby little hands and suddenly everything felt so much easier.

“Yes, yes!” she squealed and he laughed.

Steve turned to tidy up your chair, muscles in his arm pulling and flexing as he moved, and your cheeks warmed at the sight of him. Hair a bit messy from the open windows on his car, skin golden and warm like it held all of summer under it and dotted with new freckles from sitting out by the pool yesterday.

You could watch him all day, but you needed a second for yourself more and so you hurried down the hallway to the bathroom.

Of course you were good with kids, why else would you have taken the job? But some days were harder than others. Some days the screaming was endless and nothing you did could make the tears stop.

Teething, skipped naps, overtired and hungry or wanting mama and it made you feel like maybe you weren’t good at it. Maybe you should work at the mall. Maybe your dream of kids of your own was too much, maybe you wouldn't be a good mom, but then Steve would show up.

Your second wind. Your cheerleader.

Your lifesaver.

He’d tell you it was okay, everyone gets frustrated. Everyone has a breaking point. Just take a minute for yourself. Take a break from the crying. I got this. I can handle it and when you come back you’ll feel so much better, baby.

I love you, baby.

You’d wiped the paint from your cheeks, cleaned the chocolate from your legs and hands, took a few deep breaths and resigned yourself to the fact that your shirt and shorts were brown and orange now and that was that.

Splashed cold water on your face and redid your ponytail and when you looked back in the mirror you were surprised at how refreshed you looked. You weren’t back to 100%, but it was much better than before and when you opened the bathroom door you could hear Steve talking to Bea.

“So it’s a show about a dog family, huh?”

“Yes! Booey and Bingo! And mum and dad!”

You quietly walked down the hallway and leaned against the opening into the kitchen, watching for a just a minute as Steve sat at the table. Elbow leaning on Bea’s highchair tray and free hand feeding her pudding neatly from a spoon.

“And what’s dad say?”

“Cheeky kids!”

“Cheeky kids, huh?” Steve laughed, “Sounds very British. You’ve got sophisticated tastes, my friend.”

A smile tugged up at the corners of your lips as your chest squeezed again, but this time with something different. Not anxiety or stress or worry, but affection. Care. Love. God you loved this boy. So damn much and when he turned to look over his shoulder at you, you bit your lips between your teeth. Caught, but he didn’t care. He gave you smile, a little smug and a lot fond, and then turned back to Bea.

“Think it’s gonna be time for a nap soon, Bea,” he said, tone firm, but caring and the little girl scrunched her nose up. “I know, seems boring but–” he stood and took her bib off before lifting her gently from her highchair, “–I bet you’ll get to read a book first, hm? That sounds nice.”

“Yeah, we could read Owl Babies, Bea,” you chimed in, finally coming out from your hiding spot and the toddler’s eyes lit up at the sight of you.

“Yes! Yes! Blankie? And snuggles,” she said, squirming in Steve’s hold and making grabby hands at you. He chuckled and passed her off, brushing his thumb soft across your cheek, eyes only for you. Warm amber, burnt caramel, flecks of green and gold and you mouthed a thank you.

“Night, Bea. See you when you wake up,” he said, messing her hair a little as she let loose a big yawn.

“Nigh-nigh, Stee,” her little voice was sleepy now and when you turned to go up the stairs he mouthed an I love you, smile lopsided and just a little smug. Anticipating his favorite time of day. Bea’s nap and getting you all to himself on the couch for a couple of hours and he could hardly wait to get his hands on you, chocolate shorts and all.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x you #steve fanfic #steve x reader #steve x fem #steve harrington fic #makeacrappymixtape #requests #asks

[f10werfae]

A request where Steve is jealous of his bimbo reader girlfriend talking to other men

“Are you fuckin’ serious babe? you’re really going to let him touch you in fronta me?” Steve laughed shaking his head as he dragged Y/n back to his car out in front of the nightclub. “We was only havin a conversation stevie, plus you are not my boyfriend!” She whined pushing his hands off her as she trudged into the back of the car, the divider separating them from the driver.

Steve’s eyes were trained on the dress she was wearing which wasn’t doing a good job at concealing her breasts which were practically ready to burst out, his mouth watering at the sight of her thighs peeking out from under the shortness of the dress, did she really not realise how bad that stupid fucker was hitting on her?

“Well would you let that bastard do this?” Steve growled ripping down the front of her dress, her breasts exposed to the cool air, his mouth immediately latching onto her hardened buds as his tongue flicked and sucked at each one. “N-no”

“Would you let him relieve your poor tits or play with your fat fuckin pussy” His hands left her breasts to bunch up the dress at her waist, her legs levitating a bit to help him out, one touch from him and she was already drunk on him. “N-no it’s all yours stevie honey, all fuckin’ yours”

“Yeah that’s what I thought babe” Steve whispered letting his fingers run up and down her folds, the puffiness of her second set of lips engulfing his fingers instantly as he slowly and gently rubbed at her clit; collecting her juices onto his hand. His nose nudging against hers as he stared at her so blatantly, his lips lightly kissing hers as if she would break, causing Y/n’s tongue to be the one to take over his mouth so filthily

#steve rogers x bimbo!reader #fae steve thoughts #faesthoughts

[serendipitous-mage]

HOW WE FEELIN BOUT THAT BTB S2 POST CREDIT SCENE LADS

(if it wasnt obvious, spoilers below the cut)

imagine giving (who you assume is) a homeless person (spitting out rocks, dressed like a clown and in full makeup) a few bucks to get a bite to eat-

[events happen]

this guy now owns a food truck (and you work at it)

theres some friendly workplace rivalry with another food truck (they shoot a canon at you, but its fine, theyre just Really Into It, its their brand, yknow how it is)

PSYCH its not friendly--mans just got Absolutely Curbstomped into the Ground in front of your eyes and the rival food truck owner just straight up disappears down after him

think poor tim is gona be havin a bit of a breakdown on his worldview lmfaooo (all of them, probably)

im posting this and then rewatching all of it for the 7 thousandth time with the knowledge of TIM

also this?????

DO THEY GO LOOKING FOR STEVE THAT SEEMS LIKE THE MUNKUSTRAP ALEX HIRSCH CLOWN DO THEY SHOW UP AFTER HE GETS SQUASHED HELLO HI IM NORMAL ABOUT ALL OF THIS????

EDIT: did tim help steve get a food truck? did he have input on the slogan hot tires hot burgers?? this is also forcing me to put into perspective that like, tim has been, astronomically normal about all the absolute batshit things happening, just saying 'weird vibes haha yea' and going on with it at worst or *annoyed with this bullshit* at best (vice versa?)

#im losing my gd mind lmaooooo #ian is so damn funny #nobody stop him #bigtop burger #btb #just me

[omgsquee2001]

Greasers Stick Together: Darry Curtis x Reader: (feat. The Curtis Gang and OC Daughter)

~~~~

Being a Greaser was tough, but it was life. You were either born into two lives in Tulsa, Oklahoma; you were born as a Greaser, living on the North side of town, the poor side of town, or you were born as a Soc. ‘Soc’ was an abbreviation for Socials. The Socs lived on the South side of town. They had the good things in life. Money, good cars, and nice houses. The Socs weren’t kind. They didn’t give their money to the Greasers. Instead, the ganged up on the Greasers when they walked alone, beating them up and making fun of them.

When you and your boyfriend Darry found out you were pregnant, you were slightly devastated. You wanted your baby to grow up with a simple life, not a life where they had to carry a blade around with them in fear of being jumped. But you decided to keep the baby either way. A few months later, you gave birth to your beautiful daughter, Anne Marie Curtis. As she grew up, she grew to know how harsh living as a Greaser could be.

~~~~

Soda and Steve threw rocks at the Socs’ car as it drove away. Johnny stayed behind. You looked down at your daughter.

“Anne, stay with Uncle Johnny, I’m gonna go check on Uncle Pony.” You said. Three year old Anne nodded and took Johnny’s hand. You raced over to your boyfriend’s brother.

“They didn't hurt you too bad, did they?” Darry asked. Ponyboy was sitting up, a little shaken up. You knelt down to Ponyboy, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Pony. Did they pull a blade on you?” You asked, looking at the trail of blood on his neck. Ponyboy nodded.

“Yeah.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. Soda sighed and looked at his brother.

“Hey, they ain't gonna hurt you no more.” Soda said. Johnny walked over, still holding Anne’s hand. Anne let go of Johnny’s hand and ran over to Ponyboy. Ponyboy picked her up, holding her on his hip. Anne rested her head on Ponyboy’s shoulder. There were only a handful of people Anne liked being held by. Ponyboy, you, Darry, Soda, Johnny and Two-Bit.

Ponyboy walked beside Darry, Soda and you. Darry sighed in frustration.

“Walking by yourself! You don't ever think!” Darry said. Ponyboy adjusted Anne on his hip, looking at his older brother.

“All's I did was walk home from the movies.” Ponyboy defended. That didn’t seem to help his case, as Darry sighed once again.

“Movies and books. Movies and books!” Darry complained. You sighed in frustration. Darry could be harsh on his younger brother, leading the two to get into arguments often. “You know, I-I wish that you could concentrate on something else just once in a while.” Darry said. Ponyboy frowned.

“Anne likes movies and books. How come you don’t get mad at her?” Ponyboy asked. Darry sighed and rested his hands on his hips.

“Anne’s a kid, Pony. You’re a high school student. Plus, she’s my daughter.” Darry said. You sighed and walked over.

“Alright. Nope. This ain’t happening. I’m not havin’ you two argue in front of Anne again.” You said, walking over and taking Anne out of Ponyboy’s arms. Anne went with you without arguing or struggling. You sighed and shook your head, waking inside.

~~~~

Darry was cleaning up from dinner, Soda watching a movie on the couch and Ponyboy in his room doing homework. You were currently giving Anne a bath. You rinsed the conditioner out of her hair. You pulled the plug on the drain and got Anne out of the bathtub. You wrapped her in a fuzzy towel and got her dressed into her pajamas. You picked her up and carried her to her room, Anne’s head resting tiredly on your shoulder. You gently cupped the back of her head as you lowered her down, pulling the sheets back. You lay her down in bed and pulled the sheets up around her shoulders. You kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes. You turned off the light and you were about to walk out when Anne stopped you,

“Mommy.” Anne called. You walked over and sat beside her in bed.

“Yeah, baby?” You asked, brushing back her hair. Anne looked up at you.

“Why did those guys with the nice car hurt Uncle Pony?” She asked. You sighed.

“Sometimes, people are just mean to others they don’t understand.” You said. That was the best way you could describe it without going into detail.

“Will that happen to me to when I get older?” She asked. You shook your head.

“No, baby. Your daddy and I promise that we won’t let anything hurt you.” You said.

“Especially not some jerks with nice cars who think they’re better.” A familiar voice said. You looked behind you and smiled, seeing your boyfriend. Darry walked over and sat at the foot of the bed. Anne smiled at her dad.

“Daddy? Can you sing to me?” Anne asked. Darry chuckled and shook his head.

“You know I can’t sing, Pumpkin.” Darry said. He looked at you. “But mamma can.” He said. Anne looked at you with pleading eyes. You smiled.

“Alright, I’ll sing. But you gotta promise that you’ll go right to sleep.” You said. Anne nodded.

“I promise, Mommy.” Anne said. You smiled and nodded.

“Hush, little baby, don't say a word. Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird,” you began. Darry smiled as he watched you sing, your voice drifting through the room, filling up Anne’s sleepy head. “And if that mockingbird won't sing, Mamma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass, Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass.” You could see Anne’s eyes starting to droop. “And if that looking glass gets broke, Mamma’s gonna buy you a billy goat. And if that billy goat won't pull, Papa's gonna buy you a cart and bull. And if that cart and bull turn over, Mamma’a gonna buy you a dog named Rover. And if that dog named Rover won't bark, Papa's gonna buy you a horse and cart,” though Anne had already fallen asleep, you wanted to finish the lullaby. “And if that horse and cart fall down, You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.” You finished. You and Darry pressed kisses to Anne’s head and walked out, closing the door behind you two. You sighed and Darry pulled you into a hug.

“The Gang and I won’t let anything happen to that girl, I promise,” Darry said, pressing a kiss to your head. “Greasers stick together.” He said.

~~~~

//I know, I know. This sucks. Everyone is OOC, and I apologize for that. This has been on my mind for a while, and I wanted to get it down. I hope you all like it.//

#the outsiders #Darry Curtis x reader

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 6

Winds Change

Read on Ao3

-

Five days.

They had five days left together.

Billy tried not to think about it, but it was kinda hard to ignore.

Stalls were already being taken down, fair games being packed up into large shipping trucks to take across the country.

One of Max’s beloved funnel cake stalls had already met the way of the shipping container. She was pissed.

And yet, Billy and Steve did their best to pretend like the rodeo wasn’t coming down around them.

A perfect symbolism for their fling, or whatever, crashing down everywhere they look.

Billy spent days in Steve’s sweaty little airstream, brushing his fingers over that muscular body, calling him a hick and a horse girl and every other fake insult he could think of.

And Steve spent all that time lacing his fingers with Billy’s, winking at him from his place on top of one of his three gorgeous mares as he did victory lap after victory lap, roping calves in under ten seconds, slamming Billy against the walls of the airstream, adrenaline from the stunt still pumping through him.

The field saw them exercising Steve’s horses, taking a ratty blanket out there in the middle of the night to watch the stars.

And it was stupid, Billy pretending that this was more than just. A convenience.

Steve was on his knees, and Billy threaded his hands into that thick hair, tugging it this way and that, the way he’s learned Steve likes after some weeks of mewling whines.

Billy was backed up against the gate of the makeshift paddock, shielded by the prying eyes of the other rodeo workers by the long-set sun and the sounds of the day’s crowds filtering out of the grounds.

Steve pushed down, taking Billy’s cock all the way in his throat, breathing heavily through his nose, the nose currently pressed flat against Billy’s pelvis.

Steve was a champion at a few things: calf roping, horse riding, and dick sucking.

He pulled off Billy’s dick with a slurp, rolling his tongue along the head, humming slightly as he did. His eyes were dark, staring up at Billy, something like a smirk sparking in them as Billy fell apart.

He took a breath, ready to move back in and finish Billy off when there were footsteps.

“Steve! I gotta check Loretta’s hock.”

They both froze, Steve’s eyes going wide with shock, his lips still stretched around the cock in his mouth.

Billy had yet to meet Jim Hopper, the horse specialist that watched out for Steve’s three mares.

He guesses he was about to meet the man right about now.

Steve yanked his face off Billy’s cock with an unmistakable slurping sound that made Billy’s face go bright fuckin’ red. Billy fumbled with the fly on his shorts, and Steve took charge, roughly pulling the button closed and the zip up. It was a miracle he didn’t catch any skin with the quick action.

Steve was on his feet as Jim rounded the edge of the fencing, eyeing the two of them standing far too close, Billy’s face red and full of guilt. Jim raised a hand, his eyes closing as he breathed heavily out his nose.

“I don’t wanna know. Just let me take a look at your girl.”

Steve shrugged, acting like this whole ordeal was just another day at the rodeo.

Maybe it is, Billy’s brain supplied.

They were so fucking. Obvious. Billy could just drop dead right there on the grass.

Jim was a big dude. Beefy and broad, his face was clearly weather-beaten. Well, what of his face wasn’t covered with a graying beard and mustache. His left cheek pudged out slightly with what Billy realized was chewing tobacco when he spit casually at his feet.

“This is Billy. I told you about him,” Steve said with a smirk.

And Billy just about had a heart attack when Steve made a big show of wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, smirkin’ like the devil.

“Yeah, kid, I’m just here for Letty.”

The horses had been allocated to the horsebox for the night, as it was much warmer in there for them. Not that it was cold in San Diego at night, but still. Steve worried. Billy thought it was cute.

Steve led Jim off towards the box, clapping him once on the shoulder as he passed, making Jim groan and spit a dollop of yellow-brown saliva after Steve.

Billy felt like he was about to turn into some thick hot liquid shame when Jim gave him a bit of a once-over, raising one thick eyebrow at him. Jim’s mustache twitched, and he spit to the side before turning on his heel, following Steve to the horses.

Billy has never been more mortified in his life.

Steve’s mentioned Jim a lot. He always calls him Hop. Said Steve himself gave him that nickname. Billy has kinda sussed out that Jim is something like a pseudo-dad to Steve. The one to teach him how to really care for the horses. The one to teach him to properly tie a calf.

All the shit that Steve was made of, Jim taught him.

Billy had put together that Jim’s daughter was the one Max was scampering about the grounds with. Steve said he had adopted Elle when she was about seven.

His face gave something away when he said that. Making a look that said there was a story there, but Billy didn’t wanna ask.

It’s not his story to know.

Billy followed after them, keeping a wide enough berth from the pair that it was weird. He knew it was weird. But it was either this type of weird, or the weird of inserting himself into their conversation when Jim obviously knew what they had been doing seconds before he found them. Steve was about as subtle as a gun with those grass stains on his knees, wiping at his face like he needed to prove a point.

Billy lingered outside the horsebox.

Loretta had been lagging lately, and she startled whenever Steve laid a hand on her left leg.

Steve had just about sobbed when he told Billy he thinks she’s hurt herself.

Billy wished he had a cigarette right about now.

“Yeah, I think the poor girl’s just havin’ some inflammation. Probably tweaked her leg just right on the arena dirt.”

“Is she gonna be okay? What does she need?” Steve sounded more serious than Billy’s ever heard him. There was a weight to his voice that only reared up when Steve mentioned his father, a slight quiver in his words that made his anxiety palpable.

“She’s a tough one, Letty. Let her rest for about two weeks, only mild walking, and some ice at the end of the day wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll talk after that and see if she needs anything more.”

There was something of a pause in the horsebox, and Billy held his breath, ignoring the fact that he was clearly eavesdropping now.

“You being careful with that boy?”

“‘Course I am.”

“Because I meant what I said last time. I’m not posing as your dad to get you an appointment at the clinic again-”

“ Jesus, Hop. I thought we agreed never to talk about that again, huh? And besides, I’m grown. I can make appointments for my own STD tests now. Plus, it was all fine.”

Billy nearly choked.

It’s not that he’s never had a scare before, and he and Steve were safe, but still.

“Good to hear, then. But you being careful ?” There was another silence from the box. One of the horses whinnied.

When Jim continued, it was with a much softer voice than before.

“I ain’t never seen you so attached before.”

The horse whinnied again, and Billy pictured Steve wrapping his arms around June’s neck and hugging her close.

“He’s under my skin now.” A scuff that sounded like Steve’s boot brushing against the hay-covered floor of the box. “First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.”

Those words crashed into Billy’s gut, knocking all the wind out of him.

He suffocated on them, drowned in Steve’s melancholy voice as he said them.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

It stung at the same time it made Billy’s heart soar.

It hurt and it healed and it made Billy wanna throw up and lock Steve in his basement so he could never leave him.

Or maybe something less totally wacked-out and creepy.

“You know I love you like my own, but you gotta manage yourself. I ain’t judgin’, I just don’t wanna see you all hurt again.”

“Jeez, that was some real sappy shit there.” The mood shifted with Steve’s deflection, and Billy could hear footsteps leaving the horsebox.

He scrambled over to Steve’s little airstream, pretending he hadn’t been listening and freaking out over what he was hearing.

There was just. There was a whole lot to take in there.

Jim said he didn’t want to see Steve all hurt again, but also said he’s never seen Steve so attached before.

When had he been all hurt before if this was, in Steve’s words, the first time he wasn’t ready for a fling to be over?

And Billy didn’t want to hurt Steve, but it kinda, in a real shitty way, made him feel a little bit better that he wasn’t the only one ignoring the oncoming end out of sadness and a need to prolong whatever they had left.

That, and the added little bonus that Jim had once pretended to be Steve’s father to get him an STD test from a clinic.

Billy feels like he’s been punched in the face over and over again by that short conversation he heard. And he would know. He’s been decked in the kisser too many times to think about.

He leaned against the cold metal wall of the airstream as Steve came into view, Jim heading in the opposite direction towards the fairgrounds and the rodeo being shut down for the night.

Steve smiled at Billy, this soft, calm little thing that made the warm summer air even sweeter in Billy’s lungs and the words keep ringing through his head.

First time I wasn’t ready for a fling to be over.

He could see something in Steve, now that he knew what to look for.

How carefree and easy he seemed anytime he was around Billy, but those devastating moments when he seemed to bite his tongue against saying something more meaningful, or shied away from a briefly intimate touch.

Billy could finally see his own anxiety in Steve at their dwindling time together, and it broke his fucking heart.

Robin had warned Billy not to get attached. She told him Steve slept around and played the field and left before anyone could get in too deep.

But he wonders if Robin had warned Steve against the same thing. If she had told him that Billy was going to fuck and run. That leaving someone behind can sometimes hurt just as much as being left behind.

He hopes that if she hasn’t, she’ll be there for Steve. That she’ll pick him up and won’t let him break his own precious heart anymore.

“So, how’s Loretta?”

“She’ll be okay. Poor lady just needs some rest and some ice, and she’ll be feeling her best in a few weeks.”

Steve matched Billy’s stance, leaning against the trailer and tilting his face to the starry sky.

It was quiet out in the sea of trailers. Now that the spectators had all gone home for the night, the cheering crowds and amplified commentators weren’t reverberating through the open grass.

Instead, they could hear the rodeo animals that had been put in their nighttime areas. The many whineys and brays from different horses spread through the place.

The rodeo seemed so fucking magic to Billy.

Something like Heaven.

“I’m going soon.”

Billy doesn’t know why Steve said it.

They both knew that fact.

He thought they were both aggressively ignoring that fact.

“Yeah. You are.”

Billy didn’t know what to do with his hands.

He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever.

Because talking about it makes it real.

And God fucking forbid Steve breaks it off now and not in the allotted five days they still have to laugh and fuck and be free .

He pulled out his slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes, lighting one deftly.

Steve didn’t smoke. Said his grandpa died really horribly of lung cancer.

Billy knew this was going to be a serious talk when Steve didn’t make one of his usual snide remarks about Billy smoking.

“I just wanted. To be sure,” Steve trailed off, still looking at the spangled night sky. “We need to be on the same page.”

That we’re probably, most definitely, in love with one another but too stupid and too poorly timed and too tragic to say anything about it.

“I think we are.”

“Okay. Okay. Good. Because, I mean, I really don’t want to hurt you, and, like, our arrangement’s been the same since the beginning.”

Arrangement.

That word.

Arrangement.

It was a fucking ugly word for whatever beautiful thing they had between them.

Arrangement.

It made Billy feel cheap, and used, and so fucking stupid.

And feeling like that only meant one thing for Billy.

He got fucking mad.

“So, that’s it then. You’re done with me. Onto the next poor sucker in the next shitty town that’ll fuck you through the mattress and hold your hand until you decide you’re sick of ‘em. Great. It was so nice being your fucking whore. Thanks for the. Opportunity.”

He wished he chewed tobacco like Jim. He would spit a glob at Steve’s foot. Probably make it land right on those stupid fucking red cowboy boots.

Steve finally looked at Billy, his face scrunched up and those beautiful eyes of his looking somewhere between lost and hurt and angry and confused.

“Billy, that’s not what I-”

“No. No, Harrington, I fucking get it. You go town to town, and feed these fuckers a sob story about how hard it is for you to connect with people, and that you’re lonely and your dad sucks, and all this other bullshit. When really, you’re just an insecure asshole with intimacy problems who’s too fucking stupid to get a fucking GED.”

Fuck.

The second the words were out of his mouth, Billy knew he had gone way too fucking far.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and his face seemed to morph right in front of Billy’s eyes. He was closing himself off right where they stood. Getting ready to chuck Billy away and never see him again.

And Billy fucking deserved it.

“You’re calling me an insecure asshole with intimacy problems? The only friends you’ve got are coworkers that only pity you because they can see how fucking pathetic you are. You beg for scraps like a fucking dog and the second things get tough you ignore it, or get angry at it, like a stupid goddamn child . You think you’re so tough. That you’re the only one with problems . You’ve got your head so far up your own ass that you don’t realize that shit sucks all over, and that everyone is just as miserable as you are, we’re just able to fucking make something out of ourselves instead of wallowing in self-pity.”

Steve’s little speech left Billy feeling dumbfounded.

He was seething with a rage he had never felt in his life before. Anger at himself, and anger at Steve for being so fucking right. For letting all of Billy’s flaws and insecurities tumble out of his mouth like they were nothing.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, leaning forward to put it out against the door of the airstream, leaving a tiny circular ash print on the painted cow. It looked like a bullet wound on the poor thing.

It’s how Billy felt.

“I hope your horse fucking dies.”

It was childish.

It was so dumb, and childish, and Billy really doesn’t hope any horse anywhere dies, especially Steve’s three wonderful mares, but he’s feeling something he thinks he could call jilted, and he’s hurt and upset and genuinely at a loss.

He didn’t let Steve get another word in. Just turned on his heel, and left the little cowboy behind.

#woop woop i like this chapter a lot please enjoy! #show pony #yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove

[non-stop-imagines]

To a Groovy Night Out

 Request: Can you do an imagine where it’s in the 60s and Bucky and Steve are invited to an underground nightclub by Sam and Bucky meets the reader and she teaches Bucky how to dance. Kinda like in Dirty Dancing but the gender roles are reversed. The song Stay by Maurice & The Zodiacs played on my playlist and I thought about how funny it would be to see Bucky’s expression with the reader grinding on him

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Black!Reader (60s AU)

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Nothing much really, the dancing described is a bit suggestive.

A/N: AHHHHHH!!! First thing written in months and I did it all within today. I feel like it's a good starting point for getting back into the swing of things especially taking the time to research and making the story as accurate as possible. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH FOr giving me the encouragement to get through the semester and being so patient. Thank you for not giving up on me because it really helped knowing that when I started writing again the people I'm writing for would be right there with me. So, THANK YOU AGAIN! THANK YOU FOR GETTING THUS BLOG TO 1000 FOLLOWERS! I LOVE EACH AND EVERYONE IF YOU! I hope you all enjoy, and to the anon who requested this, thank you for being so patient with me. Love you all!😍💛❤️💛❤️💛

UNIVERSAL TAGS LIST: @beautifulwisdom2001 @iamzion-therealhabesha @thottio @jetaimeamore @mixedfandxms @here-for-your-bullshit

Masterlist

_______

   “You’re coming tonight, right?” Your best friend since grade school, Sam, asks over the phone. You continue to pick out your near perfect fro, which you're grateful for.

    “I have to. I need to meet these white boys you conned into coming.” You set down your pick and adjust the phone that was in between your ear and shoulder, sitting back in your chair and twirling the spiraled cord around your finger.

    “They’re cooler than you think.” Sam looks into the oval mirror hanging on his wall, admiring his above the shoulder appearance and unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt, showing off a good amount of chest hair.

    "I just know they better not flip out like the last white person that came through. You remember that? When Jack with the box cut and glasses brought some fridged white bitch that tried to bug Sheila about how she was dressed?" You scoff at your words and adjust your bust in your yellow flowy satin button up that you tied around your midriff then pick up your eye liner pencil.

    "They're hip, I promise. Like me, the only reason they went to training for 'Nam was because they didn't want to get impounded." He runs a brush over his growing hair then looks at the clock on his nightstand. "When do you think you'll get to the club?" He sits in a chair close to the phone and bends over to tie his Chuck's.

    "Quarter to 10, 11 earliest. You know I always arrive on the scene fashionably late." You smile for a moment then proceed to finish lining your other eye and pick up your mascara. 

    "11:30 got it." Sam roll his eyes before checking his upper body appearance one last time. "See ya there." 

    "Later." You bid farewell the hang up. Standing from your seat after applying mascara and some lipstick, you move over to your closet door mirror to admire your new threads. You had on a satin yellow button up tied at the waist and cinched at the wrists with a healthy amount of cleavage showing, black mini skirt, showing off your assets, and black go-go boots accentuating your legs. "Alright girly, time to show up and show out." You grab your small clutch and make your way out of your room.

_____

    "Wow, this place is a blast." The tall, inhumanly muscular blonde says, looking around the dimly lit nightclub, Higher and Higher by Jackie Wilson blasting through the building, loud enough to hear down the block. 

    "Hey where's this babe you were talkin' about, man?" The faux tough brunette asks taking glances at the door every ten seconds, reveling in each beautiful sight that walks through.

    "She'll be here. Why you flippin out over her anyway?" Before the man could answer you came up behind Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. 

    "Hey boys! We havin fun yet?" You chuckle earning some smiles from the men around you. You remove your arm from Sam to get a good look at him. "Sam, looking groovy as always." 

    "And you, fashionably early this time." You chuckle and shake your head then turn to the two white boys, tucking your clutch under your arm and reaching yours out to shake their hands. "You two must be Bucky and Steve." 

    "I'm Steve. And my gawking friend here is Bucky." You didn't notice until Steve said something but for the past minute and a half Bucky has done nothing but revel in your presence. Even with the dim lighting of the club, your skin still shinned like gold, the red tint on your lips making him want to kiss you then and there, and you outfit highlighting your body's features in the best possible way.

    "I'm sorry. I'm James but my friends call me Bucky and might I say you look outta sight Ms…-uh-" He reaches out to shake your hand.

    "Y/F/N Y/L/N. But please, call me Y/N, Ms.Y/N is my old woman." You flash a sweet smile then look over to the near empty bar. "Welp it's not a good night out unless someone has the intention of getting blitzed. You guys want anything?" 

    "You know what I want." Sam tucks his hands into his pockets. Bucky and Steve both refuse allowing you to make your way to the bar. "You can put it on my tab!" Sam shouts to you.

    "I was going to anyway!" You turn around and grin then sway to the bar as Heard it Through the Grapevine by Marvin Gaye comes on.

    "You did not disappoint, Wilson." Bucky says, watching your hips sway almost subconsciously to the music.

    "Eh, don't let her fool you. She was a complete egghead in high school. Still is. She has a degree in engineering, a wiz with numbers." Sam leans on the high table standing next to them.

    "Oh that won't stop him. He's always been a kiss up to smart girls." Steve raises an eyebrow at his friend who was still looking at the dancing girl, who was now making her way back to the group.

    "An Old Fashion for the old man," you had the glass to Sam. "And a sidecar for moi." You take a sip from your glass. "And whatever he said about me… probably true." At that moment Uptight by Stevie Wonder comes on. "Oh well you know I can't be still with this groove." You set your drink next to Sam and grab Bucky's hand. "Let's dance, James." You pull him to the middle of the floor begin to move, doing the hully gully and the jerk while Bucky bobs his head trying to keep up. You couldn't help but bust out laughing.

    "Hey, cut me some slack! I don't go dancing all that often." He beings to laugh with you.

    "You just need to chill. Starting with your look." You take a step back and untuck his red polo from his dark brown pants and then reach up and pull a strand of hair from his slicked back hair-do. "Better. Now, for the dancing, uh-, here. Step side to side." Bucky does as told slowly stepping side to side. "No faster, with the beat." You grab his hands and show him with feet, your hands in his sending shivers up his arm. He trys to follow, tripping over his feet a few times. You chuckle. "Better, but not so… freaky. Smooth it out, make it look natural." He tries again, looking scarier than before, but just as you were about to give him another instruction, Stay by Maurice William & the Zodiacs flowed from the speakers and through the club.

"Ok, lets try this." You place your hands on your hips and move your hips back and forth slowly and sultry. Bucky tries to follow your movements but ended up being as stiff as a board. 

    "Like this?" You threw you head back in laughter, Bucky following suit. You shake you head and bring your hands to his hips, placing them on top of his hands, realizing just how big they are. 

    "Ok, now back and forth, back and forth, flu-id mo-tion. Good. Now…" you match Bucky's tempo and move closer to him, eventually straddling his left leg. "Put your hands," you take his hands which were hovering around your body and place them on your waist. "There. Now you keeping doing that and I'll do… this." You begin to circle your hips, your upper thigh dangerously close to his crotch. You reach your right hand up and around the back of his head, bringing his ear closer. "And don't be afraid to cop a feel, brother." You pull your head away and smirk. Then allow your left arm to hang at your side as Bucky's hands became more adventurous. His face on the other hand was still timid, and slightly surprised. Soon the song was over and you and Bucky were making your way back over to Sam and Steve who both seem to be chatting up a poor girl who had no idea which one she wanted.

    "You two were a sight to see." Sam grins as he hands you a fresh drink, and you take a sip.

    "Someone had to show this square how to chill out." You hip bump him. "I'll be back in two shakes." You take another sip of your drink and head back over to the bar.

    "Hey, uh, Steve? You want to shake that skinny bippy of yours out on the floor?" The girl asks, not making eye contact until Steve puts out his hand for her to take.

    "Let's dance." And with that, it was Steve's turn to humiliate himself on the dance floor.

    "So how was it? Dancing with Y/N? I've been told it's a religious experience." Sam chuckles, crossing his arms.

    "That's an understatement. I've never danced like that before. She's some teacher though. Uh, is she, um… carrying the torch for any one?" He rubs his neck and looks over at you, waving back after you wave at him from the bar.

    "HA! She is a catch, isn't she? Yeah, I tried to get her, but she said I was too much like family. But hey, maybe white boys such as yourself are her type." Sam shrugs and takes a swig of his drink, wincing at the burn then looking at his friend, who gazed hopelessly at you, then quickly panicked as you began to walk back over with four shot glasses in one hand and a bottle of liquor in the other. "Ah, come on. Don't be a candyass, y'all practically banged on the dance floor." Bucky's face turns red at the comment. "Hey come on. Just ask her out." Sam seemlessly changes from his whisper to taking a swing of his drink as you finally get back to the group. 

    "Alright! Now it's time to let it all hang out!" You set the glasses down on the table and pour the the liquor in three of the four glasses after grinning at Steve dancing with the cute dark skin girl a head and a half  shorter than him, even with her afro. You hand a glass to Sam and one to Bucky. "To new friends and a groovy night out." You intertwine your arm with Bucky's and then down the burning liquid, looking into Bucky's eyes before doing so. He takes his shot, lifting you on your toes a bit as he brings the glass to his lips due to your intertwined arms. He looks at Sam, who was tilting his head toward you, then slowly removes his arm from yours. 

    "Uh, Y/N… I was wondering, you know, if you would maybe wanna hang out sometime? If it's not a hassle, of course." Bucky messes with his glass, keeping his eyes low until the silence became too much for him. He looks up to see your eyes and are met with your smiling chocolate irises, red lips smiling in a similar way.

    "Far out!" You throw your arms around his neck, leaning back into his instinctual grip around your waist. "I'd love to James. Maybe sometime next week?" You lean in to his neck, taking in his scent then give hip a peck right below his ear.

    "Sounds like a plan." He hugs you tighter, tilting his head giving you more access to his neck. You accept and continue to kiss down his neck.

    "Man, if you guys are gonna neck, at least do it on the floor like everyone else." Sam points, the first thing catching your eye being  Steve's girl now pushing open the buttons on his long sleeve polo, sleeves now rolled up.

    "Well then color me gone." You grip Bucky's hand and lead him to the floor, his eyes on your swaying his hips as I Say a Little Prayer by Aretha Franklin floods the speakers, leaving Sam not so alone as a girl quickly comes up to him after you two leave.

    "Why have you been calling me James all evening?" He asks a few seconds of you kissing along his neck again, pressing your body to his and following your up tempo step and sway.

    "I like to call people by the name their mama gave them, if they allow me." You bring your right hand further up on his head and lightly scratch his scalp.

    "I love when you say my name." He says these words with an amount of confidence you didn't think could possibly come from him. He moves one hand down onto the back of your thigh and tightens his grip on both your lower back and thigh, then takes the lead in the movements, learning quickly how to move. You smirk up at him, running your gaze along his face, then pulling his head down to meet your lips in a heated kiss, nothing but a haze of lust and admiration coming from and surrounding you two, the music being the only thing part of your world.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x black!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier imagine #60s AU #black reader #marvel imagine #marvel

[definitelynottony]

Grease is the Word [Ch.1 Summer Lovin’]

[Ao3] [part 2] [Song recommendations: Grease OST, 50′s era songs] [Also definitely recommend looking up a 50′s slang dictionary!]

It started out with just a visit, a holiday to see his family over in the states. Spend his summer break hangin’ out with his aunt,uncle and cousin; he only gets to see them every couple of years. The last time he saw them was for his mother’s funeral. They’re good people though, he should see them more often. Get a break away from his screwed up life back in Australia, with his sorry excuse of a father. He missed the golden coast but it was a change of pace, two months living in Hawkins Indiana would do Billy Hargrove some real good. 

And it did. It was such a simple life. Not havin’ to make sure his deadbeat dad was in bed every night; cause the only thing he was good for after his mom died was drinkin’ and givin’ Billy a real good shiner. Not havin’ to go to school and work every day just to buy his own cigs. Havin’ people that actually cared if you came home at night was pretty good too, not that the greaser would admit it. But yeah, he’s probably been smiling since he walked into the Mayfield house. 

Aunt Susan was just like havin’ his mom back, they even have the same hair color. And Max, she got even bigger since the last time Billy saw her. She was still a little shitbird though. His step uncle wasn’t too bad of a guy either, let him drive his blue ‘58 Bel Air ‘round. Was definitely a helluva a lot better than his old man, that’s fer damn sure. And yeah, Billy’s summer went by in a blink. He followed Max and some of her friends around, learnin’ where all the good spots where. It was a small town, not too hard; the diner, arcade, drive ins, and Hawkins’ Lovers Lake. 

On one hot, real hot Indiana summer day, Billy decided to take the Bel Air for a spin; he ended up at the lake. That’s when he saw him; like a fuckin’ angel. 

He had soft brown hair all shaped perfectly into a quiff. Unlike Billy’s blonde curls, if he could get his hair into a pomp it was a good day, most the time it was somewhere between the flop and a loose teddy boy. Not that it really mattered, everyone knew what he was as soon as they saw him with his leather on, a smoke in his mouth. Poor by birth, Greaser by choice. 

But this cat, this pretty boy with the brown hair, well he looked like he belonged on the telly. Billy didn’t even notice the other’s with him. Some girl, plain jane prep, definitely no Monroe; she wasn’t even in a bathing suit, wet blanket. Some hipster slick was with her reading a book, but Billy’s eyes stayed with the brunette with an angel face and Babmi eyes. The two were sittin’ over on the dock, that angel face was putterin’ in the water. Billy knew they could see him pullin’ up. Sauntering down to the lake edge. Good, Billy loved a dramatic entrance. 

As he showed up, splashin’ around in the shallows of the shoreline, he got that pretty boy’s attention. Well, couldn’t blame him; not many could pull off red trunks as short as Billy’s were. God bless the 50’s. If the brunette didn’t close his mouth pretty soon Billy was sure he’d have to save his life ‘cause he’s gonna drown like that. 

“Steve, do you know him?” the girl hushed down to the brunette--- 

“No, I don’t think so. He kinda chills ‘ya though doesn't he?”

“Not me Stevie, he’s just staring at us. Go say something!” 

“Like what?” 

“Tell’um to take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

“Not helpful Jonathan, come on Nance why don’t you go talk ta him?” 

“Cause he looks like a bird dog.” 

“Looks like a dreamboat to me.”

“STEVE!” The girl squealed. “Go!”

“Shh! Nance, okay-oaky.”

The greaser watched with anticipation as that earth angel adorably, clumsily strolled up to him, green high ride swims on, he was a prep; Billy could deal with that---

“Hey there daddy-o what’s shakin’?”

God, even his voice was angelic. 

“You know baby, just rockin’ an rollin’.”

“Heh, you ain’t from around here huh? Names Steve.”

“Accent give it’ away?” 

“Yeah. I like it though, it’s bitchin’.” 

“Names Billy” 

“Billy? Hey, you’re Max’s cousin right?” 

“Yeah, you know the ankle biter?”

“She runs with some kids I know.”

“Small world” the blonde charmed.

“Small town” Steve laughed, and it was everything; that laugh “so you wanna come hang?”

“Thought you’d never ask cherry.”

“That mouth you got sure is drippin’ apple butter.”

“Just fer cherry’s like you doll face.”

Steve gave this smirk before turning back to his friends; a smirk that really made Billy wish the cat would drown just so he could give him mouth to mouth. He’d know what to do', Billy was a lifeguard back in 'Straya. 

“Guys, this is Billy. He’s Maxie’s cousin. Billy, this is Nancy and that’s Jonathan.” Steve introduced, Billy just nodded with a smirk. He really wasn’t that interested in a couple drips.

“It’s a pleasure, Billy, are you from around here? Just visiting? Staying long?” Nancy had that look in her eyes Steve knew all too well, and normally he hated when she did this but he wanted to know too.

“You writin’ a book sweetheart?”

“Maybe. Just curious what side of the track you’re from.”

Billy rolled his eyes “I see someone’s got her glasses on, I'm from Australia, just visiting. Leavin’ in the fall.” Yeah, she was definitely a drag, bringing the whole mood down. 

“I knew you were from Australia, that’s choice! What’s it like there?”

“Tell ‘ya all about it over a malt pretty boy.”

“...Guess he’s not a bird dog.” 

Jonathan piped up from his book. Nancy nudged his shoulder holding back a laugh or a sequel, who knows. Billy and Steve sure didn’t cause Steve was too busy dodging Billy’s splashes. They went on for a few hours like that, enjoying the summer heat, the cool water. Some point Steve got Nancy and Jonathan to play chicken with them. Billy dropped Steve on purpose, the brunette was pretty sure he tried to drown him. 

And it was weeks of days like that. Bowlin’ in the arcade, drinkin lemonade, spent hours makin’ out under the dock at lover’s lake. Stayin’ out past 10, nights at the drivin’s. Billy had a car after all and Stevie was real inta back seat bingo. And they held hands when they were alone, and their first time was cause Steve got real friendly down in the sand. God he was good, if you know what I mean. And yeah, Billy felt like it was love at first sight, but he knew it was just a summer fling, didn’t mean a thing. At least it wasn’t supposed to. 

“Goddamn pretty boy, You’re bonafide. I’m so sweet fer ya.”

“Billy, I never met someone like you before.This feels like the real deal.”

“That’s cause it is baby. It is.”

And long fingers tangled in golden curls. Sun kissed flesh wrapped around soft freckled porcelain. Lips to skin, ocean blues drowning in honey browns, teeth biting down like they’re making home there. It was the closest thing to heaven on earth. The closest the greaser was going to get, with this angel looking up at him panting his name. With his fingers wrapped up in his hair and his momma’s necklace. Rolling into him like the Pacific ocean, kissing away tears from that pretty freckled face. Stevie’s legs holding tight around him, his way of sayin’ more, harder, because that cherry mouth of his is just too good ta say it out loud. Like Billy would ever say no, Stevie didn’t know it but Billy’s been wrapped ‘round his gentle finger since he saw that smirk of his two months ago.

“Never gonna forget this Stevie, yur the best fuckin’ thing these hands have ever held.” 

It was summer lovin’ at it’s finest, and they were havin’ a blast. Until they weren’t, until there were tears, tears of pain and not the sweet tears Billy was kissing away last night on cool sand made hot from their bodies. And there were fists, but they weren't the calloused ones made gentle that caressed tony hair. Cause now they were holding porcelain ones aimed to make Billy hurt as much as they did. As much as Steve did. And Billy let him, let him pound those fist into his chest as he held the brunette close. Let him cry and curse him for ever coming to Hawkins, for ever meeting him. Only calming when Billy finally spoke---

“You, Steve Harrington, have made my life worth livin’.”

And those big doe eyes filled with diamonds were going to be permanently branded into the blonde's mind forever.

“I’ve just had the best summer of my life, and now I have ta leave, and it isn’t fuckin’ fair-”

“Billy”

“-It’s not fair.” The greaser pressed in close, so close, to memorize how it felt; how it felt to hold an angel in his hell bound arms. 

“Billy, is this the end? The end of us?”

“No, no ‘course not” Billy fainted a smile “it’s only the beginning Stevie.”

#GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE!! #Chapter 1 #harringrove grease AU #Greaser AU #grease(r) verse #greaser!Billy Hargrove #Grease is the word verse #harringrove fanfic #harringrove #harringrove fic #billy x steve #billy x steve fanfic #Grease crossover #Billy Hargrove Greaser #Cheerleader!Steve Harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington #mywritings

[123abcdrawwithme]

all spg albums poorly described by me bc i can

album one: steam man band: michael reed voice: GUYS HOLY HECK LOOKIT MY ROBOT FRIEMDS THEIR SO COOL OHMA G AD clockwork vaudeville: now when you say you bought yourself a pickle- sound of tomorrow: the jons audible lenny face as he says “in the nude” on top of the universe 2009 ver.: RABBIT FUCKED A TOASTER AND UPGRADE KILLED THE SPINE THE GIRLS ARE OFF THE SHITS on top of the universe 2011 ver.: alternate timeline where the jon and rabbit kill the spine and deny him ice cream i am not alone: poor one out for upgrades 1 (one) song, shes trying her best ice cream parade: i don’t even know where to begin with this one brass goggles: LOCAL ROBOS ARE FEELING EMO SO THEY HAVE A SING ALONG out in the rain: splish splash they was havin’ a bash electricity is in my soul: okay but whomst the hell is that electronic voice who sings the “la la’s”? serious question who tf is it???? steam man band reprise: michael reed voice: GUYS MY COOL ROBO FRIENDS ARE GETTING AN ENCORE HOLY HECKIE blind minstrel’s ballad: ominous captain albert alexander: listen,,,, he beat spider hulk in an arm wrestling match,,,, hes really cool,,,,,, the 2¢ show: steamboat shenanigans: some say they sang so hard they really did make it to the moon and across the stars ;) one-way ticket: CHU CHU I LOVE U ju ju magic: jonathan giraffe what tHE FUCK ARE YOU SINGING ABOUT HONEY? ARE YOU OKAY? me and my baby (saturday night): the spines a hopeless romantic and he loves to treat his girl and his siblings support him little birdie: jon makes friends with a bird or some shit idfk rex marksley: the spines a hopeless romantic and sings about his cowboy crush and his siblings support him automatonic electronic harmonics: they want to feel cool,, let them feel cool,, prelude to a dream: hey michael i thought you were supposed to be the human friend whats all this about not being a human being?? mike? m-mike?? make believe: FUCK SOCIETY, TRANS RIGHTS BITCHES *EPIC KAZOO SOLO* honeybee: ah yes that one song we won’t ever let them forget bc were all emo scary world: the morse code says spoopy the suspender man: rabbit voice: yeah theres this guys who sold his soul or whatever how fucked up was that, anyway i want to wear a dress :3c that’ll be the way home: THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL THAT’LL the ballad of lily: oh boi we about to have another character song on this album airheart: character song 2 electric boogaloo circuitry: y’all good? mk iii: curtain raiser: beebop voice: STEVETHY SOMEONES TRYING TO PLAY THE ALBUM   steve voice: oh fuck steam powered giraffe: HEHE NAME DROP mecto amore: this is some rabbits in love again shit but with WHAMST hatch fever: hatchy is here and the album version does not capture how feral hatchworth performed this on stage a way into your heart: spg as a whole @ their fans: we love you all so much thank you for the support over the years :) <3 me through tears: bitch,,,,, <3 ghost grinder: rabbit and the boys on their way to the graveyard at 3 am to party with rabbits dead gf please explain: i stg everytime i hear hatchy sing “gum in my gears” i think he’s saying something else and i’m sure you can fill in the blank, but the thing that gets me is thats so on brand for him to say dsfdfg she said maybe: rabbit is just young old dumb and full of love these days isn’t she? go spine go: almost 6 minutes of hatchworth and rabbit being two year olds and poking fun at spine roller skate king: everyone sleeps on how good this song is wtf i’ll rust with you: me knowing full well this song is about rabbit outliving her gfs throughout the decades bc shes a robot: oh,, so thats why theres so many love songs by rabbit on this album,,, rabbit you good?? wired wrong: the spine you good?? fancy shoes: hATCHWORTH YOU GOOD??? steam powered giraffe reprise: we interrupt your regularly scheduled robot angst hours with that good weeb shit™ turn back the clock: okay back the robot angst bleak horizon: our lovelys saying goodbye saying they’ll be back to bring smiles on our faces soon as we close out to some ominous as fuck shit teasing vice quadrant the vice quadrant: the vice does tight: okay so the vice quadrants fucked up and the robots are very concerned by this on a crescendo: ominous foreshadowing thats so ominous i had to look up what this song meant lore wise bc i just thought it was the robots just dancing and having fun steamjunk: my dear sweet honey darling is traveling through space and I’M WORRIED ABOUT HIM starburner: low-key robo angst bc their worried about their souls being damned or some shit but its cute  progress and technology: david YOUR RANGE wink the satellite: wink voice: YOU WAS MY BABY MY FUCKIN CINNAMON APPLE burning in the stratosphere: oh fire fire: this is the most haunting shit i have no joke for this sky sharks: hoo boi the sky sharks certainly won’t be killing us all today, but climate change sure will daughter of space: PREBBY SPACE GODDESS HNNNGNNGNG star valley night: honeys you know you can just wait for it to be night time right? then you can go play in the star valley at night- commander cosmo: BITCH YOU GOOD? where is everyone?: THERE SHE IS MY BABY gg the giraffe: MY DARLIIIIINNGGG SING IT HONEY  the pulls: wink my darling y’all ok? soliton: corpse man and space goddess sing a really nerdy analogy about love and its gorgeous where i left you: wink seriously are you okay? over the moon: rabbits just done but shes gotta sing it and go all out with how done she is bc shes extra it’s cosmic: is the “alright!” rav?? also is this love song supposed to represent them causing more fuckshit and destroying the universe and just not realizing it bc their in love?? idfk man it bops hold me: whether from the perspective of holly or rabbit i weep openly at this song the speed of light: david: this is where the astronaut turns evil won’t tell you why tho ;) literally every lore buff: *listens to this song and tries to theorize wtf happened* rav to the rescue: local green space twink rescues his space bf more at 11 starlight starshine: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO the space giant: three steampunk robots fight a giant starbaby in guitar hero to save a satellites crush; a planet thats a huge apple i have zero jokes for this is already too absurd  oh no: oh OH OH? O H. OOOH OH??????????? o  h... oh no.... necrostar: evil pissrock possessed evil dead guy and is ready to cause fuckshit while the robots sing about how scared they are at the end super space blaster centi-asteroid invaderpedes 2: cute interactions with the robots! i hate this title tho whale song: wholesome shit to distract you from all the lore and foreshadowing at the end Music from steamworld heist:  automatonic electronic harmonics, on top of the universe, electricity is is my soul, honeybee, and brass goggles: me minding my own business playing steamworld heist: *walks into a bar where spine rabbit and hatchworth are performing one of these songs* me: HOOOOOGH heist ho!: yeah thats piper for ya starscrap: hi i’m in love for rabbit? prepare for boarding: GET IN BITCHES WE’RE GONNA OVER THROW THE PATRIARCHY  the red queen: capitalism? demolished. what we need are some heros: the spine projecting his love for cowboys onto the player characters the vast frontier: hatchworth: I’M A BAD BITCH YOU CAN’T KILL ME the stars: they made it lads they made it over the moon and across the stars.... also how’d they keep singing for that long aren’t they tired? quintessential: malfunction: wow i can’t believe spg ended transphobia i don’t have a name for it: love? i guess??gd fgdsghfdg blue portals: the idea of hatchworth going through the blue portals when i know they’re made out of blue matter is terrifying  overdrive: they want to seem cool please play along and pretend their green screen work is cool the ballad of delilah morreo: this came right the fuck out of nowhere but fuck its here now and its fantastic love world of love: wonder what other balboa park songs they’ll bring back, like never gonna give you up :) only human: i’d die for you hatchy salgexicon: they deadass wrote a song about their dnd campaign  sleep evil sleep: i guess we’re all evil BC WE KEEPING SLEEPING ON HOW GOOD THIS SONG IS TOO photographic memories: walter worker chelsea? come get ur mans- leopold expeditus: hatchworth: hey guys checkout my fursona dream machine: this song keeps me up at night with the endING I JUST WANT RABBIT TO BE HAPPY AND ARTSY BUT THE WAY IT ENDED WITH THE VICE QUADRANT RELATED TEASER MAKES ME THINK RABBIT PICKED UP A SATELLITE FREQUENCY FROM WINK ABOUT HOW NECROSTAR WILL KILL RAV IN THE FUTURE DEADASS I’M NERVOUS WHAT HAPPENED

#steam powered giraffe #spg #this took forever please just take it #not art

[tarithenurse]

Orphan - 9

Starring:  Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! A good cop of something hot, pining, worrying. A/N: PREVIOUS CHAPTERS can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

9. Sisters, mothers, aunts

…   Morgan   …

All that wonderful snow just can’t go to waste, but after several wobbly snowmen and one perfect one (thanks to mom) the little girl has thrown herself into a pristine patch out of boredom, carefully considering her options as she sweeps the ground with arms and legs.

“What do these do?” Nebula’s voice pierces the fastmoving thoughts of the little girl.

The grey clouds tilt away, bringing the garden back into view and the blue woman wrapped in a mix of a borrowed bright yellow scarf and a green beanie. She’s crouched in front of a smaller snow figure (an attempt at a dog), bright black eyes taking in the lumpy shape.

“They don’t…do ‘nything,” Morgan admits. Are they supposed to do something?

Clearly dissatisfied, Nebula presses on. “Well, what is their purpose?”

“Why make ‘em?” Perhaps Nebs never got to build snowmen as a kid, the little girl realizes with horror. “For fu-un. What can you make with snow?”

“Shelter. Like a…hut.”

Morgan’s eye light up with the idea, already adding elaborate details to the construction in forms of turrets and battlements (even if she doesn’t know that is what the bumps on top of the walls are called). And who can deny a pair of big, dark eyes suddenly begging to partner on a project? Not the alien who swore years ago to protect the little one if anything were to happen to Tony, and so Nebula begins to stack the snow in a tremendous pile.

They’re digging out the inside of the mound (or rather, Nebula is excavating while Morgan forms and places blocks in a circle around the domed top) when a car pulls up, causing both constructors to pause and look. Short legs with heavy boots are already moving to run towards Uncle Rhodey when auntie’s voice sharply orders the girl to stay back. It sounds strangely cold and calm and Morgan can’t help to do what she’s told. A knot has formed in her tummy. Breath is quick. Is something wrong? She can’t figure out what it is because the only new is the woman who stepped out from the other side of the car, and one look at her face makes the confused girl feel happy. And sad. Weird.

 …   Reader   …

They talk like you aren’t there, bickering like a couple married for too long, and even if Rhodes is technically trying to defend you it’s as if he’s more worried about Cyborg Smurf and her feelings, his hands carefully reach out towards the woman, stopping short to protect her boundaries.

“She’s a spy!” No more than a hiss that won’t carry further than your straining ears.

“She was…lonely and afraid,” Rhodes insists, “jus’ looking for a family. Y’know what that’s like.”

Oh? If it wasn’t for the very clear memory of a sword then you would be staring at her now. Instead, you add it to the mental list of things that might be handy to know. It’s a long list.

“Want me to trust her? Think aga–“

“No.” The rapid answer stings. “I won’t tell ya what to think, just…accept Pepper’s giving her a chance, ‘ight?”

They continue back and forth, but your attention gets caught by the fluffy remains of a snowball landing on your boot with a soft thunk. It doesn’t take a genius to guess who threw it, but the nerves are gnawing at your insides as you turn to steal a glance at the kid. My half-sister. Sure, you might still not have a dad, but you have gotten an oddly stitched-together family to deal with somehow.

There are obvious differences between Tony Stark’s two daughters. The similarities, however? Just as many, and all hailing from the man you never got to know. Nearly identical set of eyes meet, filled with curiosity and a familiarity you know you can explain with logic if only you wanted to. Instead, you send a one-sided smile and lift your hand in a finger wiggling wave which the girl, Morgan, copies.

Movements slow, almost leisurely so, as you bend and scoop up a big handful of the cold precipitation to shape loosely in your hands. A wink and a questioning quirk of the brow is enough to send the kid into a silent fit of giggles before the projectile is launched in a soft arc to give her plenty of time to seek cover behind a snow hut in development.

You would have gotten a new handful of snow if it wasn’t for the exasperated sigh and the presence behind you. “Nebu. No!”

This is gonna be a loooong afternoon.

…

It’s awkward. Not only is the entire reason for you visiting painful, but Pepper tries a bit too hard (bless her soul), Nebula doesn’t try at all, Morgan is wonderfully oblivious to the adults’ tension, and poor Rhodes is trying to navigate it all. You manage to last a few hours, partially due to talking maintenance of the veteran��s leg braces when Pepper was occupied with the kid for a while, but mainly it’s been a sort of sweetened interrogation about your plans with Uni (waiting for an answer on the re-application), the home and job hunt (completely dependant on the study), and anything else they feel like. Like they’re going through a checklist.

Just as you’re about to ask Rhodes if he can bring you back to the Bartons’, his phone rings and not even the door separating the living room from the hallway is enough to hide how he snaps into military mode.

“Sorry, gotta go,” he offers as explanation when he pops back in, “duty calls.”

And with that he, and your ride, is gone. Moments later you hear the roar of the car, leaving you feeling trapped.

“You…we’ve got a spare guestroom…?”

The hesitation is evident: Pepper might have been the one inviting you but without intention of having you sleep over. No, this visit was no more than a test run to see if you were enough of a Stark or too much for her to want you in the family. She never said that, but you know it. It’s a typical method that you’ve seen one too many times in the foster care system, but this time you don’t blame her.

“I…thanks, but no…I might have another option.” Standing you dig out your phone and navigate past couch, chairs, and toys towards the relative privacy of the hallway.

Clint had given you a bunch of numbers any journalist or fan would kill to have, and right now your scrolling through them until you spot one who happens to live relatively close by and has a couch tested by others as a bed.

Hot and cold dances through your body, dousing the already jittery nerves with fuel. Each time you hear the call tone your heart drops and it doesn’t make sense that it would feel like this – that butterflies in your belly are trying to hold up cold lead.

“[Y/N]?” Of course, anyone would follow the warm baritone if it called out to them. “Uhm…hi!” It’s like the softest wool to your mind, shielding you in a cocoon against doubts or abandonment.

Everything will be fine. Then you remember you have to reply. “Yeah, hello! Ehh…” Smooth, real smooth, ugh! “I’m…I was…” Fuck it. “You once said I could crash at your place and uhmm…I’m kinda stuck away from Clint and Laura’s an–“

“You’re at To-Pepper’s?”

How…? “Yeah. Rhodes just bailed and…it’d feel strange to sleep over, y’know?”

“I get it. On my way.”

“Thanks.”

Both of you hesitate for a moment, making you worry about what you’re supposed to say when Captain freaking America is coming to your rescue, but before you can put any coherent sentence together, he has hung up. The hallway is silent now. The light reflecting off the snow outside, cold despite the yellow hue, and the sliver of light under the closed living room door is all the illumination available. In there, in front of the fireplace, is a tiny family which you theoretically are a part of….just not technically – and standing here in the gloom underlines exactly that.

How can it ever be different? Nothing can replace the life you’ve had. Your own mother. No, perhaps it’s better to just step away and pretend nothing ties you together, let Morgan be the only child left behind by Tony Stark just like she was the only one who got to grow up with him.

Lost in thoughts, you don’t register Morgan skipping out into the hallway until she’s wrapped her little arms up as high as she can around your thighs.

“G’night,” she grins crookedly for a second before sobering up, “please come back soon and make mummy smile more.”

With those words she’s running off up the staircase with not a care in the world while you’re left behind with an uncanny sensation of being watched – hairs stand on end due to the goosebumps running down your spine. Make mommy smile more, your semi-sister’s voice echoes inside your head. Make mommy smile more. Make mommy smile. Smile more. Smile more? As a new widow, it would make sense if Pepper doesn’t smile much, the loss being too strong, too present in every little thing. Still, throughout the afternoon she’s smiled and laughed with enough heartfelt joy that the sorrow became invisible if only for a moment. Did I make her smile?

Your brows scrunch in confusion and it’s impossible not to look at the silent women who seem to be waiting for you to do or say something. Anything.

“Did…? Have…?” Unsure what to ask the question dies on your lips.

Nebula shuffles, clearly uncomfortable. “The little one likes you, spy.” Danger still gleams in the black nothingness of her eyes but her posture screams doubt. “Perhaps I’ve been mistaken.”

It’s nothing but a tiny twitch of the lips when Pepper bites back a smile. “Would you mind checking that she’s brushing her teeth, Nebu?”

“Certainly, strong teeth are excellent for close combat.”

Once alone, your own awkwardness doubles. How long would it take Cap to get here? Pulling at your arm as if you can make yourself smaller, you’re sure you must appear sort of pathetic.

“It’s…thank you for y’know…havin’ me over,” you try lamely.

Even without high heels, Pepper is still a tall woman and she becomes almost elven in the scarce light. “She’s right, actually,” she admits, “I…it was nice having you here. To get to talk with you…even if it might have felt more like an interrogation…”

“Weeell…I mean…a bit, but that’s pro’lly logical.” C’mon, man! “Kinda hard for it not to fundamentally be freaking strange…all things considered.”

“I haven’t told Morgan anything…” It sounds apologetic, almost. “It’s up to you what role you want in the family.” Up to…? “But the way I see it…you’re Tony’s daughter. You’re family.” You can feel how your lips part at the confession, and you stand there gaping at the woman. “Just…give us time to find a balance.”

Maybe your father knew exactly what he was doing when he married this woman instead of your mom. Regardless: the past is impossible to change while the present is simultaneously tempting and scary due to the multitude of options available. I get to choose? It had been hard enough to put together a few outfits when you went shopping for the first time with Laura and Lila.

You don’t dare to look Pepper in the eyes. “Maybe get to know each other first? Before deciding?”

It’s a gentle hand that shapes around your shoulder, passing on a sense of security. “I like that,” the widow agrees, “you’re always welcome.” She hesitates, and you glance to see her biting her lip as if in doubt. “While you wait…why won’t you come and hear about Tony? Just let me tug Morgan in.”

 …   Morgan   …

Any smart girl knows how important it is for adults to brush their teeth too, and it had been a simple task to convince Aunt Nebula to join in by the sink where they’d competed in looking the grossest with the toothpaste drool, laughing so much Morgan’s cheeks began to hurt.

That giddiness is gone again as the kid crawls into bed. Nebula is standing by the window, staring at the few stars poking out between the clouds and Morgan knows deep inside her little chest that the alien misses flying between the stars.

“They want you back too, Nebu.”

Speaking softly, the words are barely even a whisper that most people would overhear. Not the blue woman. Hiding a sigh, she comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, a hand automatically fidgeting with a knife strapped to the thigh.

“They can wait,” Nebula’s voice cracks a bit, “and instead, when you are older and stronger, we’ll go visit them together.”

“Really?” The child’s smile is contagious, even as it turns into a wistful frown. “Gotta lot to learn first, then.”

 …   Reader   …

There simply isn’t room for anymore stories about your father, the great Tony Stark, but what you have heard is starting to paint a picture of a man much more complex that the news stories and interviews has ever managed to reveal. You shouldn’t be surprised. Neither at the (many) wild years – the last of which you are a result of – nor the dedication he showed when working on a project regardless of the magnitude, and still your mind is spinning from the effort of analyzing every tidbit of new knowledge.

Tired and unable to take more, you are already pulling on your coat and boots to get some fresh air when a car pulls into the long driveway, reminding you of the arrangement and a whole new set of worries.

Steve Rogers.

The name brings a cascade of butterflies with it, untameable despite your best efforts and forcing you to say goodnight and goodbye before it becomes obvious.

#Orphan MCU Fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #Steve Rogers #Steve rogers x reader #tony stark #morgan stark #Pepper Potts #Nebula #james rhodes #captain america #Iron Man #Warmachine #marvel cinematic universe #Avengers #Guardians of the Galaxy #clint barton #laura barton #barton family #steve rogers x you #Orphan #MCU #mcu fanfic series #mcu fanfic #Pining #finding a home #loss of parents #post-endgame #Finding a family #Family #identity

[slutforgoodliterature]

Bucky Barnes x Reader - Mischief Managed (barely)

Prompt: You and your boyfriend Bucky are sick of all the team meetings Steve keeps dragging you into. He finds a fun way to pass the time, and you are at the brunt of said fun. 

Warnings: vaginal fingering, public

“I refuse to believe Steve has called yet another team meeting.” You grumble. Bucky shakes his head at you, completely exasperated as well. 

“I know, Y/N, but we gotta go. Can’t let Cap down.” He sends you a small smile, reaching out a hand for you to grab so he can pull you off the bed, where you currently are curled up in a heap. “I mean if we don’t turn up, who is?” He tacks on, and you have to agree with him. 

As much as you love Steve, the guy can be a bit overbearing. 

Sighing, you allow your boyfriend to drag you off the bed. “Fine,” you huff, “but I want to make it clear I am going against my will.” He smirks at you and swiftly tickles the skin of your stomach that appears as you are pulling on a jumper. His jumper, to be exact.

Squealing, you grab his hand before yanking it behind his arm, twisting him into submission.  

“Ok, ok! No more tickling.” He chuckles, and you shove him hard as you let go just so he gets the message.

“Try it again, and you’re sleeping on the floor, Barnes.” You warn him. 

Tickles are not a game.

As you exit your room, he has to rotate his metal arm in his shoulder socket to put it back into place, and you feel a little guilty.

“Jeez, you really did a number on me in there, didn’t ya, doll?” He jokes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be so rough. I just hate tickling, you know that.” You apologise, gripping his hand tightly. He squeezes back. 

“I also know you like it rough, so no need to apologise, princess.” He murmurs back, his head ducked into your ear, and you blush hard. 

“Pipe down, soldier. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of all your friends.” You mumble back, but warmth is already pooling in your lower stomach.

“Mm, you’re right. We really wouldn’t want that.” He hums, but you can see there’s a mischevious glint in his eyes.

“Nuh-uh. I know that look.” You poke his chest playfully. “What are you up to?” You demand, drawing him to a stop just outside the door to the conference room, where all your fellow Avengers are waiting. 

He simply raises an eyebrow, looking at you innocently. “No idea what you’re on about, dollface.” 

You don’t believe him, not one bit, but you allow him to lead you into the room anyway.

You definitely should’ve known better.

“Bucky, Y/N. Glad to see you two could make it.” Steve nods at you both as you take seats at the far end of the table, next to Nat and across from Bruce and Sam, who has his feet propped up on the table and a hat tilted over his face. He is definitely asleep. 

Bucky sends his chair a kick from under the table, causing him to jerk awake with a yelp.

“Who did that?” He demands, scouring the room until he catches Bucky’s barely concealed snicker. 

“Watch it, Tin Man.” Sam threatens, to which Bucky rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest menacingly, but you couldn’t help admire the way the fabric of his shirt stretched across his pecs. 

Did it get hotter in here, or is that just you? 

“Or what, Big Bird?”

Sam opens his mouth to retort but Steve butts in, shutting it down.

“Enough, you two!” He massages the bridge of his nose, looking every bit the tired mother he is. “If I wanted to babysit, I would’ve invited Queens.” Both Sam and Bucky shoot each other a final look before Bucky shifts his chair closer to you, facing away from Sam. 

“God, you’re gonna give the poor guy an aneurysm.” You whisper to Bucky, the two of you laughing quietly to each other as you watch Steve attempt to use the complicated technology of Stark Tower. 

“Either that or his pen is gonna snap.” Bucky points out the tight grip Steve has on a pen, that really does look like it’s in imminent danger, and you can’t help but giggle. 

“Barnes. Y/L/N. Shut up.” Tony’s voice rings out, sending you two a half-hearted glare. 

“Sorry, dad.” You smile back, ignoring Steves exasperated sigh. 

“Moving on...” He stresses, gesturing back to the blueprints of some Hydra facility you were planning on breaking into. 

You try to zone in, you really do, but all of a sudden Bucky’s hand is sliding up your thigh and omg is he serious right now?!

“Bucky!” You whisper hiss at him, gripping his metal wrist with your hand. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“More like who.” He smirks as he whispers to you under his breath. He captures your intense gaze as his arm continues his way up your leg, the inhuman strength of his metal arm no match for you.

And let’s be honest, you aren’t exactly trying all that hard to stop him. 

“Eyes front, Barnes.” Steve orders, tearing Bucky’s gaze away from your flushed cheeks.

“Sir, yes sir.” He sends a mock salute to Steve, who rolls his eyes at his best friend. 

“Y/N, you all good down there?” Wanda asks, ever concerned. You’re about to tell her that yes, you are just dandy, when Bucky's hand cups your core. You suck in a harsh breath and have to stop yourself from nearly jumping out of your seat. 

“She’s fine, just ate some bad prawns at lunch,” Bucky reassures Wanda, who is stilling looking for you to reassure her. You nod at her, sending her a thankful smile, which finally puts her at ease and draws attention away from you and your conniving boyfriend. 

“Prawns?” You hiss, clenching your thighs together as his hand slowly rubs you through your gym leggings, which are very thin, mind you. 

“Shh,” he shushes you, “only you and I know that it wasn’t prawns you had in your mouth at lunch.” He smirks evilly at you before applying more pressure to his wandering hand.

A hell of a lot more pressure. Holy fuckkkk...

“You...you...sonuvabitch.” You swear under your breath, and all of a sudden you notice your hand is no longer pushing him away, but gripping his wrist tightly; pulling him closer. 

“Language, Cap might hear you.” He looks casually back up to Steve, who hasn’t noticed a damn thing. Neither has the rest of the table, for which you thank your lucky stars. “I’m sure he wouldn’t like to hear those words come out of such a pretty mouth. But I guess that mouth of yours can also-”

“Oh shut up, Barnes.” You groan, your eyes fluttering closed as his fingers begin paying special attention to a certain bundle of nerves. 

“You havin’ fun, princess?” His breath fans across your face. “You like having me touch you like that?”

“Bucky, I swear to god...” You curse, bringing everybody’s eyes back on you two. 

“Woah, Y/N, you really don’t look well,” Bruce says in a worried tone. Murmurs of agreement sound throughout the whole room. 

“You’re right, I am feeling kinda ill...” You agree, fanning your face for effect. Bucky rolls his eyes, which you catch out of the corner of your eye, and increases the speed and pressure of his fingers, making your eyes bulge. “I think I should go-” 

The knot in the pit of your stomach is building steadily, and you can feel an intense orgasm rushing towards you. 

“Can you just wait two more minutes, Y/N?” Tony asks, annoyed that you have yet again interrupted the meeting. “We’re almost done here. Unless you’re gonna spew of course, then, by all means, take it outside. I do not want you ruining my carpet.” 

“She’ll be fine. You can hold on a couple more minutes, can’t you, babe?” Bucky replies before you have the chance to, challenging you with his eyes. 

Always a sucker for a challenge, you find yourself nodding. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be fine.” You assure everyone, gesturing to Tony and Steve to continue with the plans. 

“Brilliant. So after Wanda and Vision intercept group C here...” Steves' voice trails off in your head as you are completely consumed by the sensations Bucky is causing you at the moment. 

“Fuck...Bucky, baby, I don’t know how much longer...” your breath is now coming out in harsh pants, your almost legs trembling with pleasure. His fingers continue working you, circling and tapping and overall just driving you absolutely insane. 

“You’re loving this, aren’t ya, doll? My filthy girl.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, how he loves that he can dissolve you into a panting, trembling mess with just his fingers. “I’m gonna make you cum, and I haven’t even touched you yet, not really.”

He began to push his fingers into your clit, hard, and keep them circling there. You let out a litany of swears under your breath. “So close, James. Fuck...” 

“Come on, princess. Let go. Cum for me in front of everyone.” His gruff voice sends you over the edge. 

As your orgasm crashes through you, you have to bite down on your knuckles to contain your moans. Bucky’s fingers continue their torturous pressure, rising you through the throes of pleasure until your body is twitching and your other hand scrabbles at his, attempting to push it away from you. 

“Jeez, what’s up with you, girly?” Sam asks, concerned, and you open your eyes to realise that everyone is staring at you and Bucky. You face is completely flushed and his hand is not-so-inconspicuously placed between your legs. 

Bucky seems to have also forgotten your audience, as his eyes slowly focus, coming out of a daze. He presses a quick kiss to your forehead and removes his hand, gripping your thigh softly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles. 

“Sorry, I just thought tickling her would make her feel better.” He covers smoothly, and squeezes your thigh, making your knee jump and hit the table as you let out a yelp. “Who would’ve thought she hates tickles that much, eh?” He smiles innocently at everyone, who seems to buy his lie with rolled eyes and snickers. 

“Well, we’re finished here, did you get all that?” Steve addresses everyone and receives a few ‘yes sirs’ here and there along with a couple of thumbs up. 

“We’re finished here as well, aren’t we, dollface?” Bucky whispers to you, drawing a tired smile from you. 

“Just you wait, Barnes. Karma’s a bitch.” You pat him playfully on the cheek before sashaying out of the room, feeling his eyes burn into you as you swayed your hips teasingly. 

You couldn’t wait to get him back for that. 

#Smut #avengers #avengerssmut #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader

[mentalmimosa]

the moment strikes where it strikes (part iv)

Previous installments here: [archiveofourown.org/works/19830736/chapters/46956769]

Only a Hulk squeeze at the base of Tony’s cock stops him from shooting then, Steve’s hand and Steve’s words and holy shit, Steve, flaying the last vestiges of his sense from his nerves. And it’s a good thing he does grab, honestly, because three two one later and Barnes is giving it up, his gorgeous ass clenching and the gears of his metal arms grinding and his forehead pressed to Steve’s temple, moaning, as his body does its damnedest to shove his spunk all the way in.

The hand that isn’t holding off Tony’s personal Valhalla finds Steve’s, grasps it, and it’s perfect and awkward, holding Steve’s hand as Bucky empties himself out inside.

“Can I have him now?” Steve says when the maelstrom has ebbed, when Bucky’s groans have softened to whimpers.

“Mmmm,” Bucky manages. He shifts and finds Steve’s mouth. “May, you mean. May you have him.”

The crack slips out before Tony can stop it. “You never struck me as a pedant, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckles. “My mom always said it’s the little things that count. Why the hell do you think I found Steve? He was the fiercest little runt of the bunch.”

“Bucky,” Steve bitches, and it’s funny to Tony--kind of delightful, actually--to see that attitude turned on someone that isn’t him.

“What?” Bucky nuzzles Steve’s neck and rocks his hips, hums when Steve shimmies and whines. “You were. I hate to break it to you, but it’s in the history books now, what a pissed-off shrimp you were. It’s a certified fact.”

“Hey,” Tony says, and oh fuck, his voice still works. Cool. “I think our boy wants it to be my turn. Now that you’ve, uh, cleared the way.”

“Fine,” Bucky says, his eyes dark and amused. “Condom’s in the drawer there. Put it on. And take the rest of that shit all off.”

“And as for you,” Tony hears Bucky say while he’s shucking his shirt and his sneaks and his jeans, “you be a good boy for us and don’t come, you understand me? You can’t come until Tony says it’s ok.”

Steve whimpers and Tony’s cock jerks and he’s naked at fucking last and fighting with foil. Of course he is. Now that Bucky’s pulled out and left Steve wet and open for him, his fingers are officially on fucking strike.

“Here,” Bucky says in his ear and hello, worst possible development for staving off orgasm: a naked and satisfied Winter Soldier tucked up tight at his back. “Lemme help.”

It takes two minutes and a lot of desperate, silent prayer for Tony to land on the shores of that bed, his knees in Steve and Bucky’s sheets, Bucky’s hot palms on his hips, and Steve a writhing, squirming ocean staring back. He’s sheathed thanks to Barnes and harder than a doornail thanks to them both and god help him if he’s never seen anything more beautiful than his own hands tracing the soft inside of Steve’s thighs. It’s soft, that skin, and also wet, marked by Bucky’s come, and if he thinks about it too hard that’ll be all she wrote.

Doesn’t help that Steve’s fists are curled in the sheets, that his dick is dripping, that he’s staring at Tony like he’s ready to be eaten alive.

“Go on, then.” Bucky pushes a little, leans the weight of his chest against Tony’s back. “He’d ready for you. And look at him, huh? Look how hard he’s fighting not to fucking come. We gotta reward him for that.”

“Tony.” A word so soft, he thinks he’s dreaming. So pretty, he can’t believe that he isn’t. “Tony, yes. Yes yes yes. Please.”

Then his nails are skating and his body is moving and he doesn’t take it slowly, there’s no way that he can; once touch of Steve’s dripping clench and god help him, he needs it all right then and there.

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky says in his ear, his hands curling around to stroke at Tony’s stomach. “Look at you, baby. He was made for you, wasn’t he? Like a key in a lock.”

Thank god he’s wearing a condom. Thank god. Thank fucking god. Because if he wasn’t--a groan leaks out of his throat and his hips hitch--if he was feeling Steve bare, all of Bucky’s come, he would gone off like a shot like the kid he was certainly not.

“That’s it,” Bucky murmurs. His mouth’s hot against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Go on, let him have it. You have no idea how much he wants it. He’s waited so long.”

In front of him, around him, Steve is on fire, all that warm, perfect skin Pollack-ed with red. His back is arched and his cock is dripping and he’s actually fucking clawing at the bed and the noise he’s making is high and loud and tight and it feels like a dream, the scene does, the dirtiest, most beautiful dream.

Bucky nuzzles his throat. “Hold his thighs open. No, push them apart hard, mmmm, there you go. That’s right.”

“He’s trembling,” Tony whispers, watching that beautiful body yield for him and then fight not to let him pull back. “Bucky, he’s shaking so hard.”

A chuckle, one that runs like caramel down his back. “So are you, sweetheart. Hmm? Aren’t you?” Strong arms curl around him, squeeze him, and now holy god, he’s done for. This is it. There’s no coming back. “Don’t hold back on him, Tony. Don’t hold back on yourself. He doesn’t want you to, do you, baby?”

Steve’s head tosses on the pillow and there’s a groan and suddenly--shit shit shit--his hips are pushing down, his body straining to meet every thrust as his hand slithers up to his big pretty dick and now everybody’s groaning, it’s one long line of sound, the noise molded together as tightly as their bodies.

“Next time,” Bucky growls, “next time you fuck him like this, I gotta be inside you. God, I knew it’d be hot watching him take your cock, but Christ--!”

His head is on Bucky’s shoulder and Bucky’s cock is hard against his ass and Bucky is everywhere and where Bucky isn’t there’s Steve, Steve goddamn Rogers, the unrequited love of his life who’s squeezing him so fucking tight and whose head is tipped down at last, whose eyes are wide and wet and fixed on Tony’s as he grins, that beautiful bastard, as he stutters in his own fist and grins.

“Tony,” he gets out, a petal hurled from a storm, “oh, god, Tony, fuck. Make me come.”

And then he’s clutching at Steve’s thighs and he feels like he’s dying and he’s roaring, pounding mindless, driving, and there’s no more sense to be found in the sweet hollow of Steve’s body because there’s white everywhere, the smell of Steve’s spunk, shot after shot of it, and the heat of Bucky’s mouth on his and when he comes, there’s no sound and no breath--it’s like leaping from a plane with no chute. He’s falling and falling and the sky is singing around him, stars plastered to the backs of his eyes, and just when he feels the ground approaching, Bucky’s fingers slip down and tease his balls and up he goes again, sailing, another sharp hitch of his hips.

“Next time,” Bucky whispers against his chin, “next time I want you inside of him bare.”

****

When he settles to the ground at last, it’s Bucky who pulls him out, who rolls off the rubber, who pushes him jellified into Steve’s arms. It’s Steve who tugs him close and kisses him, tender, his mouth soft and impossibly sweet. It’s Steve who pets his poor, exhausted cock and sighs when Tony’s fingers sweep the through the mess of Steve’s come. Their legs tangle and their tongues do, too; kissing Steve is taking a slow stroll on the beach. Long and lazy, the man’s kisses are, his big, solid hands, his contented little hums. He’s the ocean, Steve Rogers, vast and warm and forgiving, pleased as fucking punch, apparently, to have Tony close, to hold.

It’s Bucky who crawls under the sheets still hard enough to cut glass, Bucky who props his head up on one hand and takes his cock in the other and strokes himself while they kiss. And if that gets Tony’s one remaining brain cell lit up, having Bucky Barnes jerk off beside him, if he tugs at the arms of America’s golden boy until said boy gets the message and rolls on top of him so he can be smothered by all that gorgeous hot skin while they kiss, well, so be it.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky spits when Tony finally gets his hands on that perfect peach of an ass. “Oh shit .”

When Bucky comes, Tony’s hands are in the wreck of Steve’s hair and Steve is rutting gently against him, purring, his fingers stroking down Tony’s ribs and then Bucky’s groaning, shooting, humming, the heat of his spunk just catching their skin and god, the way Steve smiles then, in that small, perfect moment, makes a light in Tony’s battered soul shine.

He hangs on to that light when the bed grows quiet, when they do, when they curl close to him and fall asleep with their hands on his skin.

Next time , Bucky had said, again and again. Next time . Would there be one?

He wondered if audience participation had always been on the menu, if it was de rigueur was when they invited a spectator in. Because they’d done it before, hadn’t they? When Bucky had pointed him to the chair and said in no uncertain terms stay there, he’d been so sure. They’d seemed to know exactly what they wanted from him.

But then Steve had reached for him, and then Bucky had, and once the condom went on, it had been easy to believe that it was Tony they wanted, him, not just anybody. Not just any random dude with a dick.

He was made for you, wasn’t he? Bucky had said as he pushed in. Like a key in a lock.

“Hey.” A feather kiss against his shoulder. “You ok?”

“”M fine.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s hand strokes his chest. “You havin’ trouble sleeping? If Buck’s snoring in your ear, just punch him.”

“No, ‘s ok.”

It makes sense to turn his head and find Steve’s mouth waiting for him, to close his eyes in the darkness and sink his tongue inside. It makes sense to sink into the feel of Steve’s fingers, into the soft, sleep sounds he makes as they kissed. And it makes sense to let go and and give into every feeling he’s been fighting all night long and think and know and know Steve Rogers, I love you.

And now there’s Bucky, too, dreaming against his back, his breath in Tony’s hair, and what the hell does that mean, exactly? Wanting the guy was one thing, but it felt like more than that now.

...it did, didn’t it? Shit.

“Hey.” Steve’s cupping his face now, their lips still pressed together. “Tony, what is it?”

There’s a flutter in his head now, a beating wing of panic. His body feels so good but his mind doesn’t. Too much in there, too much feeling; he’s trying to process too much at once.

“I think…” The words come out like a croak. “I think I, uh--I need to sleep in my own bed.”

Steve’s thumb slides down his face. “Ok. I understand.”

Do you? Tony thinks. His heart’s officially Road Runner-ing. It’s getting harder to breathe. Because I don’t.

“Tony?”

“Hmmm?”

A smile, one he can feel as much as taste. “Thank you.”

Then Steve’s kissing him again, fervent and eager and sweet, and god help him, Tony wants to throw his arms around the man’s neck and hang on for dear fucking life.

But what he does instead is press his palms to Steve’s chest and push just a little, just enough.

“You’re welcome, believe me, I, ah--I just--”

And then he’s free and he’s sliding down the bed, off it.

“Ok,” he hears Steve says again, a little bruise of a word. “Yeah, Tony. Ok.”

Outside, the light in the hallway’s too bright and it hurts him to open his eyes. It’s easier to keep them closed as he stumbles away from one of the best nights of his life and into his own bedroom, cold and alone, and more than anything, afraid.

What if they don’t want me? he thinks as he shivers, the shake in his skin so different from what had been with Bucky and Steve around him. What if it isn’t me that they want?

What if, he wonders.  

Next time, Bucky whispers.

What if

Next time

What if And then, just before exhaustion grabs him, he imagines Steve’s voice in his ear, soft and certain: Next time.

#stuckony #anxiety attack #condoms

[fallencomrade-a]

“Can we go home?” ( x.x )

     𝑊𝐻𝐸𝑁   𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑉𝐸   𝐹𝐼𝑅𝑆𝑇   𝑇𝑂𝐿𝐷   𝐻𝐼𝑀,   they  both  agreed  to  avoid  it.  before  buck  had  come  back  into  the  picture,  steve  had  accepted  the  offer  on  a  curious  whim  and  upon  their  discussion,  had  confirmed  its  PUNCH.  buck  was  certainly  CURIOUS  himself,  to  see  if  such  a  thing  would  work  inside  his  own  body.  despite  sharing  the  essence  of  the  same  serum,  bucky’s  metabolism  worked  somewhat  differently  compared  to  the  captain’s.  durable,  like  steve’s  but  with  a  slightly  higher  tolerance  to  toxins,  drugs,  poisons,  anesthetics,  and  other  chemicals  thanks  to  his  time  spent  as  a  LAB  RAT.  still,  given  his  notoriously  VOLATILE  temperament,  both  steve  and  himself  agreed  it  sounded  like  an  unnecessary  risk  and  a  bad  idea  to  ever  try.  not  to  mention,  given  his  past  VICES,  buck  did  not  want  to  form  any  unhealthy  habits.  he  remembers  how  hard  he  had  tried,  back  in  the  day  -  after  azzano  …   

     but  fuck,  he  is  still  struggling  to  understand  CONTROL,  his  willpower  certainly  lacking  in  some  regards  -  not  to  mention,  stark’s  new  years  eve  bash  /  party  /  gala  /  media  stunt  is  UNBEARABLE.  so  yeah,  steve  is  going  to  be  DISAPPOINTED  with  him,  because  they  had  agreed  -  but  steve  had  also  left  him  alone,  the  stupid  idiot.  these  charity  events  stark  hosted  were  mostly  to  SAVE  FACE,  while  feeding  the  sharks …  at  least,  that  is  what  stark  had  said  in  order  to  rope  steve  into  attending.  more  than  that  though,  the  shindig  really  was  raising  a  lot  of  money  for  local  charities  and  steven  rogers  is  incapable  of  refusing  a  request  that  would  help  others.  buck  had  tagged  along  because …  well,  because  he  knows  how  much  steve  HATES  these  things.  &&  also,  it  is  NEW  YEARS  EVE !  regardless  of  how  much  barnes  hates  crowds,  he  wanted  to  spend  the  night  with  his  BEST  GUY.  

     the  media  is  ENAMORED  with  the  captain,  but  not  so  much  with  the  soldier.  and  even  though  steve  is  quite  bad  at  feeding  the  sharks,  he  is  still  better  at  answering  their  questions  than  bucky  is.  natalia  had  come  over  and  whisked  steve  away  about  thirty  minutes  ago  and  buck  had  stayed  behind,  hovering  awkwardly  in  his  secluded  corner,  holding  the  drink  thor  had  so  graciously  offered  him.  the  god  had  given  him  a  wink  and  a  hard  pat  on  the  shoulder  before  going  back  to  the  dance  floor  and  attempting  to  take  the  lead  in  some  drunken  conga  line.  

     he  had  but  the  tiniest  of  sips,  confident  his  body  would  not  be  affected.   —  but  apparently,  asgardian  mead  really  is  some  NEXT  LEVEL  SHIT.  he  is  warm,  NOT  drunk.  but  pleasantly …  warm.  he  can  feel  his  heart  thumping,  thrumming  against  his  ribcage  like  a  butterfly  flapping  its  wings.  the  sharp  edge  of  PARANOIA  that  follows  him  everywhere  has  dulled  slightly,  allowing  him  to  breathe  a  little  easier  and  notice  things  he  might  not  have  noticed  before  -  like  the  vibrations  of  the  loud  music  against  the  soles  of  his  feet  or  the  way  the  lights  reflect  off  the  crystal  chandeliers  ;;  the  BOOM  of  thor’s  raucous  laughter  or  the  way  wanda’s  dress  shimmers  as  she  dances  with  vision.  his  shoulders  droop  slightly,  releasing  the  rigid  tension  that  holds  a  permanent  spot  there.  reflexes  have  slowed  a  tad  and  those  CRAZED  thoughts  that  buzz  and  DRONE  and  constantly  hound  him  have  turned  sticky  and  thick  -  like  syrup.    —  &&  he  is  warm …  which  is  very  nice.  

     before  the  serum,  back  in  the  good  ol’  days,  a  warm  bucky  barnes  would  have  talked  to  every  single  person  he  passed.  he  would  have  made  a  beeline  straight  to  the  dance  floor  and  spent  hours  there  burning  off  the  fever  in  his  body.  THIS  bucky  barnes  though  is  content  to  simply  stand  in  his  dark  corner,  holding  his  drink  to  his  chest  while  watching  the  world  move  around  him.  

     but  oh  !   how  that  warmth  BLOOMS  inside  of  him  when  that  voice  finds  his  ear,  turning  syrup  into  warm  honey,  elevating  the  tempo  inside  his  chest  to  something  truly  EXQUISITE.  a  lick  of  heat  travels  up  his  spine  and  the  LOVESICK  boy  is  straightening  himself  up  immediately.  an  eager  DOPEY  smile  stretches  across  his  pale  lips  as  he  twists  to  turn  his  gaze  and  his  body  towards  the  other  man.  &&  there  he  is  -  his  handsome,  stupid  punk  with  his  handsomely  stupid,  AGGRIEVED  face.  poor  steve.  his  guy  ain’t  havin’  a  lick  of  fun,  at  all.  bucky  leans  into  his  space  quickly,  momentarily  forgetting  that  steve  isn’t  all  too  comfortable  with  public  displays  of  affection,  but  he  can’t  really  help  it …  steve  just  looks  so  sad.  bucky  nudges  his  nose  clumsily  against  the  blond’s  and  pushes  closer  until  their  foreheads  bump  together. 

     ONE THING THAT HASN’T CHANGED  between  that  bucky  and  this  bucky ?  when  feeling  warm,  bucky  still  tends  to  be  overly  AFFECTIONATE  with  the  things  he  loves.  he  grins,  big  &&  wide  as  he  pulls  steve  into  a  tight  hug,  closing  his  eyes  and  squeezing  tight.  

                                                                     ❛  I  AM  HOME.  ❜

BRINGING IN THE NEW YEAR ( meme )𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆ID: @notxofuse

#notxofuse #✪ ❮ A N S W E R E D ．❯ // ❛ 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚎. #✪ ❮ V E R S E ．❯ // ❛ 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜. #✪ ❮ R E L A T I O N S H I P．❯ // ❛ womb to tomb :: (notxofuse) #✪ ❮ O U T O F C H A R A C T E R ．❯ // ❛ ༼♥ل͜♥༽