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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 1 year

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MY HEART HURTS

Heart of Glass

Summary: You hate it when Bucky is mad, but it's a thousand times worse when you're the one he's mad at.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecation, self-harm (?)

A/N: I love stories like these so thought I'd take a stab at it. Please do leave feedback, they are always encouraging!

Length: 4.8k

It had taken Bucky a long time to open up to you. His journey of being able to face what he had done as the Winter Soldier was long and arduous, and still ongoing. He had vivid nightmares, ones which alleviated in frequency over the course of the last few years, but which still sometimes made an unwelcome appearance.

His own healing was a work in progress, so it was no surprise that it was still a struggle for him to divulge certain aspects to you. He found it difficult letting himself be vulnerable, even around people he trusted, and insight into his past had been offered to you in scattered pieces.

You had been patient, although you wished that Bucky would feel comfortable revealing more. You never judged him, and you just wanted to help and do your part in the recovery process, if you could. It was much worse hearing the exacerbated, hateful stories of the Winter Soldier from other people’s mouths - the Internet was a horrid place, and whilst there were still a lot of people who supported Bucky Barnes and the Avengers in general, there were just as many people who would not forgive him for being the Winter Soldier.

You knew that you shouldn’t have done what you did. You and Bucky had been together for just over a year, friends for three times that long. It hadn’t all been flowers and rainbows - it had been a tumultuous relationship and you had had your ups and downs, but at the end of the day, you knew you had found your person. You were both learning and growing together, navigating the tougher obstacles in your relationship with enthusiasm. You had finally found someone you were truly madly in love with, and you felt so lucky.

It wasn’t easy, working for S.H.I.E.L.D as an agent which was a demanding career in itself, and dating someone who was almost in constant danger and carrying out often life-threatening missions. But you made it work. Getting to love Bucky and have him love you back was worth anything, and you loved being able to see him smile and, what’s more, being his reason to smile.

On the same token, you hated seeing him unhappy. It was the most devastating feeling in the world, in times when he was disappointed in himself, or when he had woken up from a particularly bad nightmare, or after one of his mandated therapy sessions.

The worst thing was seeing him mad. And it’s a thousand times worse when you’re the one he’s mad at.

You knew that you shouldn’t have done it. You felt guilty as you passed your colleagues desk and your eyes naturally flickered to a familiar name in recognition. BARNES, JAMES BUCHANAN.

You frowned slightly, realizing that his file was on a pile alongside a couple of other familiar names. It wasn’t unusual for another agent to have his file out, particularly if he was looking into specific incidents that Bucky may have been involved in the past, but you had never actually seen it in front of you before.

Of course, it would have been easy for you to find the file and look for yourself. Everything had electronic copies these days, or you could have grabbed the physical copies from the archive. But you had never done it, as it just didn’t feel right. Reading up on your boyfriend’s past like his life was a history book.

Still, despite yourself, you paused. You found your hand reaching out and you took a deep breath of momentary hesitation before you flicked open the file.

An assortment of photos and documents were stacked neatly inside. You couldn’t help it as you found your eyes consuming the information, flicking from page to page. The guilt was building in your gut the longer you spent, standing slightly crouched over the desk, consuming the information with an uncomfortable lump in your throat.

You wanted to cry. You felt your hate for HYDRA increase ten-fold, thinking about all the pain they inflicted on Bucky to manipulate him into their own personal killing machine, thinking about how they had simply made him hurt all those people. Bucky often had the most stoic, cool exterior, but you knew inside he was just your soft, gentle boyfriend. The most beautiful man you knew had been forced to be an assassin against his will.

And now he had to live with the consequences. It’s so unfair, you thought as tears of anger pricked your eyes. You were a very empathetic person, especially when it came to him, and you found yourself feeling quietly furious.

You slammed the file shut, conflicted emotions making you feel both angry and guilty. You always had an idea of what HYDRA had made Bucky do, of course, but actually consuming the detail within his file had made it come to life in your mind. All you wanted during the course of your time with Bucky was to get a better view from his shoes, if only to help you relate a bit more to his suffering. You loved him so much and you wanted nothing more than to help him.

At the same time, you knew it wasn’t right, snooping like this. You always told yourself to just wait, and eventually Bucky would trust you enough to share everything.

You started to wonder if you had done something wrong as you slowly walked away from the desk, nibbling your bottom lip. You cleared your throat uncomfortably, frowning as the contents of the file plagued your mind. You decided you would have to come clean to Bucky about this.

“What?” Bucky said quietly, cocking his head to the side as if he really had genuinely misheard you. However, as you studied the look in his eyes, you knew that he had heard every word.

“I know it was wrong. Bucky, I’m - “

“If you knew it was wrong, then why did you do it?” Bucky interrupted, his eyebrows drawing together as he frowned. Anger was starting to distort his face, and he kept his voice quiet and low.

You were mute for a long minute, your cheeks flushing as he stared at you, waiting for you to speak. You were both stood in your bedroom, you with your back against the window and his against the door. The distance between you felt painful.

“Do you know what a violation of my privacy that is?” he continued when you didn’t speak, his jaw twitching.

“I was just trying to - just trying to understand,” you said, trying to find the right words. “I just thought that if I knew what they did to you, then I could help you.”

“How would you be able to help?” Bucky was furious, but in that quiet, almost calm way that frightened you the most. His brow was slightly furrowed, corners of lips turned down into a frown, but the biggest giveaway was his clenched fists. They were shaking almost impercetibly.

It was scarier when he didn’t raise his voice, and your fingers twitched uncomfortably by your sides, wanting to reach out to him.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I thought that if I could understand what happened, then maybe I could help with your nightmares, help talk to you about the past.”

Bucky exhaled loudly, shaking his head. “Are you my therapist? What were you hoping to do, read my entire past and diagnose me?” He regarded you with a look of bewilderment and fury.

“No, I - “

“No, listen,” Bucky said, frustration rising in his throat, breaking his barely composed facade. “Do you have any idea how messed up that is? There’s a reason why I didn’t tell you everything at my own pace, and you went behind my back and fucking investigated me? How do you think that makes me feel? You couldn’t even respect me enough to let me tell you out of my own choice!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You knew you had fucked up majorly. He was glaring at you, waiting for you to say something.

“I’m so sorry, Buck. I really didn’t have any bad intentions, I just - “

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky spat out. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t have any bad intentions. You think I’m proud of what I did as the fucking Winter Soldier? It haunts me, and I have to live with him for the rest of my fucking life. I - I trusted you, and you betrayed it.”

I let out a slight whimper at his words, knowing the venomous words he was spitting out was completely true.

“I have to fight so hard, every day, not to fall apart with the knowledge and memories of what the Winter Soldier did, what I did.”

“Bucky, please,” you said, taking a step forward, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that, I am so, so sorry.”

Bucky shook his head, moving away from me and lifting his hands as a warning. “Don’t. Just - don’t.”

He turned his back, making to leave.

“Can we just talk about this?” you asked desperately, not wanting him to go. You were terrified that he wouldn’t come back.

“I need some space,” Bucky said sharply without turning to look back at you. He left and pulled the door shut with such force that you jumped, tears finally escaping.

You had no idea how you were going to fix this.

Bucky and you had one rule. Never go to bed angry at each other.

It was a rule you had instigated. You hated going to bed whilst you were in the throes of a fight, and the first time you had argued - something petty, really - you had pouted at Bucky and demanded that you make up.

He was relieved at that time as it was such a silly fight and he was anxious that you would give him the silent treatment. But he laughed as you jumped into his arms, kissing his cheek and letting him know all was forgiven.

“New rule - we can’t go to bed angry at each other,” you had announced at the time.

“Yes, my liege,” Bucky had responded.

Bucky wasn’t answering your calls or texts. You left 15 voicemails and 24 text messages, all apologizing and asking him to talk. You knew you should give him space, as it was only fair for him to digest what had happened and process, but you felt like you couldn’t function.

You wanted him by your side so you could apologize over and over again and tell him, genuinely, how regretful you were.

There was no excuse. Your face was tear-stained and eyes puffy as you paced your apartment, the clock having struck midnight a long time ago, with no sight of Bucky.

When four AM rolled round, you finally passed out on the couch whilst waiting for him. When your alarm rudely woke you up at seven, you startled and immediately ran into the bedroom, although you knew he wouldn’t be there.

The bed was empty, still made from the previous morning and untouched.

You could cry all over again.

You hurried to get ready nonetheless, and made your way to the Avengers Tower. You were involved in some S.H.I.E.L.D projects that were being hosted there, and you knew it was the place Bucky was most likely to be.

You checked your phone obsessively on the way to the Tower. No calls or messages from Bucky.

You groaned internally. He had never ignored you like this before. The gravity of the situation was slowly growing heavier and heavier - he was your Bucky, the one who always took care of you and worried over you and was by your side almost 24/7 whenever he wasn’t out on a mission, but now he was actively avoiding you.

More and more fear started to creep into the mix alongside the guilt. Would Bucky leave you over this?

When you arrived at the Tower, you expected it to be a lot harder to find him than it was. But he was in the training room, the first place you looked.

“Bucky,” you said quietly as soon as you saw him. He was serving blows mercilessly to a punching bag hung from the ceiling, as if he needed the practice. You knew he was letting off steam. He was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty tendrils, his face slightly red.

Bucky barely even flinched. He didn’t acknowledge you at all, eyes never leaving the bag in front of him.

“Can we talk?” you asked tentatively.

No response.

“Bucky, if you don’t reply, I’m just going to start talking at you, and I really don’t want to do that,” you said. All you wanted him to do was at least look at you.

Bucky stopped then and you heaved a sigh of relief. But instead of speaking, he simply wrapped a towel around his shoulders and turned his back on you, leaving out of the door on the other side of the room.

You felt rocks fall to the bottom of your stomach, and the urge to cry reared its ugly head yet again.

Bucky hadn’t spoken to you for two days. He hadn’t returned to your apartment for two days.

You had cried all of those days. You tried to find him and corner him to make him face you, but after that day in the training room, he had really been avoiding you. You had only seen him once in those two days, and he immediately disappeared as soon as he saw you.

It hurt so much. Like someone had stabbed you and, what’s more, was twisting the handle.

You knew you deserved it. You had really hurt Bucky, but part of you was still terrified of what he would do. How long would he wait until he decided to speak to you again? Was he going to break up with you?

You didn’t know how to fix it. You were ashamed to tell Sam, even though you wanted to ask his advice on what to do. You had done something so bad that you didn’t want to face his disappointment, too, although you were certain Bucky may have already told him.

Still, it hurt so bad. All you wanted Bucky to do was hug you and tell you it was alright, instead you were met with indifference and the back of his head. He wouldn’t even look at you.

You would rather he shouted at you, screamed at you, anything to actually make him talk and acknowledge your existence. But he continued to ice you out, and your heart was breaking.

Bucky knew he loved you even before you officially became a couple. He loved how funny you were, how hard working you were, how you always listened to his side of the story, how you took care of him and patiently explained anything to him that he still didn’t quite understand about the modern world.

There were a lot of great women, but to Bucky, you had stood out. From day one, you had cared about him. Little things, like asking about his favorite songs from the 40s, making sure his head was covered with your umbrella when it was raining even though your shoulder was getting wet, ensuring he got three solid meals a day and that his favorite snacks were stored in the pantry.

Bigger things, too, like letting him share the burden of his past with you without ever a word of judgment or disdain, encouraging him to visit his parents’ grave on the anniversary of their death and making the journey with him, sharing memories of Steve whenever Bucky was missing him. You were his rock, and he felt like he had mined the most precious diamond.

He knew he could tell you anything, but his sordid past as the Winter Soldier was still something he was trying to overcome himself. He was ashamed, and part of him was worried that you would suddenly think less of him. See him as the monster that he used to be, the monster that he sometimes saw himself as.

He hated the thought of poisoning your mind with unsavory images of himself and the knowledge of what he had done.

He was so angry to know that you saw his file. But the majority of his feelings came from the fact that he was so laden with guilt. He didn’t want you to know the ugly truth when all you had seen of him so far was the better version of himself that he was trying to be.

How could he forget his past when you knew every disgusting detail now, too? When you had now also seen the faces of all the people he had killed?

At the same time, he believed you when you said you were just trying to help. That was just your nature. He knew that you genuinely thought if you understood, you could offer assistance and ease his silent torment.

But anger prevailed, and he found himself ignoring you for days, even though he felt so immature doing it. He just couldn’t face you right now, even as you stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He could barely avoid meeting your gaze and instead chose to turn away completely, as if pretending you weren’t there would alleviate the pain. He was afraid that if he looked at you a little too long, his resolve would shatter.

It was exceptionally poor timing that your birthday rolled around after five days of total radio silence from Bucky. You had forgotten, actually, until you entered the Tower and a fellow agent had wished you a happy birthday.

You gave her a weak smile as you muttered some made up plans about how you would be celebrating.

You wanted to burst out crying when you saw Bucky that morning, in the kitchen at the Tower.

He was leaning against the kitchen island, a smile on his face, a smile you hadn’t seen for almost a week. He was talking to an agent, a decent girl you had worked with before. You liked her, actually, as did a lot of people. He was talking to her about something, looking more relaxed than you had seen him since you had the fight.

He hadn’t noticed you as you observed the two of them. You didn’t think anything flirtatious was going on, but still, it hurt to see him smiling softly at someone else when he hadn’t paid you any attention for so long.

Part of you wasn’t sure if Bucky was going to speak to you today. But it was your birthday, after all - he always made a big deal out of it, asking you what you wanted to do and making sure you got a cake and flowers and all the romantic works. He always told you that you were his greatest gift, and so he couldn’t miss celebrating the day that you were brought into the world.

If he didn’t speak to you today, you think you would be sick.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize the agent Bucky was talking to was leaving, and as she walked past you, you felt Bucky’s eyes on you. You met his gaze hesitantly, blinking wordlessly.

He paused, and you could almost see the gears turning in his brain as he decided what to do.

His smile dissipated, and he turned his back on you.

When you returned home that night, you cried your eyes out. You sat on the couch forlornly, staring at the door, half-expecting him to burst through at any moment with an apology and kisses waiting to be pressed onto your lips.

Midnight struck, and you went to bed alone.

Six days.

Bucky had not spoken to you in six days, and honestly, he felt like shit.

He had never been so angry at you before, but he was surprised at himself that his silent streak had lasted so long. To be honest, the time had passed quickly, as he had kept himself as busy as possible.

As Bucky came down from his angry high, the feeling of guilt and sadness overwhelmed him at the thought of you being unhappy. He knew that this period of time would be tough on you, although he stood by his point that you should not have read his file behind his back, especially as you knew how sensitive he was about his past.

And yet, ultimately, he recalled that you only had his best interests at heart, even if you were going about it the wrong way. He sighed as he approached the Tower elevator, stepping inside just as Sam came running down the hallway, shouting at him to hold.

Bucky stabbed the close door button repeatedly, cursing as Sam slid past just in the nick of time, punching him playfully.

“You in a mood, princess?” he snickered, taking note of the dark circles under Bucky’s eyes. “You been up all night with your girl?”

Bucky let out a tsk. He sighed as the elevator descended.

“No. Haven’t spoken to her actually,” he admitted.

“Woah, wait. What do you mean?” Sam asked when he realized Bucky was being serious.

“Had a fight,” Bucky said reluctantly.

Sam frowned lightly. “On her birthday?”

Bucky froze as he opened his mouth to clarify that the fight had began a few days ago. His mind racked to confirm today’s date.

Shit. It was your birthday yesterday.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky said, head lolling back to bash against the glass elevator wall.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked, clearly concerned.

“I messed up,” he sighed in response, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, now he wanted to cry. How could he do this to you? He was already beginning to feel like he’d gone overboard with his reaction as the days passed and the red haze of anger dissolved from his eyes, clouding his better judgment, but now he truly felt like he had gone about everything so wrongly.

You had always gone on about the importance of communication in a relationship, and how you both needed to work together to overcome any challenges, and that one of the things you valued the most was being open and honest.

He imagined you sat alone at home, on your birthday, waiting expectantly for him to turn up.

His chest hurt.

You lay down in bed as the sun set, darkness filling the room.

You had the covers over your head as the tears wet your pillow, your head hurting so much from all the crying and dehydration.

Your world was truly coming down around you. You were about to lose the best thing that had ever happened to you. Bucky was going to leave you, and it was your fault. The past few days had really unveiled your most deep rooted fear, that the love of your life was going to abandon you.

“You’re so stupid,” you whispered to yourself. “So stupid. So fucking stupid.”

You ignored the incessant buzzing of your phone. Your friends had been calling you since your birthday yesterday, concerned that you hadn’t picked up even once. You didn’t care. If Bucky wasn’t here, then you just wanted to be alone.

You always knew you weren’t good enough for him. Always knew that he would leave you eventually. Out of all the people in the world, what on earth would make him choose you?

You threw the covers off of you as a new surge of rage overwhelmed you.

“You are so fucking stupid!” you screamed out loud, letting the anger seep through your body, expel through your lungs. You stormed over to your mirror and punched the glass once, twice, until it cracked and sliced your knuckles, blood trickling immediately over your hand.

Bucky was going to leave you.

Your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the floor, head hanging as tears dripped down onto the carpet.

“So stupid,” you continued in a whisper. “So useless, so stupid, so -”

“What the fuck are you doing?” came a loud voice, and your head snapped up with such speed that your head spun.

Bucky was standing in the open doorway, expression aghast as he took in the sight of you. Red, swollen eyes, bleeding hand, sitting in front of the broken mirror.

“Bucky,” you said weakly, voice trembling. He had come back to break up with you.

You always knew he would do it eventually. Your relationship was too good to be true.

“Oh my god,” Bucky hissed as he darted forward, moving down on his knees to join you and gently lifting your wounded hand. “What have you done?”

You started to cry again, feeling so pathetic. Bucky shook his head, eyes frantic.

“No, no, no, doll, please don’t cry,” he said, his voice softening.

“I’m sorry,” you garbled, voice thick with guilt. “I know I fucked up, I know. I’m so sorry Bucky. Please don’t leave me.”

The desperation in your voice broke Bucky’s heart. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could without hurting you, pressing his lips against the top of your head.

“Listen to me. I’m not going to leave you,” he said firmly. He pulled back and studied your face carefully, trying to keep his voice steady for your sake. “I need to patch you up, okay?”

You sniffled, nodding once before he stood up and disappeared into the bathroom. He reappeared with a first aid kit, kneeling down once more and inspecting your hand.

“Why did you do that, doll?” he murmured, a pained look in his eyes as he began to clean you up. It wasn’t a serious injury, just a scratch compared to some of the other battle wounds you had received in the past, but the idea that you had done that to yourself made Bucky so sad.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I’m just - I don’t know. I’m so angry at myself. Please will you forgive me? For everything?”

Bucky’s eyes welled up as he paused with his tending to your hand, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from crying. You were the most important person in the world to him and he had been pushing you away, had completely forgotten your birthday, and you had hurt yourself because of him when all you wanted was to help him.

“I forgive you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive you for,” you insisted as he resumed cleaning your wound. You could see his eyes were wet, and you were nonplussed at why that would be.

“Yes, there is,” Bucky said, wearing a look of shame that you didn’t understand. “I know that your heart is always in the right place. Instead of talking to you about it, I just shut you out. No matter how angry I was, I shouldn’t have done that. I hurt you.”

He worked quickly, bandaging your hand and slowly holding your wrist after. His solemn blue eyes finally met yours.

“I love you so much. I should have stayed to talk, but I just… left. I shouldn't have done that.” He took a deep breath. “I walked away because I couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing everything. Knowing all the people I’ve killed - some of them innocent people. Read about how cold I was, the - the complete lack of mercy I showed. I am a monster.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, lifting your good hand to tenderly touch his face. You were hesitant, as if you were afraid he would withdraw from your touch. Instead, he leaned against your palm, eyes closed. He turned to press a kiss into your hand.

“I thought - “ you began, taking a deep breath at the insecurity and uncertainty that still plagued you. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

Bucky’s eyes opened to stare at you forlornly, as if hurt that you would even have this thought.

“Never,” he said firmly. “You have no idea how much I have missed you.”

You launched yourself into his arms then, willing Bucky’s strong arms to encircle you. He did just that, holding you close as you sobbed quietly into his shoulder.

“Let me make it up to you, okay?” Bucky murmured. “Belated birthday celebration.”

“It’s enough that you’re here,” you whispered.

You still had a lot to talk about, but you felt so much better now that Bucky was standing by your side again. Maybe everything was going to be alright.

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 1 year

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Hunt (dark!Slayer!Bucky x vampire!Reader)

a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Slayer

a.a.k.a. Bucky the Vampire Layer

full credit for this idea goes to @deceitfuldevout who shared her genius with us for the concept of witch/witch-hunter, which morphed over time into vampire/vampire-hunter, which I eventually adapted into a weird amalgam of a Buffy AU and a Supernatural AU

@giorno-plays-piano asked to be tagged if I ever did it!

Warnings: smut, blood play (just a lil tho, but lots of talking about blood bc she’s…literally a vampire), degradation kink, sex that turns dub con/non con, kidnapping

(we are sadly deprived of any gifs of Bucky in the new jacket but please know the pic below is the Bucky we’re working with here)

Keep reading

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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In the Blink of an Eye | Bucky Barnes (Mafia AU)

mafia!bucky barnes x f!reader ✧ oneshot

Summary: With Bucky Barnes, the mafia lord of New York, as your boyfriend, you're usually safe from any and all harm. With a date night gone wrong and your boyfriend distracted, though, anything can happen in the blink of an eye.

A/N: Another one of my favorites because come on, who doesn't love mob Bucky? If you couldn't tell by now, angst is my thing lol, but I'm working on some fluffier oneshots! True to my word, this one's a reader insert for all you lovelies, enjoy and as always keep dreaming 🤍

Warnings: mafia!Bucky, violence, angst, kidnapping, drugging, language, mentions of torture, fluffy ending because I just can't help myself.

Word Count: 5,896

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

I knew the dangers when I started. I knew the risks. I welcomed them, I embraced them. They did not scare me and they haven't even now, so many months later.

We always seem to think we know ourselves so well, that we know what we'd do in every situation. I thought I knew.

Then I fell in love.

When you're in love, well, everything changes. For the first time, there's another person that you cannot live without. For the first time, you begin to realize just how far you'd go to keep that love, to strengthen it. I used to avoid love, used to think it was worthless.

Then I met Bucky Barnes, Wolf of the North and mafia lord of New York, and I fell harder than I ever have before.

I love him more than anything else in my life, and so I took on the risks willingly. When you love someone that deeply, that ardently, nothing is a risk. Besides, I knew that he would do everything in his power to protect me. Bucky would never let anything bad happen to me.

That's where I went wrong. Not in overestimating him, but underrating what can happen in the blink of an eye.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

He acts as though he's heard me, but his eyes are glued to the phone in his hand as we weave through the crowds in the New York night. He never usually ignores me like this, and even though I'm growing annoyed, I'm hurt by his lack of attention too.

"We'll be fine, even if he is he wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything" Bucky brushes off, not even looking up from his phone. I let out a small huff as we approach the front of the bar and nightclub he owns.

Before we make it to the doors, I grab his well-muscled arm and gently tug him to face me. He looks up now, his usually softened ice blue eyes plagued with business and stress.

"I thought tonight was just for us, my love" I remind. Something softens in his gaze but he ices it down and doesn't as much as touch me.

"It is, but I have some business to attend to first" his gravelly voice replies.

"Business?" I ask, lifting an eyebrow and smiling softly at him, "You can get business any night, but I-"

"Just give me ten minutes, Y/N." my boyfriend interrupts, and if it were any other day I'd say something back. Too exhausted from work to want an argument, though, I simply sigh and decide to show him patience.

"Alright, you have 10 minutes."

We walk inside, but before we do I cast one more glance back towards the man who I saw following us. My heart hits the floor when my eyes connect directly with his across the street. His mousy brown hair and disheveled brown leather jacket and white shirt set me on edge, so I quickly turn around and follow Bucky into his club.

As soon as I'm back by his side, he presses a gentle but burning hand to my back, his touch, however small, still intoxicating me after all this time. Normally, he'd lean over and whisper sweet nothings or promises of love in my ear and I'd shiver at the whisper of his voice so near, but now he barely even touches me. His mind is so preoccupied with work, I know that, but it has been all week since this weekend is his rival's gala.

But I feel ignored and unappreciated and it's killing me.

The pounding music of the club wraps around me, making it harder to keep my thoughts straight. Bucky and I walk straight to the back of the club, where his business no doubt waits. He pulls away from me without so much as a goodbye, and my heart tugs. Quickly I grab his hand, making him glance at me.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out," I repeat, and I know he said I'll be fine but I need him to be here with me, "Please, stay with me."

"Doll, you're gonna be fine. Now-"

I cut him off, getting frustrated.

"No Bucky! I can fight, sure, but if he-" I interrupt, only for him to cut me right back off.

"Drop it, Y/N. Just go to the bar or something" Bucky growls, pulling out of my grip and walking into the office without a single glance back at me.

My heart cracks.

He's never like this, ever. He's usually so protective it's overbearing, and yet the one time I need that to feel secure, he refuses. I can take care of myself, but I'm not stupid. And no matter how capable and independent I may be, Bucky brings a level of safety to me that I can't describe.

And yet here he is, leaving me alone in his bar with someone following us.

I huff out a sigh and try not to look too forlorn as I traipse over to the bar. Almost as soon as I've arrived and sat at an open bar stool, the bartender who has become somewhat of a friend over the last few months approaches me.

"And how is my favorite customer?" He asks, his hands busy preparing a drink. I shrug, offering him a soft smile.

"I'm alright, Lee," I respond, playing with the edge of my sleeve, "Just a whiskey please."

"Sure thing, Y/N," Lee says, his brows furrowed as he steps away to make my drink. When the glass slides in front of me, I grab onto it with tired fingers.

"So, do you want me to ask what's really going on or do you want me to believe the lie?" The bartender asks, making me raise my gaze from the amber liquid and to my friend's face. He must see the tears gathering in my eyes because a hint of concern grows. I never break like this.

"Believe the lie, please" I nearly whisper, desperate to not have this conversation right now. Lee stares at me for a second longer before nodding.

"Let me know if you need anything else."

When he walks away to take care of another customer, I'm left feeling alone and forgotten in my boyfriend's bar. I sip on the alcohol and seconds turn to minutes, and ten minutes soon becomes twenty. I feel patience slipping and am seconds away from barging into that room and giving my boyfriend a piece of my mind when another voice pipes up beside me.

"I thought tonight was date night," The voice says, and I can't put a face to it. When I turn, the haze of alcohol clears instantly and my spine snaps straight. The music dulls into a hum. The lights grow darker. The color leeches from my body. My hand trembles around the almost empty glass.

It's him. He's got the same messy hair, the same brown jacket. The same hungry eyes.

Instantly, I clamp down hard on my rising panic. I refuse to fall into hysterics of any kind right now. This is the safest place for me to be right now, so I should have nothing to worry about. Instead, I simply shake my head and turn forward, downing the last of my second whiskey.

"You're another kind of stupid if you think anything is going to happen to me in here," I inform, my tone even and calm despite the throbbing, tearing panic within me that makes me want to sprint for Bucky.

"Oh sweetheart, I'm not going to do anything," the man responds, his tone just as even as mine.

I furrow my brows at the ease of his response, but all at once it hits me. My head begins to spin and with each second that passes, my mind begins to fog. No. No. No.

He drugged me.

How did he get it into my drink?

How did I not see it? Smell it? Taste it?

I shove out of my chair so fast that the stool screeches against the hard floor. The sound is absorbed into the mass of the club, though, and an arm snakes around my waist.

"No," I manage out, but the connection between my body and brain seems to be almost severed. The words come out sluggish and far away and when I try to pull from the stalker's hold, my body barely moves.

Instead, I'm left stumbling like I'm drunk with this man guiding me towards the exit as if he's helping me to a cab. The bouncers. Ed and Damien, they won't let him take me. They'll stop him, they'll get him away from me.

"Don't make a scene, Y/N. Your boyfriend isn't even out of his office." My kidnapper's voice slithers into my ear, making my stomach church with nausea.

My boyfriend. Bucky. Oh God, where is Bucky? Why can't I seem to remember where Bucky went? Why he's not here? Why I was alone?

"Bucky, Bucky's gonna-" I slur out, sounding absolutely wasted to the unknowing ear.

"I know, Mr. Barnes going to be so glad I got you home safely," he says suddenly, his entire body shifting tone. I furrow my brows and manage to look and see us just passing Ed and Damien at the door. Even though I can really see straight, I see the two bouncers block the exit when they see me.

"Hey man, what's going on?" I hear Ed ask.

"Nothing much to see, Boss just wanted me to take his lady home," the stalker says, his grip on me tighter than it must appear, "She had a little too much to drink."

Too much to drink? Did I? Why can't I remember what's happening? I didn't think I did but...but maybe I did. Who is this man? He said he's taking me home, maybe Bucky had to cancel date night. It was date night, right?

Both Ed and Damien furrow their brows and look to me, immediate concern drawing on their features when they see the state of me. Some lucid part of me screams to alert them of something, anything, but the thought doesn't come to fruition. It dies somewhere along a neuron and leaves me tripping over my own feet and speechless.

"I've never seen you before, man. How do we know that boss told you to take her home?" Damien asks. My escort doesn't miss a step.

"The Wolf is in states nowadays, isn't he boys?" The stalker replies, and that lucid part sparks up again in protest at the familiar words. That's the code phrase to ensure safety in moments like this.

He knows the code phrase.

They're going to let him take me.

I do what I can to struggle as Ed and Damien step aside, but it only comes across as trying to walk on my own, because the bouncers chuckle slightly.

"Relax Y/N, don't overdo it" Ed quips.

"Rest up, miss. I'll let boss know you got home safely." Damien follows up.

And the lucid part of me fades into the drug haze as my kidnapper guides me out of the safest place on earth without so much of a gun fight. The cool night air slaps me in the face and I whisper, trying to struggle again only to forget why I'm struggling in the first place. My body feels like I'm running through neck-high mud, anyways. Any sharp movements I try to make end in my hands barely moving.

"Bucky," I breathe, an urgency in that word. Beyond the haze and the forgetfulness and the confusion, there's a deep and piercing need to scream out that name. I can't figure out why, but I need him. I can't...I need...

My head's spinning, or maybe it's the world. My stomach is twisting and turning and twisting and turning and tw-

"He can't save you now. He didn't even put up a fight to protect you," that ugly, slimy voice says as a car door opens, "What a shame. A treasure like you should be guarded. But I guess finder's keeper's."

Then I'm shoved into a car and everything goes black.

||| James Buchanan Barnes

Y/N's going to actually kill me. As in my liver on a plate kill me.

The meeting that I promised would only be ten minutes has now gone for forty, and by now she's probably restless, hungry, and a little tipsy.

Great, and I pissed her off earlier so tonight is going to be so much fun.

I pull a hand through my dark hair with a slight groan as the man I was doing business with finally leaves my office. I sit for a second in the semi-quiet of my room, the pounding of music and laughter dulled by the walls. I know I shouldn't have gotten short with her earlier, but damn she wouldn't let up on me with the whole "stalker" thing.

My club is the safest place for her. I would never let anything happen to her, so for her to even think that...I sigh again, shoving it from my mind. It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is finding my girlfriend and making all of this shit up to her. I rise from my leather chair and walk out of my office, the dulled sounds roaring into full force.

My eyes immediately shoot towards the bar to find my girl only to see an absence of her. With furrowed brows, I sweep my gaze towards the dance floor. Even crowded with people, I don't see her. I roll my eyes instantly, knowing what probably happened. She probably went home, probably's pissed as hell at me. I brush off my suit jacket and walk up to Lee at the bar, immediately garnering his attention. He smiles at me.

"Hey boss, can I get you anything?" He asks.

"No I'm good, thanks Lee," I respond, leaning on the bar with one arm and pinching the bridge of my nose, "Have you seen Y/N? I think I pissed her off."

There's a pause that makes me look over at my bartender. He's looking at me weirdly as he slides a drink to a customer and laughs slightly.

"Real funny, boss," Lee says, cleaning out a few glasses. I straighten up slightly, my brows furrowing deeper and my jaw setting.

"What's so funny, Lee? Have you seen her or not?" I ask, quickly losing my patience. I always thought he had a thing for her, always was too-

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Lee asks genuinely, cutting off my thoughts. When I don't respond, he realizes I'm not joking and his face goes grave, "So you didn't send her home twenty minutes ago?"

The world tilts around me and every ounce of anger, annoyance, and frustration leaves me in an instant. My heart drops like an anchor at sea and I don't dare to believe what Lee's words mean.

"She left twenty minutes ago," I begin slowly, trying desperately to hold myself together and not jump to a conclusion, "With someone who said I sent them to take her home."

Lee's face is slowly falling as he realizes the situation at hand. I feel so sick to my stomach that I can barely stand when Lee gives a faint nod. My world stops and then starts and then stops again.

"I never gave that order." I breathe.

"Bucky, I think that guy's following us"

I brushed her off.

"Bucky, this guy is really freaking me out. Please, stay with me."

I ignored her. I snapped at her. I prioritized work over the light of my life. I told her she'd be fine.

I left her.

Lee is saying something to me but I don't hear it as I shove away and storm over to Ed and Damien, my bouncers. My face is a painting of fury and shame and worry and panic and it's a storm that catches Ed and Damien's attention. They stop what they're doing and look to me, their brows furrowing.

"Boss, what's-"

"You let her leave?" I strangle out, my heart slamming in my chest and my fists balled by my sides, "You let a stranger take her away?"

The two share a confused glance before looking back to me.

"A stranger? Boss, the man who took Y/N home knew the code," Ed informs.

"Did you not send him?" Damien suddenly asks, his face tightening in instant panic.

He knew the code. He knew the code and he somehow got my doll, my fighter, out without so much of a warning.

And it's all my fault.

"Shut the club down, get everyone out. Call together all of our forces. Tell them-" My voice breaks, raw emotion clawing up my throat, "Tell them Y/N's been taken."

I don't wait for a response and shove out into the cold night, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I was so obsessed with the gala this week that Hydra, our arch nemesis, was putting on, that I stopped paying attention to the only part of my life that matters. I have a lot of things, all of which I could live without, but I cannot live without her.

And I left her.

I left her and now she's gone.

She tried to warn me, she tried to tell me someone was following us. She tried to get me to stay with her, to not leave her. And yet I walked away. I just walked away like she didn't even matter and I left vulnerable and alone the only person in this entire fucking universe I love. It's all my fault, and I'll spend every second of the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.

If I can even find her in time, before she-

No. I will find her and she will live. I will burn down this whole damn world if I have to, and I will not stop. Not until every person who laid a finger on my girl is dead. I will paint the world crimson with their blood until I find her, and once I do I will never, never, ignore or leave her again.

That's not a threat. It's a promise.

||| Your POV

The collar secured to my throat is too tight, the metal no doubt leaving red grooves in my skin.

It hurts worse when Alexander Pierce, the mafia lord of Hydra, tugs the matching chain leash attached to it, pulling me closer to him and almost making me stumble mid-step.

The gala is glamorous, and my gown is nothing short of it as well. Pierce even went through the trouble of having someone do my hair. What he didn't do was my makeup.

That way anyone could see the dried blood and bruises littering my skin.

It's a scare tactic, I know that. A way to signal to everyone here that he's in charge and that he can't be defied. But I think he's got a bigger reason in mind for it all, the collar and the hideous marks on my skin.

And that reason is my boyfriend.

I can practically feel people's eyes follow me as I walk as steadily as I can at the end of Pierce's leash. Despite the radiating, excruciating pain that each step incurs, I keep my body steady and my chin high. I let the policemen and officials that are on his payroll and all of the members of his mafia see my bruises and cuts. He's parading me, so I'm going to put on a damn show.

A show to hide how mind-numbingly terrified I am right now.

Behind my set jaw and my cold eyes, I'm fighting back tears. The pain is mixing with the fear of the last few days to make a perfect storm within me. I'm terrified that any moment could be my last, that more pain could await me, that Bucky might never come for me

Or worse. That he doesn't even care.

Regardless of whether or not he cares, I'm still not going to give a single detail out. Even when Pierce himself tortured me until all I knew was blood and pain and fear, I said nothing. He didn't get a single word out of me. I just sat there, strapped to an iron chair, and took it. Every blow, every slice, every shout. At times my mind spared me and allowed me to slip into the sweet nothingness of unconsciousness, but it wouldn't be long after that I awoke to my head shoved into cold water to revive me.

And here I am, now taking a seat at the Dias of his gala room beside the mafia lord of Hydra, my boyfriend's sworn rival, with a collar around my neck tied to his wrist.

The music that wafts from the live orchestra is disturbingly jovial and light, filling the air with a sense of peace that provides such a stark juxtaposition to my insides that I almost puke. I sit ever so stiffly in my chair beside Pierce, my back burning with each movement because of the new stripes across its tender flesh.

As I feel warm liquid slide down my skin, I suddenly understand why Pierce insisted my dress be a dark maroon. I thought it was as at first just a beacon to everyone to show who I was with because it was his signature color, but I know better now. It's to hide the blood that seeps from my still-healing and probably infected wounds.

"Exquisite, isn't it?" Pierce asks, and I don't even have to turn towards him to know he wears a devilish smirk. A cruel man's trademark of victory.

I stay silent.

I hear him click his tongue as he sits back in his ornate chair, "All this quality time together and all I've heard from your voice has been your screams. No matter how pretty they are, doesn't seem polite to me."

This time, I can't hold myself back.

"Neither is kidnapping another human being and treating them like a prisoner of war," I announce, my voice raw and hoarse from the screaming and shouting of the past few days, "So pardon me if I'm not feeling too polite."

It's a bold move, but I make it anyways, gambling that he wouldn't lash out in the midst of his party. A little breath of relief escapes me when he chuckles.

"And here I was under the impression you were a sweet, soft-spoken sort of woman. My sources misjudged you." Pierce responds.

Of course he's been watching me. A scheme like this doesn't happen overnight. He's been planning this for a while, now. Pierce knew exactly when Bucky would be most vulnerable, when the defenses would be the loosest. It makes me want to scream.

"You're going to die for this," I whisper, quietly but not softly. There's his laugh again.

"Oh honey," Pierce starts, his voice condescending as if I were a toddler, "Careful with blind faith. What makes you so sure Barnes will make it out of this alive?"

His words unsettle something so deep within me that if I spend more than a few seconds touching on it, I'll shatter. Instead, I turn to look at Alexander Pierce for the first time since we've sat down. My eyes are cold and harsh upon him and the shining metal of the collar that tethers us.

"What makes you so sure it will be Bucky who kills you?"

He has the good sense to look the slightest bit unnerved, and I give him a smirk of my own, "Like you said before, your men sorely misjudged me."

Before he can respond, one of the guards that stands behind us steps forward and whispers something in the mafia lord's ear. Whatever he says makes Pierce grin fiercely as he looks back to me and gives the collar a tug.

"Your White Wolf is here."

My heart jumps so hard that I forget how to function. For a moment, everything else fades and dims away, even the biting pain wrapping me like a blanket of thorns. I snap my head back forward and when I see him I swear I almost break right then and there.

Because his eyes are already on me, and they're coated with fury.

It takes every ounce of strength I have to not dissolve into tears, to not let my fear show.

He's here.

Bucky found me.

When our eyes meet, something so primal and raw ignites in his features. He looks seconds away from shattering as his chest heaves, his eyes scouring every inch of me. I feel undone before him, as if the dress doesn't hide a single thing that Pierce and his men have done to me.

"James Barnes," Pierce announces, snapping the connection between us swiftly, "I thought you'd never come. I hope you don't mind, I think I've stolen your date for the evening."

Then he wraps his palm around the chain leash and yanks it so hard that I nearly tumble out of the chair. His hand is there to stop me as it grabs my jaw in a bruising grip. Pierce hums, turning my face side to side before forcing it forward to the crowd that now watches. Bucky is painted with dark rage and looks seconds away from ending Pierce's life.

"She makes quite the pretty pet."

Bucky begins to storm forward only for two of the guests who belong to Pierce's mafia to grip onto his arms and prevent him.

"Take your fucking hand off of her, Pierce, or I swear I'll-" Bucky growls, and hearing his voice is enough to ease some of the knot that's wound in my chest these last few days.

"You'll what?" Alexander asks, releasing my chin but remaining ever so calmly in his seat beside me, "You must not care that much for my pet, after all you were the one to ignore her."

There's a bone-crushing silence and I see that same something shatter in my love's gaze.

"You shoved her off, you left her alone," Alexander cuts out, reaching out and running a hand through my hair, "You so carelessly let her slip through your fingers and here you are pretending to care."

"What I did was unforgivable, I know that," Bucky says suddenly, and I see even from here the silver lining his eyes as he speaks, "But she is a good person. She doesn't deserve this. If you need to punish someone, don't let it be her."

"You don't deserve her," Pierce says, and I want to scream that he's wrong but Bucky cuts me off. His eyes clash with mine and I fall in love all over again.

"I know," he says so softly that I almost miss it. I try to shake my head 'no', but Pierce tightens the collar, making me whimper.

Bucky shoves off the two men holding him, composing himself and standing stiffly a good ways before us.

"Let her go, Pierce," Bucky reiterates, his tone harsh once more and his stare pure murder, "I won't ask again."

Pierce clicks his tongue beside me, letting up on my leash to let me relax slightly.

"Oh Barnes, did you really waltz in here thinking you'd walk back out?"

There's a deadly silence and I swear you can hear my heart smash into the floor even though I expected this. With every second between his last words and his next, I grow more panicked.

"I have you surrounded, Barnes. You're not getting out of this," Pierce announces. Bucky doesn't look the least bit unnerved, though.

Pierce reaches you to an ear piece I didn't know was there and touches it, "Guns at attention."

From my spot next to him, all I hear is static. There's no response coming back, and the confusion becomes evident on Alexander's face at the same moment I realize what's going on. Hope like a new sunrise breaks in me and I look over at Bucky to find him smirking. He winks at me once before furrowing his brows at Pierce.

"What's wrong, can't reach your men?" Bucky taunts.

And then all Hell breaks loose.

Guns are firing and people are screaming and within seconds, Bucky's mafia that's already infiltrated the gala hall appears from the woodwork, their guns raised and keeping the few mafia members left under gun point. Bucky just stands coolly in the midst as another deadly silence blankets the room. I can practically feel the rage draining off of Alexander.

"Get him!" Pierce suddenly shouts, and what few men are left charge at Bucky. Including the personal guards around us. The gunfire begins again, and the classy event is soon painted crimson.

I take the brief moment of chaos to my advantage and shoot up from my seat. As soon as Pierce registers that I'm moving, it's too late. Despite the screaming of my body, I sprint behind Pierce's chair and brace one heeled foot at its back. Then, before he can reach for a gun, I wrap the leash he's collared me with around his neck and pull back, strangling him with the own device he subjected me under.

His hands claw desperately at the chain and I feel my exhausted muscles trembling, but I refuse to let up. I keep holding the chain tighter and snap my gaze up in Bucky's direction just in time to see him shoot a guard between the eyes.

"Bucky!" I shout, gaining his attention instantly.

I know I can't hold Pierce off much longer, so Bucky will need to help me take him down while I've got him strangled to the chair. The metal is cutting deep into his skin when Bucky begins fighting desperately to reach us. Before he can, though, Pierce gets a purchase on the chain and yanks with such force that it sends my body flying over him and the chair. I land flat on my back so hard on the tile that the air rushes out of my lungs and every cut and tear rips open.

"Y/N!" Bucky roars, and it rattles my very bones

I gasp and groan in pain simultaneously, desperately trying to get air into my lungs. The second I can breathe again, Pierce is dragging me backwards by the chain.

"No!" I shout, reaching up and gripping the chain before yanking it.

We tug back and forth as he drags me, but I manage to hook my foot around one of the overturned chairs and use the leverage to yank the chain so hard that I hear a snap followed by a shrill yell.

I just broke his wrist.

When I pull again, the chain comes free and a weight lifts from my shoulders. I scramble to my feet, about to sprint away and towards where I last saw Bucky when Pierce's hands grip my shoulders and rip me back. I don't even have time to scream when my back is slammed into a hard wall and Pierce is before me, a knife in his unmangled hand that's pressed to my cheek.

"You little bitch" he seethes.

My chest is heaving with breath and panic as I read back and spit in his face as hard as I can. He recoils slightly and I relish in it. My happiness only lasts a second, though, because his knife is pressing into my cheek. I try to squirm but his body is pressed firmly to mine and pins me to the wall.

"I so didn't want to end you this quickly," Pierce whispers, his voice slithering against my skin.

I keep trying to be strong, to be so strong, but it's getting harder to keep up. I try to not show my fear, but it's getting harder and harder to hide. I feel myself finally breaking after the hell that these last few days have been and just when I think he's going to end it all, he's gone. In a moment, he's off of me and unconscious on the ground.

And Bucky is standing before me, his chest heaving and his eyes wild.

"Bucky," I breathe, already feeling my strength slip away.

I don't have to be strong anymore.

Bucky drops the gun he just rendered Pierce unconscious with, every inch of his face softening upon my bloody, trembling form. He looks a minute away from crying when I stumble forward and crash into him, letting myself break down in his arms that already wrap around my waist and keep me upright. He keeps me so tight to himself that there is no room between us. I bury my face into his neck and let out a sob, my tears mixing with the blood on his suit. I can't tell which of us is shaking harder, but all I can tell is the warmth and security that Bucky's hands bring me.

"Oh doll," Bucky whispers, sending a shiver down my spine, "You're alive. You're alive."

I mumble some sort of affirmation, but I can barely think straight.

"I'm so sorry, doll. I'm so sorry." Bucky repeats it over and over again, "God, Y/N I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Buck. It's alright," I whisper, but he keeps shaking his head. He pulls back far enough to meet my gaze.

"I've been shitty to you. I should've listened to you, I should never have left you. I am never leaving you again."

"It's okay, I forgive you," I repeat, brushing a bloody hand against his jaw, "Of course it's gonna cost you at least four new pairs of shoes."

At my joke, a laugh of pure relief to have me back in hands escapes his lips. I chuckle softly too, taking in every inch of his breathtaking face. A tear drops down his cheek and he leans his forehead against mine.

"I love you so much, I love you more than life." he breathes.

"I love you too. That's all that kept me breathing, loving you,"I respond, and his lips are on mine in an instant.

Even though it's only been a few days, kissing him feels like I've been in a drought and he's my water. The kiss is desperate and pleading and consuming. It steals whatever strength is left in my knees and I link my arms around his neck to support myself. When he finally pulls away, he leaves a trail of kisses to my nose and then my forehead before tugging me to himself again.

"I'm going to tear him apart for this," Bucky vows, and I know it shouldn't but I still let out a breath of relief at that.

"Is that why he's not dead yet?" I ask, chuckling softly. He does the same, kissing the top of my head.

"That's exactly why," Bucky agrees, pulling back and rubbing a finger along my cheek. He becomes serious again and I feel my heart flutter.

"When I found out you were gone, I lost myself." He says, his throat bobbing as he Cho's my face with his large hands, "Y/N, there is no me without you"

I turn to kiss his hand before leaning into it more.

"I'll always find my way back to you. You're all I have, James"

Another tear works down his cheek before he finally steps to the side. The gala is trashed, but the gunfire is over. Apparently, his men were here hours before anyone else got here. I feel my strength abandoning me, so I lean my weight onto Bucky. He feels this and immediately scoops me into his arms, holding me close to his chest.

"I'm going to kiss every one of these scars when we get back" His voice rumbles, and I smile as I lean my head further into him.

"Let's go home, my love"

And he held up his promise. He never left me again.

4K notes · View notes

whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

Text

Play Dirty

summary: bucky gets a little jealous and you steal his phone.

warnings: swearing, mention of smut

word count: 2700+

"Hey," you said breathlessly, flopping onto the sofa beside Bucky.

He looked at you, then stared back at the screen. "Where were you?"

"I was just.." You trailed off, chewing your lip. Why was he so annoyed? "I'm sorry, Bucky, I didn't mean to be late."

Bucky grunted, trying to hold his tongue. It wasn't fair to be angry with you. You didn't know. "I know you didn't. But where were you?" He looked at you again, piercing blue eyes boring into yours.

"I was.." You trailed off. You knew exactly what would happen if you told Bucky the truth. The look on his face told you that he wouldn't let it go until you did, though. "I was with Leo."

Bucky's jaw clenched, lips pressing into a thin line. You watched him carefully. He inhaled, nodding his head. He was trying his best to stay composed. You didn't know that he liked you. You didn't know.

"Oh," he sighed, forcing a smile. "Thanks for telling me."

You sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before your phone vibrating caught your attention. Bucky had lifted the control to play the movie, but he stopped when he saw you pick up your phone. You glanced up at him nervously.

"You can answer it," he shrugged. "I don't care."

Sighing, you nodded. Sounds like you care, Bucky. "Hello?"

"Hi! Is this the right number?"

Your eyes widened, flicking over to Bucky's. He could hear every word that Leo was saying as he started rambling about how he wasn't sure that you'd given him a real number and about how his day had been. You couldn't get a word in edgeways.

Bucky cleared his throat and you looked over at him. "Isn't he gonna ask you about your day?" You didn't answer, but you couldn't help wondering.

"Hey, Leo?" You cut in gently.

He hummed. "Yeah?"

"I'm at a friend's right now, do you mind if we talk tomorrow?" You asked.

Leo hummed his agreement. "Who're you with?"

"He's asking what?" Bucky barked. "Who does he think he is? Give me the phone." Before you could protest, Bucky was snatching your phone and marching out of the room. "Hi." You couldn't hear what Leo was saying on the other end, but Bucky didn't look pleased. "Yeah, well, it's movie night. No, you can't come, dumbass."

You stumbled after him, shaking your head. "Bucky, no, don't-" You knew how Bucky felt about Leo, your friend from work that had been showing a little more interest in you recently. God knows what he was going to say to the poor man.

Truthfully, you had feelings for Bucky, but it was nice to have attention paid to you by someone that actually seemed to like you as more than a friend. You didn't know if you were ready for that to go away yet. Then you'd be back to watching Bucky go on dates while you stayed at home.

Bucky had shut himself in the bathroom, leaving you to stand outside and try to listen to his low voice. You couldn't hear a word of what he was saying. Sighing, you slid down the wall and let your mind wander.

Now that you were thinking about it, Bucky hadn't been on a date in a long time. He didn't seem to like being single, though, because he was always commenting on couples and saying that he wished someone would look at him that way. Those were the times when you wished you could slap some sense into him, shout 'I'm right here, you idiot!'

Finally, the door opened and Bucky squatted down in front of you. "Hey. Here's your phone. Your boyfriend's still on the line." You snatched the device from his hand.

"Leo?"

He grumbled something under his breath. "Your friend is terrifying."

"Yeah," you sighed, looking up to see Bucky trying and failing to hide a smug smile. "He didn't scare you off, did he? He's all bark and no bite, I promise."

Bucky snorted. "I've killed more people than that loser's met-"

"Barnes, I swear to god, if you don't close your mouth right now," you barked at him.

His eyes widened and he lifted his hands in surrender. The grin didn't leave his face, though. "Wow. You've never shouted at me before."

"Bucky.." You sighed.

He continued. "I like it when you boss me around. It's hot."

"Bucky, go sit down!" You exclaimed. He turned on his heel, chuckling to himself. You were glad he'd left, because you couldn't supress your smile any longer. After a second, you looked down at your phone. "Sorry."

Leo hummed. "It's fine. Are you two, like...dating, or something?"

"Oh, no, we're not," you chuckled uncomfortably. "People seem to think we are, but we're just close."

He sounded a little happier. "So the Winter Soldier's no threat to me, then?"

"No threat at all."

"I'm going to kill him. I swear, I'm going to kill him and then bury him with my bare hands."

Steve cleared his throat. "Bucky, I already told you, you have to keep these kind of plans to yourself. You can't implicate all of us."

"Aren't you supposed to tell him not to kill this Leo guy?" Natasha asked, chuckling. Steve just shrugged. "Bucky, what's the big deal? So, Y/N's got a boyfriend. So what?"

Bucky whirled around, shaking his head. "He's not her boyfriend."

"Not yet," Steve pointed out. Bucky glared at him. "What?! It's true! It's not like you've told her how you feel. She has no reason to wait."

He sighed. "I know. But he's not the right guy for her."

"Then who is? You?" Natasha pressed.

Bucky shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Don't twist my words, Nat. This guy's a complete asshole. He's self-obsessed, materialistic, and has absolutely no respect for women whatsoever."

"That sounds like a lot more than you could know from a phone call," Steve said slowly. Bucky flushed slightly. "Buck, what did you do?"

The brunet raised his hands. "She's my best friend, Steve! What was I supposed to do?"

"How about not stalk the one guy that's interested in her?" Natasha suggested dryly. When Bucky opened his mouth to counter her, she continued quickly. "I know that you're interested too. But she doesn't."

You walked in, looking at Bucky. "Who're you interested in, Buck? Got a secret girlfriend?"

"N-No," Bucky stammered, his hand rubbing at his neck. "We're just talking about...about Steve."

Steve glared at him, sighing as he began covering for his friend. "Yeah. I, uh, I like Erin from finance."

"There is no Erin in finance," you pointed out, looking at them all with narrowed eyes. "What's going on?"

Natasha sighed. "Nothing, Y/N." More than slightly offended by being kept so obviously out of their conversation, you nodded and left the room. Bucky was immediately subjected to Natasha's coldest glare. "Way to go, Barnes. You upset her."

"She'll be fine," Bucky shook his head. "She knows that we don't keep important things from each other."

Steve called after him as he left the room. "Being in love with her seems important, Buck!"

"Where've you been?"

You raised an eyebrow at Bucky as he stumbled into your living room, trying to be quiet. He was clutching a bottle of wine, presumably a peace offering. He would need one; he was three hours late to movie night.

"I, uh.." Bucky cleared his throat, trying to think of an excuse as he toed his shoes off. The truth was that he'd been with Steve and Natasha, trying to figure out how to reveal his feelings to you. But until he was ready, you didn't need to know that. "I just got caught up in helping Steve."

A look of disbelief was plastered across your face. "Right."

"Am I too late for movie night?" Bucky smiled at you hopefully, making sure to give you the puppy-dog eyes that always won you over.

Hardened by the assumption that he was late because he'd been with his mystery woman, the one that he'd been talking to Steve and Natasha about, you were able to shake your head.

"Yeah, sorry, Bucky," you shrugged as you turned around. "I'm going to bed."

Bucky watched you turn around and head down the corridor. He shook himself, rushing after you. "Y/N, come on, I didn't mean to be late. I won't miss movie night again. You missed it last week."

"No, I was half an hour late. You're three hours late, Bucky, that's a big difference," you replied angrily. "I don't want to fight with you. But you can't expect me to wait up for that long and then just be happy you've squeezed me into your day."

You brushed past him, ignoring him as he followed you into your room. Bucky was trying to figure out what to say when he saw you staring at him. "Wh-What?"

"I told you, I'm going to bed. I need to get changed," you answered. When Bucky failed to respond and just continued to stare at you, you sighed, pulling your shirt over your head. "What's wrong with you recently, Bucky?"

Bucky watched, eyes wide, as you stepped out of your jeans and pulled an oversized t-shirt on. He was pretty sure it was his. You're what's wrong with me, sweetheart. You. It's always fucking you-

"Look," you sighed, turning to see him standing in your doorway looking completely distraught. He wasn't, just stunned by the amount of skin he'd just been subjected to. "I'm sorry. I was too harsh. You can...you can sleep over, if you want to?"

He blinked. Sleep over? The two of you had never done that before.

"Yeah?" He questioned. You shrugged your shoulders at him, climbing under the sheets.

Bucky watched you pull your phone out, switching it on. "I'm staying in bed. You're welcome to join me, Bucky."

There was a pause, and you were almost certain he was going to decline. But then he was tugging his shirt over his head and onto the floor, and jumping onto your bed. You squealed in surprise.

"Bucky!"

He grinned at you with the boyish smile you'd grown to love so much. "Yeah?"

"You're such an idiot," you smiled at him fondly.

Bucky shifted to sit under the covers, tugging his socks off and launching them across the room. "You love me, though."

"Luckily for you," you smiled, putting your phone away. You looked at each other for a few seconds before chuckling, settling into your usual chatter.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky look down at his phone and break into a wide grin. He bit his lip in an attempt to hide it, glanced at you, smiled wider, and then tapped out a reply. He'd done this five times now.

"What are you doing, Bucky?"

He jumped, blinking at you. "I-uh-nothing!"

"Oh, nothing?" You raised your eyebrows, steadily putting your phone down. He was too focussed on your face to notice the way your hands crept closer. "So you won't mind if I do this?!" You jumped forwards, grabbing the phone from his hand and then leaning away from him as you tried to read it.

Panic surged through Bucky's veins. "No! No, don't read it! Give it back, doll!" He lunged towards you, pulling a shriek from your lips as you scrambled as far back as the bed would allow. You held the phone backwards, unable to read it. Bucky frowned at you. "C'mon, Y/N, give it back."

"What were you doing?" You pressed. "Are you sexting someone?"

Bucky shook his head quickly. "What? No, of course not."

"Then why are you so eager to get it back?" You puzzled, looking at him. "You're bright pink, Bucky. That's not a normal reaction unless you're doing something you shouldn't be."

After a moment of flushing even more because you'd pointed his blushing out, Bucky moved forwards with a renewed sense of urgency. Any minute, Natasha or Steve were going to type something in the group chat and you'd look up. You wouldn't even need to read the text; the title was 'getting bucky with y/n'.

His body moved closer so quickly that you reacted without thinking. Your legs opened to accommodate him and he slid one of his thick thighs between yours. The other rested on the outside of your leg, effectively trapping you beneath him. Bucky moved further still, his chest pressing into yours as he glared down at you.

"Give me the phone."

You were slightly shocked by his close proximity, but you shook your head. "No."

"Y/N."

"Bucky."

His eyes flicked between yours. "I'll play dirty."

"What?" You frowned. "Like what?"

Bucky tilted his head slightly, trying to figure out if what he was thinking would cross any major lines. "I wouldn't ever wanna do anything to damage our relationship," he began, pulling your attention with his serious tone. "But I need that phone back."

You were about to question him again when, agonisingly slowly, he rolled his hips against you. Your lips fell open, half in surprise and half in pleasure.

"Bucky!" You gasped. "What are you doing?"

He hummed, pleased by the way your attention had drifted away from the phone you still held above your head. You hadn't pushed him away, so he rolled his hips against you again. "Playin' dirty, sweetheart." You nearly shivered at the low tone.

"I thought you meant tickling or something," you managed to say.

Bucky chuckled, leaning his head down to rest in the crook of your neck. Purposefully, he moved his lips to brush against the shell of your ear. "You and I have very different understandings of the word dirty."

"Apparently so," you mumbled. Bucky smirked. You could feel it against your skin, and you knew what it was for. You hadn't even told him to stop. You hadn't even playfully pushed him back.

He gave one final roll of his hips before whispering darkly, "Give me the fuckin' phone, sugar, or I'll send you off to see Leo with hickies all over your pretty neck." Your swallow was loud in the silent room.

"Jesus fucking christ, Bucky, you can have the phone," you whispered, pushing it towards him. He leaned back, grinning down at you as he didn't move from on top of you. You caught the look in his eye. "This isn't like the puppy-dog eyes. You don't get to exploit my one moment of weakness."

Bucky grinned wider. "Alright, doll. Thanks for the phone." He leaned back, rolling off you and sitting on top of the covers. Then he was humming to himself, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.

You sat there in silence for a good few minutes trying to get over what had just happened. Bucky glanced over at you at one point, seeing the dazed look in your eyes. A satisfied smirk worked its way onto his lips.

"Bucky?"

He looked over at you with a soft smile. "Yeah?" After a moment's hesitation, you leaned towards him. This time he didn't fight you taking his phone. You held it in your lap and then looked back at him. "What'cha doin', sugar?" Bucky turned to face you.

"I, uh.." You trailed off. How did you tell your best friend that you wanted him to rock his hips into you again?

Luckily for you, Bucky knew you well enough to realise what was going on in your head. He smiled slightly, moving to sit in front of you. "You liked that a bit more than you should've didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah," you stuttered. You'd never felt more unsure. "Bucky, I think that I might like you. As...as more than a friend."

Surprise flashed over his face before he nodded, leaning forwards to press his forehead against yours. "You wanted to know what I was doing on my phone?" Your eyes flicked between his curiously. "I was texting Nat and Steve about you. They're trying to help me figure out how to ask you out on a date."

"Oh!" You smiled happily. "So, can I take that as you like me too?"

Bucky leaned forwards, kissing you gently. "You can. Now, about that phone.."

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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this is it. this is the purest photo in existence. reblog for 100 years of good luck

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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my favorite silly little part of my silly little day is when i get to lay in my silly little bed and read silly little eddie munson fanfics to make my silly little brain produce some silly little serotonin

#eddie munson

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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Promise to Make me Look Like A Rockstar?

Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none

a/n: Thank you so much for your request, I loved writing this. Hope I don’t fail you hun <3

Word Count: 1.474

Keep reading

#stranger things #stranger things fanfics #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x you

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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i am so in love with this man.

IM LOSING MY MIND. SEND HELP.

#eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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In the Palm of my Hand Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: There were pros and cons to you being “Eddie’s Small Girlfriend”

Warnings: Unwanted touching (sexual harassment), injuries, mild violence, bullying, loads of fluff, swearing, reader is assumed to be “small” however you want to perceive that

NOT EDITED YET

Thank you for reading, reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

Eddie loved that you were tiny. You fit everywhere. Well, everywhere that mattered. You fit on his lap when he was playing guitar, you fit between his legs when he was braiding your hair before bed, or various other between-the-leg-activities, you fit between his arms when he caged you under him. You just fit.

Eddie hated that you were tiny. You fit everywhere with him. Around the school halls, you always managed to get shoved or pushed enough to come home to him bruised. You were small enough that someone would always manage to drop you during cheer practice. You were so small that Jason and his goons could take advantage of you.

There were pros and cons to having you as his tiny girlfriend. Sometimes, when he could see all the inconveniences being small caused you, we wish he could just stretch you out, but then again, who would be able to nuzzle against him like you could?

The first time Eddie noticed was out on the field. You’d been practising this routine for two weeks now, and each practice, you’d come back to the trailer with more purple littering your soft skin. He watched as you flipped and twirled through the air, a bright smile on your face—until someone put their hand down too early, assuming the position for a longer leg than your own, and you fell 8 feet down and onto the grass.

“How many times have I told you, Tracy? Another second there, will you?”

It didn’t skip Eddie’s attention that none of your teammates asked if you were okay. As Amanda continued scolding Tracy for her bad timing, Eddie watched you roll out your ankle, biting back tears to continue the routine. He wanted so badly to hop off of the bleachers and help you walk off of the field. But he couldn’t. Jason and the basketball team were on the other end of the field watching you, and the football team was on the other. He promised himself he wouldn’t make your life a living hell of bullying by exposing your friendship.

“Ugh, sorry about that, Y/N. Ready?”

“Mmhmm.” Your response came out muffled and slightly teary-eyed, but you stood, limping back to your spot to assume the pyramid.

“AND, ONE—”

The second time Eddie noticed how much of an impact being small had on your life was when he went to his local music store. He hadn’t expected to see anyone, because it was usually empty and almost always looked closed. Five of the lights over his head were broken, but under the single shining light at the back of the store was someone so tiny, they were unmistakable.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

“Ah!”

Turned out, you were also as aware of how empty this store could be, considering that you were so started you dropped your tapes. “Jesus, Eds. Scared me.”

“Sorry. What are you doing here?”

“Uh… nothing.”

You quickly scrambled your tapes up from off the floor and hurried to the darkest part of the store.

“Woah, don’t think you're getting off the hook that easily. Why are you runnin’ off? What are you buying?”

“Does it really matter?” You asked, trying your absolute hardest to reach a cassette on the top shelf, but ultimately sighing in defeat.

“Y/N, Sweetheart, you could’ve just asked.”

He swiped the tape off of the top shelf without even sparing a glance at it.

“Now, ‘ya gonna tell me what you’re buying? I know you just got your paycheck, so come on, lemme see.”

You sighed, not really wanting to ruin the little cheerleader, good scholar image you had going on. “Promise not to say anything?”

“That bad?”

You laid out the tapes by the cash register, and Eddie’s mouth practically watered at the thought of your listening to them. He should’ve guessed earlier when you were at the back of the store, but shit—how was he supposed to know that you were a total fucking metalhead? In front of him were two iron maiden albums (The Number of the Beast and Piece of Mind), one new Metallica album (Master of Puppets), and WASP’s ‘84 album W.A.S.P. You watched him start to look excited, and quickly placed a hand over his mouth. “I said, not a word.”

Swiftly turning your hand over, he kissed the soft skin of your knuckles and chuckled. “I was just admiring your music taste. And you.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Do you wanna watch my band sometime? We gather a crowd of like… fiiiive drunks. Really cool stuff.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, okay? I’m asking you on a date.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“If I get to pick the place.”

“Done.”

“Good. Now help me. I’ve been trying to reach 5 albums for like two hours. Been giving myself leg cramps.”

“You got it, Sweet Thing.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Chance. Get off me!” You swatted away at the hands of the Sophmore basketball player who’d been trying to get in your pants all year. “Aw, come on, Y/N. Just let me—”

“Fuck off.”

Well, if you’d known then that rejecting Chance would gain as much attraction as it did, you wouldn’t have told him to fuck off, because the predicament you were in now was 20,000 times worse.

“Heyyy, Sherry,” Jason dragged out his greetings and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the basketball team’s antics. And you thought the damn football players were bad. “Jason.” She quirked a brow, a playful smirk on her face.

“Hey listen, I need a minute alone with Y/N, here. So, Jed’s gonna buy you lunch, and we’re gonna have a talk, yeah?”

“Mm, okay! Have fun, Y/N!”

You were close to falling on your knees begging her to stay. Besides, what did the whole basketball team want with you, anyway? You hoped they were just here to invite you to a party they didn’t want Sherry to go to.

Meanwhile, Eddie, on the other side of the cafeteria, was busy planning the next campaign for Hellfire. You still spared glances at him when you got the chance, admiring his frizzy hair and brown eyes from afar. Since your first date, you two had become closer than ever, but Eddie still refused to let you associate with him at school. You agreed on the basis that you could come to his trailer 5/7 nights a week. It resulted in lots of cuddles and cheap movies and popcorn. And if you ever wondered what Eddie did with those handcuffs by his bed—Close, as mentioned.

“What do you want, Jason?”

“Now, is that anyway to talk to HAWKIN’S HIGH BASKETBALL CAPTAIN?” he yelled, loud enough to gather the attention of at least half of the cafeteria. None of Hellfire looked up, because they didn’t want to see Jason’s face, and frankly, you did not blame them. Attention died down fairly quickly, but the red flush on your cheeks remained.

“Shut up, Jason. Just tell me why you’re here and give Sherry back.”

“Yeah, sorry, no-can-do. Heard you told a fellow teammate he had no chance with ‘ya in front of people.”

“And? What’s it to you?”

“And, we Hawkin’s High Basketball Team support our teammates.”

Before you knew it, you were being pushed and shouldered around a group of high school boys, much, much bigger than yourself. When you inevitably fell to the cafeteria floor, scraping your knees, you received mocking laughs from all the faces standing above you. You felt tears pooling in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let these low-lives hurt you. You quickly stood up, pressing your skirt back down and wiping off dirt.

“Let me go.”

Jed took the opportunity to wrap his fingers around your hips, holding you in place while Benny approached you.

“I said let go of me!”

You trashed, kicked, punched, whatever the hell you could do. Why did no one care? One minute you were one of the most popular girls in the school, a high-scoring, attractive cheerleader, but no one would help you when it came to Jason and his goons? Everyone seemed to have turned their faces away when they heard you pleading for the boys to just stop.

“Don’t touch me!”

That was when Jason took the opportunity to toss you over his shoulder like a bean back. His shoulder moved underneath you, and you knew that he was moving, but you were too embarrassed to open your eyes. You heard the cheers of the entire basketball team as Jason’s disgusting hands moved up and down your thighs. Then you heard practically half of the cafeteria cheering.

“If you don’t want to get pushed around so much, maybe you should consider getting bigger,” he snickered, slapping your ass.

“PUT ME DOWN, YOU ASSHOLE!” You were screaming at this point, but all you heard was more cheering. The tears had freely started falling down your face. You didn’t know where Jason was going, you didn’t know what his plan was for you. You just wanted to go back in time, to sit down and breathe.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t—

“Breathe. Relax, Girl. Are you always this dramatic?”

You started to pant when you heard the crashing of chairs and tables, assuming the chanting had started some commotion in the lunchroom. The rush of blood to your head made it difficult to think. Every sound was becoming dulled out by the raging hammering of your heartbeat.

“Please…” you cried, desperately. “Just put me down.”

Eddie had tried to find you before lunch, but you weren’t sitting with the other cheerleaders, because they were all two tables away from him. He assumed you’d decided to sit with either Chrissy or Sherry today.

“Why don’t you just sit with them? You know I like to keep an eye on you… you know, make sure you’re safe.”

“And as much as I appreciate that, I’ve made it through 3 and a half years of high school on my own, already. Eddie, as much as I loved you, I can’t stand sitting with those girls, and neither can Chrissy or Sherry. They’re nice, I promise.”

Now, he was just confused. The chanting must have started ten minutes ago, so it should’ve calmed down by now. Fights don’t take that long. Besides, he was determined to keep the freshmen’s eyes away from whatever stupidity was happening in the cafeteria. Going under Munson’s wing meant learning that high school drama was not worth any of your time.

But now, Eddie was concerned. Throughout all the noise, he hadn’t seen you once. No signs of life. What if you’d gotten trampled by people on their way to see the fight because they couldn’t see you? His heart pounded faster at the thought, and he finally stood up with the rest of Hellfire.

“Hey, isn’t that the cheerleader that walked into our meeting one time?” Mike tilted his head.

Eddie felt his stomach drop. He was going to be sick. Worse. He was going to go into a coma and never wake up. Oh god… That was you. That was his girl, his favourite girl, his only girl.

Throwing himself over a table, Eddie could actually feel the bile rising in his throat. The pushed over 7 chairs on his way to reach you, only to be stopped by a blockade of people cheering Jason on. Couldn’t they see you fucking crying? Couldn’t they see the bruises on your stomach from being thrown over Jason’s shoulder? Couldn’t they see what was happening? But they could see, some disgusted, others proud. No one would stand up for what was right because it was damn Jason.

“Hey!” He yelled through the crowd.

“HEY!” Suddenly, everyone stopped chanting, and stopped to see the freak standing up for a cheerleader.

“You heard the girl. Put her down, Jason.”

“He speaks,” Jason laughed, venom spewing out of his mouth with every word spoken. “Listen, uh, Munson? Freak? This doesn’t concern you.”

A sad whimper escaped your lips, and Jason forcefully shut you up, covering your mouth with his hand. Eddie’s heart broke and his fist formed by his side. “Put. Her. Down.”

Hellfire watched carefully as Jason approached Eddie, slowly, like he was trying to be threatening. You sobbed into Jason’s hand, occasionally biting into the fleshy parts as best you could, but his grip wouldn’t give. “What are you gonna do if I don’t, Freak?”

Eddie’s ring adorned fingers that you loved so much rammed into Jason’s jaw, forcing him to drop you onto the corner of a lunch table, your ribs practically cracking under the pressure. Wheezing, curled up into a ball, only now did the people in the cafeteria come to help you, telling you they’d get you the principal or a teacher. You felt so cold but so hot, so embarrassed and vulnerable. You coughed until you were seeing stars, and you felt someone sit you up against the wall.

But that voice. You knew it was Eddie. You looked up, scanning the room for his face, when you saw him getting kicked by Jason. “STOP!” You screamed, throwing yourself in front of Eddie when another blow landed to your gut.

“Shit! Y/N, what did you do that for?!” Jason scolded, attempting to get you out of the way. Eddie had time to stand and gather you off of the floor. You immediately wrapped your legs around his centre, sobbing into his chest.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie said, his voice wavering.

“Come on, please say something so I know you’re alright.”

But you couldn’t. You were shaking, and violently at that. Eddie could feel the shaking against his whole body, and he wondered, how could anyone be so cruel to someone so perfect.

You felt him running away from the cafeteria, and you were pretty sure he was leading you two outside. You prayed to God or whatever else that no one would follow you. You couldn’t deal with another second more of Jason.

A warm, smooth surface touched the underside of your thighs, and you couldn’t help but flinch, gripping harder into Eddie. “Shh, shh, it’s okay. Just the picnic table in the woods.”

You loosened your grip on Eddie a little bit, allowing yourself to go slightly more slack, while he sat you on top of the table. You felt his hands start to slide out from under your thighs, and panic set it. You were almost sure that you crushed him with how hard you pulled him back, and for someone so small, you really did pack a punch.

“Oof—Sweetheart, you gotta let go so I can see the damage.”

You shook your head into his warm chest, not letting up at all. You felt his guitar pick from under his shirt on the tip of your nose. His soft, slightly frizzy hair brushed over your head as you started to feel more comfortable. “Come on, Sweet Thing. Let me see that beautiful face. Haven’t said a word to me yet, Sweetheart; you know that?”

You slowly pulled your hands away from Eddie’s shoulders, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles linking behind him. “Are you okay?” you whispered, lifting his shirt to see forming bruises, as well as a cut on his cheek.

“Am I okay?” he scoffed. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Your reddened, tear-stained face just about broke Eddie’s heart in half. He watched as you pulled a strand of hair behind your ear and nodded shyly, clearly lying, though your efforts were in vain and you both knew it. “Oh… Sweetheart.”

Taking you back into his arms, Eddie kissed away at every part of your face, anywhere he could find. He kissed your forehead first, both of your cheeks. He rubbed at your shoulders and back while you gently cried against his collarbone. “He… touched me.” you sobbed out.

“He what?”

“And the whole team was just cheering him on, and I couldn’t do anything, Eddie. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, woah. Don’t—it’s not your fault. Don’t ever let me hear you say sorry for what that bastard did, again.”

Eddie’s mind swirled with thoughts so dark that he didn’t even know he was capable of having. He didn’t want to kill Jason. He wanted to do so much worse. He wanted to humiliate Jason, like he’d done to you today. Make Jason so vulnerable that there was no turning back.

But he had to take care of you first. First priority was and always would be you.

“He said something ‘bout ‘If I wanted to stop bein’ pushed around I should just get bigger.’”

“Y/N, you already know that Jason’s an idiot and doesn’t know how science works.”

“Do you think I’m too small? Like… weirdly?”

Eddie held your jaw between those fingers you loved so much, stainless steel grazing over your cheekbones from his thumbs wiping your cheeks. “Y/N, Sweetheart, you’re fucking perfect. Don’t listen to a thing Jason fucking Carver says. You fit perfectly in the palm of my hand, that’s why I’ll never let you go.”

“Shut up,” you smiled, hitting his chest with your palm.

“I mean it!” he smiled back, admiring everything about you. “It’s good to see you smiling again.”

“Well… now what are we gonna do?” You quirked your head to the side, looking around the empty woods. There were plenty of things you could do for the rest of the day because you were definitely not going back to school.

“I’ll give you a piggyback home so we can get’cha all fixed up. Then we can watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice, Eds.” You shone a bright grin, knowing what comes after movies.

“Don’t give me that look, you’re injured.”

“Only in some places. Very avoidable.”

Christ, he loved you. Jason would get his karma in due time. For now, Eddie just needed to take you home, and show you how much he really loved you.

“Hi, Eddie!” A young boy shouted from the bushes.

“Jesus! Dustin, fuck, how long have you been standing there?”

Five other boys swung their heads out from behind the trees.

“Uh… this is Hellfire, right?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things #eddie munson fic #fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie the freak munson #munson

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

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Cool As Hell

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Language

Summary: The Hellfire club finds out about Eddie's girlfriend.

General Taglist: @gg-is-a-loser @yesshewrites1

Moots: @iheardarumorthings @thewritingbabe @scandalous-chaos @ddejavvu @winterwisteria @abibliophobiaa @roxetteblack @plumes-de-nuit @sapphireplums

"Is she wearing a Hellfire shirt?" The members of the Hellfire club whispered among themselves as you walked into the cafeteria.

"I've never seen her come to a campaign before," said Mike. "Maybe she's new?"

Eddie walked in a moment after you, grinning. He flung an arm around your shoulder and whispered something in your ear that made you laugh.

"Oh my gosh," Dustin whispered.

Eddie led you over to Hellfire's table and pulled you onto his lap. "Hey guys," he said, running his ringed fingers over your thigh. "This my girlfriend, (Y/N). (Y/N), this is the Hellfire club."

The club members gaped at you.

You waved nervously. "Hi."

"You have a girlfriend!?" Dustin blurted out. Mike hit his shoulder.

Eddie shrugged. "Yeah."

"Holy shit," Dustin breathed.

"Is it really that surprising?" you spoke up.

"I mean…" The boys began to stammer, struggling to explain themselves.

"You're just so… pretty," said Mike, immediately wincing. He scratched his head. "I would've expected Eddie's girlfriend to be more…" He struggled for a way to finish the sentence.

"More of a punk nerd?" you suggested, doe eyes wide.

"Yes!" Mike narrowed his eyes. "No?"

You laughed. "I'm just playing. Don't worry, I'm just as much of a freak as the rest of you." You leaned forward conspiratorially. "I read fantasy novels and play D&D too," you whispered.

Mike and Dustin grinned.

"All right." You slapped Eddie's thigh. "I'll be right back, I need food."

Eddie kissed your cheek and you got up and left. "So, what do you think of her?"

"Your girlfriend's cool as hell, man," Dustin appraised.

Eddie grinned. "I knew y'all would like her."

"So is she part of Hellfire now?" Mike asked.

Eddie shrugged. "If she wants to be."

"But she's wearing a Hellfire shirt."

"Oh, that's my shirt."

Dustin gagged.

"Oh, come on, man." Eddie rolled his eyes. "Grow up."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #fic rec

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

Note

can i pls request a hurt/comfort eddie drabble with hugs and reassurance? maybe someone did something that’s been on their mind and upsetting them. thank you!

i love comforting eddie so much and after make up i cant help remebering how good josephs hugs look so we know eddie gives the best ones ever <3

Eddie climbs through your open bedroom window and your heart rockets, startled at his sudden intrusion.

"You really need to start closing it if you're gonna react this bad every time," he says, dropping his beat up jansport by the sill and kicking off his shoes. "Move over."

His appearance makes you feel much less miserable than you had, though it still lingers as you push your back to the wall. You and Eddie don't fit comfortably on your twin bed but that's never stopped him from trying, crushing in by your side, his arm pressed to yours.

"Hey, sweetheart," he says finally, lolling his head toward you.

"Hey, Eddie."

"What were you doing? Sleeping?" he asks.

You nod though it's not true, turning on your side to steal back a fraction of space. Eddie has this way of drawing the truth from you and you're not sure you wanna talk about it tonight.

"You look sad. You wanna hug?" he asks.

And that's your plan for space gone. It would be more suspicious to say you don't, because you always want a hug from Eddie. He gives the most amazing hugs, all strong armed and caring, his hands rubbing over the plane of your back slowly like he has nowhere else he'd rather be. His hugs are so good that you could believe it; that he loves them just as much as you do.

You nod and he sits up, arms open and reaching for you. You sit up the same, enough to wrap your arms around his ribs and back.

"You weren't really sleeping," he says.

"No."

"Mm," he hums, working his face into the side of yours, his lips skipping over the shell of your ear. "What's wrong, huh? Tell me."

"Nothing serious," you confess slowly.

"But it is something?" And there, his hand rubbing over your back, working away the tense ache. His rings are missing. Usually you can feel their weight, their ridges as they push over your spine.

"Not really, Eddie."

He groans quietly, almost good-humoured. Very much, I don't believe you. He's so nice and he smells beautiful, soft and warm, his arms strong as a cage but never that cruel, and his asking, all of it makes you want to cry.

"Not really. I'm feeling a small chance that it's something. I mean, you don't have to tell me. But I wanna know, so…"

You're limp to his solid, mild to his fierce. He pats your back a few good times and then holds you at arm's length.

"Do you have, like, a stomach ache?"

"No, I'm alright. Just…"

"Artist block?" he asks.

Not quite. You shake your head and then change your mind, deciding that artist's block sounds less pathetic than, 'someone saw my sketchbook and rolled their eyes and I've been sad for two days'. And not normal sad. Can't eat, don't want to move, sad.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling weakly. "Yeah."

"I noticed…" Eddie says, standing from the bed to retrieve his backpack before returning so fast he half sits on you. "That you haven't been doing your portraits lately." He unzips his bag and pulls out a smaller bag, made from a white paper with blue writing over the sides. "And I remembered how your nice inks all ran out. So, I went out to Indianapolis," his tone shifts, like he's listing something totally boring, "all the way down to that place behind Freeman's Ice Cream with the glass storefront, and the lady was totally pissed with me for getting all this Hawkins dirt," he grins deviously, "on their nice rug."

He passes you the bag. "Anyway. That's for you, sweetheart."

"Eddie…"

"Don't sound too mushy yet. I don't know if they're the right ones."

His shift from cocky to nervous is endearing.

You shake the bag's contents into your lap. An assortment of things fall out. A big inky pen for portraits, a refill. Two pencils with blue wood. An eraser. Four markers, four colours.

You slide your finger over the barrel of a marker. It's a dark red.

"I know you don't use much colour," he starts. "I thought it might help. Well, I asked one of the assistants. About, like, art block. And they said to try something new.

I liked the colours. I don't know if they're useful. But. I don't know. They suit you."

A dark red, blue, green. A buttery yellow orange.

"Eddie, you didn't have to."

"I kind of did. If you think about it."

You get what he means. The same way you get him a pack of cherry twizzlers everytime you see them, or always have a hair tie on your wrist.

You cover your face with your hands, wanting to hide how embarrassed you feel. How overcome with affection for him.

He yanks your wrists. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't cry. Hey." He scowls at your watery eyes. "Hey, don't. What's wrong? It's only a couple of pens."

"You don't think I'm awful?" you ask quietly. "At drawing?"

"No. Of course I don't. I love your art." His scowl softens. "Did someone say something? I can get violent."

"It's stupid," you say.

He's quiet. You take the red marker in your hand, turning it over and over and over. He's kept a hold of one of your wrist, his thumb pushing into your pulse then upward, into the meat of your palm.

"The piece you did for my last campaign? You know how fucking amazing that shit was? All in black and white but everyone could tell how emotional it was. You made it something so dimensional and gory and crazy without any colour at all." He sews your fingers together. You meet his eyes. Brown, edged in a burst of dark, long lashes. "If you can do that shit in graphite I'm genuinely scared of the stuff you could make with colour. And when I say scared I mean I'm literally salivating. Like a dog."

You scrunch up your nose and squeeze his fingers. He squeezes back.

"Not that I'm expecting a thank you, but I am."

"Yeah?" you ask, sniffing, grinning wide enough to hurt your cheeks.

"Yep. It involves your hands." Your eyes jump to his and his laugh is golden. "A hug, sweetheart. Why, what were you thinking?"

"Shut up, jerk." You crawl over the art supplies, paper crinkling under your knees as you hug him tenaciously.

He rubs your back and says, "That's better."

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whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

Text

😖😖😖

Doodles and Dates (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Masterlist

Eddie Munson x Artist! Reader (She/Her)

Warnings: None

Synopsis: Eddie has fallen for the quiet girl he sits next to in class who’s always drawing.

Y/N notes: none

DM me if you wanna be on the Eddie tag list!:)

Keep reading

#fic rec #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #reader x eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things

18K notes · View notes

whoreforfictionalcharacterss · 2 years

Text

OH MY GOD IM IN LOVE.

I WAS MADE FOR LOVIN' YOU. eddie munson.

summary: the four times eddie knew he was a goner and the one time he told you.

warnings: no spoilers! don’t worry, you’re safe here. profanities. gif credits to @his-name-is-ed <3

word count: 5.1k

i. the first time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he found out that you love mötley crüe.

eddie knows his presence is hard to miss. aside from his wild hair and clothing choices, which apparently do not fit the social standards, he makes it exceptionally difficult for people to ignore him.

and yet, on a particular, normal, chilly friday in the school field, you effortlessly grab his attention. you didn’t need crazy hair or seeking clothes or loud eccentric speeches on top of a cafeteria table. you’re just… sitting there with a frown on your face and eddie thinks…

eddie can’t think. his mind draws blank as he continues to stare at you.

so like dominoes, his abrupt stop results in the rest of the hellfire club bumping into him, which causes a streak of groans and complaints, but eddie pays them no mind because as if his legs have a mind of their own, they bring him right to you. “carry on without me, my little sheep, destiny awaits!”

you groan in annoyance, slamming your hand onto your malfunctioning walkman. “stupid, stupid, little shi-”

“y’know, i don’t think mauling the poor thing will make it work.”

you look up at the voice with a glare, your face softens just a bit after seeing it was eddie, but the glare prevails nevertheless, still frustrated with your walkman.

“i mean, sure, i guess that could make it work, too,” eddie shrugs, hopping on top of the picnic table instead of sitting on the benches like a normal person.

“it will work,” you grit your teeth, hitting the side of the device as it did nothing to fix the distorted voice of vince neil. “it just needs a bit of tough love.”

after watching you for a few more minutes with an amused smile, eddie snatches it out of your hands, convinced that you would break it if it doesn’t revive the next second. he ignores your objections as he opens his black metal lunchbox.

“it’s not a lunchbox,” he absentmindedly retorts to your murmur as he goes through his things, silently muttering a quiet no, not this, nope, what the hell is this? and finally, aha!

he raises a mini screwdriver before you as if it will magically take your problems away. “this, my lady, will magically take your problems away.”

huh.

you hesitantly watch as eddie pops open your walkman, taking out the mixtape to find the tape itself burst out of its case. he tinkers and meddles with it carefully, doing wonders as he manually rewinds it.

you use his current distraction to take a good look at him. you’ve seen him around the school; in class, in the hallways, at the cafeteria, but you’ve never crossed the borders of his personal bubble or actually spoken to him until now.

he isn’t a bad sight to see.

his hair, although gone rogue, looks so soft that you physically have to restrain yourself from touching it. he has tattoos inked on his skin, slightly covered by his hellfire shirt as if teasing you and leaving you wanting to see more. beautiful silver rings graced his fingers making you want to study each intricate detail that embellished the jewelry.

his tongue is poking out of his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. his nose is slightly crooked as if it’s been broken before. he has dimples piercing his cheeks and the lightest of freckles sprinkled over his face, only noticeable if kissed under the sun.

all things considered, eddie munson is a sight for sore eyes.

“are you done staring, sweetheart?” eddie teases, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “if you’d like, i can pose for you on this table.”

you were too deep in your reveries that you didn’t notice he was done. you blink up at him and scoff. “shut up, i wasn’t staring.”

“it’s fine, y’know, it’s normal to stare at pretty things.” he encourages you, satirically playing with his hair. “especially if you’re one of those connoisseurs of art.”

“wow, someone learned a new word today.” you praise him sarcastically.

“now, now, y/n, is that a way to treat someone who just fixed your lil walkman?” eddie chastises, grabbing your headphones from your neck and putting it on his ears. “what were you listening to anyway?”

he gives it a few seconds before the familiar music comes in. he whips his head towards you with a slack jaw. he winces, his hand coming in contact with his neck, massaging the pain from snapping his head towards you too fast.

… i've been a poet always tongue in cheek,

i've seen some scenes man you'd never believe,

and like a supercharged rocket ride,

you know they'd have gasoline if they had the time.

“you- you listen to mötley crüe!” eddie blurts out, standing on the picnic table and pointing an accusatory finger at you. “you’re one of us!”

“shut up!” you pull him back down with a yank. you can still hear angela blasting through your headphones. you look at him with a sigh before muttering. “i love mötley crüe.”

eddie lets out a choked laugh, jumping off the table and squishing your cheeks with his hands. “you’re a cute little metal freak!”

“shut up, munson! you better get your hands off my face or so help me god.”

it came out as gibberish but the point came across.

“you say ‘shut up’ too much, is that your favorite word?” eddie calls into question, leaning closer to you with a roguish grin. his gaze flickers down to your pouting lips before staring straight into your eyes. “i can teach you more ways to shut me up, y’know?”

“scout’s honor that it’s even more efficacious than the words itself.” he winks at you before grabbing his lunchbox, leaving you bewildered and baffled beyond belief. mötley crüe did not do anything to blur the forming thoughts in your head.

that was strike one for eddie munson.

ii. the second time eddie knew he was a goner was when… you knocked someone out cold with a box of frozen waffles.

you shouldn’t have been out at an ungodly hour, quite frankly, but you really, really, wanted some eggos. so clad in sweats and an oversized shirt, you walk out of bradley’s big buy with three boxes of mini waffles in hand.

and as if the universe wasn’t satisfied with only one interaction, you hear eddie munson’s voice. “hey, come on, man. you’ve been my client for over a year now and you’re only doubting me now?”

“we talked about fifteen grams, munson, so i’m expecting fifteen grams.”

eddie sighs, rubbing his tired face with his hand. they’ve been going back and forth and he was starting to get annoyed. he wasn’t even supposed to be dealing right now, but when money calls, you answer it.

“look, man. it’s fifteen. if you don’t believe me, give me the money, go find a weighing scale, and weigh your shit. it’s fifteen grams.” he says, grabbing his lunchbox, but just as he wrapped his fingers on the handle, he gets shoved to the ground, his things crashing with him, skin scratched from catching himself on the rough pavement.

motherfucker.

“hey!” you didn’t want to. you really didn’t want to, but before you can think twice, you get in between eddie and the ridiculously tall buff guy.

you should really start thinking twice.

said guy, although high as a kite, looks at the box of eggos on the floor and back at you. you had thrown a box of waffles at his head.

“take your fifteen grams and leave,” you order calmly, ignoring the whispers of objections of eddie, who immediately stands up at lightspeed, startled by your sudden presence.

“i don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but this is between me and your little druggy friend, a’ight?” he sneers, pushing you aside to grab eddie by his shirt. “besides, the fuck do you know about packing shit right?”

“i know how to pack a punch, for starters.”

you didn’t give him or eddie to process your words before, CRACK! your fist comes in contact with his nose — a sickening crunch and a cry had them both freezing, well, except for the junkie clutching his nose.

“you bitch!”

with the throbbing pain of your knuckles, you could only whack him across his face with the box of waffles in your hand as he leaped to get you.

eddie, still frozen in his spot, can only watch in both horror and amazement as the guy gets knocked out cold, face kissing the sidewalk.

“holy shit…”

“how much did he owe you?” you huff, clutching your victimized hand as you stand over the guy.

“twenty.” he blinks.

you shrug, digging a hand in the jean pocket of the junkie and placing the crumpled bills in eddie’s hand. “twenty-five for being a shithead.”

eddie took you out for some ice cream treat after that.

“remind me to never get on your nerves, you scare me,” he said, but there was no real fear behind his words, just a twinge of wonder in his voice and a sparkle in his eyes.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to, so you just grinned at him before taking a scoop out of his ice cream.

and at that moment, under the moonlight with frozen waffles aiding your knuckles and discarded ice cream cups on top of his van, eddie just knew that you would stick around.

and the rest was history.

that was strike two for eddie munson.

iii. the third time eddie knew he was a goner was when… traces of you were slowly starting to bleed into his life, and he didn’t mind.

“is this… MADONNA?”

eddie snaps his head towards the curly-headed boy in his passenger seat, eyes widening at the sight of the manifold of mixtapes that sits on dustin’s lap.

he splutters incoherent excuses as he chucks them back into his glovebox, a hand still on the wheel as he tries to keep the van steady.

dustin watches in amusement as eddie fumbles with the mixtape that fell from his grasp. he snatches it out of his mentor’s hand and snickers, “wow, abba, too? didn’t know you were such a pioneer of music, eddie.”

eddie thwacks him with the d&d gazette before turning his eyes back on the road. “those aren’t mine.”

it was his. you left it for him.

dustin squints his eyes at his friend as if staring at him like that will force him to tell the truth, and it almost did, but thankfully, he chooses to go through the mixtape-filled glovebox again instead.

you brought half of your mixtapes with you when eddie had asked you to accompany him on a spontaneous road trip out of town one day. he always looks back to that moment.

you were passionately talking about the songs that graced your diverse music taste, hands animatedly moving around as words spew out of your mouth every millisecond. he understood every single thing you said, though.

just because you love mötley crüe doesn’t mean you don’t love starship. you love kiss but you also love the beatles. you love metallica but you also love bee gees, and maybe he was starting to like it, too.

if you ask eddie, he’ll choose cyndi lauper’s time after time as his slow dance song. absolutely irrelevant yet very relevant.

“why the hell are you smiling like a crazy man?” dustin pokes his cheeks, effectively snapping him out of his daydream.

eddie slaps his hands away from his face.

aside from mixtapes in his glovebox, eddie also has a special drawer with the clothes you often leave at his house, and with the best detergent he has – a discounted brand from a dollar store – he voluntarily washes it for you to wear next time.

“did… did you wash my clothes?” he remembers you asking the first time.

he turns away from his notebook to look at you. “uh, yeah. you left some of your stuff here and i decided to include it with mine last wash day.”

“oh,” you beam, pulling the material to your nose and breathing it in. “thanks, babe.”

eddie ignores the warmth of his cheeks and goes back to doodling in his notebook. “‘course, would you like me to wear a maid outfit while i’m at it next time?”

you laugh. “i’d like that very much.”

you bring the soft fabric back to your nose, it smells just like him.

you start leaving more clothes in his room after that.

that was strike three for eddie munson.

iv. the fourth time eddie knew he was a goner was when… he wanted to be the best version of himself whenever you’re around.

“okay, so i have a bag of those honeycomb cereal you like, some pringles, juice boxes, pints of ice cream…”

as you continue to list off the snacks you brought for the d&d campaign with the boys, eddie leans forward to buckle your seatbelt, letting you catch a whiff of his cologne. he tugs it twice to make sure it’s fastened properly. “safety first.”

you pause. “you literally never wear your seatbelt.”

“that’s because i sold my soul to the devil for immortality,” eddie pats your thigh before backing out of your driveway. “and because it will cause a decline in my precious reputation!”

“what, common road safety?” you snort. “do tell, kind sir, what would the great eddie munson be known for?”

“you don’t know?” he scoffs in mock disbelief. “i’m an evil self-proclaimed attention whore – i’m known for a lot of things, sweetheart.”

“speaking of being an attention whore,” you gravitate towards him to sniff him again. “are you wearing a new perfume, munson?”

“sit back down, dumbass! and it’s cologne, not perfume.”

“same shit. are you trying to impress someone?” you tease, settling down back in your seat before letting out an overdramatic gasp. “is it dustin? is it because he’s been hanging out with steve the past week?”

“what? no!” he wavers for a moment before sniffing himself. “why? does it smell bad?”

you laugh. “no, no. i actually like it better than your old one.”

“good, i bought it especially for you.” he winks, turning the volume of the music up before you can even reply.

“i can’t believe erica rolled a d20!” eddie exclaims, packing up the boards.

“and twice,” you agree.

as usual, you and eddie stayed back after the campaign, ushering the kids — and gareth and the group — out of the room as soon as you heard the distant rumble of the sky. you knew they’d be biking home, so you asked them to leave early, much to your best friend’s displeasure.

you pick up the empty chip bags and discarded juice boxes, prolonging the chat you’re having with eddie.

mid-conversation, you lean against his throne, garbage bag in your hands. he was talking animatedly and you’re not quite sure what he’s even talking about anymore.

the lights of the room give him a glow that makes your heart beam. the perfect combination of green, orange, and blue; it makes him look like a fallen angel. a devil in disguise. the right fusion of both.

his eyes are soft, it’s kind. his smile is, too. everything about him is. he doesn’t show anyone, but you always get the opportunity to see a part of him that makes you fall in love with him even more.

“…and then just as i was about to dream of rubbing their loss in their puny little faces — she slaps me with a crit hit! that’s twice!”

“yeah,” you whisper, a gentle smile on your lips. you push yourself off the chair and start helping him around the room. “maybe it’s a sign that you’re getting a bit rusty, buzz.”

“drop it with the nickname! it’s been years and i was only forced to have it shaved after stupid anthony chopped my hair nasty in history.”

you double down in laughter. “and wayne has been so gracious enough to show me the pictures.”

eddie glares at you before running towards you. you only advance two steps away from him before he catches you from behind and pulls you against him.

“salvage yourself, you insolent little minx.”

“no! i shan’t yield!”

giggles escape both of your lips, sounds slowly getting muffled by the drops of rain starting to patter one by one, making you and eddie stop in your tracks.

you exchange wide-eyed glances before hurrying with the packing.

you run out of the building, shoes splashing over the formed puddles, you didn’t even notice eddie shrug his jacket off to shield both of you from the rain.

a few meters from his van, you pull away from him and let the water hit you, dampening your clothes all within a second.

“what the hell are you doing?” eddie shouts over the loud pour.

“come on!” you pull him towards you, cold hands grasping his warm ones, you dance in the rain.

eddie watches you in disbelief, though there’s a smile on his face. “fuck it,” he mutters. “wait here.”

he runs to his van, almost slipping on the wet ground. “i’m okay!”

“idiot.” you snort.

eddie opens the door to the passenger seat and opens the glovebox. he grabs a random mixtape and fumbles to put it in the player, only then realizing that he didn’t even start the van.

a minute or two later of waiting, you hear a bees gees song blast from eddie’s van.

“come on, baby,” he whoops, grabbing your hands as he starts shimmying. “let’s dance!”

you let out a blissful laugh as he twirls you around. you jump around in the puddles, soaked clothes slightly weighing you down from being drenched. you attempt to twirl eddie around, too, which was a struggle due to his height.

he sings along to the song and you gasp in surprise. “you know this song?”

“do i- do i know this song?” he repeats in incredulity. “of course, i do! i’m in-”

adrenaline getting to his head, eddie realizes what he was about to say so he rectifies it. “you only sing it every second of the day. that damn song is engraved in my head!”

he pulls you back against him with a grin, a hand intertwined with yours and another supporting your back. he dips you, and you yelp in surprise.

the both of you are panting from all the dancing, but the smiles never left your face. you stare at his face, he stares at yours. you tuck a wet strand of his hair behind his ear, letting your hand rest on his jaw. he has a light stubble.

his eyes flicker to your lips, you do the same.

should i kiss him? should i not kiss him?

the loud boom of the thunder makes the decision for the two of you. the sound startles both of you, resulting in jumping away from each other faster than the next flash of lightning.

“we should head home if we still want to have this movie marathon,”

“yeah.”

eddie goes over his thoughts for a moment as you adjust the heater of the van. he recollects the resolution he made earlier, pondering over the idea of being the best version of himself though he already feels like he became it the first time he met you. how can one become the best-est best version of themselves?

that was strike four for eddie munson.

but for you… you lost count of how many it’s been because every day with eddie adds a tally to your strikes.

v. the time eddie tells you how he’s a goner for you.

“harrington? fucking harrington?”

“it’s a friendly date, buzz,” you point out, hand steady as you do your eyeliner in his bedroom mirror.

“with harrington?” he stresses, his own hands tugging at his brown locks.

“yes, eddie.” you sigh, it’s been a repetitive back and forth. “it’s not a date date. it’s friendly, as i said. robin will be there.”

he sits up against the wall, lips moving before his brain can process his words. “well, if buckley’s gonna be there then what else does he want with you?”

you pause, dropping your hand to look at him. “okay, ouch.”

“no, i-” he groans dramatically into his hands. “i didn’t mean it like that. i just- i don’t understand why you have to spend a perfectly great night with harrington-”

“and robin.”

“-and robin, when you can just spend it with me.” eddie pouts. he sounds pathetic, he knows, but he’s jealous. what if you decide to leave him for steve? – and although he understands; it’s steve harrington, for god’s sake. he would, too, if he can – life would have no other purpose for him if you do.

“aww,” you mimic his pout, walking over to him to pat his cheeks. “don’t worry, hotshot, you’re still my favorite boy.”

“whatever,” he swats your hands away, though the grin tugging at the corner of his lips persists. he takes his time admiring you properly. you looked gorgeous, as always.

“c’mon, you big baby,” you protested. “robin will be there! plus, you can always come wi-”

“well, why didn’t you say so?” he exclaims, leaping towards the door clad in his hellfire shirt and boxers. “let’s go! we better get goi-”

you throw his jeans at him. “for your modesty.”

eddie was glad he came along. he looks at you with clear fondness, watching as your eyes light up like a child on christmas day. you jump in excitement, dragging him into the fair.

“hey, you made it!” steve jogs towards you, but then his eyes flicker to your company. “…and munson.”

“harrington,” eddie grins, a hint of mischief in the glint of his smile as he bows to him.

you roll your eyes at them. “where’s robin?”

“right here, lovebug,” she smiles, offering you a pink cotton candy as she takes a bite off the blue one. steve’s mouth slowly falls slack in bewilderment.

“aww, my favorite,” you pout your lips as you clink your sweets like glasses of wine.

“that’s mine!”

“buy your own cotton candy, dingus,”

“you paid for those with my money.”

eddie pays them no mind as they continue to bicker. he snatches a piece of cotton candy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you. “i see a kissing booth we can go to… the marriage booth, too, maybe?”

“stop,” you smack his arm. “let’s start with the basketball — eddie, they’ve got those big teddy bears!”

“well, the night is young, sweetheart,”

the night is young, indeed. you go around the fair with the group, steve has the giant teddy bear propped on his shoulders as if it was his child — “he is!” he argued. “his name is harry harrington.”

“harry harrington?” you had asked in incredulity. “that’s a shit name, steve!”

he gasped in mock offense, bringing the bear down to cover its ears. “don’t listen to her, harry, she’s just jealous you aren’t hers.”

eddie’s jealous he isn’t yours, too, but he wasn’t going to say that.

you felt as if you’ve managed to go through every single booth but according to the map robin had somehow snatched, there were more than half of it you have yet to explore.

“c’mon, there’s a ball toss over there,” eddie says, grabbing your arm to drag you away from steve. “gonna win you that giant fucking elephant.”

although as soon as you stop by before it, eddie does a double-take. “six dollars?”

“six dollars.” the merchant confirms.

he looks at you and whispers in disbelief. “six dollars?”

you shrug at him, letting out a chuckle at his expression. “capitalism, baby,”

eddie sighs. he’s glad he brought his wallet with him. he’s willing to spend all of his income if it meant getting you that elephant — and he will.

“we don’t have to, you know,” you reassure him, eyeing him as he reaches out for the dollars. “there’s still a lot of booths we can go to.”

“nah, i’m getting you that elephant.” he slams the money on the counter. the merchant smirks. three balls.

eddie grabs one and exhales. “wish me luck.”

he throws the ball, and again, and then again. and then he slams more money onto the counter, and then again, and again.

his aim’s good, but not enough to knock all the cans down. steve and robin managed to do a round before returning to the both of you with corndogs in hand.

with his promise of a last round, he sighs at the sight of what’s left of the standing cans. he gives you the last ball.

“are you sure?” you hesitate.

“do the honors, my lady,” eddie smiles, eyes so soft that subtle crinkles show at the corners.

and with a swift throw, you somehow manage to knock down all of the cans. you and eddie whoop in excitement, jumping up and down as the merchant sighs exasperatedly, grabbing your oversized prize.

“oh my god,” you whisper, hugging the elephant to your chest. “it’s so fluffy!”

eddie looks at you with a dopey lovesick smile. maybe it was the sparkling fairy lights overhead, or the distant music playing, or maybe it was because you’re practically bouncing off the balls of your feet, a giddy smile adorning your lips… or maybe it was because eddie cannot take it any longer so he says, “i’m in love with you.”

you falter for a bit, uncertain if you heard him correctly. “what?”

and steve, who had initially asked you on a date — although as friendly as he claims — leans against the wooden pillar, face contorting in realization, lips forming into an unmistakable o as he grasps what is happening.

robin grins, a quiet finally! unleashing from her lips. to give you two some privacy, well, as private as a conversation in a public place can be, she drags steve to a very friendly competition of high strikers. steve lets her, sending eddie an encouraging thumbs up.

“i-i’m in love with you,” eddie repeats, voice wavering at your blank expression. he couldn’t read you and it’s making him anxious. “i’m so terribly and undeniably in love with you – i knew i did the moment you said you love mötley crüe.”

you let yourself feel all the emotions bursting in all at once. he likes you. eddie munson likes you, so you ask stupidly, “are you sure?”

eddie scoffs a laugh. “am i- am i sure? are you asking me if i’m sure about my own feelings?”

you shrug.

he looks at you before breaking into a run without another word.

“eddie, where are you going?” you call out frantically.

eddie eyes the haystacks in the center of the park and clumsily mounts on them and nearly falls. he catches himself before he can tumble down. his eyes flicker to yours as he cups his hands over his mouth. “fair people of hawkins, i have an announcement to make!”

“what is he doing?” steve asks as he and robin appear from beside you.

“i have no idea.”

some people stop by to watch, some go on with whatever it is they were doing, and you just stand where you’re planted, unsure of what he’s about to do and what you’re supposed to do.

“i, eddie munson, a self-proclaimed attention whore, have something very important to say.” he starts – “well, get on with it now!” a guy exclaims. eddie ignores him – “i am in love with y/n l/n. i’ve been in love with her since i found out she loves metal, i’ve fallen for her since she knocked a guy out cold with frozen waffles–”

“frozen waffles?” robin questions.

“– i fell for her even harder when she introduced me to madonna – that’s right, i love madonna! but most importantly, i knew i was a goner when i wanted to become the best version of myself for her. i wanted to become the person she deserves because i am in love with you, y/n, always have.”

you soften and the world disappears around you; it was just you and him. there is an ache in your chest, but not because of heartbreak, it’s because it feels as if it will burst out of your chest out of love.

“we can’t help who we fall for,” eddie breathes out, walking down the stack. “but honestly, i’m glad it’s you because there’s no one else in this world whom i would love to love if it’s not you.”

you shove the elephant in steve’s hold and walk straight to eddie.

he sends you a small smile, arms extended. when you’re a step closer, he whispers. “i’m sorry, i just had to-”

“shut up,” you command, pulling him in for a heated kiss, fingers getting lost and tangled in his hair, his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly closer, no gap left unfilled.

your lips dance a fast-paced song, it’s all but intense and passionate – a hint of eagerness and the satisfaction of longing. you forget that it wasn’t just the two of you, that there was a crowd watching you both kiss. you can hear the faint coos of the moms by the corner.

“get a room!” a guy barks out. simultaneously, you and eddie flipped him off but the kiss decelerates into soft and sensual, a contrast to the shared feverish one, now easing up to the feeling of content and delicate love.

you pull away a second later, forehead touching his as you don’t dare to open your eyes yet. “i’m in love with you, too, if it’s not obvious yet.”

“well, i should hope so,” eddie laughs. he gives you a quick peck on the lips before fixing you with a teasing grin. “how about that marriage booth now, sweetheart?”

“take me out on a date first, loverboy.” you interlace your hand with his as you walk away from the spotlight.

“how about a kiss on top of the ferris wheel?” he proposes instead.

“sap,” you scrunch your nose up with a smile. “but i’m not opposed to the idea.”

that was strike ??? for you and eddie.

“just to let you all know, i am not going to sit next to steve on the ferris wheel.”

“what do you mean? i’m an amazing ferris wheel companion.”

“would you like to get shoved off the seat once we’re on top?”

“... how about the bumper cars?”

“deal.”

#fic rec #eddie munson #writers on tumblr

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