#Steve stop it’s not funny anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hairmetal666 · 2 months

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Steve doesn't date, not anymore. He goes to bars, clubs, picks people up and makes it clear it's just for the night; that it can't, won't, be for anything more.

He falls too fast and too hard; wants so badly to be loved that he loses himself to it. So, he doesn't date and he's fine. More than fine, actually. Not worrying about finding someone, about falling in love, lets him truly enjoy his life; maybe for the first time since childhood.

He goes with Robin to visit her parents in Hawkins, wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to go for a run. With the sun barely up, he doesn't expect to come face-to-face with Eddie Munson, smoking on a park bench.

They startle each other in the early Hawkins quiet, Eddie jumping hard enough that he drops his cigarette into the dirt at his feet.

"Christ, Harrington!" He snarls a little.

"Fuck, Eddie." Steve fights to catch his breath. "What are you doing out this early?"

He glances up, finds Eddie's eyes raking over this body in a way that makes him go hot all over.

"Haven't been home yet." Eddie smirks. And he can see that's true, Eddie is fully dressed, faint lines of mascara trail across his cheeks.

"Had a show?"

"Something like that." Eddie's cheeks pink, and he pulls a chunk of hair over his face.

Understanding dawns, and Steve points at him, delighted laugh bubbling in his throat.

"Don't--"

"You had an all night Hellfire meeting?" Steve cackles.

"Shut--Harrington, shut-up." But he's smiling too. "I'm in town this weekend. Dustin insisted!"

"You can tell him no, you know?" Steve giggles.

"Like you ever could."

Eddie stands then, and they hug, quick and tight. He practically crumbles into his friend's body, but then, that's nothing new. Steve breathes him in, immediately comforted by the familiarity of tobacco and leather and sweat and weed.

"I'm at Rob's. Come say hi?"

Eddie nods and they trek back together. They kept in touch, after Vecna, and their chatting is easy, like it's not been six months since the last time.

Eddie stays for breakfast tells them with a smile, "I was gonna call but--I'm moving to Chicago. That's why I'm crashing at Wayne's for now, stopped on the way--"

The rest of his words are smothered by the force of Steve and Robin's hug, Steve's heart beating an elated rhythm he doesn't bother investigating.

When Eddie makes it to town, they hang out as constantly as an adult with a day job and a touring musician can. It's nice, good, to see Eddie sitting on their couch. To watch him smoke a joint on the balcony. To hangout in his bed as he works on new music. It's just like the summer of '86, before they all went off to find their futures.

They're closer than they've ever been. Crashing at each other's apartments, sharing clothes, meeting for coffee and drinks and meals. There's not a day or night when they're free that they don't spend together.

Steve knows he's falling for Eddie; was halfway there already, and now--well, Eddie's beautiful and funny and smart and talented. He doesn't make a move, though. Because Eddie'll leave, like they all do, and losing Eddie will crush him more than anyone else ever has.

In June, Eddie's gone for a month, touring across the midwest. The day he's expected back, Steve's in the kitchen, rolling up fresh pasta, simmering sauce on the stove.

Robin stomps in, eyes flashing. "What are you doing?"

"Making dinner?" Steve raises an eyebrow.

"Steve."

"Robin."

They glare at each other across the kitchen. Steve breaks first. "What's wrong with making our friend dinner?"

"I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Steve freezes, swallows. "I'm not--I'm--I wouldn't."

"Just. Promise you'll be careful?"

He nods, squeezes his hands into fists. "Course, Rob."

And he means it, he really does, but when Eddie lets himself in, Steve runs to the doorway to pull his friend into a tight hug.

Eddie huffs out a burst of air on impact, laughing lightly. "Miss me, sweetheart?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He presses his nose into Eddie's neck, breathing him in, and he doesn't miss the way a kiss is pressed into his hair, the way Eddie's breathing him in too.

They fall into their natural rhythm immediately, Eddie following him to the kitchen, cooing and posturing that Steve made him dinner.

As Steve serves up the food, Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, leaning against his back. God help him, but Steve can't help relax into the hold, turning his head until their eyes meet.

Desire bleeds from Eddie's gaze, and Steve's breath hitches. He wants this so badly, knows he shouldn't, but he lets himself lean in until they share air.

But--he can't lose Eddie. He can't.

He turns away, lets the moment die. Eddie doesn't stay over that night, and Steve pretends like it doesn't make his stomach hurt.

They aren't as close after that.

Steve keeps telling himself it's because they're busy. The school year's starting up, Steve's got lesson plans to write; Eddie made an EP, it got interest, he's taking meetings in New York and LA. It's okay that they're spending less time together.

Until Eddie stops returning his calls.

He tries not to worry. But one call becomes two, becomes three, and he can't help it. He goes over, dread a knot in his stomach. Eddie opens the door, and he's shirtless with sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair loose and streaming around his shoulders. He looks happy.

"Steve? What are you--"

"You weren't answering my calls, and--can I come in?"

Eddie winces. "It's not a good time, Harrington."

He stands there for a second, stung, not sure what to say.

"Eddie, I--"

"Babe?" A voice calls from inside the apartment. "Who's at the door?"

Steve freezes. Can't think, can't move. He hopes it isn't obvious that his heart is shattering, but Eddie's blinking at him, panic written in the lines gathering on his forehead.

"Steve, Stevie, please," Eddie is saying, but he can't do this. He can't do this.

He walks away, all the way home, numb to everything around him.

The phone's ringing when he gets to the apartment. He ignores it. Goes to his room, locks himself in, crawls into bed.

The phone keeps ringing. He keeps ignoring it.

It isn't supposed to be like this. They weren't dating, weren't trying for a relationship; Eddie's supposed to be his. He curls into himself, sobs until his ribs hurt, until his eyes are as heavy as his heart, and he falls asleep.

Steve startles awake, disoriented, to someone knocking on his bedroom door. He has no idea what time it is, how long he slept, but he expects Robin to be waiting in the hall.

It's Eddie. Hair in a messy bun, face flushed, eyes too bright.

"I'm sorry," falls out of Steve's mouth before he can think of anything else.

"Steve, I--I don't--" Eddie shakes his head. "Do you want to be in a relationship with me?"

"Yes," Steve whispers. "But I can't lose you, Eddie."

Eddie reaches out, slender hand, cupping Steve's jaw. "I need you to really listen when I say this, sweetheart. You will never, ever lose me. Not a chance."

"You can't know that," Steve says. Tears break free, cascade down his cheeks. "I used to think who could ever leave me? You know, back before Nancy. But I realized that actually no one would stay. And I can't--with you I can't--"

"Sweetheart," Eddie chokes on a sob. "I'm yours. Have been for years. I will never, ever leave you, no matter what we are to each other. But I can't be in some of a relationship with you. You have me wrapped around your finger, and I--I need it all, Steve."

"I want you to have it, Eddie." He presses his hand to his heart. "This belongs to you, but I--I couldn't survive you leaving."

"I would stay, Steve. I will. I promise on everything I have, everything I am, that you would never, ever lose me."

Steve stumbles into Eddie's arms, totally gone, and their mouths meet in a clumsy kiss. It wrecks Steve, tears him apart, renders him down to his smallest parts only to build him back together. He knows now for certain that there is no one else in the world for him.

They break apart, but don't move out of each other's orbit. "I love you," Steve whispers.

"Stevie, sweetheart, I love you more than anything." His fingers wind their way into Steve's hair, gentle, holding him. "I promise you'll have me for forever--fuck, longer than forever. My soul will find yours wherever we end up. I swear it."

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airprime7 · 5 months

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Why am I seeing so many fake posts on my dash? Like, there's ones from all sorts of made up realities, I'm surprised I haven't seen ones set in webcomics or whatever.

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♊️ twinarmageddons reblogged

♊️ twinarmageddons

all of you iidiiot2 need two 2hut up about computer2 unle22 you know what you're talkiing about. ii 2wear ii 2aw 2ome guy telliing people two pour water on theiir keyboard2 two clean them.

♉️ adiostoreador

uH,,,

iS THAT NOT HOW YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO, uH, dO IT,

♊️ twinarmageddons

oh my fuckiing god 2ome people are actual iidiiot2

#ii mean come on you actually beliieved that

22 notes

♑️ terminallycapricious

wAsSuP mOtHeRfUcKeRs???

#HoNk

420 notes

♌️ arseniccatnip reblogged

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < hiii!!!

:33 < my name is nepeta leijon, and this is my furst post!

:33 < i like shipping, and rolepurrlaying, and hunting

:33 < i have troll pawtism, so i might not be the best at understanding things. sorry if i get confused!

:33 < i also do art, and my commissions are open! purrlease don't ask me to draw trolls pailing, i'm only 6

:33 < bye! :33

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOW STUPID DO YOU HAVE TO BE TO PUT YOUR FULL NAME IN YOUR PINNED POST.

DON'T YOU KNOW THE FIRST RULE OF GRUMBLR IS NEVER USE YOUR REAL NAME, YOU IDIOTIC EXCUSE FOR A PERSON.

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

wwhy is your text grey

♋️ carcinogeneticist

I DON'T KNOW, WHY ARE YOU SUCH A PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE, FISH FACE.

🤡 i-say-honk Follow

hOnK!

♋️ carcinogeneticist

FUCK OFF, TC, WE ALL KNOW IT'S YOU.

THIS STUPID "GIMMICK BLOG" ISN'T EVEN FUNNY.

♌️ arseniccatnip

:33 < @carcinogeneticist @caligulasaquarium @i-say-honk kill yourselves

#:33 < :33

333 notes

♍️ grimauxiliatrix reblogged

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

im dead n0w

♍️ grimauxiliatrix

Mood

#Honestly I Cant Believe I Made It Through This Week Alone

60 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

👻 ectobiologist Follow

hi! how do i use this app?

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HUMAN ALERT.

@human-alarm

👤 human-alarm Follow

BEEP

612 notes

♋️ carcinogeneticist reblogged

♐️ centaurstesticle Follow

D -> The day we stop valuing horses is the day society collapses

♐️ centaurstesticle

D -> @cuttlefishculler Perhaps I do share some interests with the protagonist of the new popular movie starring Troll Ryan Gosling

D -> If anything that would be a compliment

D -> Not that that's something a f001 such as yourself would understand

♓️ cuttlefishculler Follow

)(-EY, I was just joking around. No need to start being c-rude!!! 380

♏️ arachnidsgrip Follow

Protagonist!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

What movie did you watch? 8ecause 8ar8ie is defin8ly the hero of the one I saw, hooves-for-8rains.

♈️ apocalypsearisen Follow

i liked the 0ne with the b0mb m0re

♒️ caligulasaquarium Follow

rustblood, opinion disregarded

♋️ carcinogeneticist

BLATANT HEMOPHOBIA ASSIDE, ARE WE JUST GOING TO IGNORE OP'S URL?

♊️ twinarmageddons

forget that, cc ii2 the ACTUAL HEIIRE22

♋️ carcinogeneticist

HOLY SHIT, WHO CARES.

1380 notes

♏️ arachnidsgrip reblogged

♏️ arachnidsgrip

You know, I think the murders were good for me.

♎️ gallowscalibrator Follow

VR1SK4, YOU K1LL3D 31GHTY-31GHT P3OPL3.

♏️ arachnidsgrip

Yeah, 8ut I'm over it now. It doesn't effect me anymore.

#I've moved on.

413 notes

♉️ adiostoreador reblogged

💽 turntechgodhead Follow

man i cant believe troll steve jobs died of ligma

♉️ adiostoreador

wHO, uM, wHO'S TROLL STEVE JOBS?

#homestuck #unreality #fake posts #sollux captor #tavros nitram #gamzee makara #nepeta leijon #karkat vantas #eridan ampora #aradia medigo #kanaya maryam #john egbert #equius zahhak #feferi peixes #vriska serket #terezi pyrope #dave strider #grumblr

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slutt4lovee · 3 months

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friends (b.b.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2356

warnings: NO SMUT, just cutesy fluff, maybe just a tiny bit of angst but not really, nothing really to warn about. might be some typos and shit but at this point y'all should be expecting this from my dyslexic ass.

summary: After being friends with Bucky for years, you finally get the confession you've been dreaming of.

Being Bucky's friend isn't really as great as Steve made it seem. Sure, Bucky is caring and funny and fiercely protective of the things and people that he loves. Yes, he's funny and charming and everything good in the world, but he is also arrogant and cocky and so emotionally repressed that you're not even sure he knows what feelings are anymore.

Being Bucky's friend means that you're also the Winter Soldier's best friend and that is a horrible feeling. Not because of the fact that he is the Winter Soldier but more so because the Winter Soldier has a fucking martyr complex. Despite the fact that Bucky is an amazing person who you think encompasses every good aspect of the world, he's an incredible dumbass. Not just a regular dumbass, the kind of fucking idiot that thinks everyone else, everything else is more important than him. The kind of idiotic person that thinks everyone but him is worth saving, the kind who runs head first into danger because he genuinely doesn't care if he lives or dies as long as he saves someone. Bucky is the type of imbecile that would run into a building, knowing it was rigged with explosives just to save a cat.

Bucky may be one of the best people you've ever met, but being his friend is horrible.

It's caring so intensely for someone who doesn't even care about himself. It's not being able to see or even speak to him for weeks or months because he's off on some insanely stupid mission to save the fucking world or something stupid like that. It's him constantly thinking he's some kind of invincible god and you having to remind him over and over and over that he's not. No matter how much he might look like one. It's trying to convince someone that hates his entire fucking existence that he deserves every soft, sappy thing in the world no matter how much he thinks he doesn't.

But worst of all it's being in love with a complete fucking idiot who doesn't even think he's worthy of love. You'd take all the anxiety, the panic, the dread, the crying and worry a million times over if you could just not be in love with that complete fucking dumbass. Or if you could maybe convince him that he deserves all the love in the fucking world.

—

You can't sleep, never can when he's gone. Some stupid romance movie you've seen about a hundred times plays on your tv—a feeble attempt to keep your mind off Bucky. To keep your mind from imagining what he's doing on his mission and all the ways it could go horribly wrong.

It doesn't really work.

It's almost impossible to keep him out of your mind. When you're not worrying about all the ways he could be killed, you're pining after him in the worst fucking way.

Just staring mindlessly at the screen daydreaming about him and the way his clothes always fit just right, just enough to give you a good view of his muscles without being too tight. And the way he looks in his stupidly attractive one armed outfits he wears on missions—which shouldn't be so fucking hot, but it is, it really fucking is. And his lips, just everything about them, their shape, their pretty pink color, the way they look so fucking soft all the god damned time. And that boyish, way too endearing, smirk of his that makes your heart feel like it's about to burst out of your chest. And his hands and the way they feel against your skin, rough calloused fingers with a touch so soft it sends chills down your spine. And—and, God you're so fucking fucked about him.

He's your best friend, really one of your only friends, and yet you can't stop thinking about him doing filthy things—that he would probably never do—to you. It's horrible and dirty and disrespectful but you just can't stop, thinking about Bucky's mouth and if it's really as soft as it looks.

You smell him before you even hear him, woody smoke, and honey, mixed with sweat. You smile softly to yourself as he drops his bag to the ground with a little grunt. Your mind moves slowly, struggling through your lack of sleep to put pieces together. You're clumsily climbing over the back of the couch the second you realize he's really there.

"Bucky," You start to say, stumbling a little at the ungraceful way you dismount from the back of the couch. "What the fuck?" You ask, waving your hands up and down in his general direction.

He's not sure if you're questioning his appearance or his presence...maybe both. You're not really sure either.

"I just got back," He mutters, words dripping with exhaustion as his arms slip lazily around your waist, making you trip over your own feet as he pulls you into his chest.

"You didn't text," You whisper, matching the soft tone of his voice as you slide your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He doesn't respond right away, he pulls you closer instead, grabbing onto your shirt to keep you there as if you had any plans on letting go. He makes a soft, barely audible noise, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His arms are tight around your waist, holding you to him like he's scared you're just gonna disappear and the thought makes your chest ache. You tilt your head, squeezing your eyes shut as your nose presses into the top of his shoulder, your lips just barely touching the leather on his jacket. Your nose floods with his scent, and you find yourself wishing you could capture it and keep it forever. He smells like camping in the summer, like searching for bugs and plants and pretty rocks in the woods, like staring up at the sky and pointing out the prettiest ones.

He smells likehome, warm and cozy and safe.

Slowly it feels like every ounce of worry and dread is leached out of your body. He's home, he's safe, he's here in your arms and nothing else fucking matters. This is the good part, this right here, all the worrying and sleepless nights are worth it just for this feeling. This happy sort of peaceful relief you get every time he comes back safe.

"M'sorry," He mutters after a few seconds, his words muffled in the crook of your neck. "Jus' wanted to get home."

Your stomach twists at that, a giddy sort of feeling floating around in your stomach at his words. He came straight from his mission to you. Didn't stop at his place, didn't go to the compound, he came straight to you. Straight home to you.

"Took ya long enough." You whisper against his shoulder, voice light and teasing as his grip on your shirt tightens.

He doesn't say anything, but you can tell this one must've been rough on him. It's obvious from the way he's clutching your shirt like a lifeline. Holding you to his chest like he thought he'd never see you again, like he's scared to let go. You don't ask him about it, he'll talk when he's ready, but you do hold him just as tight as he holds you. Rub your hands along his back, over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, lingering the softest touches everywhere you can reach because you know it calms him down.

"S'good you came home, you were gone so long I was about to come lookin' for you." You tell him, smiling softly against his neck at the little snort he lets out.

He's quiet for a bit longer, just standing there with his arms around your waist, his hands clutching at your shirt like he's terrifiedyou're going to vanish. After a while he relinquishes your shirt and before you can even think about pulling away, not that you would, his hands are running down to the backs of your thighs.

"M'sorry," He murmurs into your neck, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist like you weigh absolutely nothing. "Came as quick as I could, darlin', didn't even get to shower or anything."

"Did you eat?" You ask softly, holding onto him a little tighter as he hooks his arms back around your waist.

He shakes his head and you start to offer to cook him something while he showers but he's walking in the direction of your bedroom before you can get a single word out. He nudges your bedroom door open with the toe of his boot without saying a word and it makes you frown because Bucky is never silent around you. Talks so damn much you started to think he just liked the sound of his own voice (really he just loved the sound of yours but he's not about to admit something that sappy).

"Do you want to eat?" You ask, voice all soft and sweet in a way that makes his head spin.

He shakes his head again and without even letting go of you, he falls forward onto your bed, sandwiching you between him and your mattress. He's heavy, dense, thick muscle directly on top of you, but you don't complain. You wouldn't dare tell him that he's crushing your fucking chest because then he'd let go and you don't want that.

He settles with his head on your chest, his ear pressed up against the center of it. Listening closely to the sound of your heart like he didn't believe it was real. His hand slips a little under the hem of your shirt but stays resting on your hip as if all he wanted was just to feel your skin.

He's silent for a while, laying so still that you almost think he's fallen asleep. You don't say anything either because what could you possibly say? You could tell him about work or something but you're almost certain he doesn't want to hear that.

"Thought you were dead..." He whispers as he nuzzles his face against the center of your chest. His hands squeeze at your hips and you can't shake the feeling that he's trying to make sure you're real.

You don't really know what to say to that either. You stroke your fingers through his hair and you swear you feel your heart break a little at the pain in his voice.

"God, I thought you were fucking dead..." His voice cracks a little this time and his arms wrap around your waist tight, too tight but you don't say a thing. You're happy to just let him squeeze the life out of you if it makes him feel even a little bit better. "They...they got in my head, made me see things...and all I could think about was that I never got the chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You ask and you think your voice comes out a bit strained because he immediately loosens his grip.

"That I'm fucking in love with you," He forces out, voice rough with emotion as he shifts a little so that he's looking down at you.

Your heart fucking stops at his words and all you can do is just stare up at him like a complete fool. Cheeks flushing bright red and eyes wide as you stammer and choke on 16 different failed attempts at speech.

He loves you. No. He's in love with you.

"I thought you were dead and all I could think about was that you didn't know I loved you." He tells you, voice softening some as his eyes scan over your face. "All I wanted to fucking do was hold you and kiss you and just fucking touch you again and I know that's so fucking selfish of me but...fuck."

"You...love me?" Your voice comes out all meek and unsure as you look up at him. You're not even sure if your heart has started beating again because it feels like you could, very well, drop dead at any fucking second.

"Of course I do you fucking idiot." Bucky laughs and the sound is utterly heart wrenching to you. He tries to smile but it just looks so fucking sad that you want to cry.

And maybe he's right and you are a fucking idiot because you can't think of anything to say. You want to tell him you love him too but the words won't come up, they stick in the back of your throat and make you choke. All you can manage is to reach out, grab his face, and pull it down to yours in a pathetic excuse for a kiss.

He kisses you back instantly, taking control of the kiss, somehow calmer than you. His lips are soft and sweet against yours and nowhere near as clunky and uncoordinated as you but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. He smiles a little against your near frantic lips, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face.

It's not your first kiss, not even close, but you're so clumsy with it that it damn near feels like it. He hums against your lips like it's the best damn kiss he's ever had, strokes his thumb over your cheek and laughs when your teeth hit his.

You think he'll pull away, you would if you were him, but he doesn't. If anything he kisses you a bit harder, trying to take control of the kiss and guide your lips to work with his and it works wonders, you practically melt into it. He makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat when you finally relax and then his tongue slides over your bottom lip and you melt all over again.

You've never been the biggest fan of tongue kissing, it's always just so wet and slimy and forceful. But there's something about the way Bucky's tongue slides so so softly across your bottom lip that has you parting your lips without a second thought. And you don't fucking regret it at all.

It doesn't feel all slimy and gross like you're used to. His tongue is soft and wet and there's a faint hint of sweet mint as he kisses you. One of his hands squeezes at your waist under your shirt and he fucking groans like kissing you is the best thing he's ever experienced.

He kisses you until you're both breathless, until your lips are raw and swollen and slick with spit.

His forehead presses against yours and his voice comes out all hoarse and raspy as he says, "Fuck, I could kiss you for fucking ever,"

You laugh at that and the noise is so soft and sweet that it makes his breath hitch. You flutter your eyes open, thumbs stroking at the side of his neck as you look up at his flushed face.

"I love you too," You whisper and God, the way he smiles sends a jolt of warm heat through your body. "I didn't say it earlier, but I do. I really fucking do."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #fluff #bucky fluff #light angst #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fanfic #the winter soldier

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ghostlyfleur · 5 months

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okay but steve harrington + shy! innocent! crybaby-ish reader where he is like play fighting with her and tickling her to the point where he’s pinned her down and she’s laughing so cute! but secretly, the weight of her boy on top of her and his hands all over her thighs and stomach, is making her rlly rlly wet 🥹

she’s like “steveee stop tickling me!” bc she can’t take it anymore and he does! but he also fully takes his weight off of her which makes her start huffing and whining for him to come back, grabby hands shooting out at him. steve is confused, ofc, like “honey i thought you wanted me to stop?” and she’s so embarrassed covering her face, squeezing her thighs and almost, if not, crying in frustration.

steve pulls her hands off her face to see her eyes, laying back down on her body when her legs spread open again, looking at her to explain further, but all she can do is whine that “it hurts s’bad stevie”.

he’s confused for a moment but then he glances down and her ridden-up oversized t-shirt reveals the wet spot forming on her panties. he presses a big kiss on his angel’s lips before cooing on her mouth, lightly touching her clothed cunt, “aw honey you wanted me to stop bc your lil pussy got all wet f’me, huh? is that what you were trying to say?”

to which she responds something like “wanted y’to stop ticklin’ me, not to stop touching me :,(“! steve finds his lovely girl so adorable, he makes sure to take good care of her afterwards, like always! maybe even mocking her just a bit from getting so turned on from a little tickling 🫠

holy shiiiiit — normal sized font below the cut

this is definitely soft dom!daddy!steve…

like he’s so doting and caring and careful and affectionate, always spoiling and praising his angel, being all playful and funny and silly like he always is— and the two are best friends, don’t get it twisted! they’re dating, but they’re still the best of friends… they banter and play fight and mock each other, share secrets and personal thoughts and feelings and they gossip together, play pranks on each other… all the good best friend things…

so they’re very close. very. loyal and devoted and completely obsessed with each other. as much as steve’s sweet girl loves to dote on him and take care of him, it’s more so her stevie’s self-assigned job to care for his baby.

and so steve buys her flowers, takes her on cute dates, is always looking out for her and can’t help his casual dominance, tying her shoes and carrying her places sometimes and brushing her hair and treating her like a little doll, his little doll. slowly acclimates her to what being in a relationship is like, he’s so so patient.

but he’s so hungry for her, it drives him insane how oblivious she is to the affect she has on him, how fucking adorable and clueless she is but also so very eager to please— because that’s all she wants, to be stevie’s good girl, to make him feel safe and loved and cared for, to make him feel good. but she gets greedy easily now… now that steve has ingrained in her mind that he truly wants her and loves her, that he’s all hers, that he wants to spoil her, marry her and make her his little wife, and spend his entire life with her!!!!!! her! his best friend! his person! they’re soulmates after all!!!!!!

her shyness stays, it’s just who she is (and steve finds it so fucking cute he has to constantly hold himself back from cooing at her all the time), but she’s just so horny for her stevie and doesn’t know how to say it ‘cause she’s so embarrassed and flustered and unsure and finds it hard to voice her needs and wants, so it manifests into tears. whenever she wants something from her stevie she gets all soft and small and pouty, grabbing at him and whining and holding his fingers to get his attention, and steve coos at her, can’t help it, his sweet angel girl so needy, and he always wants to give her the world, right? that’s his baby! she deserves to be spoiled! but her stevie is very clear in his rules— you have to speak up, tell him what you want, communicate. that’s very important to him.

and yeah, in theory his angel thinks it’s perfect, the communication and attention and how safe it makes her feel, but she physically can’t speak up when her stevie is making her feel all these sweet, intense, pretty feelings that she’s never felt before, even though she knows her stevie, her daddy, will always give her whatever she wants 😖 she just gets so pouty and teary-eyed and huffs and puffs, crossing her arms or stomping her foot like a spoiled brat until she’s so desperate bc her stevie is adamant she has to tell him what she wants before he does anything, that he’ll give her whatever she wants if she asks for it, that she whines and mumbles and asks him “pretty please, daddy” and steve is gone.

when her perfect, incredible, dreamy stevie is playing around with her, after she teases him or mocks him or they pretend-fight, or when they’re joking around, he’ll tickle her ‘cause she has the cutest little giggles, even though her laugh is kind of weird— sometimes loud, sometimes silent, sometimes she’ll fall down from laughing so hard. still, he loves it. it’s his favorite sound in the world, along with her little needy noises. it’s always different and funny and steve loves finding out what kind of laugh he’ll get out of his sweet girl that day, so he tickles. and if there’s one thing about his angel is that she loves using him as a weighted blanket, loves his weight on her, pressing her down and molding their bodies together, so that coupled with how his hands are all over her body, fingers gripping her and poking at her, his bulge rubbing against her, she gets needy. wet. very greedy. but if her stevie gets up or pulls away or sits back????? away from her????? she’ll turn into such a crybaby, like it’s the most insulting thing he could ever do, to pull away.

and steve knows. he knows how much she’s taken to steve being all over her, making her feel good, letting her explore and learn what they both like, being the only one to touch her and her him, but she still carries this air of innocence and softness and inexperience that drives him up the wall. the little looks she gives him and the shy smiles and the eagerness. she’ll be the horniest little minx, crawling up his lap and rubbing her cunt against his thigh, but will also hide her face and whimper and get all shy even if steve is balls deep inside her.

the duality of her never fails to disarm him completely. steve definitely tickles his angel sometimes when he wants to rile her up and get her needy for him— he thinks she’s clueless about it, but soon it turns into this thing where steve has pretty much conditioned her to turn into a needy little mess whenever he starts tickling her— she gets wet instantly now.

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literaryavenger · 13 days

Text

Obsessed

Summary: Your crush on Bucky may be getting out of control.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Dramatic Reader. Language. Angst. Fluff. My poor attempts at being Funny.

Word Count: 1.4K I'm physically incapable of making anything short.

A/N: I wrote this in like 2 hours and I don't even know what this is, just... Yeah.

Masterlist

This is terrible.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

This is the worst thing that's ever happened to anyone. It's just the most horrible, dreadful, awful thing that could’ve ever happen to yo-

“Would you stop staring at him for fuck's sakes!” Natasha's hissed words make your eyes snap to her and finally away from the metal armed Supersoldier lifting weights. Shirtless.

You don't know when Bucky stopped feeling self-conscious enough to allow him to workout in nothing but a pair of gym shorts, but it has become literal torture for you.

Needless to say, Bucky's current level of undress is making it impossible for you to concentrate on the stretching you're supposed to be doing before your sparring match with Natasha.

But your very thoughtful and not at all exasperated friend makes sure to keep your attention on her during the entirety of our match by thoroughly kicking your ass.

What a lovely best friend you have.

Anyways.

Your entire mood shifts with one not intentionally overheard conversation. Steve enters the gym and goes straight to Bucky, who was putting his weight set down.

“She’s here!” Is all the blonde says to his friend and your heart stops at the way Bucky’s face lights up with a smile, not needing any more information before following Steve out of the gym.

She’s here? Who the fuck is she? Does Bucky have a girlfriend? And most importantly, she’s here? In the Compound?

Natasha can almost see the gears turning in your brain as you make no attempts to move from the mat after she knocked you on your ass for the hundredth time today. You didn’t even seem to notice her hand offering you help to get up, your eyes still looking where Bucky was just a moment ago, staring at nothing in particular while your brain drowns in your overthinking.

Natasha sighs and decides to end the match here, kneeling down in front of you and placing her hands on your shoulders, shaking you gently to snap you out of it.

“Don’t overthink this.” She tells you when she’s sure she has your attention. “It’s probably just a friend visiting.” She tries to comfort you, but you both know that’s highly unlikely.

Bucky has no other friends outside the team. He doesn’t know how to talk to civilians anymore after everything he’s been through, and gave up trying to after the hundredth time he saw fear in a person’s eyes just by recognizing him. So his friend circle now includes the team and the agents of SHIELD that are not intimidated by him. Point is, every friend he has already lives in the Compound.

So who the fuck is here just to see him?

Natasha can see that this is a lost battle, your eyes barely concentrating on her as you start drowning in your mind again. All she can do when you’re like this is try to distract you and keep you out of your head. So she takes your hand and helps you up, leading the way to the common room to watch one of your beloved romcoms together, because that’s how much she loves you.

Big mistake.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The excited high-pitched voice came just seconds after you set foot in the common room. And that’s about the only warning you got before the excited 5-year-old jumped on you, your reflexes thankfully quick enough to catch her.

“Hi, Maguna!” You say while chuckling as the little girl hugs you. “You seem excited today. Did you get into the sugar cabinet again?”

Morgan giggles at your joke and shakes her hand before taking your face in her little hands and dramatically saying, “No! A princess came to visit uncle Bucky! A real princess.”

You frown, confused at what she’s talking about, before you look around the room and finally notice everyone else in it. Pepper and Tony are on the couch, looking at you lovingly as you interact with their daughter.

You love Morgan, she’s like a little sister. You never miss an opportunity to babysit her and you spend as much time with her as you can. She also loves you, out of all the Avengers you’re her favorite, much to everyone’s dismay. She calls them all ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, but you’re just Y/N. You’re her big sister, you don’t need a title. Which is why you're the only one other than Tony allowed to call her 'Maguna'.

Then you notice the other people in the room: Steve, Bucky and… Shuri. The fucking Princess of Wakanda, standing in the common room of the Avengers Compound and just smiling at you as you carry Morgan.

You’ve never met Shuri, but you know she played an important part in deprogramming the Winter Soldier out of Bucky, and you’re grateful to her for it. She’s important to Bucky, and you can’t believe you forgot Bucky has Wakandan friends.

You put Morgan down on the ground again and the little girl takes your hand and aggressively steers you towards where Steve, Bucky and Shuri are standing, clearly thrilled to be in the presence of a real life princess.

“Hi, I’m Shuri.” She offers you her hand when you get close enough and you shake it with your free hand while introducing yourself.

There’s a bit of an awkward pause and you’re about to say the first thing that pops into your head when Morgan thankfully saves you by pulling on your hand, making you look at her. She tells you to come close and, chuckling, you kneel beside her so she can whisper conspiratorially in your ear.

“She’s a princess and she’s really pretty, but I still like you better.” She whispers and you can’t help but laugh.

God, you love this little girl.

You smile brightly at her and launch a tickle attack, her adorable giggles filling the room as everyone looks at you two with warm smiles.

Your attention is solely on Morgan, until you unintentionally hear the whispered conversation between Shuri and Bucky.

“So, this is the girl, huh? She’s pretty.” Shuri says and your heart skips a beat.

You glance at them as discreetly as you can while still tickling Morgan, only to find Bucky looking at someone behind you. You turn around less carefully and see Sharon just entered the room, and she's also looking at Bucky with a smirk. You quickly return your attention to Morgan, but your mind is going a thousand miles a minute.

Of course he’d like someone more like Sharon. She’s pretty, she’s talented, she’s a total badass and she’s not afraid to go after what she wants.

She’s not a mass of anxiety in the shape of a woman that overthinks everything and becomes a flustered mess every time she’s even near Bucky.

It’s time to admit it to yourself: Bucky just doesn’t see you like that and you need to move on.

Natasha is right, your obsession with Bucky needs to end.

What you don’t see is Bucky almost glaring at Sharon because he knows damn well why she’s smirking. She came in just before Shuri whispered to Bucky, when he was very intent on looking at you with heart eyes as you played with Morgan.

Just before you looked at him, Bucky noticed Sharon and he had to hold in a groan at her because he knows that she’s never gonna let him live this down.

Both Sharon and Steve have tried really hard to convince Bucky that you like him back and he should make a move on you. But Bucky, being as stubborn as they come, never believes them.

He obviously makes you uncomfortable, you’re always stuttering when he’s around and you avoid eye contact whenever possible. He’s just glad that you can stand his presence enough for the two of you to work together when necessary and to hang out with the rest of the team without problems.

So he just enjoys looking at you from a distance. He loves watching you play with Morgan and his thoughts always run wild with images of you playing like that with kids that are yours and his.

But he knows that’s never going to happen. Why would you like a damaged, PTSD ridden soldier that can’t even make it through the night without waking up from a nightmare? No, that’s definitely not your type.

Bucky accepts the truth: He doesn’t deserve you and you don’t see him like that anyways.

It doesn’t matter that Sam thinks he’s obsessed, that won’t stop him from looking at you whenever he’s lucky enough to get a glimpse of his little ray of sunshine.

Requested taglist: @vicmc624 @matchat3a @nerd-without-a-cause @sapphirebarnes @cjand10 @mostlymarvelgirl @julvrs @blackhawkfanatic @lillianacristina @armystay89 @imdoingbetternow @spookyparadisesheep @elizalexwil @aceofhearts25 @dontworryboutitsweetheartxx-blog @justab-eautifulmess

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

“Why are you wearing cologne?” Dustin asks after barely one second in the van.

“I’m not,” Eddie says, and promptly wants to die at how unconvincing that was. It’s not even technically a lie…

He makes it out of the school parking lot with Dustin saying jackshit, so for a little while, he thinks he’s gotten away with it.

More fool him.

Dustin abruptly lunges to the side, all up in his face like the world’s most dedicated sniffer dog.

“Ew, gross! Get off, man, I’m gonna crash,” Eddie says, even though they’ve been at a stop light for the past minute.

“Okay, correction,” Dustin says, drawing back. “Why are you wearing Steve’s cologne?”

Eddie stares into the middle distance, prays for The Upside Down to come and swallow him up.

An agonising silence.

“Oh my god,” Dustin whisper-screams. “Oh my god.”

“Look, just—”

“Oh my god!”

And yup, ow, that’s definitely become a full blown scream now, and double ow, Dustin has just socked him one in the arm.

“Hey!”

“What the fuck, Eddie?! How could you not—”

“Jesus! Take a damn chill pill, Henderson, I swear to—”

“Since when you do you say shit like—oh my God, Steve says shit like that. You can’t let him get to you like this, Eddie, you’re too young to die.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dustin keeps jiggling Eddie by the arm as he pulls up to Dustin’s house. Even when his stomach is jangling with nerves, he can’t fight a smile at the kid’s antics.

“Holy shit, this is big,” Dustin says with wide eyes, and it bothers Eddie that he can’t get a hold of what sort of expression is on his face. “This is huge.”

And all of a sudden, it doesn’t seem all that funny anymore.

“It’s not,” Eddie says quietly. “It’s really not. It doesn’t have to be, like… look, Dustin, can we just—if it bothers you, just drop it, and we can pretend like—”

“Wait, what? No.” And now Eddie can read the remorse on his face. “Shit, sorry. Eddie, I didn’t mean, like… big in a bad way, I swear.”

And goddamn it, Eddie trusts him. Of course he does.

“Okay.” He lets out a long sigh, tipping his head back in his seat. “Okay.”

“I just meant… like, you know The Royal Family? In England.”

…What.

“Oh, please, run with this analogy,” Eddie says, a mixture of curious and hysterical, “I’m dying to see where it goes.”

“You know, when they have news, they put it outside the… Palace? Like, on a stand. So people know.”

“Are you fucking implying that you are the public to our… wow, I’m so sorry, Henderson.” Eddie can’t take it anymore; he wheezes with laughter, can’t hide how relieved he sounds. “Next time I’ll ruin your front lawn and put a huge fucking sign there, then you’ll know that—”

“I didn’t mean it literally, asshole. I just…” Dustin shrugs. “Just meant if you wanted to, like… mention it. It would be cool. It is cool.”

“Cool,” Eddie echoes faintly.

“Cool,” Dustin repeats, emphatic.

Jesus Christ, I love you so much.

“Aw, Henderson,” Eddie says, “were you gonna make us a card or something?”

“Do you want a card?” Dustin says dryly.

And yeah, he’s being a little shit about it, but there’s also a note of sincerity hiding in there that has Eddie fighting a lump in his throat. He chuckles through it, flicks Dustin’s forehead.

“C’mon, get out before your mom thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

“She thinks you’re an angel now, and you know it. It’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a Saint.”

Eddie waits until Dustin’s at his front door before reversing, watches him with silent fondness as he greets his cat.

He says through the side window, “Hey, Dustin?”

Dustin turns back. “Yeah?”

“We’d have told you first anyway. We were gonna, I swear.” Eddie scoffs. Smiles. “Not our fault you’re Sherlock Holmes, man.”

Dustin smirks, but his eyes are soft. “It was pretty elementary.”

#this is so silly. they are so silly. & i love them so #eddie and dustin #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #dustin henderson #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #henderfam

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livwritesstuff · 28 days

Text

Steve’s oldest daughter Moe is unusually quiet on the drive home from her college apartment in New York City.

She was supposed to be doing this drive with her younger sister Robbie (who had bullied Steve and Eddie into letting her bring a car with her to college), but then Robbie and her friends had actually managed to squirrel away enough money for an impromptu trip to D.C. for their spring break, and Moe had still wanted to visit home even without a ride.

Steve had made a whole show acting all put out over having to make the four hour drive between her school in NYC and their house in the Massachusetts suburbs (twice, he’ll add — he’s been on the road for six hours so far with a couple more to go) but, truthfully, there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to spend time with his kids, especially since the older two have firmly graduated to young-adult status, and he easily could have put her on a train.

“So what’s goin’ on with you, Moe?” he finally asks when the quiet stretches a little to far.

Moe shrugs, and then she says, “I was wondering something.”

“Go for it.”

“You and Dad, like…you were older when you started dating, right?”

Steve pauses for a moment, allowing himself to consider what might qualify as older to his twenty-one-year-old daughter.

“I guess it depends on what you mean by older,” he settles on telling her.

“I mean, you weren’t in high school anymore, even though you knew each other in high school.”

“Yeah,” Steve nods, “I was halfway through grad school, so twenty-six, I think, and you know Dad’s not even a year older than me.”

Moe nods in return, and then she asks, “And you were friends before anything else happened? Like, for a while?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies, “Dad, and Aunt Nancy, and Aunt Robin were my best friends. Still are, obviously, just…different over time.”

“But, like, how–” Moe stops, and Steve can tell without needing to look away from the road to check the way her eyebrows are furrowed, the way they’re crinkled in the middle just like they always are on the rare occasions Moe can’t find the words she needs. She lets out a short exhale, “How did you know that it changed?” Before Steve can answer, Moe shakes her head, “How did you know that what you were feeling wasn’t, like, friend things anymore? Or, like, that it was more than just friend things.”

“Uh,” Steve pauses, running a hand through his hair, “Honestly, Nancy kind of told me.”

Moe’s head turns in his direction.

“Aunt Nancy told you?” she asks, “Pop…that’s so lame.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happened.”

“Why?”

Steve thinks about it for a second. It’s funny, he doesn’t actually put too much thought into that time in his life – the seven years that had lapsed between becoming friends with Eddie in the aftermath of everything with the Upside Down and when they’d finally gotten together. That was nearly thirty years ago, after all, and Steve hasn’t ever really been the type to dwell on the past. He takes a moment to dwell on it now and remembers how long it had taken him to notice the dull ache behind his ribs and the anxious somersault his stomach had done every time Eddie so much as looked his way.

“I mean – yeah, you’re right. It’s…it’s not easy when you’re close with someone for a long time and then the way you feel about them changes, because, you know, it’s not – I mean, it’s not like it changes overnight. It’s gradual, so…yeah, it’s not easy.”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees.

“Nance, just – well, you know Nance. She just clocked it before I did, and I guess she didn’t have the patience to wait it out. Once I knew though, it was, like, super fucking obvious. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t known before.”

Moe’s laugh is nervous in a way Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard before, and if there’s a friend of Moe’s she might be feeling differently for, he thinks he might have an idea which one. Moe is a hell of a lot smarter than him though, and this conversation is telling enough that she won’t need things spelled out for her in the way he had with Eddie thirty years ago.

“It was hard,” he continues, because he has a feeling Moe might need to hear more even if she isn’t asking for anything specific, “I – I mean, I actually liked dating when I was your age, believe it or not. I thought it was fun, or whatever, and it wasn’t really a thing that made me nervous, you know? With your dad, though…shit, I was terrified, because it’s a different kind of risk than just shooting your shot with someone you run into and hit it off with.”

Moe nods.

“I think the reason it’s so freaky is because falling for someone you’re friends with is never just a crush. I knew there was something big there. I know you guys hate when Dad and I are all sappy, but he was never just some guy I was dating. He was it for me from the very beginning.”

Moe mumbles something under her breath that Steve doesn’t quite catch.

“What was that?”

“I don’t hate it,” she says, her voice still pretty low, and Steve knows that must have been difficult for her to admit so he doesn’t comment on it (though he will be telling Eddie as soon as he possibly can – obviously).

“Well, I’m just saying,” he replies, “I wasn’t feeling that way for nothing, and things turned out pretty good in the end. If someone was in a similar situation, I’d tell them…” he pauses, and then laughs as he says, “I’d tell them to not wait seven years to get a good thing started.”

“Alright,” she replies, “I’ll…yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.”

#idk what this is #ur a real one if you know who moe is talking about lol #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

It takes a while before Eddie catches up to what’s happening. It’s subtle, really, an untold story in slightly averted gazes and barely-visible scowls. But he starts paying extra attention to it when he catches Steve resolutely facing the other way when they pass a storefront with a couple of mirrors in it. From that moment, it doesn’t take long before Eddie notices the pattern, the way Steve meticulously avoids basically every reflective surface like it’s becoming a second nature for him.

When he finally asks Steve about it, Eddie sees how his face drops, and he kind of wishes he hadn’t brought it up. It pains him to see Steve like that.

‘I just - I don’t really recognize myself, anymore,’ Steve says. ‘I know it’s really fucking superficial, but I used to be this hot dude, you know. The guy everyone wanted to be with. And now I’m just some guy, with glasses and hearing aids and a belly and a retreating hairline, and a gross scar around his neck.’

Eddie can actually feel his heart shrink in his chest. He hates this for Steve. He wants to make clear to his boyfriend exactly how beautiful he still is, not despite, but exactly because of all the things he just mentioned.

'Those things can still go together, you know,’ he says, playfully shoving his shoulder against Steve’s, pressing a quick kiss against the scar on his neck. ‘If you ask me, you’re still the hottest dude in all of Hawkins. You’ll always be.’

And slowly, a smile starts creeping over Steve’s face. ‘You sure about that?’

Eddie nods, not looking away. ‘Hundred percent.’

Since that day, Eddie starts keeping a stack of post-its and a pen in the bathroom. Every night before he goes to bed, he sticks a new note on the bathroom mirror: “I love the color of your eyes.” “I love your soft tummy.” “Your hearing aids make you look like a sexy cyborg.” “Did you know your nose looks biteable AF?” “Your moles are more beautiful than any constellation.” The stream of compliments is endless, but not once does Eddie have to make an effort to come up with something new.

And that’s how the mirror stops being Steve’s enemy. Because ever since the first note, it’s become his new favorite thing to look in the mirror, the very first thing he wants to do when he wakes up in the morning. The messages always manage to surprise him, tirelessly keep pointing out new things about him, always in the most Eddie-ish way possible: funny, sweet, unhinged, caring, horny, genuine... And always so full of love. The one thing he can always count on.

But one morning, a day after he and Eddie got into a heated fight with each other, Steve steps into the bathroom with dread clawing at his stomach. He knows the mirror will be empty. Eddie was so fucking angry at him last night.

Unexpectedly, he does spot a note, a purple post-it with Eddie’s handwriting on it. He feels the overwhelming urge to cover his eyes, because this time, there will be something mean on it, no doubt. Eddie will tear apart what used to be the best part of Steve’s day with one single sentence. He steps closer, swallows, gets ready to face the music.

“I’m still mad at you but godDAMN why do you look so fucking HOT when you’re shouting at me that’s fucking unfair.”

Steve stares at the note for a full five minutes before taking it off the mirror and adding it to his ever-growing post-it collection. He’s completely overwhelmed by the love Eddie showed him even while he was angry. By the certainty behind that simple gesture. The unwavering commitment in Eddie’s actions.

Steve wakes Eddie up with a kiss and a cup of coffee. They talk it out, like they always do, and he buys a ring for Eddie the next day.

#tw body issues #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fruity ficlet

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luveline · 10 months

Note

I would love to see shy/easily embarrassed!reader x steve where he makes a dirty joke in front of their friends and r is just super flustered, blushing very obviously and smacking his arm (silent way of telling him to stop embarrassing her!)

thank you for your request lovely!! fem!reader

Robin drops a can of soda in your lap and winces when it misses your leg and hits the asphalt. "Shit. Don't open that for a while."

"Thank you," you say.

"Don't say thanks, she made your life harder," Steve chides, his arm over your shoulder. He gives you a loving shake. "You gonna say thanks when it explodes, too?"

He loves giving you and Robin a hard time for fun, but it's never serious. You send him a fake glare and take the cold soda can into your hand, tentative, worried it might explode.

"She says thanks all the time because she's nice," Jonathan says, peeling open a bag of hard pretzels.

Steve perks up like a bloodhound, his love for pretzels almost outranking his 'stir every pot' prerogative. "She's super nice," he agrees, "aren't you, sweetheart?"

"I feel like I'm being targeted unfairly," you murmur, pretending your cheeks aren't aflame to the best of your ability.

If he notices your flustered heat, you can blame the summer sun that's only just dropped down behind the treeline, throwing the road outside of the convenience store into shadow. It's a blessed reprieve from sweating, and all you need now is an ice cold drink.

You offer it to Steve. "Will you do it, please? I'm scared if I touch it anymore it'll explode."

"I know how it feels," Steve says.

Jonathan laughs in disgust, and Nancy laughs at his quick wit (and maybe also disgust). You slap Steve's arm where it rests over your shoulder, his hand shy of your chest suddenly in an unacceptable position, what with his implication. He laughs and pulls his hand to your shoulder to stop you from hitting him, kissing your temple.

"Sorry! I totally meant my heart," he says, giving you a little pat.

"Yeah, sure," Robin says. "I thought you were a feminist?"

"I love women," Steve says, giving you another kiss before leaping onto his feet and taking a couple of steps away, "that's why I'm going to open my babe's soda, even though it's one hundred percent a bomb."

You can't meet Robin's eyes when she smiles at you as if to say, He deserves this.

Steve digs his fingertip under the tab and pulls. Like everyone expected, fizz and foam explodes, hitting his chest and his neck before spattering down his fingers and dripping onto the ground. He blinks dazedly.

Your friends clap. You join in after a moment, in love with him even when he makes jokes that have you wishing the ground would swallow you whole, trying not to stare at the shining bead of soda as it slides down over his Adam's apple.

He sits down heavily beside you on the curb and hands you your soda, dried off with the end of his shirt. "Was that too far?" he asks, quieter, genuinely concerned.

You laugh softly, placing the soda by your shoes. "No, it was funny. Funnier if it wasn't, you know, in front of all our friends."

Steve drops his arm on top of yours to clasp your hand.

"My comedian," you mutter.

"Ah, so you are mad."

You drop your head against his shoulder, your furnace of a cheek flat to the stitching on his sleeve. You're not mad, and you prove it with a gentle thumb rubbing the back of his hand.

"You know, exploding isn't the only thing me and that soda have in common–"

"Steve, no," you say, closing your eyes.

Your friends chuckle. Steve rests his head atop yours. "I'll tell you after," he promises.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

Text

Eddie's at a party, lunch box in tow, and he's making a fucking killing.

He sets up shop in the crowded kitchen, but that doesn't stop him from spotting King Steve in the living room. Harrington's face is still fucked up from the fight with Hargrove, and he's tipping a cup almost vertically into his mouth. He's not too surprised when--the next time he spots the jock--he has a can of beer in each fist.

More customers flood up to him, and he can't help but be a little grateful for the distraction. Harrington is one unrequited crush he just can't kick.

Lunch box cleaned out, Eddie heads outside for a smoke. He's fishing his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket when he hears a snuffling sort of shuffle that sends his heart racing.

He edges forward, just enough to make out the heap of a person half-heartedly sitting up against the house. A person in fitted blue jeans, tight polo, and Member's Only jacket; swoop of chestnut hair catching in the flash of fire from Eddie's Zippo.

"Harrington?"

The guy startles, stability wavering, eyes blinking too much. "Munson?"

"You alright, man?" He asks, though he can already tell that Steve is most definitely not.

Steve shrugs. "Why do you care?" It's not mean, sounds genuinely curious.

Eddie gets it. He has no reason on earth to show concern about King Steve. In answer, he taps his boot against Steve's sneaker, giving him a small smile. "Not sure. But I'm here, so..."

"Just needed some air. Clear my head."

"How much have you had to drink?" Eddie asks.

"One or two,"

"Dozen?"

Steve laughs. "You're funny. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"I've heard," Eddie says, can't help but laugh a little too. "Wanna talk about what's going on?"

Eddie thinks that'll be a "no," but then: "Nancy dumped me."

"Yeah, big news."

"Ugh, people are talking about it?" Steve whines. It's really cute and Eddie hates himself for noticing. Hates himself more when Steve loses his balance, tips onto Eddie's shoulder, and Eddie doesn't tip him back.

Eddie can tell that Steve isn't fully with him anymore. He's a little afraid to leave the guy alone, so Eddie talks about the latest Hellfire campaign. Sober Steve Harrington probably has no idea what dnd is, but the drunk version is kind of a rapt audience.

He's just explaining about owlbears when Steve's voice, soft and sad, says "I just want someone to love me, you know?"

The admission renders Eddie speechless for a second, his chest fucking aching for the jock. He says "Oh, Stevie," knows he sounds too sad, is sure of it when Steve's nose wrinkles (it's cute; it's so fucking cute. Eddie hates himself for noticing).

Before he can backtrack, Steve slumps over, body going limp as he passes out. "Jesus H Christ," Eddie barks.

With a heavy sigh, and way too much fondness, Eddie stands. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."

He gathers Harrington up in his arms--dude is heavy--and carries him around to his van.

---

Steve wakes up, head throbbing and tongue fuzzy, with no idea how he got home and into bed. Can't really recall anything after he stumbled outside, aside from talking to Eddie Munson. But maybe that was a dream? Either way, he's home, not really any worse for wear. It's enough to let him forget all about it; what's one drunken party in a life full of them?

That Wednesday, he opens his locker after the final bell, and a Hershey bar falls out. He picks it up, flipping it over to see a note on the foil wrapping, "thought you might need something sweet to cheer you up." It's not signed, and Steve slips it into his backpack, knowing he's got a silly smile on his handsome face.

The little gifts continue to show up once or twice a week. Candy, plastic vending machine toys, sketches of the school grounds, caricatures of classmates and teachers. Sometimes they even come with a note in handwriting he doesn't recognize.

Along with the little treats, he starts seeing Eddie Munson kind of everywhere. And it's not like Steve hadn't seen him before--guy was hard to miss--but he was never around this often. Wasn't around this often and he and Steve had never shared a smile, a quick bob of the head, a quiet hello.

It isn't long before they're talking. Nothing much, nothing serious. Complaining about teachers, about classmates; sharing weekend plans. Only now Steve can't pretend to not notice the way Eddie dimples up when he smiles, the subtle muscles that bunch under the sleeves of his Hellfire Club shirt, the long litheness of his legs. Steve knows he's attracted to other guys, it's just that he didn't realize he'd be attracted to Eddie.

The gifts keep coming. Once, he opens his locker to find a plastic ring fashioned into a golden crown and a note that says, "made me think of you, Stevie." There's something about the "Stevie" that catches deep in his brain, but he can't make it connect to anything.

A few months later, Steve opens his locker and pulls out a drawing. This one--it's of him. He's gazing out into space in a way that managers to be dreamy and wistful. The Steve in the drawing is lovely, and it makes something clench deep in his gut, that someone sees him like this.

Steve tries to be more aware of the people in his surroundings, to figure out who his admirer is. He's not very good at it, even as more sketches of him--all depicting him as a gorgeous, ethereal thing he definitely isn't--show up in his locker. Especially when, so often these days, the person he sees the most is Eddie.

---

The presents in his locker continue into April, and would probably last until the end of the school year, but Steve's got a migraine starting. He keeps aspirin in his locker, gets a hall pass out of English to get some.

When he reaches his locker, though, someone is already there, with the door open. Someone in ripped black jeans, heavy black boots, a black leather jacket, and patch covered denim vest.

"Munson?" He asks. His heart beats so hard it reverberates in his ears, making it hard to hear.

Eddie jumps back, hands fluttering, face flushing bright red. "Ste--Harrington! I--uh--," he's backing up, his hands held out from his body, like he's pushing Steve away even though they aren't touching.

"Were you--?" Steve tries to ask, but the words won't quite come. There's familiar warmth low in his stomach, a twisting that has nothing to do with his impending migraine.

"I wasn't doing anything, I swear," Eddie says. He's breathing hard, eyes too bright, and Steve thinks he might be about to cry, but then the metalhead is turning away, starting to run.

"Eddie, wait!" Steve calls, chasing after him without much thought. "Please!"

Eddie doesn't stop until after they've crashed out one of the side exits, are alone outside.

"It was you? Leaving the--?"

Eddie nods, presses his hands to his eyes. "Sorry, I'm sorry, Harrington. I just--"

"Don't be sorry," Steve begs. "It's been--I liked it."

"Even now that you know they're coming from the freak?" Eddie spits. He still hides his face behind his hands.

"It's sort of been the best part of my year, if I'm being honest."

Only now does the metalhead remove his hands, blink back at Steve, dark eyes wide with shock. "Really?"

"Yeah. It made me feel-- important, I guess? Like, maybe someone saw me as something more than King Steve."

Eddie smiles now, looks down at the pavement. "I just didn't want you to think that you weren't--" he stops then, presses his mouth tight.

"Didn't want me to think what?"

"That you weren't loved, Stevie."

The statement hangs between them, Eddie's face pinking again, as the words wrap their way around Steve's heart. Loved. That he's loved. It clenches at every part of him, and he surrounds himself with the truth of it, what all those little presents were saying without words.

"Eddie, I--" he's overwhelmed by the gesture, the meaning, the reciprocal buzz in his chest, because Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson, loves him, and this fact is turning Steve's world on it's head in the best way.

"I'm sorry, Steve, really. Please don't hate me, or--or--"

"It means so much to me," Steve says, his voice a little broken. He reaches a hand out, slow, telegraphing the movement. "Can I?" He whispers.

Eddie nods, and Steve strokes the skin of his face with his thumb. "Thank you."

The metalhead nods, leaning into Steve's touch, they shift close, until their foreheads meet, until they share the same air. They stand that way for a while, long enough that they hear the bell ringing, and only then does Steve break their quiet. "Eds?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"You wanna hangout some time?"

Eddie laughs. "Yeah. I really, really do, sweetheart."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #one shot #secret admirer #fluff #a tiny bit of angst #friends to lovers #feelings realization #feelings confession #pining eddie munson #oblivious steve harrington #mutual crushes #high school au #eddie is in love with steve

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sillygayrants · 4 months

Text

Imagine Eddie making steve play DnD with the gang because Eddie practically begged Steve to go with him.

They’re about ten minutes in, Eddie is trying to be the best DM he can, he’s really trying, honestly, but Steve is so focused on the game and trying to understand the mechanics of it that he’s got his hands playing with his hair and his tongue inadvertently sticking out between his lips sometimes.

And Eddie isn’t really bothered about the game anymore when Steve is man spreading and leaning backwards in his chair to sigh, exposing a little bit of his abs, his ABS for gods sake.

So of course, he wasn’t paying much attention to trying to trip up the gang or set traps anymore when Steve looked like THAT and the next thing he knows, they’ve defeated whatever creature Eddie set out for them, he really can’t remember at this point.

Now steve is suppressing the biggest smile he’s ever seen, but of course when Dustin asks him if he is happy about the win he goes “no biggie, don’t really care” but Eddie can see it in his face.

And because Eddie drove on the way there, Steve drives eddies van back, dropping off the kids and eventually stopping at Eddie’s trailer where he’d parked his own car.

But he walks right into the trailer, using the key Eddie gave him “in case of emergencies” but really he keeps it with him at all times, and settles into the kitchen, opening cupboards to find food for them.

Eddie follows like he would usually and sits up on the counter, watching Steve waddle around for a little bit. “So…”

“So what?” Steve says from behind the freezer door, looking for something resembling food for dinner.

“Did you like it?” Eddie responds.

Steve is quiet for a second before responding back “I was a kinda bored to be honest” and pulls a frozen pizza out of the freezer, shutting the freezer door.

“Steve when you defeated the dragon, you looked like you were about to orgasm” Eddie jokes, earning himself a smack upside the head from a certain frozen pizza.

Steve laughs sarcastically before saying “It was alright, I liked making you nervous.” and placing the pizza into the oven.

… “What?” Eddie wasn’t entirely sure he heard that right.

“You know, whenever I readjusted my seat or leaned back slightly, you hesitated speaking, or you would forget to set a trap, it was actually kind of funny.” Steve said, walking over to Eddie who was still on the countertop looking down at Steve, but somehow felt very small.

“Loads of girls have given me that look you know, If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted to fuck me.”Steve laughs to himself and pulls something out from the cupboard behind eddies head.

Eddie doesn’t respond, he just sits there silently before sliding over and hopping off the counter. “I’m gonna go to my room, you can do whatever, okay? Yeah bye.” And made a beeline straight for his room before an hand was on his arm and spinning him back around to face Steve.

Said Steve has a look of smugness plastered all over his face “You wanna fuck me, Eds?”

The pizza burned.

(P.s. hi lovelies sorry I haven’t been active I have exams at the moment anyway love u )

#steddie #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #i’m obsessed

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lighteyed · 11 months

Text

safe / steve harrington

summary: nowadays parties kind of freak steve out, but you’ll make him feel safe again, don’t worry.

word count: 1.6k

steve doesn’t really party anymore.

occasionally he’ll have a few drinks, but there was a certain time when he was considered the party king of hawkins and nowadays he feels completely and utterly disconnected from that era of his life, having grown older and (sort of, maybe?) wiser, concerned more with his job, you, his girlfriend, robin, his best friend, and the hoard of children he’d unwittingly taken to looking out for somewhere along the way. he didn’t really have a reason to party anymore, and when you went out, still a senior in high school, a year younger than him, he would reject your invitations to come. he’d pick you up after, make sure you were home in bed safe, stay the night if you wanted him to, but you never got too drunk regardless. a few drinks and that was your limit. steve doesn’t mind. he’s just not a partier anymore, he tells you, insists on it, really, that he’d rather stay home, he’s grown out of that lifestyle, he’s moved on.

(but mostly he stopped partying after nancy wheeler told him their whole relationship was bullshit when she was shitfaced at tina’s halloween bash and steve hasn’t really had the courage to drink or be around people who are drinking ever since. especially you.)

you’re about to graduate, though, and steve knows he can’t miss it, miss one of the biggest moments in your life, where all you want is him there having fun alongside you, the person you care about most in the world. he’d be a shitty boyfriend if he did that, and steve harrington was a lot of things, gorgeous and funny and loyal, to name a few off the top of your head, but he was not a shitty boyfriend. not to you, not ever. he would sacrifice himself for your happiness ten times over if it meant you’d smile at him. if he had to brave the party scene again, he would. even though it kind of terrified him.

yeah, seeing you this drunk definitely terrified him.

he’s been nursing the same drink, only his second, and he was barely halfway done with it, for almost forty minutes now, lingering in the background of the room, watching everyone else have a lot more fun than him. he’s still enjoying himself in spite of that. he likes watching you shine, and boy do you. he forgets that being out of high school a year now means he rarely has a chance to see you in your element, popular, everyone adoring you, wanting you in their polaroids, congratulating you on the awards you’d gotten during the graduation ceremony, loving all the same things steve loves about you (not as much, he asserts to himself, never as much).

he sees you down your fourth jell-o shot and shakes his head with immense fondness. you’re going harder than usual, maybe because he’s there with you and you feel safer and more carefree in his company. you look over at him, beam and wave, and he does it right back, taking a small sip of whatever is in his hand (he’s not 100%, but who really is at a high school party?).

“stevie!” you wrap your arms around him, your eyes big, your voice a little silly from all the drinks you’ve had. even in your drunken haze you still think he’s hung the moon. “have another drink, baby, we’re walking home tonight,” you gesture for someone to come bring you another one for him but he gently pushes your hand back down.

“don’t worry about me, it’s your night, i want you to have fun,” he kisses the top of your head. you smell vaguely like your jell-o shots, that artificial strawberry scent like stomach medicine, but not in a bad way. it’s sweet.

“i want you to have fun with me,” you say, a little pushy, a lot drunk. he shakes his head again, still smiling. you mean well.

“i’m having fun, i promise, just not used to this anymore.” he squeezes your side playfully. “maybe chill on the drinks for a minute though, yeah? i don’t want you to get sick.” he plants another kiss on you, this time firmly on your lips, smiling against you when you gasp at the song that’s come on.

“aw come on steve dance with me,” but you accidentally tug on his hand holding the drink and he would’ve danced with you he swears he would’ve if you hadn’t gotten his drink doused all over the front of your shirt. “fuck,” you mumble, suddenly that weird mix of sober and drunk, your head fuzzy staring at the stain and steve’s head fuzzy with bad memories that make his breath bitch and his heart constrict.

“i’m sorry, babe, shit, come on, i’ll get you cleaned up,” he tries to steady his breathing as he walks you, stumbling and blurry-eyes, to the bathroom, don’t panic don’t panic don’t panic, but he hears it in his head. he hears all of it.

it’s bullshit it’s all bullshit you’re bullshit like we’re in love-

he shuts the door behind the both of you and you turn the sink on, and the flashbacks pulse behind his eyelids, and he keeps reminding himself to breathe. “i don’t know if it’ll come out, i’m sorry,” he spins you toward him, slow so you don’t get dizzy, and he dabs at the liquid squelching in your shirt, trying to soak some of it up. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he mutters, almost feverish, staring at you, at the stain, at the mess he’s made, the mess he always makes, the mess he can’t stop making-

“what’re you sorry for?” you say softly, still slurred, and when he meets your gaze he doesn’t see the emptiness he’s imagining, the coldness he remembers from the night so similar, he sees daylight. he sees love. “i pulled you too hard, my fault, ruined your drink,” you pull at your wet shirt and your movements are sloppy.

“not your fault, don’t worry,” he pushes your hair back from your forehead, sweaty from the heat of the party. mascara is smudged under your eyes. dingy yellow bathroom lighting doesn’t do anyone any favors but you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. smudged and sweaty and so pretty. “i don’t wanna ruin your night.” his hand comes to rest on the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“you could never,” you balk at the insinuation. you take his face in your hands. he’s worried, searching your face for answers, for reassurance. “so pretty,” you smush his cheeks together. his face warms. “pretty steve.”

“alright, alright,” he laughs, uncharacteristically shy, swatting your hands away.

“i gotta tell you something. it’s really important.” you stare directly into his eyes. they’re so deep and brown you wanna kiss him before you tell him anything. but your brain wants you to say it. your brain insists you say it first. “it’s a secret, okay? so don’t tell anyone.”

the panicky feeling creeps in again, even though you’ve been sweet on him all night. his palms start to sweat. he nods. “a secret, huh? how secret we talking?” he plays with a strand of your hair, an attempt to appear nonchalant.

“biggest secret of my life,” you inform him, a look of seriousness on your face so intense he almost laughs again, and he would if he weren’t so nervous. the concentrated expression didn’t match the inebriated, slightly delirious voice coming out of your mouth, not for a second.

“okay, lay it on me,” he takes a deep breath. he hears the party continuing to rage on outside the little bubble he’s in. at least if it’s bad his escape will be quick and no one will notice.

you tilt his chin up toward you because he’s not making eye contact and you need him to see you when you say this. your mind is buzzing with it. it’s all you can think about. you lean forward and whisper, “i’m in love with steve harrington,” and then you lean back and laugh, giddy with the revelation. “did you know that? super in love. for real.” you lean in again. “don’t tell steve. if he’s not in love with me back i’ll be real embarrassed.”

he’s never felt such pure relief, flooding his entire being, lighter than he’s ever felt, happier than he knew he could be. “i won’t tell him, gorgeous, but you should know,” he leans in and whispers, playing along, smiling so broadly he can’t hide it for a second, “steve is in love with you, too, i heard it from him myself, so don’t worry your pretty little head about a thing, okay?” he pets your hair, his touches light and loving. he hugs you like that, his cheek atop your head. you’ve been dating awhile, almost a year, but you’d both been so hesitant to say it first, past experiences hindering either of you from being able to fully admit it to each other, not wanting to be hurt again, not wanting to be vulnerable. but here you were. it’s not like nancy. you believe in him and your love for each other and things are different now, things are safe.

“you’ll take me home now? so i can tell him?” it’s such a sweet gesture, he gets overwhelmed, his nose twitching with that feeling that he might cry. he feels lucky to be loved, and lucky to love you. lucky to maybe not loathe parties so much anymore.

“‘course, baby, c’mon.” he kisses your forehead, the tip of your nose, your lips. they’re soft and sticky and perfect.

he takes you by the hand and leads you out of the house after saying goodbye to your friends; he keeps your fingers interlocked the whole walk back to your house. when you’re cleaned up and in bed, a glass of water on your nightstand for when you wake up, you turn to him, reaching out.

“you’ll stay right?” he remembers a time where he never got asked to stay, never got to be in love properly. it feels far away now. he’s flushed with love from you now. he can put the past behind him.

he climbs in next to you, fresh from the bathroom. “can’t leave until i get to tell you i love you when you’re sober, now can i?” and your fogged up brain supposes he can’t.

#i’m on a roll :D #i wrote this on my notes app at 2am he possesses all my thoughts #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x reader

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