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my-ultimate-is-ready · 2 years

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from the prompt meme (if you're still doing it ofc) “i’m not wearing any underwear. thought you’d like to know." w Reyes 😈

Gabriel’s back from god-knows-where for god-also-only-knows-how-long, a pause in his suffocating schedule allowing him to spend a few luxurious days at home, so you can live like all the couples around you do. High on your priority list is doing all the laundry your washing machine can handle, catching up on all your favourite shows you swore you wouldn’t watch while he was away, and making dinner together.

At some point in this unadorned normality, you’ve also got to go grocery shopping, and while it’s not the most riveting of things you can do together, it’s significantly less of a chore with him there. It takes inordinate amounts of fuel to keep him running; SEP created a super soldier with a super appetite. So, with Gabriel home and the fridge pitifully empty, it’s a non-negotiable addition to your day.

But what a joy it is to feel halfway ordinary, defaulting to your routine that gets interrupted every other week when he becomes a mere voice over the phone or a few lines of text in a written message.

When he’s home, you live slowly—one day at a time.

Out of necessity, Gabriel’s efficiency is unparalleled. It doesn’t matter how organized you are when he is a master at packing and planning. It’s thanks to him that you’ve never set foot into a store without your reusable bags, and it is also thanks to him that unloading the groceries from the car to the kitchen takes a single trip.

Is any sight more touchingly domestic than him hauling several massive blue IKEA bags as though they’re precious cargo?

Going down the list that he remembered to bring—even though you wrote it, you’d forgotten about it—Gabriel ensures you’ve got all your essentials but can’t find the last ingredient you need. You know it’s crucial that when you have the chance to cook together, there’s no deviation from the recipe, no disrupting the ritual. When he suggests the pair of you should make a stop at another store, it’s not a compromise that you’re unwilling to make, but you’d much rather get back home and have him all to yourself again.

“Maybe we have some left from last time,” you say, trailing out as you scour the shelf for the third time, making a showy pretence of it.

“We don’t,” he informs with a discontented shake of his head, “I checked.”

The addendum to the shopping list was his doing, penned in at the bottom.

“Can we do without it?”

“We probably could, but do we want to? This is the question we have to ask ourselves. You know it’s not going to taste the same.”

He’s too determined for his own good sometimes.

It’s not that you want to rush him; it’s just that you know what traffic is like and how a little detour could throw the rest of your afternoon off. If you weren’t constantly picturing time dripping through the narrowest point of an hourglass, maybe you would have a single chill.

But you don’t, and Gabriel is already wise to some version of that.

Naturally, you think of a way to suggest he shuffle his priorities around and get you home without asking him to blatantly give up—because he won’t.

Beckoning him to lend you an ear with a finger, he leans down so you can whisper: “I’m not wearing any underwear. Thought you’d like to know.”

Something passes over him as he returns to his full height. Once you think he’s past replying, he speaks into a closed fist, “Holy shit.”

“You good?” A bad question, knowing full well you’ve quietly obliterated him.

He clears his throat and assures, “Never better.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how we need to home before the ice cream melts.”

“What ice cream?”

Gabriel steps away, opens the closest freezer, grabs a pint of ice cream, and adds it onto the heap in your cart. “That one.”

Then he slips behind you and helps you steer towards the checkout, whispering in your ear about how he still can’t believe the things that come out of your mouth sometimes.

#gabriel reyes x reader #gabriel reyes imagine #overwatch x reader #overwatch imagine #you asked for sexy and i gave you GROCERY STORE #but am i wrong #this man watches sports and cooking shows with the same intensity.#alternative scenario: you say you're not wearing underwear and he's like. yeah i know #it's all in the laundry i literally just threw it all in the dryer before we left #gabriel reyes puts up with so much bless his soul #gabriel reyes #gabriel #reyes #these #replies #prompt meme

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moregraceful · 1 month

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i was gonna watch the vgk-dal game to bandwagon the stars but then i realized that if i have to see hertl in that jersey even once it's literally my last day, and also mike grier's last day, on planet earth, so.

#KELLY MCCRIMMON I HOPE THE CEILING FAN FALLS ON U #pulling a dq and telling people to just throw me off a bridge honestly #i usually try to have a value-neutral position on teams idc abt but the hertl trade made me blacklist every possible variation of the #team's name and lb and every associated tag so. sorry. lol coming out of my cage and i'm not doing fine #i wrote robo/nick s instead #2.3k and nothing happens in it #they literally go drink boba and yearn for manju but the manju shop is closed #also have been given some valuable feedback. there are cities in which people recognize hockey players in the wild?? that happens in #quebec??? god imagine seeing and recognizing nick suzuki in the grocery store i would just leave #imagine seeing a shark in the grocery store i would not even notice i'd just be like get out of my way you're blocking the kombucha #so i have to do some rewriting anyway bc a chunk of the fic is like has nick suzuki ever been recognized in his life. answer: yes!!!#i assume robo is not being recognized by non-hockey fans anyway lol dallas has american football baseball and basketball #the city got other concerns #i always laugh when canadians are like isn't hockey one of your big four sports 🤨#i'm like. tiers of american sports: 1: college basketball and college football. 2: football basketball and baseball. 2.5: hockey #u could put connor mcdavid in a grocery store and people would be like get this guy's ass out of the fruit section he's killing the vibe #i spent 20 hours at church over the weekend guys and i refused to read or answer a single email from anyone associated with church #all day bc i was like i need a break from you people. but people started texting me instead i was like ....#didn't read or answer those either lol #i was gonna refill a queue tonight but a i just spent 45 minutes on these tags b i saw a picture of trea turner that got me in my 🥺#c was writing a touching tribute to manju and hot guys of which there are none in san jose (hot guys. there's plenty of manju #in san jose)#and now i am like. am i crazed enough to have an opinion on 150 posts in one hour??#let's find out lmao #fresno oilers.txt

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phoenixkaptain · 9 months

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Hard not to relate to Hannibal Lecter, honestly, I mean, I, too, craved to drown the other kids and stab them repeatedly for making fun of me. I, too, imagined the slow painful death of the adults who were cruel to me. I, too, had an inexorable urge to sink my teeth into the flesh of all who dared to look down on me and hold them there until my thirst for violence was sated with blood.

On the other hand. I don’t think I could murder someone for being a bad waiter. The social anxiety, you know?

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zippoupaljac · 3 months

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fast approaching that age where two people can be born at the same time but be at widely different stages of life. woo

#to be fair this has been somewhat true before but it was mostly social stuff #a classmate has a drivers licence + his own car + just got admitted to uni in another country + he's been doing online businesses for years #and he also does sports betting. which is all so Adult to me #i go to the store + apply to unis expecting a rejection + cry to short films. and feel like a child #and i am not judging him or anything we just sit at the same exams and feel lifetimes apart in life “progress”#hashtag personal

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thebibliosphere · 9 months

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I feel like Bruce Wayne projects the kind of amiable playboy 'fun' vibe that he'd be the type of celebrity that certain interviewers feel comfortable surprising with puppies.

You know the kind of shows I mean.

The late-night talk show situations where they're making benign small talk with their smiling guest, and there's a segment where animals get brought out, usually to talk about some sort of ecological relief effort.

So you're watching your trash TV talk show late at night, and you get to watch billionaire pretty boy Bruce Wayne be begrudgingly talked into holding a (relatively) harmless creature which inevitably gets a lot of delighted shrieks from the audience as it starts being a lot more active than the handler promised. And to his credit, Bruce doesn't flinch, he doesn't freak out. But his eyes are a little wide, and his voice a little tight as the smile on his face takes on a slight rictus quality before he's inevitably rescued by an apologetic handler who is also laughing because they all know there was no real danger, it was just funny to put Bruce, who is an undeniable good sport and already laughing along, out of his comfort zone for the sake of charity.

Meanwhile, up in the Justice League headquarters, several founding members of the League are wondering how fast they can get a fake Oscar award shipped to the space station because fuck off. Absolutely fuck off, Bruce. Where the fuck did he study? Juilliard? (Probably.)

(Clark ends up going to a novelty store during the commercial break. It's faster than trying to get anything shipped, even with the infrastructure Bats built for them. He finds it several days later taped to his console in a conspicuously empty briefing room. It's gaudy and awful, the words "Best Actor" engraved on the plaque. No one's around to see him smile. No one comments when it vanishes. Everyone thinks it's been yeeted out an airlock. Dick absolutely comments when it shows up in the manor, stashed in one of the trophy cases that sprung up for all the bat kids' school awards. Bruce has no idea how it got there. Must have been Alfred. (It was not.))

Anyway, consider, for your amusement, Bruce Wayne getting highjacked on The Gotham Toight Show with a handful of wriggling puppies and, for a split second, not having to pretend he's delighted to be there.

#batman #bruce wayne #batman shitpost #batmuppet

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lunamugetsu · 4 months

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Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom x dc #dpxdc #I'd think that Flash would be the one that Danny has tea/lunch with the most because that guy wouldn't turn down good food #And Danny is a really good cook #especially since the food doesn't come to life and try to stab him #Sam and Tucker be entering their home and then they see Captain Marvel there eating cookies because Danny offered them to him #dpxjustice league #dp x justice league #dp x dc prompt

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why-are-you-even-here-tho · 1 year

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god i hate people :(

#if ur gonna get drunk dont go out #just watched a group of three guys get out of a car and go into this gas station #my stepmoms the only one here and her shift was supposed to end an hour ago #and the one guy walked in with an open container of alcohol yeah #she asks him to fucking leave #as one does #and he does the stereotypical little sobling maneuver #where he sits right putside the doorway and yells at his friends about how she obviously didn’t want him in her store cause hes black #like no buddy nobody gives a fuck if ur black my issue is that ur drunk and disorderly and just got out of the drivers seat of a brand new #sports car yeah #like. yeah #so he finally stops yelling and he comes over and knocks over the whole fucking pallete of water cases sitting outside yea #which is fucking frightening cause that shits heavy as fuck #but they finally left and mom called the police and gave them their plate number #which i kinda feel bad about cause we’re in florida and idk what the probability is of them getting screwed over for smth they weren’t #actually doing #and i went up and fixed all the waters so my stepmom didnt have to #also her birthday is tomorrow and if she has to start her birthday at work and then come work again 2-10 #i am going to lose my shit

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thef1diary · 4 months

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Little Big Fan | Two

— Little Big Flight

Read part one here

Series Masterlist

Note: Max isn’t a major part of this chapter.

wc: 1.7k

Isabella hadn't stopped talking about Max since the day the two of you met him—in the grocery store of all places.

Her excitement was beyond imaginable, and that says a lot coming from you, a mother of a six year old that should be familiar with her big imagination.

As promised, Max had contacted you for the details later that day, surprising you with flight tickets and hotel already booked. You called him as soon as you saw the message, and gave him a little earful about doing too much for two strangers.

His response, "we don't have to be strangers anymore."

The harder part however, was explaining to Isabella's father, Tyler, that you were gifted a paddock pass for yourself and your daughter. Unfortunately, the race weekend was during your ex's days to keep Isabella, so you had to tell him about the plans.

While he might've been an okay father, he wasn't the best partner. Which is why when you told him, he laughed, not believing you for a second. That is, until you showed him the flight ticket to the Netherlands, where the next race was held.

You didn't have to tell him that you met Max, your daughter already did because she couldn't contain her excitement.

You spoke to him when you were standing by the door to his house when dropping Isabella off during your week so Tyler would still able to spend time with her before you leave. When he attempted to playfully ask why he wasn't invited to the race, Isabella shrugged but you knew he was actually asking you.

"You're flying out for work, it wouldn't have been possible." You didn't tell him that Max never offered, that secret was yours to keep.

The conversation didn't last long, since a woman you hadn't met, came and stood behind Tyler. Now you usually didn't care about who comes and goes in his house, but it mattered when your daughter was there. Fortunately, the woman was leaving so you didn't have to bring up the topic. A so-called rule he created when the two of you separated.

"Alright angel, I'll see you in a few days," you crouched down and kissed Isabella's forehead. Wrapping her arms around you, she whispered in your ear, "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, angel. Have fun here yeah?" Watching her nod, Tyler sent her inside and remained standing at the door to speak to you.

"I should get going," you told him and turned to leave, but he called your name to stop you. "Thank you for sending her over this week."

"Yeah, no worries." While you were fine with keeping things formal between you and Tyler, you didn't really want to spend any extra time with him without Isabella.

Truthfully, you were still in contact with him because of Isabella as she deserved to grow up around both parents and so far, it was going well.

As soon as you sat in your car, you received a text from a newly familiar person, Max. A small smile grew on your face at the thought of him. While he might've asked for your number to send the pass details, there were a few unrelated texts that were sent as well.

Whether it was just asking about your day, or how Isabella is doing, it made your days a little sweeter knowing that he genuinely wanted to know.

Even in his latest text, he was asking about your day. You responded, telling him about dropping off Isabella at Tyler's, mentioning how much you'll miss her over the next few days. Then, you drove off, dreading to think of ways to spend time without your little one.

—

You had a lot of free time on your hands during the week that Isabella was at Tyler's house. Even after checking off every errand you had to complete, you decided to do some research about the sport. It was a lot of information to take in and all you remember, is that you would miss the practices, but would be able to watch qualifying and the actual race.

It was now Friday, ten days later, and you were boarding a flight to the Netherlands with Isabella to watch your daughter's favourite driver race.

You were quite nervous to take Isabella on a flight, as it would be the second time. The first time was four years ago, and that too was necessary at the time or else you wouldn't have taken a two year-old Isabella on the plane.

However, Isabella wouldn’t have remembered many details from that flight, so it could also be considered her first.

Truth is, you didn't travel much after giving birth to your beautiful daughter, so you kept glancing at her to ensure she was okay during the boarding process.

While Isabella was still very excited to visit a new country, you could tell that she became slightly nervous as she sat down, all buckled in her assigned seat beside yours in anticipation for takeoff.

She was looking out the window, taking in the beauty of the early morning hours. That was, until she noticed the plane beginning to move.

"Mama," she exclaimed a little loudly, immediately finding your hand and grasping on to it tightly. "It's okay, Bella, we're flying to see Max right? Are you excited?" You asked, knowing the answer to the question very well but it was just a little way to distract her. As expected, she nodded eagerly, rambling on about everything she learned about Formula 1 with her daddy.

Clutching on to her favourite teddy bear, that she's had since birth, with one hand and the other still holding on to yours, she closed her eyes tightly once the plane picked up speed on the runway. You ran your free hand through her hair, whispering words and asking questions to distract her until the plane was stably in the air.

Fortunately, it was a seven hour flight which wasn't excessively long and wouldn't cause any additional stress on how to keep Isabella entertained.

Having downloaded the movie Cars on an iPad, you were able to keep her busy for two out of seven hours. She was happily watching, forgetting the fact that they were many miles up in air. Despite the fact that Isabella has watched this movie one too many times, it was still her favourite.

Especially after watching Formula 1, she quickly considered Charles Leclerc as Lightning McQueen when she first saw him in the red car on track. Even if Max was her favourite driver, she would speak of the Ferrari driver almost as often.

Fortunately, there was a tad bit of more privacy considering you and Isabella were seated in first class. The credit for that could be given to Max. When you asked him why first class was necessary, he responded with, "you two are my guests for the race, and my guests always need to have one of the best flight experiences."

Although, he didn't mention why it was one of the best and not the best. He held back on the fact that the best experience would be in his private plane. Perhaps one day, you and Isabella would travel with him and he would be able to share the experience. Which he believes would be a whole lot better than flying with his usual team.

The only time Isabella tightly clutched on to your hand, was during takeoff, landing, and some mild turbulence. Other than that, she had a lot of fun constantly finding a way to speak to the flight attendant.

She considered the flight attendant her friend, mainly because she kept bringing Isabella snacks to pass the time. Since Isabella stayed awake during the majority of the flight, she was close to falling asleep near the end.

After the events in the grocery store, you ensured to never leave Isabella's hand in a public place even after she assured you that she wouldn't run away. So, throughout the process of getting your small suitcase, Isabella was standing right beside you, holding your hand.

"Is Maxy gonna pick us up?" Isabella asked as you walked towards the exit. You shook your head, "no, angel, he's busy."

Dejected, Isabella pouted and you had to keep yourself from chuckling at her antics. "We'll see him tomorrow, just one more night," you reassured and the pout was replaced with a smile. If she could wait over a year for Tyler's promise that was never fulfilled, she could wait one more night until it is fulfilled by you.. and Max.

After a thirty minute drive from the airport to the hotel, you were able to get off your feet and relax. While Isabella was fascinated by the view from your hotel room, you picked up your phone and sent Max a text stating that you and Isabella safely arrived as per his request.

Usually, you'd get that request from your mother, as she always needed a text or a call to ensure your safety, especially whenever you were out with Isabella.

As expected, you had an unread message from your mother asking the same. "Bella, come here," you called out and heard patters of her small feet running towards you.

"Are we sending nanna a picture?" She asked, already knowing what was going on and you laughed, nodding.

You snapped a photo of her blowing a kiss to the camera and sent it to your mother. Two minutes passed before you got a response from her, "cutest as always but what about my little girl?"

Opening the camera again, you took a snapped a photo of yourself, holding your thumbs up playfully and sent it to her. "Your little girl is perfectly safe too"

Dropping your phone on the bed, you called Isabella’s name, “I’m gonna catch you!” You playfully chased your daughter, easily picking her up, as there wasn’t a lot of space to run, and attacking her with kisses and tickles.

Your phone buzzed with a text, “beautiful”

You had accidentally sent your photo to Max after it was sent to your mother, who was supposed to be the only recipient.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @158cmx @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly

#little big fan fic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 3 months

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18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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midnightwriter21 · 3 months

Text

Left A Mark (megumi x reader fluff)

characters: megumi fushiguro x reader, gojo, itadori, nobara

warnings: FLUFFFFFFF

AN: this is short but cute asf. kinda ooc megumi? but i think he’s soft for his partner and i own jjk so it’s actually canon (i wish)

A voice calls from the front door, “Hey, i’m heading out. I gotta meet up with the others for a mission…”

Swiping the applicator across her lips to finish her makeup, Y/N calls back, “Okay, one second! Don’t leave yet!”

Quickly gathering her purse and other necessary belongings she walks from the bedroom to the front door to meet her dark haired boyfriend.

“I’m leaving too. I gotta go to the store and buy some groceries.”

He looks down at her with a small smile, “You look beautiful today.”

“You say that everyday, Meg.” Y/N giggles

He huffs a laugh, opening the front door and letting her walk out first, “Because it’s true. You look beautiful everyday.”

He closes and locks the door behind him, “This job won’t take long. I’ll be home in about an hour or two.”

“Okay, i’ll be home around then too,” Y/N reaches up and plants a kiss on his cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” And he’s off to meet his classmates.

As he walks to the meeting spot at Jujutsu High Megumi notices the stares he’s getting from others. Some laughing slightly, some smiling, and a few glancing at him and saying, ‘awww’.

“The hell are they looking at..?” He grumbles under his breath.

Finally walking up to his class mates, Yuji is the first to notice him and wave him over, “Hey man, cmon! What took you so lo-… Oh?”

A shit eating grin crawls it’s way up Yuji’s face. Used to Yuji’s antics, Megumi ignores it. Until Yuji involves Nobara.

A sharp elbow to her side followed with a, “Look! Look!”, from Yuji catches her attention. Quickly, Nobara and Yuji are sporting matching smiles.

Nobara laughs, “You must’ve been busy, huh? That’s why you’re late.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Megumi responds, “Busy? I wasn’t busy. I was at home.”

“Yeahhhh, I bet you were at home,” Yuji cackles, “in bed!”

“So what? Didn’t have anything better to do before this. Why does that matter?” Megumi mutters.

As Megumi quickly becomes the source of Yuji and Nobara’s teasing, a loud voice interrupts, “WOAH! Megumi! You’re a little show off aren’t ya!”

Satoru Gojo, first year sensei at Jujutsu High and the bane of Megumi’s existence.

Turning to look at his sensei, Megumi finally asks, exasperated, “What the hell is everyone talking about and staring at me for?”

Giggling manically, Gojo hands him his cellphone, “Hehe, why don’t you take a look.”

Taking the phone and casting a quick glance at his reflection in the front facing camera Megumi’s jaw drops, “Wha-… what the hell?”

Sitting there, smack in the middle of his cheek, is a lipstick mark in the shape of his girlfriend’s lips.

Face turning bright red, Megumi hands the phone back to his sensei and grumbles, “Just shut the hell up and stop staring at me.”

Que Nobara, Yuji, and Gojo singing in unison, “Oooooooo Megumi is in looooovvveeeeee~”

“Be quiet you three idiots!”

*A FEW HOURS LATER*

Having returned from the grocery store not long ago, Y/N busied herself by putting the groceries away. Just as she’s reaching for the last grocery bag, the front door clicks open.

“Meg? Is that you?” She asks.

“Yeah, I’m home!” Megumi answers.

“I’m in the kitchen! How was the mission?”

Shrugging out of his uniform jacket, Megumi makes his way to the kitchen, “It was okay. Gojo and the others are annoying as ever.”

Giggling, Y/N turns to face him, “Well you know how those three can b- oh?”

At her noise of surprise, Megumi looks up at her, “What?”

“Megs… uh.. your cheek?” Y/N gestures to her own.

“Oh yeah… Thanks for that by the way,” he sighs, “Gojo, Nobara, and Yuji gave me hell with all the teasing.”

Y/N laughs lightly, walking up to him and putting a hand over the kiss mark, “Why didn’t you just wipe it off?”

Megumi looks at her confused, “Why would I do that?”

“So nobody teases you for it?”

Megumi scoffs, placing his hands on Y/N’s hips and pulling her close, “I don’t care about their teasing that much. Besides they’re just jealous.”

Y/N smiles, questioning, “Jealous of what exactly?”

“Jealous that I have someone like you to come home to.”

Y/N blushes at his answer, before he speaks again, “And… it was kinda like you were with me all day today. But now that I’m here with you…,” he picks her up ignoring her squeak of surprise, and walks toward the bathroom, “… now I can wash it off.”

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tender-rosiey · 10 months

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hinting — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: thank @callmemirro for the bby fever idea but the video of the baby is what fueled the fire even more

you have a feeling that something has been plaguing your husband’s mind. it’s not a bad thing—like that way too expensive pea-sized handbag he wanted to get just to clown it.

it’s actually good and adorable especially with the way it gets him all smiley and bubbly.

you also started to notice when exactly he gets into these moods or rather regarding what.

for example, you were browsing the store once for new clothes. you and satoru agreed to split to search on a wider scale for discounts.

so when he came back, all smiley and excited, you expected a 50% sale or something. instead, you got surprised with possibly the cutest baby pajama ever.

“what do you think, babe? it’s so cute especially the little smiling duck in the middle!”

you take it from him, examining it up close. truthfully, the material is pretty good and it is soft on the skin. there is only one problem though.

you look up to your husband with a smile, “but, honey, we don’t have a baby.”

satoru deflates for a single second before standing up straight, proud, “hey, now! we can always get it for future plans,” he ogles you, but you quickly pinch his nose.

“haha, very funny.” you start pushing the cart towards that one outfit you liked with satoru following close by.

“y/n, I am serious!” he whines as his hand finds home on your waist.

“and I am a dinosaur in disguise.”

he gasps, “really?!”

“no.”

and that happened more than once.

another thing is that satoru has been obsessed with baby videos.

you remember that one time you were chilling on your beloved couch when he came stumbling into the room, clutching his phone and almost dying of laughter, “y/n! y/n! look at this baby!”

satoru is wheezing as he replays the video over and over again. his uncontrollable laughter is music to your ears, but you feel that you’re going to have to take him to a therapist or a mental hospital.

he laughs loudly for sure, but he has been like this for 4 hours, showing you a baby video every minute or so.

you look at him with sympathy as he cackles, “it was so ready to square up too—huh, what’re you doing?”

you pull him into your embrace and he immediately melts, arms wrapping around you in an instant.

you gently rub his back and press a kiss to the top of his head, “my poor baby,” you coo and gojo lights up: have you finally understood what he has been hinting at?

you cup his face and kiss his cheeks, “work must’ve taken quite a toll on you; we can go to the hosp—“

“hey! that’s just mean!”

he huffs moving away and giving you his back, but then he looks back at you, “but the baby was cute, right?”

you laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder, “yeah, in a way, it reminded me of megumi.”

“you’re so right! even as a first-grader, he was so ready to fight anyone.”

another memorable incident happened when you were in a park, taking a walk with your darling husband.

it was peaceful, accompanied by the squeals of children, the coolness of the ice cream, and the comfort of your husband’s presence. speaking of which, where’s that guy?

you look around, searching for a very prominent walking paintbrush. you blink once, twice, and he is finally in front of you with a huge grin, “y/n, look at this cutie pie I just met!”

you soften at the sight of the giggling baby in his arms. the little baby girl reaches out for you and you cradle her in your arms.

cooing at her, you rock gently while making silly faces and it makes her laugh a laugh from her belly. it also makes a certain someone sport the most lovesick smile known to existence.

smiling, you look at your husband, “where did you find her? was she lost?”

your husband sweatdrops and looks to the side, glasses showing off his bright blue eyes, “about that—“

“there he is, officer! he took my baby!”

so yeah, something is up with your husband, and you have had enough with him hiding it from you. god is on your side today as you’re finally able to back him into a corner and finally interrogate him.

“satoru, is there something you want to tell me?” you ask the man, breathless after running around the school for a couple of hours.

silence occupies the room before your husband finally gives in.

he takes a deep breath and hugs you, resting his head on your shoulder, “I want…” he mumbles, “I want a baby, please?”

you are silent for a moment then you make him look you in the eyes, “really?”

“really,” he says, voice unwavering, “I know that it might be scary, but we have experience with tsumiki and megumi, and they turned out just fine!” he starts rambling, “except for megumi, he can be bratty sometimes, but point is!” he holds your hands in his, “I want to start a family with you, but if you don’t want—“

“okay.”

“—to I completely understand and…wait—did you just say okay?”

“yeah,” you beam, “let’s have a baby. you could’ve said that right away, silly.”

he stares at you for a bit, “do you have any idea how LONG I HAVE BEEN—“

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

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hairmetal666 · 5 months

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Steve has a problem. Not a big problem--not an Upside Down-sized problem--but still. A problem. In the form of Eddie Munson. And not the person Eddie Munson, who is second only to Robin in the hierarchy of Steve's heart, but his feelings in regard to one Eddie Munson. Namely, his enormous, devastating, gay crush on the guy.

And he knows, okay, he knows Eddie is gay, but that doesn't mean he wants Steve. Eddie is probably into other metalheads or dnd nerds. What could Steve, with his sports and his polo shirts, possibly have to offer?

He's coping, though. Or, at least, he thought he was until the Family Video phone rings and Jonathan invites them to the New Year's Eve party he and Argyle are throwing at their new apartment.

"We have to make a no-date pact." He tells Robin as soon as the phone is back in the cradle.

"Or you could just ask Eddie."

"You could just ask Nancy." He raises an eyebrow.

She lets out a slow breath. "Yeah, okay. No-date pact. I'm down."

It's just as easy to get Nancy and Eddie on board. Nancy just laughs and says "yeah, like I'd bring a date to the party my ex-boyfriend is hosting with his new boyfriend. How you do you even start to explain that dynamic?"

And Eddie snorts right in Steve's face (it's not cute, it's not), says, "Right, cause my dating pool in Hawkins, Indiana is just ripe with guys who want to ring in the New Year with me."

Steve wants to say that he would be that guy, happily, giddily, but he can't risk blowing up his second most important friendship like that, not when Eddie's never given a fraction of a hint that he wants Steve too.

But that's his problem solved, right? The four of them aren't bringing dates. Easy-peasy.

Unfortunately, Steve's life hasn't ever worked out like that, and the party turns out to not be only their little end of the world crew and a handful of people Jon knows from his grocery store job, but an actual motherfucking party.

It takes almost ten minutes for him and Robin to navigate through the sea of strangers to find Jon and Argyle handing out solo cups in the kitchen.

"Who are all these people?" He shouts over the pounding music, nothing like Steve's ever heard.

"Argyle got a job at the record store down the street," Jon yells.

"Co-workers." Argyle nods. "And a few of their friends."

"A few, right."

"The more the merrier. Right, my dude?"

"Sure." Steve takes a cup. "You seen Eddie around?"

"Living room, last time I looked." Jonathan answers.

"See you around?" Robin asks.

"At least meet up for the ball drop," Argyle answers.

They push their way into the cramped living room, and Steve searches for that familiar cloud of hair, the ripped black jeans. It takes a minute just for the sheer amount of bodies pressed into the small space, and when he sees him Eddie's--

He's standing against a wall, next to the stereo (of course), but there's someone with him. Someone who is tall and leanly muscled in a way that Steve isn't. Someone with long hair pushed back from his forehead. Someone with facial piercings in places Steve didn't even know you could pierce and tattoos and a chain hanging from his worn blue jeans and a bandana in his back pocket, just like Eddie.

And Eddie he's--he's gazing up at this dude with clear stars in his brown doe eyes, body angling towards the other man like he can't help but push more into his orbit.

Steve turns hard, Robin colliding with his side. "Steve, what the--oh."

"I hate New Year's Eve," Steve sighs, trying to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach. It's always been the kind of holiday that is high on expectation and low on follow-through.

"C'mon, I think I spotted Nance over by the bedroom."

He lets Robin guide him across the room, steadfastly not looking back at where Eddie is very obviously finding himself a date. It's okay, Steve reasons. It's okay because that was obviously the kind of guy Eddie would be into it. He knew he had, like, no chance. He shouldn't be disappointed. He shouldn't.

The evening slips away in the shove of people, in the solo cup that manages to always be full in his hand, and he tries as hard as he can to ignore the way Robin and Nancy start sharing the same space.

So much for the no-date pact. He would laugh if a sort of deep loneliness wasn't seeping into his bones.

There's a girl, though, across the room. She's in a short dress and glances at Steve from under hooded eyelids. He could make a move; could have someone to kiss at midnight; have someone just for the night. But then--his heart makes a pathetic patter--Eddie.

Eddie who is practically in that stranger's lap.

He goes out for a cigarette.

When he comes back inside, it's five minutes til midnight and Nancy and Robin are dancing slow and sweet to a song that is neither.

He's happy for them, almost incandescent with it, but the loneliness sinks deeper, reaches marrow, especially after he fails to find Eddie in the crowd.

Steve thinks it might be time to give the whole failed endeavor up for good, but Jonathan and Argyle, both in tiny 1987 novelty top hats, appear at his side.

"Stevie-boy!" Argyle bellows. He lifts Steve at the waist, twirling him, and Steve laughs despite himself.

"Keeping busy?" He asks.

Jonathan pounds him on the back, just a little too hard.

A guest yells from deep in the apartment, "one minute to midnight!" and the music turns off, the TV tuned to Dick Clark and turned up.

Nancy and Robin find their way over, Robin mouthing "sorry," on her way. He pulls her into a side-hug; he'll never begrudge her any happiness, even on his worst day.

From across the room, there's a crash, a short yelp, and then a familiar head of fuzzy brown curls makes its way to them.

"Sorry, sorry." Eddie apologizes as he shoves through the other guests.

"Hi, guys!" He beams at them, cheeks flushed. Steve looks away so he doesn't have to think about how beautiful Eddie is; about how he's not the one who made him blush so pretty.

The countdown on the screen reaches 30 seconds, and the party goers start chanting.

"What happened to--?" Steve can't help but asking.

"Psh, that dude? He's a punk. Plus, I couldn't imagine ringing in 1987 without you guys by my side."

Steve blushes and rolls his eyes. "Sap." He knocks his hip into Eddie's.

"You love it," Eddie wraps him in a loose hold.

The count is down to 10, the ball almost dropped, Jonathan and Argyle and Nancy and Robin making soft eyes at each other.

"What's going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?" Eddie knocks his head gently against Steve's.

"It's nothing."

"You're pouting." Eddie mimics him with a poked out lip.

The count is down to 5.

"Fuck, I just--I wanted to have someone to kiss at midnight, you know?"

The ball drops, the year changes over, the room cheers. His coupled up friends cling to each other in soft, joyous kisses.

Eddie's eyes flick to their friends, to the guests, all kissing and embracing and celebrating, then back to Steve.

With two careful fingers, Eddie lifts Steve's chin, makes it so he can't look away.

"Fuck it," Eddie says. He leans forward, kisses Steve with soft authority.

And Steve just--he just fucking--crumbles into it. He makes a soft noise, curls his fists into Eddie's t-shirt.

Eddie's hands work their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Steve goes eagerly, crushes their bodies together.

They kiss and they kiss, and it's already so far from a friendly New Year's kiss, but then Eddie's tongue swipes into Steve's mouth, and the kiss breaks.

"Um," Eddie says.

Steve can't respond because all his focus is on not giving into the weakness in his knees and collapsing to the floor.

"I've wanted you to do that all night," Steve says.

"Oh." Eddie's face blossoms into a slow smile. "Me too. A lot longer than that, actually."

It's Steve's turn to smile, and he does, so hard it hurts his cheeks. "Me too."

Eddie presses their foreheads together. "Happy New Year, Stevie."

Someone starts singing Auld Lang Syne loudly and off-key, but they're quickly drowned out by a chorus of accompanying voices.

"Happy New Year, Ed."

Steve pulls him in for another kiss. 1987 is already shaping up to be the best year of his life.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #new years eve #spicy six #ficlet #angst #fluff #mutual pining #angst with a happy ending #first kiss #nye party #ronance #jargyle #this is very loosely based on the nye episode of friends where joey kisses chandler #hold on to the memories they will hold on to you

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