#steve being unhinged is so fun

[unfinishedslurs]

party king (steddie)

“You want me to what?”

“Go to a party with me,” Eddie says, looking at Steve like he’s the weirdo here. “What’s the big deal, King Steve? You’ve been to plenty of parties.”

“You know, no one actually called me that,” Steve tells him, abandoning his tapes to put his hands on his hips. “Billy started it. I think he just wanted people to call him a king.”

Eddie visibly considers this before nodding, like it makes sense. Which it does. Billy was, in Steve’s private thoughts, an egotistical maniac who needed to calm down.

May he rest in peace.

“But you’ll come to the party with me, right?”

“Give it up, Eddie,” Robin calls from where she’s rewinding tapes. “Steve hasn’t been to a party in forever. He’s basically a grandpa now.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. That’s rich, coming from her. Going to bed at nine some nights so he gets a few more hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat does not make him a grandpa. It just makes him traumatized  

“Steeeeeeeve,” Eddie whines, widening his eyes until it looks like they’re going to pop out of his sockets. His exaggerated pout isn't going to do him any favors either. No matter what the kids say behind his back (looking at you, Henderson) he isn't a pushover.

“Why would I want to go to a high school party?” He crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “I graduated. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Like lose arcade games to freshmen?” Robin asks. He flips her the bird.

“Please, Steve?” Eddie asks. “Pretty please? Pretty pretty please, with cherries and whipped cream and six little nuggets on top?”

“What the hell are you even saying anymore?”

“You want him to eat his babies?” Robin shrieks. “Like Kronos? Is one of them going to cut off his head and free the rest?”

Eddie’s eyes light up, and Steve slaps a hand over his mouth. He doesn’t know who that guy is, and he doesn’t want to deal with the two of them chattering over whatever movie villain he’s assuming is in their weird cult classic films when he still doesn’t know why Eddie is asking him to this party.

He doesn’t even flinch when Eddie licks his hand.

“I’ve been slobbered on by actual monsters,” he says flatly. “Your spit has zero effect on me.”

Eddie bats his eyes and gives his palm a kiss, right where he’d laved his tongue. Steve rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on the side of Eddie’s face.

“Hey!”

“Don’t dish what you can’t take,” Steve says. “Now, why exactly am I getting asked to go to a high school party?”

“Jessica Roberts needs some kush, and she asked me to sell there.”

“Okay? Still not answering my question.”

“There’s gonna be jocks at the party,” Eddie finally confesses, “and I don’t know if they’ll try shit. But given my track record lately…”

“So you need a bodyguard?”

“Hey!” Steve shouts, and is summarily ignored by everyone. So he does what any normal person would do, and slams an abandoned beer bottle against the edge of the counter so it shatters. 

The jocks turn and look at him after that.

Steve glances down at the jagged edges of the bottle in his hands, flipping it like it’s his old ice cream scoop. Yeah, this should work. 

“Leave him alone,” he says, steely inflection to his voice. 

“Or what, Harrington?” One of them asks. “Heard you just been sittin’ in this room all night. What, you hanging around the queers now? Didn’t take you for a f-”

He stops talking when Steve grabs him by the hair and presses the broken bottle against his throat.

“Here’s what's gonna happen,” he says quietly, taking a look at his buddy. He’s let go of Eddie, a lot more spooked now that his friend is shaking in his Nike’s. “You’re going to leave this room. You’re going to leave Munson here alone. You’re not going to bother him, or anyone else in his dragon club ever again. If I hear that you or your little friends are fucking with him, I have a very nice nail-studded baseball bat in my trunk I’d be more than happy to introduce you to. Capisce?”

“Woah, woah, woah,” the guy that was holding Eddie says. “What the hell, Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t break eye contact with the guy he’s threatening. “Capisce?” He asks again, putting a little more force into the word.

“C-capisce.”

“Good,” he says, shoving him away. “Now get outta here.”

They scramble away. Steve walks over to the trash can and throws away the remains of the bottle, running a hand through his hair. He finally turns around to see Eddie staring at him with wide eyes, frozen.

“Sorry-”

“Fuck me.”

“What?”

Eddie’s entire face flushes, like he didn’t mean to say that. “Uh.”

Steve looks at him, and then around the kitchen they’re in. Glass and beer on the floor, music blasting loud enough to set him on edge, a crowd of people that look at him like a zoo exhibit. Fuck, his head hurts. 

“Yeah, okay,” he decides. “We’re going to mine, though.”

“Wh-what?” Eddie looks like a deer in headlights, even though Steve’s offering exactly what he asked. 

“I…have no idea what I’m doing,” Eddie confesses. 

“Oh, are you not…” He trails off, gesturing towards Eddie’s back pocket. “I assumed…”

Eddie laughs abruptly, slapping a hand over his mouth like he startled himself with it. “You know hanky code, Harrington?”

“Can you call me Steve when you’re in my bed?” He’s already got his shirt off, for God’s sake. “Listen, man, if you don’t want this, it’s no biggie.” He starts to get off, and Eddie’s hand clamps over his thigh. 

“No, no, no, don’t you dare. Just gimme a minute, I’m processing.”

“Processing,” he repeats flatly. 

“Yes, processing. I’ve got the guy of my extremely virginal wet dreams shirtless on top of me. I did not think this would ever happen. I didn’t even know you were queer until tonight.”

Steve’s mouth shapes into an “o” of understanding. “You’re a virgin?”

“Jesus, could you focus on anything else I said?”

“You dream about me?”

“Let’s go back to the virgin part.” His fingers start nervously tapping against Steve’s leg. 

“You’re not subtle,” Steve says flatly. “I know when you stare at my ass.”

Eddie colors in a flood of bright red. “What if I wasn’t? What if I was…uh, jealous or something?”

“I guess that’d make sense, since you’re flat as a board.”

“Wh—hey!”

#party king au #stranger things fanfic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve being unhinged is so fun #furthering my 'eddie has a flat ass' agenda one fic at a time #honestly i don't think steve is UNpopular after s1-2 like i feel like he'd exist in this weird space #where everyone likes him but he has no friends outside the party #and maybe he went to a couple of parties post s3 with robin but they got bored and bailed

[booksandabeer]

Stucky, Fandom Longevity, and "Primacy Bias"

There’s this post that's been floating around the past few days about how the Stucky fandom in its heyday produced fic and art masterpieces like they were all collectively possessed by an unprecedented spirit of creative insanity. It’s a good, fun post and I agree with the person who wrote it. (not rb'ing because I didn't want to hijack their post with something that's only tangentially related).

It was indeed a magical time and the creative output in both quantity and quality in the two-year period following the release of CA:TWS is—with perhaps a few exceptions—unmatched by anything that I’ve seen before and since. However, going through the notes on that post, I noticed something that left me a little irritated and quite frankly sad since it is in congruence with, and to a certain extent the confirmation of something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.

For one thing, there are so many people in the notes expressing sentiments along the lines of “it was such a wonderful time; I wish I could go back; I miss these fics; I want to read these fics again,” etc., etc., you get it. And it feels a little silly pointing this out, but…you can just do that? Almost all of these fics are still right there, waiting for you to be (re)read. Yes, a lot of people left the fandom after The Great Devastation of 2019, but their stories didn’t just disappear. It's not like there is now a big, black hole where the Steve/Bucky tag used to be on AO3. So, if you miss these fics and you want to revisit them—just do it. Chances are the authors will be delighted that people are still finding and enjoying their stories all these years later. And—since apparently this needs saying, too, judging from the notes on that post: A lot of people seem to be very concerned with losing ‘coolness points’ for openly admitting that they still miss the ship and often feel tempted to dip their toes back into the Stucky pool. I don’t know how to tell you this, but if someone tries to shame you for simply enjoying or missing something, they are an asshole. Not to mention that all this is happening on tumble.com—'coolness' doesn't exactly live here. And that is a good thing, to be clear. Fandom is not about being cool. It’s about being as enthusiastic, as silly, as absolutely fucking unhinged about the things you love as you want to be. So, stop caring what other people think and enjoy yourself.

The other thing is that there seems to be a pretty widespread misconception that the Stucky fandom hasn’t produced any good fanworks after 2016.

First, that is patently and demonstrably untrue. There is so much incredibly good fanfiction and fanart still out there. Not as much as back in the day, sure, but it still exists. And more is being posted every day! Even some of the OG Big Names are still around. One of the most beloved Stucky series that started all the way back in 2014 was updated as recently as December of last year. The artist, who I believe the op is referring to as creating ‘baroque’ paintings, posted their latest Stucky art not even two months ago.

Second, I find this “primacy bias” more than just a little insulting to the many hardworking and incredibly talented people who are still putting their blood, sweat, and tears into creating for this community. And it’s one thing if people who have long left the fandom believe or say something like this, but it’s frankly irritating when I see people who are still very much active—and therefore definitely should know better—feed into that same false myth. Yes, it sucks that the Stucky ship isn’t as big as it used to be, but that doesn't mean there isn't any 'fresh talent' to be found anymore. I’m also not saying we shouldn’t still celebrate and recommend older works—I do it all the time! And it sure as hell doesn't mean everyone has to reblog absolutely everything all the time, either. Your blog, your rules.

But maybe we should put a little more focus on the good things, on the creators and the community we have now, especially if we want that community to still exist in another ten years. I mean, imagine you’re a person who’s just gotten into the fandom (because yes, there are indeed still new people discovering Stucky all the time) and one of the first things you’re being told is “eh, nice that you're here, but you’re about 7 years late; the big party is already over.” Does that seem like a fun space to hang out in to you?

So. Let’s all—and I do not exclude myself from this because God knows, I love to complain—spend a little less time mourning the ‘good old days’ that are never coming back anyway, and instead focus our attention on enjoying and appreciating both the incredible treasure chest of an archive we have AND the wealth of high-quality art and fic that is still being created by this wonderful community every single day. With this in mind:

🥳🎊Happy Stucky Week 2023!!! 🎊🥳

*I want to make it very clear that this is a general thing that’s been on my mind lately and that I’m trying to work through here—probably not very coherently. I'm not trying to tell anybody 'how to do fandom' and I’m most definitely not vagueposting about any particular incident, person, or group in this fandom. This isn’t a callout post. It’s an I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about this and I don’t know what else do with them post.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #fandom culture #i once again have no idea what to tag this #fanfiction forever #fanart forever

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Creatures Of The Night (18+)

Vampire!Eddie x Werewolf!Steve X Reader

Summary:Not very much here in terms of plot if we're being brutally honest, just some very fun and sexy times involving some monster steddie!

Warnings:NSFW, 18+, Making Out, Teasing, Fingering, Size Kink (slightly), Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Brief F Receiving), Missionary Sex, Cuddles afterwards for good measure!

Word Count:2, 213

Authour's Note:Maybe i'm unhinged for writing this but i'm just here for a good time and to fuck monsters, if that's not your thing then maybe this isn't the fic for you.

Masterlist

It was only ever under the bright white light of the moon that their true forms revealed themselves to you. The pitch black midnight provided them the chance to present themselves as they truly are.

Eddie with his pale skin, red-rimmed dark eyes, and spread of imposing bat-like wings. His wicked smile proudly shows off his two prominent sharp, pearly teeth. A few of his long dark curls had fallen loose from the bun tied at the nape of his neck, framing his pale face. He’d long been drawn to you, the scent of your blood called out to him, a rich, cherry-sweet scent unlike anything he’d ever come across before. His nose would brush against your neck, as his tongue licked over the pulsing veins in your neck, and despite it all, he could never bring himself to sink his teeth in, never wanting you to come to any harm, especially not at his cost.

And Steve, who’s broad shouldered frame is covered in thick coats of soft brown hair, his usual hazel brown eyes now glowed a honeyed golden sparkle in the moonlit dark of the bedroom. Even in his shaggy, wolf-like form there was still something incredibly human about him. The glint in his eyes that lets you know that underneath it all, he was still just your Stevie, and nothing could ever change that.

Maybe the way that you three came together each night wasn’t the conventional thing that was expected of three young adults living together in a small and quiet town like Hawkins but somehow you managed to make your rather unconventional situation work.

Most people wouldn't look twice at your boys in the harsh light of day. Steve in his usual look of light wash denim and striped polo shirts, a normal everyday outfit for the common man in Hawkins. And Eddie clad in his typical garb of some metal band's tour t-shirt, black leather jacket and black ripped jeans leading down to an old pair of tattered dark DMs was a look that most people turned their nose up at with a scoff. 

So yeah, mostly the residents of Hawkins, Indiana paid no mind to the two polar opposite boys who roamed their streets.

No. It wasn't until the sun dawned down each evening that your boys came out to play.

Being pinned between their two monstrous bodies was something that you welcomed. The touch of the supernatural was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

It started out as a typical night, with you in bed relaxingly cuddled against the warm, soft hairs of Steve’s chest, fingers absentmindedly playing with his soft brown coat. Your head resting against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart, his chest rising and falling with every breath.

In stark contrast to the warmth you feel lying next to Steve, you feel Eddie’s presence sidling up beside you. The ice cold touch of his hand coasting up your arm as he leans in to press kisses along your collarbones, you feel his smirking smile against your skin as you shiver under his affections.

Eddie’s button-tipped nose is buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of you with a deep breath, before pressing one more cold kiss just underneath your ear. 

Steve wasn’t blind to what Eddie was trying to do, in fact he all but encouraged the vampire’s quest to arouse you. Steve quietly chuckled to himself as he felt you slyly trying to grind yourself naked body into his hairy thigh where your legs were tangled with his under the bed covers.

"Well would you look at that.." Steve's deep voice rumbles out "..it would seem as though our mate is getting a little squirmy from all those kisses your giving her, Munson" 

"Indeed it would, Harrington. How about we do something about that, huh pretty girl?" Eddie asks you, his voice a low raspy whisper beside your ear.

You lift yourself from the soft comfort of Steve's chest to nod your head. 

"I'm gonna need you to use your words, Sweet Thing." Eddie purrs out, ever the tease.

You nod your head once more

"Yes please.." you breathed.

"Always so polite.." Eddie smiles. He looks over to Steve and gives him a subtle nod of his head, which Steve understands right away, as his massive hands gently man-handle you into a position where you’re sat on the bed, with your body relaxing back against his soft furry chest, your head leaning against his shoulder.

Steve’s large hands are pawing at your exposed chest, squishing the soft flesh of your boobs under his rough touch. His fingers eagerly toying with your nipples, rolling each one between the calloused tips of his fingers. His lips hungrily sucks dark marks against your skin, trailing his kisses up the side of your neck.

“Hold her open, Wolfie.” Eddie commands Steve teasingly, knowing how much Steve hated Eddie’s affectionate nick-name for him. 

Steve’s hands immediately skate down the sides of your body, his nails leaving light scratch marks as he does. His big hands settle themselves on the soft skin of the inside of your thighs before spreading them and holding them open.

Eddie stands up and makes his way over to where you're so tantalisingly spread out for him. Stalking the room, his dark eyes never leaving your exposed frame.

You watch his movements with anticipation. There’s a delicious heat that warms through you as you watch how he lewdly spits in his palm before dropping his hand down and teasing his cock in slow strokes, his thumb swiping over the mess of pooling pre-cum gathering at the tip as his fist strokes upwards making sure to glide over the prominent vein that runs the underside of his length.

"Don’t worry Pretty Girl, I'm going to make you feel real good, real soon" Eddie promised. "Just gonna let Harrington have his moment with you first, you know he's gotta stretch you out to get you ready for me"

You feel the insistent press of Steve's cock at your back and all too quickly you're reminded of why he has to stretch you out. In his human form Steve was not small by any shred of the imagination, but with enough prep and slow, gentle movements from both parties you could take him.

However, in his humanoid-wolf hybrid form it was a different story. Everything about him was bigger, in every sense of the word. Of course you’d tried to take him, so desperate to feel the stretch of him inside you, but it would be a while before you could accommodate the press of his thick length in your tight wet heat. For now you had settled on a happy medium of being opened up by the rough and calloused touch of Steve’s fingers.

Starting with only one of his fingers, carefully teasing his way around your pussy, gathering the wetness on the pads of his fingertips before drawing it up and rubbing on your clit in tight circles. His thick finger slips back down and slowly inches inside you, just letting you adjust to the feeling of his finger for a moment before he begins to thrust in and out of you.

Your head falls back against his chest whimpering quiet little moans into the crook of his neck.

“Aw, is Stevie making you feel good, Sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice taunts, a slight tone of condescension as he watches Steve slip another one of his fingers inside you, working them in and out of your wet cunt.

Steve noses into your hair, deeply inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo, little gruff whines of approval falling from his lips as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

"That's it…There's my good girl, gonna come from me, aren’t you, Sweet Thing?" Steve growls against your skin, his sharp teeth nipping little marks against your neck.

You whine and babble incoherently as Steve continues to thrust his fingers and rub your clit in quick circles, holding you close to his body. 

Your orgasm rushes over you, clenching and pulsing against Steve’s thick fingers with a wet gush.

Steve gently rubs over your clit as tenderly as he can with his big pawing hands, helping you to come down from the high of your orgasm.

“There she is, my good girl…So sweet and pretty..” Steve breathes against your neck in-between placing tender to your skin.

“Think you mean our girl, Harrington. Thought you wolves were all about sharing with the rest of your pack, huh.” Eddie teases from where he’s sat on the edge of the bed, his dark brown almost black eyes scarcely tearing away from your steadily breathing frame. His long fingers are still slowly stroking over the length of his cock, keeping himself hard and ready just for you.

“You ready for me, Angel?” he asks, all too cocksure of the fact that you were never going to give him an answer short of a shy nod of your head and a breathy whine of ‘please’. 

“I’m ready please, Eddie..I just want to feel you..” you plead desperately, which earns you a rumbling chuckle from the vampire above you.

"Well since you asked so nicely, who am I to deny such a request?" Eddie smiles broadly, bearing his pearly fangs to you.

He leans his head between your spread legs, where Steve’s big strong hands hold you open, and places one soft, solitary kiss against your clit before sweeping his tongue the length of your pussy, slurping up glistening wetness.

"You know I can never resist getting a taste of your sweet cunt, my Darling" he purrs “..but it’s only fair that Wolfie here gets to have a taste too..” before leaning over your shoulder and bringing Steve close with a cold hand snaked around the back of his neck, his long fingers tugging into the soft strands of Steve's scruffy hair. Eddie presses his lips against Steve’s, his tongue slipping between his fangs to allow Steve to taste the sweetness of your juices in a heated and passionate kiss.

An appreciative growling hum resonates from the wolf as he licks his lips when Eddie pulls away from him.

“Always so sweet for us, Pretty girl..” Steve praises, making you beam under his affections.

“Oh! Does our pretty girl like being praised for being a good girl?” Eddie notes as he takes in the way you shy away into the crook of Steve’s neck.

Eddie hooks his finger under your chin, gently tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him.

You shyly nod your head, your words failing you as you’re pinned between these two supernatural beings.

“Well since you’re being such a good girl for us, then I guess it’s only fair that Eddie gets to feel you come for him the way I did.” Steve tells you, his fingers running back up your body to toy with your nipples.

With one more breathy whimper of ‘Please’ falling from your lips Eddie takes his cock in his hand and begins to sink himself into you inch by inch.

Eddie rolls his hips into you, filling you so completely every time he thrusts into you. The cold touch of his fingertips make you shiver as they sink into the warm, soft flesh of your thighs.

Steve takes his opportunity to snake one of his hands down your body to rub circles over your sensitive clit.

“Keep that up Harrington, she’s squeezing me so tight, she feels like a fuckin’ dream” Eddie praises as he continues to rut his hips into you, hitting against that spot inside you that has a flaring heat building in your stomach.

The lewd sounds of Steve’s growled kisses against your neck, Eddie’s sloppy thrusts as he chased his orgasm, and your own whining whimpers resound in the otherwise quiet bedroom.

It didn’t take much more than a few sharp thrusts from Eddie hitting so deeply inside you and Steve’s pawing hands rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pleasure that you were coming around Eddie’s cock. Your orgasm shuddering through your body.

With the way your walls were squeezing him so tightly Eddie buried himself deep inside you once more before he was filling you with the hot spurts of his release.

Taking a moment to gather yourselves, Eddie slowly pulls himself out of your tight wet heat with a hiss of sensitivity.

Steve pulls your body back to his, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, and placing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head.

“Did so well for us sweetheart.” Steve praises once more.

“I love you, you know that, right? Both of you?” you say, looking between the two creatures.

“Yeah we know you do, sweetheart, we love you too.” Steve smiles “Now, you get your blood-sucking ass over here, Munson. I’ve got two arms for a reason.” he smirks, gesturing to the other empty space in the large bed.

Eddie slinks over to the bed, sidling up to Steve, and for the rest of the night that’s how you two spend your time together. You and Eddie snuggled into the soft warmth of Steve’s chest, falling into a relaxed and easy sleep.

@sunflowerdaydreamer @munsonology @xxhellfiregirlxx

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female reader smut #vampire eddie munson #Steve Harrington x reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #Steve Harrington x female reader #werewolf steve harrington #steddie #steddie x reader #steddie x reader smut #monster bf #monster fucker

[penny00dreadful]

So... some of you may have noticed my fics have come to a screeching halt the last couple of months which is not like me and I am here to explain myself.

Babygirl, I have been preparing.

The end of this month is my 1 year anniversary of posting in this fandom, of posting any of my work online after not doing it for like fifteen fucking years and it has brought me so much incandescent joy, I decided I had to do something for it.

(I've also hit like... several milestones which is fucking insane like you all know I'm just some cranky bog witch, right??)

I have been working on my WIPs for over the last two months. All... holy mother of god... like nine of them???

Some of these have been completed, some I am still writing and some are mostly done.

So starting from my anniversary date, 23rd October, every second or third day, I'll be posting a chapter of something.

I have so much material built up this shit could go on until 2024

@hbyrde36 called it my own personal Penny00Dreadful BigBang... and yeah kinda! 😅

I wanted to do this to show just how much I love this community. Your kind words, your support, your unhinged ramblings, your obsessive love, your talent (for free??) it's all amazing it's so amazing and I wanted to explode forth with my love for it so I figured why the fuck not do this stupid idea??😅

All of these will be posted both to tumblr and AO3 so subscribe over there to keep updated or follow me here!

OH! And let me know if you wanna be tagged! If you wanna be tagged for a specific fic or for everything I'll add you, whatever you want.

You've made me so happy and so warm for the last year. The way I know if I'm having a bad day I just need to hop onto this side of tumblr and everything will be peaches and gravy again.

I love you guys so much. 😘🖤

Updated Schedule - (18th Feb 2024)

Fic list with blurbs below the cut, this will (roughly) be the order they're posted in:

Return of The King - COMPLETE

Steddie Vampire AU with a twist! Vampire Steve comes back after falling to the bats. There is two more chapters left and those chapters have been completed.

Comeuppance - COMPLETE

Dustin just wants Steve to be happy. So he tries to parent trap him with Nancy. Clearly they should be together. But Steve's heart doesn't even seem to be in it at all! How is he so bad at this? And Eddie is being less than helpful

Rookie Mistake - COMPLETE

My Steddie Established Relationship Spies AU oneshot that will have a multi-chapter prequel fic coming very soon after!

Eddie is "retired" and Steve has been injured on the job, so he's supposed to be taking it easy. How hard could a walk to the gas station be?

Before He Cheats - COMPLETE

Songfic! Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

I literally have no excuse for this one. The rotted brainworms were behind the steering wheel with this one.

One evening, Eddie gets a call from some guy named Steve dropping the news on him that his boyfriend has been cheating on him. With this Steve person and Steve had no idea up until that day.

And Eddie rarely takes that shit lying down.

Steddievember Smut - COMPLETE

No Nut November is here! One can play however he wants. The other just has to wait for December to roll around. I have no other words to describe what this will be, it does what it says on the tin. I blame the STWG discord server. Currently we're looking at four little ficlets for this.

Cat and Mouse - COMPLETE

The Steddie Spies AU Prequel! How they got together and the extreme ups and downs their enemies/rivals to lovers journey goes through. I had so much fun with this one.

And They Were Roommates! - COMPLETE

omg they were roommates.

Steve and Eddie don't hate each other exactly. They just... tolerate each other. But one night Eddie doesn't come home for hours. Long after he's supposed to and it's not like Steve is worried or anything... he's just... concerned for a fellow human being... that's all.

Through The Valley

Post-Apocalyptic AU. Eddie, Dustin and Nancy have a nice little community of survivors outside of Hawkins that they take care of, surviving day to day. Everyone's a little broken, missing the rest of their Party just hoping that one day they'll find each other again.

Devotion

Dungeons and Dragons AU. Steve is the golden boy of the small town of Hawkins. Harrington in name and now a Paladin with his very own oath to hunt down the Bard, the witch Eddie Munson and bring him back to justice under High Priest Henry Creel.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #return of the king #comeuppance #through the valley #dungeons and dragons au #roommates #spies au #before he cheats fic #steddievember #rookie mistake fic #anniversary #1 year posting anniversary challenge #do that challenge #am I insane for this? #probably #I have 88k words written #no i am not fucking joking #pennys anniversary event

[jennarations]

A comprehensive summary of the chaos that was the Netflix Cup:

- as the drivers/golfers walk onto the course a woman and a man are apprehended (by one of the hosts(?)) as they are waving posters and screaming something. lando was unbothered by this.

- everyone was introduced except alex for some reason

- the “speed” hole

- mark wahlberg is there. his daughter is interviewed and she reveals her favorite driver is lando. lando is once again unbothered by this.

- lando picking up his ball and being disqualified from the hole

- the golfers BOOKING IT and the hosts having shocked reactions to this feat (“who says golfers aren’t athletic!”)

- justin thomas to carlos “what did [host] say?” carlos “he said i’m pretty”

- random cuts to prerecorded nonsense

- the sphere being referred to solely as the egg

- the hosts making fun of the golfers and the golfers making fun back (very interesting i would not expect this level of sass from golf)

- pierre reveals he is a passenger princess “I don’t actually drive on the roads. i don’t like it.”

- shots of lando and carlos playing but pierre and alex are hot-mic’ed ???

- asmr whispering from one of the hosts telling zak brown she has to pee

- no one can hear each other

- zak brown can’t figure out his mic and it’s making so much noise you can’t hear anything else

- “mr. maximus homa this is joel damon, can you hear me?” “unfortunately, i can yes, joel.”

- max homa making fun of joel damon for a solid minute and then saying about alex “yo my partner is dialed, that’s the money” unhinged behavior

- host (same bodyguard from before - burt kreischer(?)) cannot express how excited he is to have steve aoki ask for his #

- not one host can pronounce sainz correctly

- “that’s sniffing my ball speed there” “ok joel”

- marshawn lynch “these golfers boutta get they happy gilmore on”

- squid game CHALLENGE HOLE(???) burt kreischer “are they gonna kill me or break out into dance? who knows but they are creepy as shit”

- burt yet again “i will piss myself on live television for $4.56 million. i’ve done it for less”

- the mystical steve aoki has appeared

- the (infamous) Albon Tumble™

- pierre aiming directly into the crowd and alex and max applauding him (kudos to finau for reassuring pierre afterwards that everyone is fine)

- a conversation: “smooth operator, is that your nickname?” “yes that’s what they call me” “how’d that happen?” “i sang it once after a race”

- marshawn lynch “i met the squid game people. you got triangle face, square cuz and circle head”

- alex announcing that the squid game doll looks like Lily. alex i will hunt you down (endearing)

- patrick mahomes phoned in to tell pierre the exact amount of coors lights’ he must drink to play golf effectively (i am not kidding)

- joel objectifying tony finau by commenting (in detail) about his arms and hands (i know what you are joel)

- “a sexy street circuit here in vegas” ma’am it looks like a pig what are you talking about

- carlos and justin won. burt wants to party like it’s new year’s eve. i would pay to see this

and thus wraps the (somewhat) comprehensive review ! maybe next year netflix will make it less of a shit show but honestly, iconic.

#netflix cup #formula one #f1 #pga tour #lando norris #carlos sainz #pierre gasly #alex albon #las vegas gp 2023

[rebelfell]

So, here’s the thing. Around this time of year, I can be very (some would say overly) sentimental. And it partly has to do with my nana and the fact that she passed on NYE many years ago.

Because she was the kindest, gentlest, most beloved person I ever knew, and I always wished I could be as effortlessly good as she was making people around her feel loved and special.

This year, being on this site, reading everyone’s words and realizing how much talent there is in this community has been staggering to me. In a million years, I could never express what it has meant to me properly.

And one of the things that brought me joy this year was making covers for some of my favorites. Most I’ve shared already, but I wanted to compile them all together along with some (unhinged) rambling, sorta like a year-end review.

That’ll all be under the cut. But for now, I just want to express my deepest thanks to anyone reading for helping me get through this year.

Because whether you knew it or not, you really and truly did. ❤️

I’m gonna start with my token Hellcheer fics cos they were like my gateway drug 😉

These stories by @majicmarker & @hangon-silvergirl

I love the humor in them, the way they capture Eddie’s voice so completely. Just the straight up FUN I had reading them both made me want to be able to do it again and again. Anytime I write from Eddie’s pov, I feel like I draw inspiration from here cos they just really capture the energy and chaos of his mind that made me fall in love.

I am so narcissistically obsessed with these covers. They are far and away my favorites and sometimes I just look at them like, “omg I made that???” Similarly, the Whatta Man stories I’m equally obsessed with: Steve and Eddie as flirty coworkers in a bar? Overlapping stories?? 90s REFERENCES OUT THE ASS??? Sign me the fuck upppp. Eddie’s night was my gateway into the world of @loveshotzz's writing and what a wonderful world it is 🥰 Speaking of….

I had originally wanted these two to be like coordinating covers because the stories were connected, but the simply put immaculate vibes of both are so different, I wanted to reflect that.

The hold these two old men have on me is just embarrassing. I read every update with my feet kicked up behind me like a little fucking school girl watching Steve fall in love with his tough girl and falling in love with him right back. And I’m so endlessly enamored with OCS Eddie. I poured over every part of their story, drinking in every detail @carolmunson put into it like it sustained me because it did. So desperately in love with everything Carol writes, but my god there is something about him that just breaks me.

Welcome now to the wealthy Steve portion of our program. These are the stories I wish were movies I could watch over and over and over. They are so cinematic in the way they are written and the way the characters interact. I mean, The drama! The tension! The fcking cliffhangers! @katyswrites had me SAT for the entirety of her whirlwind summer romance and I still find myself wishing I was on Ischia island in a private villa with Steve…

And We’ll Call It Love….it’s so, so good. It is my dream come true for a rom com, it’s got so much humor and heart and lightness and sadness and I literally care about EVERY character’s happiness, like how do you even do that, @superblysubpar?? Is it witchcraft? You can tell me if it’s witchcraft.

The “Yes” Policy is everything to me. It is written so gorgeously and it’s such a complete and fully realized world. The amount of care and time and effort that’s put into every. single. word. is just so apparent and so incredible it makes me weak. @pinkrelish knows these characters down to their bones and shows them to be so hopelessly in love I can’t even articulate how lovely a story it is.

Last two! And oddly appropriate these lined up together because they’re respectively the oldest and the newest stories I’ve fallen in love with.

@blueywrites’s TKYM was the first ever Eddie fic I ever read. An AO3 link to it came across my dash with someone saying “if you haven’t read this yet you are missing out” or something along those lines…and damn if they weren’t right. I’d never read an x reader fic before. I had yet to watch Stranger Things. I knew Eddie as a meme only. I was so wholly transfixed by the writing and the way Eddie was characterized — I devoured this story like my life depended on it. I go back to it and back to it and back to it. I see myself in it, I see the person I want to be in it. It makes me feel every feeling I can possibly feel all at once. It is simply…awe inspiring. It brought me here.

And @sweetsweetjellybean’s Torn is…idek know how to describe it? I have been down bad for that Eddie since the first “Hey, doll.” He’s got me in a goddamn chokehold. The pure excitement I feel every time an update posts is so overwhelming and the writing is so good it takes my breath away. The way the story moves and the depth of the world surrounding it makes it feel so real in a way that I forget it’s fiction? It’s such a beautiful story for Eddie and it’s so enthralling I really cannot wait to see where it goes.

Aaaaaand that’s it! If you’ve stuck around this far — thank you for doing so ☺️

I hope everyone has a wonderful year. Please know that you deserve only good things and you are loved deeply even when it doesn’t feel/seem like it. You have everything you need to make your life into the one you want and nothing can stop you from doing so, not even yourself.

Love you, mean it. ⛄️✨💕

#you know those update newsletters some families send out as christmas cards? #that's the vibe here #fic rec style #canva

[thisapplepielife]

5 Words Fic Challenge

Thanks for the tag, @hbyrde36!

The rules as follows:

1- generate 5 random words using this generator and then write something using those words! 2- tag 5 (or however many you want) mutuals to challenge!

(If you don’t like the five words you got, re-roll them. This is meant to be a fun little challenge, not something to stress over. Have fun!)

My words were:

Catechetical, incoordination, guitarfish, spilt, & acoustic.

Catechetical was the thorn in my side. Even spellcheck hates it, lol. Is that the first word I'd use? Or that thousandth? No. Does it make absolute sense? Questionable. Go with it. 😂

____

FIC: Steddie, fluff, flirting & innuendo, 2,108 words.

“Okay, Harrington, listen up. We’re gonna do this all catechetical-like,” Eddie bosses, putting Dragon Slayer, his acoustic guitar, in Steve’s hands. 

“I don’t even know what that means,” Steve says, sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Eddie notices that he's holding onto the guitar awkwardly, the picture of utter incoordination. 

Eddie knows Steve Harrington isn’t uncoordinated. Not in the slightest, he’s just nervous.

“Questions and answers, keep up,” Eddie says, “now you ask, and I answer. Me teacher, you student.”

“Do you have a ruler to swat my hand with?” Steve asks playfully, reaching up for the beer in Eddie’s hand. Eddie hands it over, and Steve takes a swig before handing it back.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Eddie taunts, and then adds, “I'm not sure if I can rustle up a ruler. But I do have a set of handcuffs handy,” he says, nodding his head towards the pair hanging on the wall. “So be a good little student, or else."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Okay…” Steve trails off, seemingly unsure about this, “first question though, how will I know what questions to ask?”

“Good point,” Eddie says, “well, first things first, if you’re gonna be a guitar god, you’re gonna need a cool name. Like Corroded Coffin. Or Eddie the Banished.”

“That’s really the first thing? You sure about that? Wouldn’t actually knowing how to play the guitar be a more important first step?” Steve asks, looking up at him, suspicious.

“No way, never underestimate what a good stage name can do for you,” Eddie assures, waving his hands around dramatically.

“Fine. I don’t care, you can name me,” Steve says, looking down at Dragon Slayer laying across his chest. Eddie thinks it looks good there. Really good.

“Guitarfish!” Eddie shouts loudly, slightly unhinged, but sure of his choice. Sometimes you have to go with your gut, and his gut is saying Guitarfish.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Why Guitarfish?”

“Because you used to, you know, swim. Like a fish.”

“That doesn't even make sense. I’m not being called Guitarfish. It sounds stupid, dickhead.”

“Sorry, you shoulda named yourself then. Send all complaints to the complaint department. I hear the guy running it is pretty cool though, he might listen to reason.”

“He’s you, isn’t he?” Steve banters dryly, looking down at the strings and giving them a little pluck. It doesn’t sound great, but Eddie’s definitely heard worse. He tried to teach Gareth to play the guitar once, and never again. No fucking way. This can’t go that bad. Nothing can go that bad.

Of course, Eddie wasn’t interested in being this close to Gareth, either. He’s definitely got ulterior motives today. And he’s about to make good use of those motives, right now.

Eddie gets down on the floor behind Steve, and scoots forward until he has bracketed Steve’s body with his own. Is it a requirement to teach him to play the guitar? Probably not, but he’s doing it anyway. 

Eddie puts his beer down, steadying it, and then he hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder, “Okay, we’re starting with an E minor chord. All the action is here on the second fret,” Eddie says, moving Steve’s fingers to the second fret, counting down from the top, “one, two. Okay, put your index finger on the fifth string, and your middle finger on the fourth string.” Eddie says, counting up from the bottom string, the thinnest one, and up to the top, the thickest. Then he adjusts Steve’s fingers to be in the right place on the guitar, “The fourth, the fifth.”

“The minor fall, the major lift,” Steve says absentmindedly, and now Eddie is the baffled king. 

“You know Leonard Cohen?” Eddie asks, shocked at this development. 

“Robin,” Steve says, by way of explanation.

“Robin. Robin, she of Madonna, Blondie, Bowie, and Beatles fame? That Robin?” 

“That’s the one,” Steve laughs, “she is a complex woman, who won’t be judged for her varied and vast array of interests by a dingus like me.”

“And you’re a parrot,” Eddie teases, and Steve laughs, “because that sounded just like Robin was in the room with me.”

Steve grins.

“Okay, middle finger there,” Eddie says, getting back to the teaching.

“I know where I’d like to put my middle finger,” Steve grumbles, and Eddie grins behind his back, but otherwise ignores him.

It looks uncomfortable, with Steve’s large hands, so Eddie makes a slight adjustment, “Try this instead,” Eddie says, and he has him use his middle and ring fingers instead. He definitely has long enough fingers to make that work, Eddie knows from experience. But that’s neither here nor there, right this second.

Later, maybe. 

“Does that feel more natural?” Eddie asks, looking at his finger placement.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions?” Steve teases, and Eddie smiles.

“Smartass.”

“It does,” Steve finally answers, and Eddie nods.

“Okay then,” Eddie says, “now strum,” and he gets ahold of Steve’s right hand, and gets him to strum with the pick, and then lets go so Steve can do it on his own.

“This might be easier if you’d just tell me what I’m trying to play,” Steve grouches. 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie says, and he’s gonna keep torturing him a little longer. It’s too much fun. Annoying Steve is his favorite pastime these days. Well, second favorite, maybe.

Steve grouches, but strums the chord and it sounds good, it sounds right. Now he just needs to make the switch to the second chord, and they’ll be home free. Sort of. 

“Okay, now move your top finger up to the sixth string, and your ring finger down to the third,” Eddie says, and moves Steve’s fingers to do exactly that. 

Steve does it.

“Okay, strum,” and Steve does.

“Good, switch back,” Eddie instructs, and Steve fumbles a little, and Eddie knows that it’s awkward trying to get your fingers to do new things. “Go up with the top finger, and down with the bottom. Then back together, meet in the middle. And apart.”

“Feels like I’m stretching,” Steve says, lewdly.

And Eddie laughs, "You've got a dirty mind, Harrington." 

“Excuse me? I'm positive that what I said was innocent. You're the one that made it about something else." 

“Yes, you’re totally an innocent bystander here,” Eddie says, leaning his head against Steve’s.

Steve keeps up the switching, as Eddie talks him through it, right against his ear,  “And switch, and strum. Switch, strum. Switch, strum,” Eddie says in time with what he has in mind, rhymically. “That’s it, good.”

“Good seems unlikely,” Steve grumbles, but he keeps switching and strumming. 

“Keep doing that, right there, just like that, yes,” Eddie says.

“Now, that sounds dirty,” Steve sasses, and Eddie bites him on the neck. Steve jerks, yanking his elbow backwards, suddenly, making an ugly noise on the guitar strings. 

In all the flailing, Steve hits their shared bottle of beer, sending it skittering off the overturned red milk crate Eddie was using as a table. 

“Fuck, sorry!” Steve yells, and Eddie can tell he’s embarrassed.

“It’s fine. No reason to cry over spilt milk, er, beer in this case, I guess,” Eddie assures, hurrying and crawling over towards the foaming, shooting mess, trying to minimize the spray zone. He grabs a dirty shirt off the floor, and mops up what he can, before tossing the shirt in the vague direction of his dirty clothes hamper. “See? Fine.”

“Yeah, if you like the smell of beer in your bedroom,” Steve grumbles.

“Well, it has smelled of worse things before,” Eddie says, and he laughs when Steve wrinkles his nose. 

Eddie scoots back behind him, and kisses him on the neck this time, and Steve leans into the touch instead of jumping out of his skin.

“Put your fingers back where they were,” Eddie instructs, and Steve gets the right strings, but the wrong fret. “Up one fret,” he says, and he helps slide Steve’s fingers back up where they should be. 

“And a one and a two,” Eddie teases singsongingly, but Steve starts strumming and switching between the chords with more ease than before. “That’s really good, sweetheart. Now you’re cooking with gas,” Eddie says, and smiles to himself. Now he just sounds like Uncle Wayne always did while he was teaching Eddie all manner of things over the years. Guitar, cooking, how to change a flat tire.

Steve does it, his strumming hand eventually loosening up a little, and Eddie leans his face close to Steve’s.

“Okay, now for the actual strumming pattern,” Eddie says, “put your fingers on that first chord,” and Steve does it. “Great. It’s one, two, three and four. Do an up strum on the ands,” Eddie says, and he takes Steve’s hand to guide the pick across the strings, manipulating him into doing exactly what he wants him to. And then he whispers, “And switch,” and Steve does, so he says, “and switch,” again, and Steve does it, again. “And switch.”

“Stop that, you’re making me horny,” Steve says, laughing at him.

“Just now? I’ve been horny since we started,” Eddie says, pressing his whole body harder all along Steve’s back.

Steve laughs, and lulls back into Eddie, and Eddie kisses his cheek.

“Can you play that now? I’ll count.”

Steve nods, and sits up straighter again, and he fucking does. It’s stilted, and a little awkward, and fucking America, but it’s a song. The bare bones of one, but still music. This is music. He taught Steve Harrington how to play a song, and that’s still pretty wild to ponder.

“One…two…three, and…four, switch,” Eddie says softly, then repeats it when Steve switches from the E minor to the D6/9 chord, and back again. He seems to get it, so Eddie moves to the real strumming pattern.

“First chord: Down, down, up, down, up, down, up, switch,” Eddie instructs, and Steve does it, “Down, up, up, up, down, up,” and it’s a little clumsy. 

“No, I think it’s up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, select, start,” Steve sasses, and Eddie laughs out loud. 

Steve misses a few of the downs and ups, but he keeps repeating it, and Steve keeps strumming until he's doing it better, more reliably.

And then Eddie gets him up to full speed, increasing the pace of his instructions. Steve’s fingers aren’t totally on board, not yet, but he’s doing a pretty great fucking job for a total beginner.

“Really emphasize and feel that, up, up, up strumming on the D6/9,” Eddie suggests, and Steve does.

Then Steve stops abruptly, “Is this A Horse With No Name?” he asks, “Is that what the fuck I’m playing right now?”

Eddie cackles with delight, “It is! And you recognized it! So, you must have an excellent teacher.” 

Steve laughs, and starts playing it again, better now that his ear is involved and he knows what it's supposed to sound like. 

So, this time, Eddie sings in his ear instead of counting. He’s not sure he knows all the lyrics, but he makes up what he doesn’t know, and just adds a lot of la la las to fill in the blanks. It’s not exact, and there are more than a few missteps. Steve’s fingers don’t quite have this mastered yet, but he’s playing a fucking song, that’s for damn sure. So, it’s not perfect. Not at all. Not from either of them. 

But it's absolutely recognizable.

It sounds fucking great to Eddie, but he knows he might be just a little bit biased.

When the song is over, Steve turns his head to look at Eddie, and Eddie leans forward to kiss him. Steve kisses him back.

He kisses him like he hasn't done it in weeks, months, and Eddie loves him for it. He loves him. 

When they finally break apart, Eddie hugs him around his waist, tight.

“Look at that, my boyfriend plays the guitar now.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but says, “Okay, enough guitar lessons, time for bed.”

And Eddie’s not gonna argue with that suggestion, no way, no how.

After, when they are tangled together in Eddie’s sheets, in his room that now smells faintly of beer, Steve mutters, “That fucking song is stuck in my head, now. So, thanks a lot.”

And Eddie rolls into him, laughing uncontrollably, brushing his hand through Steve's mussed hair, pushing it back off his forehead, just like Steve likes. 

The damn song is stuck in his head, too, but that’s a small price to pay. For this. For this laughter. 

For this love. 

I'm sure the Eddie teaches Steve to play guitar trope has been done to death, but when you're given acoustic, guitarfish and incoordination, that seems like an obvious leap to make, lol. (And a shout out to the several YouTube guitar tutorials I mashed this together from!)

Absolutely no pressure tags: @dreamwatch, @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe, @designatedgrape, @wynnyfryd & @penny00dreadful and anyone else that wants to do it! It was pretty dang fun.

And if you now want the same earworm Eddie saddled them both with, enjoy! It's good thing nobody can see what I'm listening to on Spotify, I'm sure this on repeat only alternating with Hallelujah, makes me look slightly unhinged. 🤣

#tag game fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #established relationship #fluff #flirty #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie give steve a guitar lesson #tag games #strummy strummy la la music #no wait that's gilmore girls #steve harrington/eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie fanfic #Spotify #thisapplepielife #thisapplepielife: short fic

[latelyanobsession]

Phantom Driver

summary the hawkins high tigers have lost the ‘85 basketball championship game and billy is not the most gracious of losers. all talk at an after game party, he may have pissed off the wrong people. suspicions run high when he finds your car run off the road two nights later…

warnings angst, billy shooting his mouth off..., use of a derogatory term, mah good man steve, billy being an unhinged gremlin, abduction, violence, fight scene, the tiniest bit of fluff

word count 2,773

note this is in fulfillment of a reader’s request. but i also heavily leaned into a college story that my mother once told me, because the more i kept reading over the request the more it made me think of some of the elements in her college story.... i had too much fun with this. the prompt - “Hi friend!!  Could I request something where the reader is supposed to meet up with Billy Hargrove (they're in a relationship) but she doesn't ever show up so he asks to use the diner phone (or wherever would have a phone, up to you) and calls her house to see what happened but her parent (preferably the dad) says she left a while ago. So he gets back in his car and drives the route she would've had to take to get there and he finds her car crashed and totaled on the side of the road.  Up to you how it goes from there.  Sorry it's kind of long but ty!!”

As always any feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading!

He knocked back another drink, the music thrumming in the background as the teens around him partied.

Lighting up a cigarette, he impatiently snapped the lighter shut.

“Hey man...” a broad shouldered boy said, walking up and offering his hand.

“That was a good game.”

Billy didn’t take it. Instead taking a long pull from his cig and slowly exhaling out smoke in the boy’s face.

“You too...” Billy said with false civility, a tight-lipped smile on his face.

Tonight had been the ‘85 Championship game. It was make or break. The Tigers had been so damn close...

In the last two minutes of the final quarter, the Tigers were up by 15. Only to have Eric, Tiger number 30, deliver a set of free throws on a silver platter to the Arcana Bobcats. 

There went 4 points.

It was all downhill from there. Billy screaming at his teammate, ready to smack him upside the head.

Another foul to the Tigers for traveling. A missed three-pointer, stolen.

A slam dunk, two more steals, and a buzzer beater later.... The Indiana 3A Athletics Conference had a new champ. 

And it wasn’t the Tigers.

It had been at least a couple hours since the blow had been dealt and he was still seething.

Hanging back along the edges of the interschool mixer being held at some yuppy’s house in the town to celebrate, Billy was licking his wounds.

“Hey bro...” the kid coughed, waving through the smoke, “the fuck is your damage?”

Billy smiled darkly, his tongue darting out to play.

A hand clamped down sharply on his shoulder, reigning him in.

“Hey. He means nothin’ by it.” Steve Harrington answered, stepping up to defuse the situation.

“Get yer paws offa me Harrington”, Billy said dangerously, trying to shrug out of his teammate’s hold.

Rounding on him, Steve looked him dead on. “Don’t go starting trouble....”

Billy huffed out an amused laugh.

“Why? They’re jus’ a bunch of stupid townies!” he said rather loud and boldly.

People’s heads were turning in their direction. The captain of Arcana’s team cocked his head threateningly in their direction.

“What’d you just say, worm?!” he smashed his beer bottle to the concrete.

Billy’s eyes were lighting up in wicked delight, Steve jumping in between as more of the Tigers came out of the woodwork to intervene.

The Arcana boys were rolling up their sleeves.

“I think you’ve just outstayed your welcome.” the captain stated menacingly.

Billy held his ground as Steve and another teammate tugged at him futilely.

“Billy...” Steve pled, his voice dropping just above a whisper, “you think Y/N is gonna be happy to get wind of this?”

Billy’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, locking eyes with Steve. Narrowing, before fixing back on the rival team.

He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Whatever. I’ve seen enough of this shit-hole town ta last me...” he took one last puff, flicking his cigarette. Hitting the Arcana captain square in the chest with it.

The Bobcats scrambling to hold their leader back as Billy smugly shoved his hands in his pockets, walking off with the Tigers.

“This isn’t over punk!” he yelled, Billy waving him off.

“Come out with me tonight...” Billy breathed, pulling you flush to his chest. Prying you away from your locker.

“I can’t”, you giggled, burying an elbow in his ribs, “...it’s a school night.”

“You missed my game...” he added pointedly, sending heavy lidded puppy-eyes in your direction.

Turning in his hold, you sighed. “Billy that is not fair...” you had been away at your own debate tournament a couple nights ago.

If you hadn’t, you would have been there, like always. In the front row.

He leaned in closer. “C’mon, we can head up Route 26 to that little spot you like...” his lips ghosting over your neck up to your ear.

“And then maybe that spot I like....?” he growled, fingers dancing up your hips.

Heat was settling into your face. You swatted him playfully.

“Alright fine.” you rolled your eyes, “just lemme clear it with the ‘rents.”

A triumphant smile swelled his features, bolstering his ego.

He quickly ducked in to steal a kiss before the bell rang.

“I’ll call you when I get home!” you called after him.

He winked, pursing his lips in a mock kiss, walking into his next class.

You shook your head, heading in your own direction.

You were excited, and would tell your parents anything to get out of the house tonight if you had to.

Your spot all started with a small diner 25 miles east of town, that Billy had dragged you to on a long drive one Sunday afternoon.

The place looked horrendous. Like something you’d immediately catch an illness from just by entering the premises. 

An absolute dive. But the food was amazing.

On your way back into town that night you had convinced Billy to take a sharp right down a blind utility road to go see the stars, paired with a bit of stargazing in the backseat...

To both your surprise, you had found an untouched freshwater creek framed with trees and a breathtaking view of the night sky.

This. This was your spot.

“I’ll meet you there...” you smiled over the phone.

“Ya just want me to pick up yer usual?” he asked.

“Mhmm,” you nodded, “Oh. And Billy?”

“Yeah?” 

“You won’t be needing your trunks...” you flirted. 

A low moan rumbled through the line.

“Yer killin’ me baby.” he rasped.

You giggled. “I’m heading out. See ya soon.”

You both said your goodbyes and hung up.

Packing up your bag you grabbed a set of towels from the hall linen closet, heading into your bedroom.

Habitually you threw open your top dresser drawer to grab your swimsuit. But reminded yourself.

I won’t be needing it tonight.

You shut the drawer, grabbing a few more items before heading downstairs.

“Mom, Dad! I’m headin’ out!” you shouted over your shoulder, opening the front door, keys in hand.

“Home by 9!” your father called.

“2!” you yelled playfully.

“Midnight!” he stuck his head around the kitchen wall. He pointed two fingers to his eyes and back at you.

“No later kiddo.”

You smiled. “Right!” Shutting the door and heading to your car.

Flicking his wrist, Billy looked at his watch. It had been nearly an hour and a half.

Waiting in the diner parking lot, he burned his way through a couple cigarettes as he waited on you to show.

His brow furrowed as he plucked the Marlboro from his lips, exhaling.

You should have been here by now.

Tossing down his smoke, he ground it out heading back inside.

Leaning over the counter he smiled sweetly at the older waitress.

“Hey Donna...” he drawled, “Ya gotta phone I can use?”

“Payphone’s round back sweetie” she spoke in a gravelly tone, a thumb over her shoulder.

“Thanks.” he tapped the counter.

Picking up the handset, he slipped some change into the machine and dialed your home phone.

It rang a couple of times before it was picked up, “Y/L/N residence.” your father answered.

“Hey Mr. Y/L/N, it’s Billy... is Y/N still there?” he inquired.

“Hello Billy my boy! How’s it goin’?” the warmth in your father’s tone apparent.

“-’M fine. She there?”

“No. No... she left to go to that restaurant you guys like a fair bit ago...” he sniffed, scratching his mustache in thought.

“Is anything wrong Billy?” your father pressed.

A pause. 

“No. I don’t think so... she’s probably just stopped to pick up a movie or somethin’...” Billy reasoned.

“Alright Billy... you let me know if anything’s goin’ on. You kids keep outta trouble now. Have a good’un.” Your father hung up.

He hung up the receiver, his nerves clawing at his insides.

Where were you?

Maybe you had headed out to the creek ahead of him?

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he started the engine, turning up the headlights.

Anxiety was buzzing through him, his fingertips tingling.

You had to be at the creek.

Pulling onto the highway he headed back in that direction.

About five miles down the road he hit the brakes. Putting the camaro into reverse.

A deep black set of skidmarks were burned into the blacktop, veering to the right off the road and into a thicket of woods.

A heavy chill ran up the length of his spine as he stopped the car and quieted the engine.

There was debris strewn all over the road. Shards of orange plastic from a busted out tail light. Fractured pieces of a bumper. Autoglass glittering in the dark.

His eyes followed the scene with trepidation.

Looking to deep gauges in the dirt picking up where the road met the shoulder.

There was a light down in the brush, a loud spitting noise rising up from below.

He rushed towards it. Panic whipping his thoughts into a frenzy.

It was your car. 

The steel blue ‘80 Chevy Chevette crashed against a large oak.

The radiator hissing angrily, steam pouring out in front of the headlights.

The windshield was smashed, and the airbags had deployed. Blood smeared across the fabric on the steering wheel. 

You were bleeding.

Billy cried out your name wildly. The distress heavy in his voice, as he searched the wreckage.

The driver’s door had been pried open. The seat belt dangling loose out the door. There were heavy drag marks in the grass.

One of your shoes sat alone, a few feet from the crash. Your favorite zip-up hoodie torn and thrown by the wayside.

“Y/N?!” he called out, his chest felt heavy and fit to burst.

Where were you?

Picking up your things and grabbing your bag out of the trunk, Billy hurried back to the camaro.

His eyes darting across the empty road in a panic.

Then it clicked.

“This isn’t over punk!”... the words burst through his head like a white hot streak of lightning.

It was the only thing that made sense.

In this collection of small towns where everybody knew everything about everyone... 

Why else would there be any other explanation for you to be run off the road and dragged from your car?

He licked his lips nervously, hands white-knuckling the wheel.

He turned the key, the engine roaring to life. Foot flat to the accelerator as he whipped the camaro around heading north to Arcana High.

A pair of large hands gruffly shoved you into a chair.

You tried to rise up only to be pinned down. Another body binding your wrists behind you. Taping your legs to the chair.

A tall boy with cold blue eyes moved in front of you.

“Wasn’t riding in a trunk enough for ya to get tha picture?” he snarled, directing two other boys to make sure you were fastened down tight.

You spat on him, chest heaving in anger.

Looking at his shirt where it landed, he raised an eyebrow, smiling darkly.

“I see why he likes you...” he grabbed your face cruelly.

“Now listen up and listen good, buttercup.” his grip tightening, making your jaw ache.

“Prince Charming is gonna come runnin’ for ya...” he wrenched your face close, “and when he does... We’ve got a lil’ surprise for him.”

“But until then...” he waved his friends in closer, “lets hear what kind of pretty noises that mouth can make.”

Without warning he sunk his fist into your stomach.

A large guttural cry falling from your lips.

“Whoo!” he proclaimed in wild excitement.

“Might just have to steal you away after this...” he taunted.

He brought down another blow, causing you to scream. Tears rolling down your cheeks, as his friends watched in glee.

Flying into the rival school parking lot, the camaro came to a screeching halt.

There was only one other car there.

The lights were on in the gym.

Rushing from the car, Billy ran towards it. Not considering how much danger he himself might be in.

He was scared. Angry. Furious. And terrified.

That something horrible had happened to you all because of him. What if this time he couldn’t fix it?

He didn’t want to think about that.

He picked up his pace, tearing open the doors and dashing inside.

He stopped short, his breath catching in his throat.

There you were in the center of the court. Bound up with duct tape, blood staining your clothes. Your body slumped over. You were passed out.

Billy yelled your name, about to run to you when his steps faltered.

Hands wrapped around his arms, throwing him to the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs.

Blue eyes grabbed Billy by the shirt and shoving him against the folded bleachers.

“Hello worm.” 

Billy struggled against his hold, his feet scraping to touch the floor.

“What did you do to her?!” Billy roared, thrashing about.

“Nothin’.... “ the captain of the Bobcats tutted, “compared with what I’m about to do to you.”

He cold-cocked Billy straight to the face, dropping his grip to wind back for another.

Finding his feet, Billy wrapped himself around the boy’s torso and shoved with all his might, knocking him off balance.

Throwing a quick set of jabs, Billy sent him reeling on his heels, as the boy shook his head, bringing up his fists to correct.

The boy swung, hitting Billy square in the chest. As Billy heaved, gritting his teeth he wound his fists tight in the boy’s shirt. 

Tilting his head back, Billy rammed forward. Headbutting him. Sending his opponent to the floor.

“That bastard’s crazy!” one of his lackeys shouted.

Billy let out a feral cry, the anger and excitement coming to a deadly head.

Winding his grip around the boy’s shoulders he lifted him only to slam him back to the floor. The captain’s blue eyes shooting wide in surprise, blooding sputtering from his mouth.

Tilting him up by the collar, Billy dropped his shoulder back. His fist clenched in a final coup de grace, when a soft sound broke his concentration.

“Billy don’t.” 

His grip wavered. The Bobcats captain sliding to the floor with a heavy thud.

Looking up he saw your tear-stained face watching him. Your whole frame shaking, straining against your bonds.

“Billy please....” you pleaded, “it’s not worth it.”

He ran to you. 

“Hey! Hey!.... Ya okay?! Baby talk ta me?!” he begged, cupping your face in his hands.

Your face was bloodied. 

You had a long gash above your right eyebrow from the car wreck, a bloodied nose, and a fat lip. Deep bruises were blooming across your cheek and jawline.

And those were just the things he could see. The rage was boiling up again.

“I’m okay.” you smiled weakly.

“He’s dead!” Billy declared turning on his heels at your protests only to hear a pair of clicks.

“Hey man...” one of the friends was nervously approaching their captain, “this ain’t worth that kinda trouble.”

The captain raised the revolver level with Billy’s chest, pulling back the hammer.

Another click.

He threw up a hand, warding them off.

“No! No!... This worm needs to learn some respect!” he spat, fingering the trigger.

Billy stood stalk still. His eyes darting from the gun to you.

How could he have ever let something like this happen to you?

“Davis. C’mon man. Put that thing away. Let’s just go home....” the second friend implored.

The Bobcats captain. Davis. Looked to his friends. Then he looked to you and Billy.

The gun went off.

The shot echoing deafeningly in the empty gym.

Billy jolted at the sound thinking for sure that he’d been hit.

You screamed, watching him fold to the floor thinking the worst possible thing had happened.

Davis looked horrified. His arm going limp, as his friends rushed him.

“We have to get outta here!” they insisted, “Davis! We gotta go!”

He continued to stand there for a moment watching it unfold, before tucking the gun in his pants. Running out the door with his friends.

You were sobbing uncontrollably, fighting feverishly against your bindings, finally pulling a hand free.

Ripping loose, you collapsed next to Billy.

“You dumb idiot!” you wept.

He rolled over, blinking at you with wide eyes.

“Baby I’m fine.” he pulled up his shirt, “Nothin...”

Davis had fired blanks at you.

“You dumb. Idiot!” you raged, wrapping your arms around him.

He laughed, pulling you into his lap.

“Does that mean you love me?” he wondered, tucking a hair behind your ear.

Big crocodile tears were rolling down your cheeks.

“Yes” you sniffled, “Don’t push it!”

He pulled you in for a soft kiss.

“I won’t.” he smiled.

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things headcanon #stranger things oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you #billy hargrove #billy stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove headcanon #billy hargrove oneshot #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x y/n

[quartergremlin]

vack om my trollhumters vullshit

i love you varvara never change. those horns sure are for his deceit.

steve calling coach his dad and them havimg to correct himself. i love them. THEM ARE COVERING FOR THEIR FAMILY-MESS AT SVHOOL

GET THEY ASS UHL

they really are terrible students huh.

MO STEVE!!!!!

honestly, this whole episode is nearly indistinguishable from like. a regular teacher breakdown. rip to everyone with those stories about purple flyimg momky.

"emotionally commect with him" sticktler the MVP I guess? for at least giving them advice instead of going "a cat?? rip to you buddy better put that thing down."

mrs. jameth that's mot good for your digestive system.

MO SMR UHL MO

"a pep talk from your favorite student?" mot for long eli. just wait until krel gets here.

Smr. uhl honestly the scarriest here. turms into somic. "gatito" ... the meowing.

oh fuck you strickler.

weird-ass relationship there tho. that's fun. i omce saw you as a father but you've betrayed me and threatened the ome we both love dearly. etc etc

.

Jim thimgs that are funny to me amd I hope they never chamge:

1 - imsecure avout skimmy legs.

2 - mervous around claire when mot im immediate danger - impulsive spanish

"girls domt pee. they conspire!"

jim you are failing so hard. you're lucky you're both such nerds.

DOUXIE!!! my little sopping wet meow meow loser.

RULE THREE!!! *comfetti* love me some rule three.

love that this is the same bathroom set from the museum. yaas team keep recycling those sets so you cam put more energy into other things. like all those fire effects. jesus.

loving morgamma. keep being absolutely unhinged. also the voice effects are cool.

*tries to stab jim with a butter knife* "she's flirting with you"

"begome servant" > *the distinct sound of 1000 years of douxie servitude immediately clicking into place*

its also interesting to see how these people have changed from the past im wizards to mow. even if they didn't plan on having Morgana be a pretty normal person in the past like. i can see how being imprisoned for that long would drive you insane. how you'd completely lose your shit, try to kill a guy with a butterknife, and them down a raw steak im negative 2 seconds.

jim only hitting morlaire in the face with pillows while motemrique has no qualms about knocking her out cold. that's the sibling effect right there.

claire gravs motemrique by the scruff: *vaguely annoyed*

morgama does it: *kills her with cast iron pam*

kmowimg what I do about merlim. i get it. guy sucks. i would absolutely want to destroy everythim he's ever touched too. sorry yall ever met him.

also I like that while they do have a light/dark good/evil thing going om it's not that dark magic is vad necessarily. vlimky defimetly doesmt think much of dark magic. its just the connection between claire amd morgama is able to ve exploited by morgama, who is looking out for her own self-interest.

it happens again amd again but im always somehow surprised when trollhumters says: good amd vad are subjective. what really matters is if you can look out for the people you care about amd hold your values. something like that. im sure I could say something more coherent about it later. im multi-taskimg.

[a-strange-inkling]

If it were up to you ( one of the best hellcheer fanfiction writer) what would you fix or change about the fight of Icarus?

Aw shux, that’s high praise! I really don’t think I’m worthy of that, but thank you 🤍

Oh God… what a laundry list 😆 read at your own risk below (I think I’ve finally run out of things to say about this book and will be moving on now 😅)

I’m going to be honest, the best way fo fix it would be to not write a book. Point blank. If I was involved with the show at all I would have NEVER written a book about Eddie in any official capacity. I don’t know if the author was aware of just how unhinged certain parts of his fanbase are (I’m sure she is now) but you’re not going to make anyone happy with this. Eddie’s ridiculously popular yes, I get it, but part of his appeal for people was how untouched his background was.

Flight of Icarus is kind of a mess plot wise with pretty weak/poor characterizations. There’s some good elements and scenes in it. It’s not bad, but it’s not great either. It’s pretty mid. I mean books based on tv shows aren’t exactly known for their… luster. It’s obviously going to lack the passion of an unpaid fanfic writer who has spent endless hours watching season 4 and doing in-depth research and analysis for their work… but that’s what we’re all used to. That’s our standard. So it’s kind of already set up for failure.

But, if I was in charge of a book like this, here’s some of the things I would do differently:

I’d have picked ONE main plot to focus on because there is way too much going on in these 280 pages for me to have the time to be invested or care about anything. There’s like three plus storylines going on with Eddie all to push ONE narrative which is basically him choosing between risking everything for a fantasy/dream of fame and money or staying true to himself and what’s real which is the steadfast loyalty of his friends and family. This takes the form of Al vs Wayne, Paige vs Ronnie, LA vs Hawkins, solo career vs band/hellfire, dropping out to try to become a rockstar vs being the first Munson to graduate, who Eddie wants to be vs who he truly is deep down.

It’s just too much.

I’d have taken a little more time making Eddie three dimensional. I know he’s a side character, but a lot of heart and thought went into creating him (at least on Joe’s end). I’d have made more conscious choices for his character, especially if he’s narrating in first person (I would have not used first person). His outer dialog is great (the dialog throughout the whole thing is actually really great, you can tell the author’s a screen writer and it’s one of the stronger elements to the book) but his inner monologue is pretty ooc and at times really off. He lacks a lot of the things that drew people to him in the first place or it’s just not as strongly presented I guess. He doesn’t feel fully formed.

If I was going to give Eddie a love interest (I don’t know why you would do that to yourself at this point, his fanbase is volatile at best and either ships him with Steve, Chrissy, or themselves, no one is going to like it) I’d have given her WAY better writing than an immersive wattpad character with little to no character traits outside of her aesthetic and interests which is an alternative style and liking music. Wow. Groundbreaking. I would have her make decisions based on a fully formed personality verses the convenience of the plot. And if not, if she’s going to be a means to an end, I’d at least go all in and make her wild or evil or a total bitch or conniving or funny or grumpy or goofy or something. She’s not given enough focus or time to be well rounded so I’d just have fun and go batshit crazy with her (don’t worry Paige, you’re mine now and I will give you an actual character and vindication).

Eddie choosing between his dad and Wayne would have probably been the plot I picked to focus on and I would have really dived into that. The good, bad and the ugly of the Munson family. Because Al (that would not be his name btw 🤢) and Wayne reflect the two sides of Eddie’s character. A charming, self serving, cowardly asshole and a good, strong and kind person who protects and looks after others. I like Ronnie a lot and she’s probably the best written character in the book, but Wayne needed to have more spotlight for this.

I’d have definitely made the plot a lot less fantastical and way more of a simple character study. Just Eddie deciding between embracing the infamy of the Munson family or choosing to rise above it. Does he decide to scheme and cheat like his dad to get more out of life or does he do the right thing and stay the course to actually graduate and make something of himself. That’s it. All that’s needed. Eddie getting a shot at being a rockstar at eighteen in Hawkins is already kind of odd, especially when his in is a twenty year old “junior scout”??? Who just happens to be at his dive bar and have the hots for him and fucks him and pretty much offers him a life in LA on a silver platter with no issues other than having to bail on his band and high school club?? It’s… a bit much for our unlucky loser boy we see in the show. Book Eddie is as lucky as they come, but he’s a total dumbass and decides to trust and scheme with his deadbeat father??? Who has always failed him? Why? I get he needs money but his kinda girlfriend’s got a job and he’s pretty much got a record deal. What even is this? That whole storyline would be scrapped to hell. But hey, at least it’s more believable than an actual drug heist and a kingpin and a shoot out. Oh and arson. It’s giving… *shivers* Riverdale and not in a good way.

Lastly, I’d have taken the opportunity to develop characters from the show a little more. Not a ton, but like the author did with Higgins. I really like how he was written in the novel. He had a lot of fire and personality out of nowhere which was kind of hilarious. I probably would have expanded Jason the most actually, I’d have added more to that tense rivalry. And I’d have left Chrissy pretty much out of it. The talent show is best left to the imagination and we already have a delicate narrative between them because of the forest scene. I wouldn’t want to add too much there. But she’d have a cameo for sure. Like brief eye contact or a shared smile or something at the very end of the book. Just a little glimmer of what’s to come. I’m also a Eddie has always had a little bit of a thing for Chrissy truther, so in my bias I might have him quietly admire her from afar or something.

And there you go.

I mean you’re going to get my version of his backstory eventually anyway and bonus he and Chrissy live, get married and have kids. Yay!

#flight of icarus #hellcheer #eddie x chrissy #eddissy #munningham #chrissy x eddie #eddie munson #eddie book

[real-jane]

poorly disguised

[college!steve rogers x reader]

summary: steve has the same routine every party--hang out with her, stay out of trouble. except it's halloween, and he can't hide how he feels anymore.

warnings: brief angst, and then fluff to rot your teeth. steve is dumb.

a/n: this is pure unhinged silliness. enjoy!

__

“You look like death warmed over.” 

Your voice makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a way that the fake blood and plastic skeletons fail to; Steve smirks at the empty red cup he’s had clutched in his fist for forty-five minutes so nobody would push him, but then… your finger curls over the lip and you giggle.

“What a party animal.” You flop onto the couch between Steve and a couple who are probably dressed as Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf, but it’s hard to tell the way their limbs are intertwined as they suck face. Your arrival jolts the couple and the wolf huffs, dragging his companion off towards the stairs, which are laden with fake spider webs and streamers. The second half of the couch is empty, but you remain plastered to Steve’s side. He clears his throat.

“‘M trying to keep my scholarship,” he mumbles.

“What?” You feign shock. “Don’t tell me Captain Rogers is a goody-two-shoes.” The tease in your tone has no bite to it. You’ve spoken before about how you both hate to drink at house parties, how much it sucks to be pulled into a big event and then abandoned by the people who dragged you there, only to usher them home to their beds. But it’s also why he got to know you. It’s the same routine at every party.

Steve shows up early to scope out a seat and grab a cup. You arrive with your Sorority sisters several hours later, and keep them from hounding him (as they are wont to do, especially after a big game) by being his shadow. You both stay sober, you both show up to class like clockwork, and keep your scholarships.

Trouble is, in all that time… in all the hundreds of Greek-life soirees and fetes and parties and galas and hootenannies and bashes and dances… Steve has become addicted to the feeling of you at his elbow, and there is nothing-but-nothing equal to the little bit of glee which rises in his chest when you arrive, and find him, and tease him. Nobody gets away with making fun of the star quarterback except this girl. And it has to end, because the team has figured him out. It had to end sooner or later, but Steve really thought he’d make it to graduation without having to say goodbye to his crush. But he got caught smiling at you in the stands during the season opener, and that was all it took for someone to call him out in the huddle–Tony, fucker–and the team to dog-pile him with teasing so ruthless that he actually snapped. At the wide-eyed freshman kicker, no less. God, if you only knew the shit they said…

He came to this party fully cognizant that this would be the last time he’d torture himself.

“Nice costume.”

He starts. “I hate Halloween,” he says softly. You are shoved further into his side by two of your Sorority sisters hopping onto the couch beside you to gossip, neither of whom pay you or Steve any mind. You curl your fingers around his elbow.

“Jesus,” you breathe, by way of an apology for nearly sitting on his lap. “You okay, Cap?”

Steve takes a deep breath. He has a choice: ruin your night by being a dick right now, and driving you away for good in the middle of a costume party, or… have the best last night with you possible. He lifts his head to meet your eyes. You’re centimeters away from him, then. 

“What’re you drinkin’?” he asks softly.

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re serious.”

“It’s Friday.”

“We don’t do all this–” you gesture around you.

“Why not? Shit, we don’t have any more Halloweens left in our college career, and I’m bored as hell… no offense.”

You smile and shrug. “I’m not the life of the party, I’ll admit it. You really wanna get drunk.”

“Nah–well. Tipsy, alright, I don’t wanna throw up in the kitchen sink.”

You smack his arm. “I had food poisoning, asshole!”

“Yet you still showed.”

“It was Valentine’s Day! I couldn’t let you fend for yourself! Besides–you literally carried me home.”

“Right. And I don’t have much confidence that you could do the same if our roles were reversed.”

“I’m strong.”

“Prove it.”

You spring from the couch to prove your might, and only then does Steve realize that you are, in fact, wearing a costume. Yes indeed, you sure are. A blue uniform (very loose in the shoulders given the lack of pads) with a big red shield and a white star across the chest. Fishnets–red ones–up to mid-thigh, where they are hanging on for dear life by the grip of a red garter belt. And either red booty shorts, or straight up panties for bottoms. Steve is pretty sure you have something on your feet which resembles shoes, but he doesn’t dare look down for fear of having to drag his eyes back up again. 

You realize he’s staring at you and you look down. “What–you hate it.”

“I–you’re…”

“I’m you.” 

Gingerly, you turn your back to him so he can see for himself… his last name emblazoned across your shoulders. But not like how his looks on his official jersey, screen printed… no, like it’s deliberately hand-sewn the way all you sorority girls make your sweatshirts, like it took you days of stitching to bedazzle the letters.

Steve decidedly does not hate it. The quarterback is dumbstruck. He’s… how can you be so perfect, when he has to end all this? This is the kind of girl he could never deserve. God–he’s wasted so much of your time. He swallows hard. 

“I dunno, I thought my Slutty Steve Rogers costume was a hit.” The gentle smile pulling at your lips makes him wet his own, anxiously. “Fuck, you do hate it–I’ll put on my coat, I’m so sorry–”

Steve’s hand catches your elbow before his brain can make a more coherent choice. He shakes his head. Words aren’t something he can muster–not when he’s trying to talk his dick down. So he just squeezes your arm and nods towards the kitchen. You slide your arm through his grip and pull him behind you, fingers laced with his. He is helpless to do anything else but follow. The house is packed with writhing bodies in various states of undressed and undead drunkenness, so much so that grips your hand like a vice, or else he’d surely be pulled under by the tide of newly-arrived freshman pledges.

You duck through a plastic curtain which looks like a witch’s mouth, and into the kitchen… which is filled with smoke from a fog machine and a spastically strobing light, but blessedly people-free. The counter is littered with bottles and fixins of all sorts. You laugh at the spread.

“Pick your poison!” you shout, over the dissonant organ music, which seems to be coming out of an air vent above the fridge. You use your clasped hands to point at a handle of vodka. “I’m probably gonna do vodka and cranberry juice. Basic, I know.”

Steve shrugs. “Sure.”

“Basic bitch with me?”

“Let’s do it.”

You relinquish his hand and set about finding your own cup. With a marker, you write on the cups–Steve Rogers and Sexy Stevie. When you’ve mixed two very strong vodka-crans, you hand him the Sexy cup, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“What?” you giggle, knocking your cup against his. 

Steve shakes his head at you and matches your deep first sip. He coughs. You don’t, so you grin. “Are we playing games, or what?”

“‘M banned from beer pong, but I’d do something else.”

“Why? Quarterback advantage?”

Steve winces. “No, uh… when I partied a lot, still. I sorta broke the big table at the Kappa house.”

“Shit,” she says, coughing. “That was you?”

“Technically it was Bucky jumping to catch the ball, but…” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. We’re both blacklisted. That’s why I stopped drinking so much.”

“Here I am, bullying you into it–”

“No, no. I’ll do it with you,” he says, a little too quickly. “Just not like I used to. The guys are too rowdy and I get sucked back into it too easy. I don’t like that guy I become.”

“Hmm. I really thought you were just kinda…”

“Boring?”

“No!” you laugh. 

He smiles. “I did hear a rumor about bobbing for apples in the backyard though.”

“How are you at catching fruit with your teeth, big guy?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Come on, Rogers.” He pushes past you towards the back door, and he can’t help but smile when your fist curls into the back of his shirt to stay with him. The moment you step into the back yard, you’re hit with the frosty air. Your gasp makes him wheel on you, which in turn causes you to bump into his chest.

“Too cold for ladies without pants on,” he says firmly. 

You shake your head frantically. “It’s refreshing!”

“You wanna dunk your head in some cold water and then get back to me?”

“No, I wanna watch you dunk your head in water, while I stay dry and warm.”

Steve shucks his coat. “You get sick in this coat and you’re dead to me.”

“What a gentleman,” you snicker. But you take the coat happily and slip your arms through the sleeves, leaving Steve to stand before you in just his long-sleeve henley… flushed under your watchful eye, and plenty warm enough for the both of you as a result.

***

Drink three marks trouble for Steve’s plan to end this little arrangement between you. He can’t remember drink two, mostly because he spent it winning a three-legged race by literally lifting you and running and then soaking up the glory of your win–namely, a cauldron full of something which tasted like apple cider and at least a handle of bourbon. Luckily you shared it (pouring it half-and-half into your cups), because it was strong. But on the third drink… his hands are magnetized to you. And you don’t seem to notice, or if you do, you sure are pretending not to.  You flit around the party as Steve One and Steve Two, and always with Steve’s arm around your shoulder or hands at your hips, or eyes staring at your mouth. Are his teammates there, he wonders? Who knows!

And then you declare yourself tired and slip out of the backyard so quick that Steve has to run to catch up, with two overflowing candy bags in hand.

“Hey! You can’t walk alone, okay?” he huffs, catching up to you as you trace cracks in the sidewalk with your toes. 

“Oh Stevie,” you croon. “We both knew I was going home alone. Huh?” You turn back to pat him on the shoulder. Your eyes are glazed.

“There’s murderers,” he says, so seriously that you giggle.

“I’ll fight ‘em. I’m Steve Rogers, pow pow pow!” 

Steve catches your fist as you bop him in the shoulder, upsetting both bags of candy onto the ground. You make the saddest puppy dog eyes at him and kneel to scoop up what you can. Steve joins you, but he can’t keep his balance on the balls of his feet so he sits back hard, with an oof!

“Careful! Drunky.”

“Not,” he growls.

“Yes we are.” You cup his cheeks. “We’re tipsier than tipsy. Sorry ‘bout it. Shouldn’a won the race, ya cheater.”

“It’s called strategy, sweetheart.”

“You can’t call me that,” you say softly, smile dimming. 

“Sorry. Cap.” He stuffs a fist-full of candies into one of the bags and hands it to you. “There’s more Starburst in this one.”

“My favorite!”

“I know.”

You sit, then, on the cold concrete sidewalk. You dig inside your bag until you find what you’re searching for, and only when you find the silver foil package does your hand emerge once more. 

“These are yours,” you say. Steve shakes his head.

“I hate mint-chocolate,” he says softly. Your expression falls.

“I don’t know what you like.” The admission is so quiet and heartbreaking, that it’s sobering. He’s still tipsy on his feet, but Steve is flush with realization that… oh, fuck. He stands, slowly, and holds out a hand to help you stand up. You take it. He does not miss the way the glassiness of your eyes turns into silver streaks down your cheeks, but he steels himself against it. He’s too drunk to try to put voice to the knot in his stomach.

You hold onto his hand the whole way back to the bungalow you call home with your small cohort of sisters, but you release him the moment your toes touch the front walk. His coat slides down your arms and you hand it back, turning quickly away from him. Steve panics.

“Hey–”

“It’s cold,” you sniffle.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? What are you apologizing for? Hmm?” You peer at him over your shoulder. “We survive these things by pretending, right? It’s a real good costume you’ve got, there, Steve.” The way your voice is soft and sad splits Steve right down the middle. “You almost had me.”

He wants to say something, but what? Nothing would come out right now, with meaning soaked in vodka. He puts his hands in his pockets instead of saying anything at all. You kiss his cheek feather-light. 

“I get it. It’s okay. Thanks for walking me home, Stevie.”

“Wait–”

“No, I understand. I told myself a story and I told it too well. I’ll get over it. Just… thanks for making me feel special. While it lasted.”

“You gonna be alright?” he asks, but he hates himself for it. 

You stare at his sneakers for a moment, and then let out a long sigh. “They say things. About who you used to be, before we were… Us,” you murmur. “And you know, it doesn’t even bother me? I just think… ‘sure, but he’s not like that anymore.’ I don’t think you are. Like they say. Or that you ever have been–’m not making any fucking sense.”

“I’m followin’.”

“No, Steven. You’re a really good guy. That kinda guy wouldn’t fuck with me just to get his dick wet, or whatever. I think… you genuinely don’t know what to do with a girl who doesn’t demand anything from you. And fine, if I misread things, I can live with that–”

“Will you let me talk?” he asks softly. You swipe a hand under your nose and shiver. “Shit, can I talk to you inside? You’re gonna get hypothermia and I’ll never forgive myself.”

“Okay.” Your hands shake too much to get the key into the lock (a key which you pulled from your bra, Steve notes as he takes it from you and does the honors), so you rub your arms and follow him inside the house. “Do you want some water?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Steve follows you into the kitchen and averts his eyes when you stand on your toes to reach for glasses. Instead, he leans against the counter and waits for you to indicate that you’re going to listen to… whatever it is he’s going to say. He has no idea what that is. He set out to end this little arrangement and all he wants to do now is prove to you that he would never do such a thing. Steve is at war with himself, and you seem to see it as you pass him a full glass of water. He holds it up and clinks his glass with yours.

You sit on the counter, head back against the cabinets, and you wait. When he can’t make words come out, you peek at him over the rim of your glass, now empty. “The second they come home, they’ll kick out out,” you warn him. 

Steve nods. “They ought to. The way I’ve treated you.”

“Hmm?”

“She’s like your little trophy,” he says, mimicking the way Tony jeered at him in the locker room after the game. “She just hangs off your arm–shit.”

“Who said that to you?”

“Stark,” he huffs. “The guys jumped down my throat about it at half time last week. After I looked at you.”

You gape at him. “We made eye contact for like three seconds–”

“Nah, it wasn’t that, I–I talk about you. A lot.” He looks down at the tiles in embarrassment. “Didn’t realize I was doing it so much. Apparently I don’t shut up about it, and now I got you drunk and just proved them all right, and–”

“Hang on. What do you mean by ‘a lot.’”

Steve gives you a pointed grimace. He shrugs. “Stark’s convinced I’ve slept with you more than once–”

“Christ–that’s rich coming from a guy with more notches in his bed posts than he has wood.”

Steve’s eyes snap back to yours at that, and he can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah.”

“Why do you care what Tony Stark thinks?”

“What if he’s right?”

“I do hang off your arm, Steve. I don’t think that’s unfair–”

“But it’s not like that, yeah? I mean–you’re not doing it just to tell your Sorority sisters that you got with the Captain–”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious.”

“Who gives a shit?” you laugh dryly. “I don’t care if they think I’ve sucked your dick on the team bus for free tickets, Steven.”

He sputters. “Fuck–”

“Why would I be embarrassed if people assumed I was with you, in any way? What’s there to be ashamed of?”

Steve blinks. 

“Do I embarrass you?” you ask. 

He shakes his head. “No, never.”

“I showed up to that party tonight dressed like a slutty version of you, and that didn’t embarrass you at all?”

Steve stares. No. It didn’t. Nothing about that made him want to pretend he didn’t know you, or need you to cover up. Up until that moment, he had only thought that you must be cold… and also about how fucking hot it was to see you wearing what amounted to his jersey, with some added rhinestones. Steve shakes his head again.

“Not at all,” he says evenly.

“Then what?”

“I wasn’t pretending. To like you. I do. Past all limits of sanity,” he says. “And I spend zero time thinking about it, because it’s the easiest thingin the fuckin’ world. I don’t question why it feels so great weathering every major holiday party, because you’re there. I look for you in the crowd at games, because I know you’ll be there and because I wanna see your face, and I-I–”

“You’re looking for a reason why it isn’t gonna work,” you finish. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “It shouldn’t be easy, right?”

“You’re a big dumb idiot,” you say, but you hold out a hand to him. He slowly raises a hand to take it, and you yank him closer. Steve stands between your knees, and braces himself on the counter in resignation.

“I am, aren’t I.”

“The dumbest. I bet you got an IQ of ten.” You cup his jaw and force him to look at you. “I like ‘em stupid though, I gotta say.”

The front door opens distantly with a thump and your eyes get huge. “Go, go!” You shove him towards the back door. “I like you, but if they catch you I am in serious trouble!”

“This is what I’m talking about!” he whispers fiercely. The moment he’s on the back porch, you grab him by the lapels and plant a ferocious kiss on him. It’s all teeth and lips and speaks of unfinished business which is most certainly going to haunt his dick all night long, especially when your tongue finds his, and then you shove him away and slam the door in his face. He stares at the closed door as the porch light goes out, casting him into darkness. 

He pulls out his phone–

He doesn’t have your number. Because he can rely on you to show up to any party Natasha invites him to. Steve has never once needed to get a hold of you outside of your designated time together, except that he’s pretty sure you just kissed him and sucked the last brain cell out of his head, and he’d really like to text you to find out when he can get it back. A small amount of sense kicks in when he hears another voice in the kitchen. He crouches down until the light goes out and then sneaks around the side of the house. Just before he clears the porch, a skeletal hand brushes his shoulder and he jumps about ten feet in the air. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaim as quietly as possible, laughing so hard at his reaction that you double over, dropping the disembodied plastic bone arm into the grass. You have to bite your hand to keep from making noise. For Steve’s part, he braces his hands on his knees to slow his heart down.

“Fucking hell,” he whispers. “What’d ya do that for? I think my heart fell out my butt.”

“I’m so sorry,” you snicker. “I owe you.”

“You’re gonna get in trouble, sweet–shit. Sorry.”

“Sweet-shit, huh? That’s a pretty nickname.” You wrinkle your nose at him, and Steve bites back a laugh. He shakes his head. “Do you wanna see me? Outside of a shitty party.”

“Did you kiss me?” he asks suddenly. 

You nod once. “You definitely kissed me back, though.”

“Good. Good. Okay.”

“So… that’s a yes?”

“Yeah. I do. I don’t have your number though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll give it to you.”

“Now?” he asks.

“When the time is right.” You crook your finger, beckoning him to come closer. Steve does so without hesitation (and also because his body has remembered that it has several gallons of alcoholic beverage cycling through it, so he’s lost all sense of subtlety). He backs you against the front pillar, so anyone looking out the front window can’t see.

“This weekend. Homecoming, yeah?”

“‘M starting,” he murmurs.

“Look for me. And when you find me, don’t look away. Okay?”

“Where will you be?”

“Where I always am,” you say. You kiss the corner of his mouth and attempt to flee back up the steps, but Steve cages you in.

“Just… I’m sorry.”

“I know, bub. It’s okay.” 

Steve tips your chin up, but you smile and duck under his arm, slipping away unkissed.

***

Steve is feral by the time Sunday rolls around. His locker room pep talk borders on Gladiator-level intensity, and nobody dares tease him thereafter. It’s Homecoming–the biggest game in the entire season, and Steve Rogers stalks onto the field like he’s willing to take on the entire opposing team alone. Hercules against the hydra. And if he finds you? He’ll be unstoppable.

He searches the stands for you in the section you can usually be found in, but there’s no sign of you. Where I always am, you said. He frowns. No, you said you’ll be there, and you will. He can count on you. Steve knows that much.

He pulls the starters into the huddle and defers the team chant to Barnes so he can get his head straight. But instead of putting all hands in… several guys clap him on the back. 

“Cap, shit. Look.” Bucky’s hushed words make Steve peer over his shoulder in a hurry. 

There, at the fifty-yard line, stands a girl in a slightly fancier version of the very uniform he has on. You wear a few more layers of clothing than the last time he saw you, just two agonizing days ago, but that same beautiful smile he’s come to need. In one hand, you hold the game ball. In the other, a plastic skeleton arm. You raise it as the stadium goes quiet, and wave.

“Hey, Rogers!” you yell.

“What are you doing?” Steve hands Bucky his helmet. 

“I think you’re wonderful. And I know a lot of these people think so too!” 

The roar of agreement catches Steve off guard, and several of his teammates pat him on the back once again. You use the boney arm to make the crowd get quiet again, and it works… to the delight of Steve’s teammates, who rumble with laughter.

“Go out with me?”

Steve puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head. Then, he takes even steps forward, towards the weird, beautiful, wonderful girl who isn’t embarrassed to want him. And as much as he knows he ought to be, Steve isn’t mortified by this display. What in the world could inspire such a feeling, when he has a girl like you in his life?

He takes the ball from your hand and whirls it into the crowd, who reacts with an appropriate amount of delight and competition to put hands on it, much to the annoyance of the referee. Then, Steve kisses you. He kisses you until the world goes quiet. Because he wants you, and you want him, too.

“Embarrassed?” you ask against his lips. He smiles softly.

“Not on your life, sweetheart.”

“You better win, now.”

“Nah. Compared to getting you? This is just a scrimmage.”

“Cute, but you do have to finish paying for school, bub. So try.”

“Mmkay. Now can I have your phone number?”

“If you win.” 

He holds your hand until you reach the sidelines. You give his ass a good-luck pat with the skeleton hand. Steve just laughs, and winks.

He wins.

--

thanks for reading!

my masterlist - my marvel masterlist

#steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 29/02/2024

my rip :)

Season 5 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume GS

Ripped by brubsby

Requested by Memmy! (Request Form)

Hey, it's February 29th, the Leap Year day! The strangest day on the calendar, I realize, ought to be celebrated with a bit of a strange rip to go along with it, and there was certainly plenty to pick from. The channel has seen its share silly rips like :D, utterly unhinged rips like Sex - Steve Harvey, and everything bizarre other kind of weirdness out there like Mr. Rental [B Side] ~ Out of Options or waterwraith pokos. Yet what surprised me about my rip :) wasn't for being the most silly, or most chaotic, or what have you - but rather, for being an utmost perfect blend of all the above kinds of rips, whilst remaining shockingly listenable.

I mean, there's something eyebrow-raising about the rip's mere existence alone. A rip from PONG? As in, one of the first video games ever made, the one from 1972, which barely even had SOUND in it, let alone music? The channel's obviously tackled a number of strange cases of games to rip before, such as the ongoing Circus trend with Five Nights at Freddy's and rips like Chex Invaders, but there really was no precedent for what to expect with this rip before clicking on it - the only prior rip of PONG was a whopping 15 seconds intentionally playing off of how little audio the game has to begin with. How could my rip :) hope to make a relevant joke out of PONG worthy of 3 minutes of runtime?

The answer, as it turns out, was to just do every single thing at once.

It starts off so innocuously too: the joke of adding rapidly repeating PONG sounds of various pitch to form a discordant melody, similar to that of CrazyBus, is a pretty funny bit in of itself! Yet before that bit has had even the slightest time to register, it's joined by Space Jam's infamous backing beat, a source that I've only covered in a good light here through actually impressive rips like Hoopache and Mother, Father, TechnoMan, yet is most well known in the community for being perhaps the most overdone and easy-to-use mashup source of them all. Before THAT has time to settle in, it's joined by yet more infamous mashup sources: The Season 5 demons themselves Yankin and Astronaut in the Ocean of Epic Rap Battles of History: Funny vs. Funnier fame, Crank Dat Super Mario, Watch Me Whip/Nae Nae - and, to note in case you're not listening to the track yourself as you're reading, NONE of these sources ever sound as if they ever go away from the mix. What in its first seconds is nothing but isolated bloops of an ancient arcade machine becomes this absolute cocophany of noise and melodies, yet through some miracle (and skill on brubsby's part) they're guided along to still form some sort of melody.

All the noise is mainly guided by the use of Gangnam Style as a surprise source amidst all the rest, whose melody builds and builds toward its own climactic beat drop Gangnam Style, upon which everything goes silent for just a moment, approximately eight sources all fading at once...before exploding back onto the scene like an unstoppable mob. Its just keeps going like this - by the end, twelve different sources are all competing for attention. Or at least it sounds that way - I genuinely have no clue if some tracks get phased out as the rip progresses, but the rip's noisiness never appears to die down until the very end of its runtime.

Its just such a fun ride until the very end - my rip :) doesn't have any sort of guiding melody to it, no joke to fulfill or prior YTPMV/Mashup/etc its paying tribute to. The rip is pretty much as deep as its title frames it as, as just brubsby fucking around and finding out what can be done with all of these Season 5-infamous sources as the year drew to a close. In that sense its a fitting encapsulation of Season 5 as a whole, doesn't it? The one year where the direction of the channel felt rather aimless, yet not necessarily in a bad way: a lack of obligation to be tied to larger theming and colossal channel events resulted in some of the most unrestrained, individually-ambitious, and fun listens in the channel's entire life. I'm not quite sure if I'd call my rip :) a "banger", but it's the kind of rip that I can't help but respect for the sheer audacity of it alone.

#todays siivagunner #season 5 #siivagunner #siiva #brubsby #ytpmv #mashup #mashups #Youtube #Bandcamp #pong #yankin #astronaut in the ocean #masked wolf #crank dat super mario #ok i genuinely dont know how to tag this one #i was gonna list all the jokes but it would be endless and confusing #you will have to share this one with the world .

[comicaurora]

What are other things great about Spectacular Spider-Man

oh I'm so glad you asked, it's been a while since I watched through it but from memory-

The Black Suit arc features Spider-Man fighting the entire Sinister Six and beating them, all while eerily silent, and it's then revealed that it was the symbiote fighting them while Peter was fully asleep, which is a fun indication of how powerful Spider-Man can be when he's not burning 40% of his brainspace on quipping

After Peter fights off the symbiote he seeks out Flash Thompson to thank him for giving him a "wake-up call" by calling him out for being a dick during his bad-boy era. The typically one-note bully responds with a calm "Don't mention it."

There's an episode where Spider-Man fights Tombstone in the sewers and the fight sounds fade out to be replaced only by the score of a nearby opera performance and it slaps

Spider-Man gets crushed under a big heavy thing with the room filling with water and has a moment where he gives up before he sees Gwen unconscious nearby and pulls together enough heroic gumption to lift and throw the entire heavy thing, an extremely badass effort that functionally knocks him out for the rest of the episode, leading to Gwen playing an active role in rescuing both of them by piloting their escape pod.

Sandman gets a whole character arc including a redemption arc

Green Goblin voiced by Steve Blum at his most unhinged

Spider-Man absolutely outclasses Kraven the Hunter so bad it makes him resort to genetic splicing to try and match him, which doesn't even work

Doc Ock gets eight whole episodes as a mild-mannered Oscorp scientist before becoming a supervillain, and his last words before being betrayed are "I've been good!" which is honestly heartbreaking

this

#asks #not aurora #media recs

[love-toxin]

ok........im a fan of Steve with a milf reader as we all know, however......Eddie......

imagine Eddie being set on wooing you, he's determined and kind and sweet and he's great with your kid, he acts like he's getting them into trouble but you know all he's doing is teaching them a fun tabletop game and showing them the music he likes, which is just adorable to you no matter what your fellow mom friends think. or the people at church, who insist he must be a terrible influence on your impressionable baby. some might even call you a bad mom for letting him be around your child, but you know Eddie better than any of them and you know he's a sweetheart above all else. especially when you start dating officially, people absolutely have things to say about that even though he makes you so happy.

but then, one day, you're stuck at home sick and can't make it to the pta meeting you had scheduled. or maybe there's an emergency at work and you can't be at the parent-teacher conference you need to be at. so Eddie goes in your stead, as your partner, and your child's teacher and/or other parents are shocked to see your baby climbing all over him, giggling, and tugging on his hair without him even flinching. he's so good with them and it's so frustratingly obvious to all those people that said he was a bad influence, a criminal, those who insisted that someone so tatted-up and unhinged could never be a good parent. plus, he's so attentive and he knows all there is to know--he knows their teacher's name, the medicines they take, the subjects they're best at, what their favourite colour is, and what they wanna be when they grow up, because he listens not only to you, but to your kid! and that's one of the many reasons why they love him so much.

and unfortunately for those few sticklers who still hate Eddie's guts, him going in your stead earns him quite a few unexpected admirers. the next time you have a parent conference or a field trip or the like, you'll spot some of the other moms whispering and giggling over your boyfriend, all scary-looking with that totally metal jacket and plastered with tattoos--and holding your kid's hand to swing them around and carry their backpack for them. being a parent becomes the new normal for him, a good normal, and even though he faces a lot more criticism this way he wouldn't give it up for anything. part of him wonders if this is what his uncle felt when he took Eddie on as his own--and that thought alone warms his heart so much, because he could never imagine letting you or your baby go whether they're really his or not.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie's angelface #milf!reader #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes

[mrsweasley23]

Steve the voyeur gets rumbled (Part 5) NSFW

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Full fic on ao3

Steve woke up to something warm and wet rubbing gently across his chest. What the fuck? Where was he? The last think he remembered was...

Fuck. Shit. Fucking fuck.

"Hey baby. It's okay. Just getting you cleaned up. You'd made quite a mess of yourself"

"Eddie. Oh, God. Eddie, I'm so sorry. Shit... I just..."

"Shhhhhh" Eddie purred, pressing his finger to Steve's lips. "As much as I would love to hear how you explain this one away, I need you to listen..."

"No, Eddie, I..."

"Do I need to gag you?" he smirked. Steve's cock traitourously twitched.

Eddie's deep brown eyes were boring down on his.

Steve shook his head.

"I can see you very much enjoyed my show, Steve"

He planted a gentle kiss on Steve's cheek, ripping a moan from his lips before he could stop it.

Eddie grinned, his eyes sparkling. "Oh we are going to have so much fun, Stevie"

"What..."

Eddie frowned, pressing his finger more firmly to Steve's mouth, dragging it along the full, bottom lip.

"I talk. You, Steve Harrington, have been a very bad boy"

Steve's head dropped towards his chest, bringing his hands up to his eyes.

"But I haven't exactly been a golden boy either. When you smashed drunk into the apartment a few weeks ago, I knew you were there. Believe me, the thought you were there, that you could hear me, drove me fucking wild. Hell, just being around you on a normal day drives me fucking nuts, I have to stop myself from touching you, from fucking biting a fucking chunk out of you"

Steve's head lifted a little. His eyes raised to Eddie's. A little shake of his head told Steve it wasn't his turn yet.

"But the idea that you would hear me fuck, that it might turn you on, that it make you think about me in that way. Fuck. I was unhinged. Tell me all about it, Stevie"

"I didn't mean to....but I was drunk and it sounded so hot. Sounded like you were both having so much fun"

"Did you touch yourself Steve?" the commanding voice was back. "Did you listen to me fuck and make yourself come?"

Steve flushed, dragging his eyes away from Eddie's.

"I stood outside your door and I made myself come. I'm sorry"

Eddie put his fingers under Steve's chin and lifted his face so their eyes were locked.

"No apologies. Did it feel good?"

Steve nodded hesitantly.

"Words, Stevie"

"It felt so fucking good, Eddie. I had to bite my arm so you didn't hear me"

"Could have sworn I heard a whimper the second time though..." Eddie smirked.

"Fuck. You know about that? I'm the worst fucking friend Ed. I'm so sorry"

"I said", he grabbed Steve's wrists tightly, "no apologies. I told you to come for me baby and you did"

"How did you know...?"

"You've been dancing around me, acting all weird since that night. I texted Rob when I was out, checking you were okay. She said you weren't saying over. I hoped you'd be hiding in your room. Tried to put on a good show for you"

"Oh, you did" Steve chuckled lightly. "It's all I've been able to think about. I didn't know I wanted...". He hesitated. "I've never wanted...a guy before"

"And now?"

"Eds, I've been doing everything in my power, just to hear you have sex"

"Tell me more about that.." Eddie pressed little kisses onto Steve's jawline. "Tell me what you did when I came back from the club"

"Eddie I can't..."

"Tell. Me"

Fuck. Steve was powerless.

"I listened to you fuck him. Call him a pretty boy. That made me so hot. I tried...I tried to finger myself but..."

Eddie's eyes shot wide. "You've been putting your fingers in yourself and thinking of me?"

Steve nodded.

"Holy. Fuck"

"But it wasn't enough. I couldn't... I wanted more. I wanted..."

"You wanted my cock?"

"Uh huh"

"I came so hard thinking about you fucking me. Listening to you come"

"Just like tonight?"

Steve nodded.

"Did you like my choice of playmate tonight?" Eddie chuckled.

"You found a Steve"

"Thought I'd fuck with you a bit. And the prospect of getting to scream your name drove me pretty fucking wild"

" 'Steve, I'm coming and it's all for you'." Steve recalled laughing.

Eddie flushed a little. "Too much?"

Steve shook his head.

"Judging by the state I found you in, I think it might've been"

"I could have come the moment he called me Your Steve"

And with that, Eddie crashed his lips towards Steve's, his hands snaking into Steve's hair. "You want to be my Steve?"

"More than anything. I want to be yours. I want every part of you and want you to take every part of me"

#steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #aware of his bisexuality steve au #steve x eddie #steve eddie #voyerurism #steve harrington #eddie munson

[rebelfell]

Hi, how am I?

Sarah ✦ 33 ✦ Over-sharer Rising, Sad Girl Sun

Getting back into writing after years of mental health blah blah blah. I moved to Eddie Town waaaaaaay too late because I didn’t watch Stranger Things until this, the year of the Barbie movie. But once I saw that metalhead weirdo there was no going back. And I wouldn’t if I could.

➸ Masterlist

Things to Note: This Blog is 18+, MDNI

I will block any ageless/blank blogs because in my mind, you are either a robot or a literal baby. Tbh, anyone under 25 is a baby to me, but the government says you’re not, so…

Not super confident in my smut skills as of yet anyway, so most of what I write is fluff that has a whisper of spice to it. Kind of like a smut-flavored La Croix.

Nonetheless, go away. Please. This post sums up my feelings on it perfectly, if you want any further reasoning.

Other things about me:

Constantly fighting a war between my desire to shower everyone everywhere with affection and then feeling like I’m the most annoying person to ever live.

Also torn between “Dang it, I’m the funniest person in world” and “Who the fuck would ever talk to you, you creepy, weird weirdo???” So, that’s fun.

I keep my excess of Eddie (And now Steve, whoops…) related brain rot over at @madeofmunson, so that’s the place to go for fic recs/me being unhinged in the reblogs.

Obsessed w/ my cat and I’ll show her to you. Not sorry.

Don’t be a dick. To me, to anyone. Just be cool, man (gn).

Love you, mean it ♥