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lovebugism · 2 months

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hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player.

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway.

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth.

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt.

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole.

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw.

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there.

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that.

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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steddiealltheway · 6 months

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Steve glances down at his watch and looks around at the kids anxiously awaiting Eddie's arrival. He's five minutes late. In any other situation, this wouldn't be a lot, but considering that Eddie makes it a point to be either on time or (most likely) early to anything involving D&D with the party... it's highly concerning.

Steve glances at his watch again just to give himself something to do when Dustin finally bursts out, "Okay! This has to be a prank, right? Like someone has to be in on this."

Steve glances at all the other kids staring blankly at Dustin and finally decides to take matters into his own hands. "I don't think that's what's going on, Henderson, but thanks for the input. You guys stay here, and I'll go check on his place."

"I'm coming with you," Dustin states firmly.

Steve furrows his brows. "No, you're staying because if Eddie gets here and you're gone then that just means more waiting." When Dustin crosses his arms and continues staring, Steve sighs, digs his wallet out of his pocket, and hands Dustin a few bills. "Order a pizza and hang out for a bit or something. Walkie me if he gets here."

Dustin smiles brightly and takes the money immediately rushing off to Mike who is already on the phone calling the pizza place. Steve puts his hands on his hips and asks, "And what do you say?"

"Thanks, Mom," Mike says flatly, raising his eyebrows and looking entirely unimpressed.

"Thank you!" Lucas says as Will smiles and gives him a quiet, "Thank you, Steve."

Steve waits for Dustin who rolls his eyes and says, "Thank you. Now check on Eddie." Steve raises his eyebrows. Dustin sighs, "Please."

"You guys are going to be the death of me," Steve says as he makes his way up the Wheeler's basement steps. He wishes Max and El were there to have his back, but they had taken the chance to have a sleepover while the guys were too distracted to interfere with their girl time. He thinks calling Max to ask her to check on Eddie would also count as interfering.

It's not that Steve minds too much. Really, he rarely gets alone time with Eddie, and it's been a while since he's truly checked up on him. After the bats, Steve often went to his place and helped with wound care since he personally knew what he was going through. But as time went on and their injuries slowly turned into scars, it was harder to find excuses to see Eddie alone.

So, Steve settles for seeing him when the kids invite them both to something, and he's started to even hang around during their D&D sessions, soaking in all of Eddie that he can. He still refuses to play, too afraid of the kids making fun of him for getting confused, but he easily gets lost in the campaigns through Eddie's storytelling.

He thinks it's easy to get lost in anything Eddie's passionate about. It may go right over Steve's head, but he would do just about anything to listen to Eddie ramble - sometimes it might just be an excuse to stare at his lips, but no one (except Robin) needed to know that.

Steve nearly misses his turn while thinking a little too hard about Eddie's lips, but he makes it, turning into the trailer park and parking outside of Eddie's place fairly quickly. He sees Eddie's van in the driveway and takes a deep breath, hoping Eddie just somehow lost track of time or something.

Steve quickly rushes out of the car and knocks on the front door, waiting to hear Eddie's footsteps or grumbling as he makes it to the door.

But silence is the only thing coming from the other side.

Steve knocks harder, hoping the neighbors won't start snooping with all the noise he's making, especially when, a few seconds later, Steve decides he has waited long enough and pulls the door open. He quickly closes it and locks it on instinct as he calls out, "Eddie?"

The living room and kitchen are empty, but Steve doesn't hear the shower running, so he quickly bursts into Eddie's room calling out his name again.

His eyes fall on Eddie lying in bed with the covers tucked all around him, but his pale face is slightly visible through the dark strands of hair covering it. The last time Steve had seen him like this was in the upside down when...

"Eddie!" Steve says, rushing to the side of the bed and brushing the hair out of his face. He cups Eddie's face in his hands and nearly shakes him before he sees his brows twitch as he begins frowning.

"What..." Eddie groans out, eyes squinting open.

Steve breathes out a sigh of relief as he nearly tackles Eddie into a tight hug, ending up nearly on top of him.

"Good morning to you, too," Eddie jokes, squeezing Steve back. "Wait, what time is it?"

Steve pulls back and looks down at him. He runs a hand over his cheek, feeling the warmth of it against his palm, a reminder that he's okay. "It's past five, and it's Friday."

It takes a few moments before a look of realization crosses over Eddie's face, his eyes widening as he curses, "Shit! I couldn't sleep last night, and I decided to take a nap around... three? Maybe?" He shifts back on the bed and starts trying to sit up.

Steve places a hand on his chest and pushes him back down.

"Hello," Eddie says as a blush spreads across his face. "This is fun, but I have a dungeon to master," he jokes, showing off his dimples.

Steve nearly forgets how to breathe for a second, but he finally gets it together enough to say, "You and I both know how hard it is to sleep after everything, so if you're able to sleep now, then you're sleeping."

"I'm fine, re-" Eddie yawns and covers his mouth. "Really."

Steve raises his eyebrows at him.

Eddie sighs and turns on his side to directly face him. "Steve, the kids will kill me if I don't do this session tonight."

"And I'll kill them if they give you shit about it. Does tomorrow night work?"

"I mean, yeah, probably but-"

"Great," Steve interrupts as he stands up and grabs the walkie Eddie keeps on a designated shelf. "Hey, Dustin, this is Steve."

"Is it a code red? Over." Dustin immediately replies on the other side.

"No, everything is fine here. We just need to postpone until tomorrow night if that's fine with everyone."

"There is no postponing D&D!" Dustin screeches.

Steve sighs and replies, "If you complain again I'm giving you no rides or money for a month."

There's a long pause from the other side before there's a response, "Tomorrow works! See you then!" Lucas answers.

Steve looks back at Eddie and gestures toward the walkie. "See?"

Except, Eddie is already beginning to doze off again, head nodding and snapping up every few seconds.

Steve smiles and slowly makes his way back to the bed, gently guiding Eddie back down before tugging up the covers and leaning over to press a gentle kiss against Eddie's forehead. "Goodnight."

As Steve begins to move back, Eddie's hand latches onto his wrist. He stares up at him sleepily and asks, "Stay? You need the sleep, too."

And he's right. He absolutely does need the sleep, and there's no way he's going to turn down the offer from Eddie, but... "Eddie, you're half asleep, you don't know what you're asking."

Eddie looks him in the eye and says, "I know exactly what I'm asking, and if I read the signs wrong then sue me."

Steve's heart beats a little faster in his chest. "Eddie..."

"Let's talk about feelings and everything when we wake up, okay? If you don't want to stay, that's okay. But know that I would want you here no matter what."

Steve looks down at him for a few seconds before he turns to take off his shoes. When he turns back, Eddie is smiling and holding the blanket up.

Steve accepts the invitation and finds himself wrapping his arms around Eddie and pulling him against his chest. Steve gently runs a hand through Eddie's hair, only stopping when Eddie grabs his hand and presses a gentle kiss against it.

Steve responds by bending down and planting a kiss on Eddie's head. He smiles when Eddie happily hums.

As Steve focuses on Eddie's breathing evening out, he finds himself matching it and slowly starts drifting off, falling asleep easily for the first time in a long time with happy thoughts of what's to come when they finally wake up.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #stranger things

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solarmorrigan · 4 months

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Hands Where I Can See Them, Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Here’s the thing: Jeff isn’t actually a meddler by nature.

He’s perfectly content to let people be. He keeps himself to himself and is happy when others do the same. It’s not that he’s never curious, it’s just that he asks personal questions sparingly. And he’s probably going to ask them even more sparingly in the future, because the last time he’d asked one, he’d accidentally broken up one of his best friend’s relationships.

In fairness to Jeff, that relationship was going to blow up sooner rather than later (that is, in fact, exactly what Eddie had said to him when they’d talked a few days after the incident in question; Eddie had even said that he thinks he’d needed the wakeup call, though he’d have preferred it hadn’t happened the way it did – the way that hurt Steve so much. All the same, he seems determined to make things right, so– maybe not the worst thing in the world?), but still, Jeff feels a little… guilty isn’t quite the word, but he doesn’t have a better name for the squirm of emotion in his gut when he catches sight of Steve at Melvald’s one evening.

He hasn’t seen Steve in over a week, now – not since he’d abruptly left Eddie’s place after being unceremoniously informed that his boyfriend (Jeff’s pretty sure that’s the train Steve had been on) is apparently not actually his boyfriend.

And it isn’t as though he or Gareth or Oliver had really hung out with Steve sans Eddie before, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be willing; Jeff’s experience with Steve Harrington in high school had been peripheral at best, and though he hadn’t had the best impression of him at first, he’d actually come to enjoy his company since he started hanging around Eddie after that disaster of a spring break. He doesn’t know much about D&D (though Jeff suspects he knows a lot more than he lets on), and he’s not particularly into fantasy or sci-fi, but he does have a bizarrely encyclopedic knowledge of sports, and had been excited to learn that Jeff is into baseball and hockey.

He's just as bitchy as Jeff had always thought he was, but he’s also unexpectedly kind, and funny in a way that had caught all of them off guard, and largely seems like a solid sort of guy.

And Jeff just feels kind of shitty that the last time they hung out had ended the way it had, that’s all.

That is his main excuse for why he approaches Steve in the cereal aisle at Melvald’s at 8 p.m. on a Friday.

He clears his throat. “Hey.”

Steve turns, brows furrowed as he looks to see who’s trying to get his attention, clearly not expecting any kind of social encounter, but his expression clears a bit when he sees Jeff. “Oh. Uh– Hey,” he says. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I don’t seem like the type to eat breakfast cereal?” Jeff teases, and a little bit of the tension in Steve’s shoulders seems to ease away.

“More like I thought I was the only person lame enough to be grocery shopping on a Friday night,” he counters with a smirk.

“You might be,” Jeff says, though he keeps his voice warm. “I just stopped in to pick up some snacks for the weekend after– uh,” Jeff stops short; shit, why did he bring that up?

Steve stares at him for a moment, calculating, and Jeff sees the moment he makes the connection.

“Hellfire tonight, right?” Steve asks, his tone almost unnervingly neutral as he looks back towards the shelves.

“Yeah,” Jeff says, still watching Steve carefully. “Just ended about half an hour ago.”

Steve gives a slow nod. “How was it?”

And – well, there are two options from here. Jeff could take Steve’s polite interest at face value, tell him it was a good session, and let them both awkwardly get on with their nights, or… He could be truthful, and maybe see how Steve’s really doing (which would also be awkward, so it’s not like Jeff really has much to lose).

“To be honest? Not great.” Jeff shrugs. “Eddie hasn’t been in good form lately.”

He can see the curve of a sad sort of smile cross Steve’s face, just briefly.

“That sucks, man. Hope he, uh… gets his head back in the game soon, I guess?” Steve offers.

Whether he does or not will probably be entirely dependent on how his plans to fix things with Steve play out; Eddie hadn’t told Jeff much (apparently, he’s done accidentally flying his dirty laundry for the time being), but he had said that Steve had asked for a little time, and that they would be talking again soon.

“I think he’s working on it,” Jeff says, rather than digging into that particular can of worms. “And, uh… How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Steve says a little too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Jeff pauses for a minute, pursing his lips and staring up at the ceiling. Is he really doing this? On a Friday night at fucking Melvald’s?

“It just sucks,” he finally says, “that…”

“That you all had to see that I’m actually an oversensitive loser when you realized I’d basically made up an entire relationship and then ran out over it like an idiot?” Steve suggests, his tone so false and light that it sets Jeff on edge.

“That Eddie couldn’t see that he had something really good in front of him. That he completely fumbled it,” Jeff corrects him.

It’s only after he’s spoken that he remembers they’re in a public place, and that talking to one guy about his relationship with another guy isn’t particularly safe. He glances around, hoping it’s not too little, too late, and is relieved to find that the store is just as empty as it had been when he’d first stepped in. When he looks back to Steve, he finds him staring, brows furrowed like he’s trying to puzzle something out.

“Isn’t Eddie one of your best friends?” Steve asks at last.

Jeff shrugs. “Makes me qualified to point out when he’s been an idiot.”

Steve says nothing, just pins Jeff with that confused stare for a moment longer before turning back to the shelf, as if he might finally decide on what cereal he wants.

“If it helps at all,” Jeff says, more quietly this time, “the reason we were even talking about it is because I asked Eddie how it was going – the two of you dating. We all thought you were. We were– well, probably not just as surprised as you, but pretty damn surprised when Eddie said you weren’t.”

“That… actually does. A little,” Steve answers softly, cutting a quick glance at Jeff. “Thanks.”

Jeff shrugs. “It’s just– Eddie’s not– he’s not a bad guy. He gets caught up in things, and he forgets to pay attention, but he wouldn’t do something like that on purpose.”

“I know,” Steve says, not quite sharp, but not quite gentle, either.

“Sorry, I’m not… trying to talk him up. I swear I’m not here advocating for him, or whatever.” Jeff sighs. “You’re totally within your rights to tell him to fuck off—hell, you can tell me to fuck off—I just wanted to say that if he tells you he’s sorry, if he says he wants to fix it, he really does mean it.”

“Yeah. I know,” Steve says again, and this time he sounds gentle – a little soft and distant.

Jeff reaches up and clasps one hand over Steve’s shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing him. “Anyway, if we’re not going to be seeing you at any of the regular places, you should come over and catch a game sometime.”

It seems like a given that Steve won’t be sitting in on anymore Hellfire sessions for a while, or coming to see their gigs at The Hideout like he had been (he’s already missed one, and they had all pretended not to notice the way Eddie had completely ignored the side of the room with the table where Steve would usually sit and watch), but Jeff finds himself unwilling to let go of his friendship entirely.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, glancing over again.

“Sure.” Jeff shrugs. “Offer stands. Gareth and Oliver’d be happy to see you, too.”

“They’re not into sports,” Steve says.

“But they can be bribed with snacks,” Jeff answers, and Steve gives a huff of a laugh.

“Cool,” he says, the first real smile Jeff’s seen from him all night beginning to cross his face. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

Jeff smirks at him. “Will you have your people call my people?” he teases, and Steve reaches out to give his shoulder a light shove.

“Fuck off, man,” he snickers.

“Only because I have other things to do,” Jeff says, heading back down the aisle the way he’d come. “Night, Harrington.”

“Night,” Steve calls back after him, sounding a bit lighter than when Jeff had found him.

Feeling a little lighter himself, Jeff snags an extra package of Ho Ho’s on the way to the register. He figures he’s earned it.

Part 6

Tag List (Now full, I'm sorry! Drop me a line if you want off the ride): @bushbees @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @gleek4twd @hellfireone @westifer-dead @anne-bennett-cosplayer @starman-jpg @mugloversonly @swimmingbirdrunningrock @alycatavatar @y4r3luv @rhapsodyinalto @vinteraltus @lilpomelito @tillystealeaves @noctxrn-e @pearynice @giverobinagfbrigade @novacorpsrecruit @hotluncheddie @strangersteddierthings @alongcomesaspider @theheadlessphilosopher @jettestar @rajumat @garden-of-gay @jamieweasley13 @dam28lh @oldwitcheshat @lololol-1234 @perfectlysensiblenonsense @salty-h0e @r0binscript @mavernanche @back2beesness @a-lovely-craziness @paintsplatteredandimperfect @redbullgivescaswings @emmabubbles @heartstarstar-blog @thesuninyaface @thatonebisexualman @fruitandbubbles @erinharvelle @m-owo-n @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @surroundedbyconfusion @luthienstormblessed @3ldr1tchang3l @pansexuality-activated

#steddie #steve harrington #jeff stranger things #steve & jeff #steve & corroded coffin #stranger things #sorry this bit's short but it's going to pick up soon!#solar wrote

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rogueddie · 3 months

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I'll Be Here T | 1,187 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is being willing to wait for them

Eddie has always known that, one day, Steve would move to the city with Robin so he can finally go to college. Eddie has grown too aware of Steve, his tells and how much he needs Robin.

When he first brought up college, he was venting about how horrible it would be to go so long without seeing Robin.

Eddie had struggled to hold back his laughter, painfully aware that he wasn't actually venting. He was trying to find an excuse to follow her. He was trying to convince himself that it would be worth putting the effort in to go to college too.

So, when Steve shuffled in one day, concerned but excited? Eddie wasn't surprised.

"I got in," he'd started. "To college, I mean. I applied with Robin and... I got in."

"That's amazing," Eddie said. "Baby, I'm so proud of you."

And he was. He was so extremely proud and excited.

But, when the day finally came for Steve to leave, he found it hard to bring those emotions back. He hated how clearly Steve could see through his forced grins.

"I'm fine," Eddie had insisted when Steve asked. "Really. I'm going to miss you, but this is so good for you. I'm so excited to hear about what you're going to do."

"I'll call," Steve promised, arms tight around him in a hug. He only pulled back to litter Eddie's face with kisses.

And, as promised, Steve called as soon as they arrived in their new dorm. Eddie could hear Robin babbling in the background, excited about their tiny little space, whilst Steve tried to hold in his laughter long enough to spew his usual romantics.

He'd called the next day too, to let Eddie know how they'd settled in and talk about all the different activities he was planning on checking out. There was even a D&D group that made him think of Eddie, that he didn't join simply because he wants his first game to be with him.

It wasn't until the next week that he called again. Steve spent the entire call gushing about a teacher who'd sat down with him and talked him through all his options.

"I'm going to be a teacher!" Steve had finished his speech off. "For, like, middle schoolers!"

"That's amazing!" Eddie replied. "That's- Stevie, that's perfect for you! You're gonna be amazing!"

"Yeah? You really think so?"

"I know so."

Steve had warned him that he would be busy, that he wouldn't be able to call as much.

It still made something deep in Eddies chest ache when another week would go by with no news from Steve.

Eddie wasn't worried though. Not really.

Especially when he came back with Robin for Christmas.

He hadn't been able to stay more than three days but, the entire time he was back in Hawkins, he was glued to Eddie. He grabbed and held on, as if he was finally able to breathe. As if he would die if he didn't get to touch Eddie for one second longer.

Robin constantly joked that she was going to need a crowbar to pry him off of Eddie.

She was almost right. It had taken him so long to say goodbye that they left more than an hour later than they had originally planned.

Eddie waved to them as they drove off. He was surprised at how excited he felt- it would only be a year until he got to see Steve again.

They'd been reluctant to admit their plans to stay in their dorms over summer break, but Eddie had encouraged them.

It was a good idea after all.

"But he could be doing anything," Mike had frowned, confused at how calm and content Eddie was. "With anyone. And he's not talking to you! Doesn't that make you... I don't know, worry?"

"No?" Eddie frowned back. He didn't understand why the kids were so confused. "Steve wouldn't do something like that. I know that, so what do I have to worry about?"

"You're just gonna wait around forever then?"

"Nope. He's just at college, kid. He's gonna come back and, when he does, I'll be right here."

When Steve went into his second year, he had settled enough that he started calling once a month.

It quickly became Eddies favorite time of the month and, if anyone tried to get him to do anything else on the day, he would blow them off. He couldn't be late home- not when Steve was going to call.

"I miss you," Steve would always say, in lieu of a greeting.

"I miss you too, baby," Eddie always mumbled back. He would cradle the phone close, with both hands, as he did.

"I keep thinking about you," Steve promised.

He would say it every call, repeating it as though worried that Eddie might forget. That Eddie might doubt that.

Eddie would always divert the conversation before Steve could spiral too much.

He always gave the same farewell when it came time for Steve to hang up so he could study or take part in whatever activity Robin has dragged him into that week.

"I'll be here," Eddie always said. "Don't worry about me. I could wait forever for you, big boy."

The third and fourth year went the same as the first.

Each Christmas was glorious. But, for the third Christmas, they'd managed to organise enough so they could spend a whole week in Hawkins.

Eddie insisted on taking polaroids of them. His favorite is the one he'd snapped of Steve, who was unaware, soft and sleepy in Eddie's kitchen.

"This is the last year," Steve told him, at the start of his fifth year. "Just this year, then I'm coming home."

One more year. It was the phrase that had been getting Eddie through the waiting, but it didn't help anymore. It only made it worse.

He couldn't stop thinking about how, when Steve does come back, he's staying.

Wayne helped him move out the trailer, and into his own. It wasn't any bigger than Wayne's, but it was enough for Eddie. He knew it would be enough for Steve.

The hideout didn't pay well, but Eddie was careful with his government hush money. He had plenty, more than enough to last a lifetime if budgeted right.

He made sure everything was ready for Steve. He made sure their home was ready.

And, when Steve does come home, all Eddie feels is love.

"Welcome home," Eddie says, leading him into their trailer.

"Oh, it's perfect," Steve whispers.

Eddie can hear the genuine awe in his voice. He grabs Steve, turning him around so he can finally see the expression too.

"You're so beautiful," Eddie says. "God, I missed you so much."

Steve practically throws himself at Eddie, their teeth clashing harshly with how hard Steve kisses him.

"Fuck," Steve groans, holding Eddie's face in both his hands. "You really waited for me all this time- Eds, God, I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I love you, more than anything, baby. You're worth the wait, you're so worth it."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm

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riality-check · 10 months

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More roadie shenanigans, keeping feedback from this post in mind! part 1, part 2

ao3

It’s before the second show, and they’re already fighting.

“You can’t chicken out,” Gareth says.

“I’m not gonna chicken out!”

“Good, because I’ll tell Wayne if you do,” Jeff says.

Eddie glares at him. “You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Shut up and get out of here!” Archie says, pushing Eddie toward the tech booth. He complies, but not without another scathing look over his shoulder.

His friends laugh because of course they do. They’re assholes, but, luckily, they’re the same kind of asshole that Eddie is.

He straightens out his shoulders, breathes, and prepares to grovel.

Robin and Steve are setting up just like they were at the last venue. It looks like a mess of cables and boxes from Eddie’s perspective, but Steve and Robin work with ruthless efficiency, alternately talking and signing when their hands aren’t full.

“Um,” Eddie says. G-d, he’s never been this awkward in his life. But this matters, like, really matters to him, and he’s gotta do right.

Neither of them pay him any attention.

“Excuse me?” he says a little louder.

Robin turns around. When she sees him, her expression instantly sours.

“Hello?” she drawls, sounding bored out of her mind.

Steve turns around, too. When he sees Eddie, his face-

Well, Eddie isn’t sure what that expression is supposed to mean. If he had to guess, he’d say mild annoyance.

Mild annoyance shouldn’t look that hot.

“I just wanted to say again that I’m really sorry,” he says, making sure to talk clearly and loud enough to be understood. He’s not an idiot, he knows that shouting is rude, but he makes sure he can be heard over the general chaos of setting up for a new show. “It wasn’t any of my business, and even if I meant well, it’s not an excuse.”

Steve’s face softens a whole lot as Eddie stumbles through his apology, and then he reaches up to his ears to take out ear plugs.

Huh?

“Mind saying that again?” Steve says with a smile.

Eddie is. So confused.

But then Steve laughs. “You should see your face, dude. I got the gist. Apology accepted, we’re cool.”

Okay, that makes Eddie feel better. A lot better. But he’s still confused.

And his mouth always moves faster than his brain.

“Why are you- why do you have- what-”

Robin rolls her eyes fondly. “This idiot,” she says, pointing at Steve, “always tries to do the first show without the ear plugs he needs-”

“Not this shit again,” Steve mumbles.

“-because, as it turns out, your ears do a lot more than just hear. Like balance-”

“You’re one to talk about balance, Buckley,” Steve says, giving her a light shove. She nearly topples over if not for the fact that he immediately grabs her arm to steady her.

Eddie thinks he might know even less than he thought.

“I want to make it up to you,” he says, and Steve and Robin stop bickering.

“You don’t have to do that,” Steve says, and Robin elbows him.

“I want to,” Eddie insists. “What’s your favorite song? We’ll play it at the end of our set.”

Naïvely and terribly optimistically, Eddie hopes Steve might say something that’s already in their set list, or maybe another one of their songs.

From the way that Robin and Steve are looking at each other conspiratorially, he doesn’t think that’s the case.

“No,” Steve says, laughing and shaking his head.

Robin sneaks a glance at Eddie, smirks, and starts signing at Steve.

The only thing Eddie understands about the conversation as their hands move is their facial expressions: Robin with a smirk, and Steve trying desperately not to laugh.

He’s so cute. He gets this little crease on the side of his mouth that Eddie wants to smooth out with his thumb.

Slow the hell down, buddy.

“Fine,” Steve says, throwing his hands up in the air. He turns back to Eddie. “Pretty Fly.”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Eddie blurts.

Steve’s eyes narrow. “Didn’t you just apologize to me?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says. “It’s just that my bassist and lead singer have been gunning for this song for, like, 6 months. Archie chomps at the bit for fun bass lines, and Jeff just thinks it’s funny as-”

“Slow down,” Steve interrupts.

Right. He talks too fast.

“I’ll play it, but it means caving to my asshole friends,” Eddie says.

Robin cackles. “Told you it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, I love a good bass line,” Steve says. His face is softer again, and Eddie thinks he loves that expression.

He checks his watch. “Soundcheck is soon, so I’m gonna head back. Sorry again.”

“Eddie,” Steve says, and oh.

Eddie loves how Steve says his name.

“We’re good, okay?” he continues, small smile on his face.

“Well,” Robin chimes in. “After the apology song you will be.”

Eddie laughs. He really likes her now that she’s warmed up to him.

“Noted,” he says.

He heads back with a final wave and ducks backstage, where the band is tuning their instruments.

“Well?” Gareth asks, tightening his snare.

Eddie grabs his guitar, closes his eyes, and sighs. “He wants us to play Pretty Fly as an apology.”

“Let’s fucking go!” Archie roars, and Jeff gives him a high five.

“No way-”

“Gareth, I know-”

“You dick-hungry traitor.”

“Hey!”

“The fucking Offspring, Eddie? Punk? Are you shitting me? Punk just because you want a shot with a hot guy?”

Archie starts plucking out the bass line. Gareth throws a drum stick at his head. Jeff beams it back at him and misses.

“It’s one time,” Eddie says.

“Unless your cute roadie likes it enough,” Jeff teases.

“He’s not my anything.”

“Not yet,” Archie adds.

“Not ever.”

“Fucking pessimist,” Jeff says.

A tiny crashing sound makes them all turn toward the drum set, where Gareth is lightly thumping his head into the hi-hat.

“I’m gonna have to do the backing vocals for Pretty Fly,” he mutters.

“Your fault for sounding like a pre-pubescent chihuahua.”

Gareth throws his other drumstick at Jeff. “I’m not begging you for shit.”

“Do it for the bit,” Archie says. “You love doing it for the bit.”

Gareth picks his head up. “I do love doing anything for the bit.”

“Soundcheck in five!” someone calls.

“Thank you five!” Eddie yells back. Shit, he’s gotta tune his guitar.

Soundcheck is a breeze, and, after that, the time flies. Before he knows it, they’re out onstage, playing their usual set list.

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough of this. The energy, the lights, the sounds, G-d, all of it. There’s nothing like being onstage and playing until his fingers hurt, nothing like joining in on the backup vocals, nothing like hearing the crowd roar with them.

It’s perfect. Touring is everything he dreamed of and more.

Eddie wants to do this for the rest of his life. They’re gonna headline one day, he knows it, but this is an amazing start.

What Eddie doesn’t want to do is talk, at Jeff’s request.

“Okay, okay,” he says, getting the crowd to quiet down. “We’ve got two more songs. The first one is one we’re playing because I fucked up.”

“And because he finally caved to us,” Jeff adds.

The crowd laughs, but it doesn’t feel mocking. Eddie laughs with them.

“So, Steve, consider this the final part of my apology-”

“And my peak embarrassment!” Gareth adds.

The crowd laughs again, and Eddie sighs, fondly long-suffering. “Let’s do it.”

The backing vocals are fucking embarrassing. Eddie’s with Gareth on that one. They suck, and he feels himself flush for reasons other than the heat.

But he imagines Steve smiling as he watches the show, and Archie is clearly having the best G-ddamn time on the bass, and Jeff is basically cackling his way through the song, so it’s worth it.

They get through it and then their closer without a hitch.

“We’re Corroded Coffin!” Jeff tells the crowd. “Y’all were amazing, so keep that energy up for the other opener and for the main act!”

The crowd roars, the lights black out, and they make their way backstage.

In the green room, on Eddie’s guitar case, is a note.

Apology more than accepted. Here’s my number in case you want to apologize again. Or maybe grab a coffee.

Text, don’t call. In case you haven’t noticed, my ears don’t work.

-Steve.

Eddie has never added a contact faster in his life.

I think I saw a 24 hour diner down the road. Hopefully they have good coffee.

Steve’s response is immediate.

Do you really think I care about the quality of the coffee?

You could be a coffee connoisseur for all I know, Eddie types back.

I don’t know a lot. Hence the date.

Date.

Woah.

Eddie tries to get his heart rate under control and text Steve back. He’s never been good at multitasking though, so by the time he’s able to formulate words again, the lights have gone down and the second opener is on. Steve’s working, and he shouldn’t be bothered.

Besides, Eddie should probably use the time between now and the end of the show to think before he speaks for once in his life.

Yeah fuck it I’ll keep the tag list (or you can follow the shiny new tag #gi;pe au): @vampireinthesun @paperbackribs @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @messrs-weasley @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @omgshesinsane @bestwifehaver @marklee-blackmore @gleek4twd @steddiestains @chaoticvictorianspirit @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @alienace @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @punctualhowell @pluto-pepsi @voidpacifist @sunfloweringstories @anaibis @evillitteguy @hallucinatedjosten @avi17 @b-u-g-g-y @shinekocreator @l0st-strawberry @brassreign @abbiecadabi-blog @rainbow-freckle @gregre369 @rehfan @just-a-tiny-void @weirdandabsurd42 @satan-is-obsessed @honeysucklesinger @coyotepup345 @gayafmermaid @thegingerrapunzel

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

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Hideout (2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sweet Baby (see previous or series)

Summary: 'Grant' becomes comfortable enough to tell you who he is, and you get comfortable enough to show him the kindness he deserves.

Warnings for description of minor blood/injury and light smut (mentions of morning wood, dry humping, hair pulling, praise kink? maybe coached orgasm?). This series is 18+ only. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you youngins to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2.6k

Warmer months are for updating the rooms, so they are on a rotation of renovation. There are really busy times and really slow times based on events in town, but there’s an understanding with Grant’s ‘party’ of friends that, if needed, they can stay in the room closed for repair. It’s not as if any room is uninhabitable when they need a coat of paint and some plumbing tune-ups.

Clark doesn’t remember you told him about this—you used the excuse that Grant ’s company are handymen (and women) who come in between other jobs,—so the front desk kid calls you while you’re out running errands one day.

Two ‘dudes’ want to stay in room eight on the end. So? Let them. Those are the people who fix things. Clark just says “kay.”

When you pull into the lot hours later, you don’t expect to find Grant sitting on the curb, filthy and exhausted in some gym clothes, a plastic bag set at his feet.

“Wha’ch’a waiting for?” you call with the window down, hoping his spirits can lift easily.

Grant peers up at you through long lashes. He’s had a knock-down drag-out with a field of bramble…or something. That’s when you notice dark, dried blood in the grime stuck to him, and he lets out a long sigh.

“Sa—Tom used all the hot water,” he huffs, “so I’m biding my time.”

Their room’s water tank, the one due for maintenance, is going to take an eternity to reheat, and it’s the worst luck that there really are no other rooms available.

“Hop on in. You can use the bath up at the house.”

He looks just as startled as you by the invitation, but in no simple terms can you express how bad it is to have a huge guy covered in blood hanging out in front of your rural motel. That’s horror movie bait.

You know Grant. You trust him. All he needs is to clean himself up.

He checks behind him again. The same mix of seeking approval or seeking the cover of ignorance returns to his pretty features, and he trots over to the passenger seat of the car, plastic bag in hand.

He helps you bring in the groceries and supplies from town even though you point him in the direction of the upstairs bathroom immediately. There’s a big jacuzzi tub in there, and he is welcome to soak for however long he wants. You’ll even wash his clothes in the mean time, if he’d like.

Grant seems hesitant to accept or argue.

You press on.

Showing him where everything is in the bathroom takes a minute. You fish around a cupboard for the muscle-relaxing milk additive, explaining it may help him…if needed. You don’t know what’s happened, so you’re flying blind for options.

When the tap turns off ten minutes later, silence descends, but he never handed you stuff to wash. You knock and try the door, just to crack it open so he can hear you.

First, you notice the color of the water. He used the milk bath alright, but whatever washed immediately off him has saturated and soured the clean white into a rusty tan. Second, you pick up the pile of clothes and find more in the plastic bag, except…it’s a suit with a star decal half-ripped and dangling from the chest. Third, you realize you can’t see him in the water at all, not his feet, not his head, no bubbles, so you rush in and shove your hands beneath the surface.

He shoots up in alarm, gasping and sloshing to a different wide, rounded corner of porcelain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you shriek, hands out and spread wide. “I just thought—I don’t know—I didn’t know if you’d—sorry!”

He rubs his hands down his face and over his dripping hair. He doesn’t even speak; he just waves for you to stop apologizing and clears water shot up his nose.

You have to collapse to the fuzzy rug and hold your heart before it beats right out of your ribcage. You still repeat “sorry” a few more times and then manage an impressed “wow, you kept all the water in.”

He thunks his head back to the lip of the tub and props up one leg, his knee cresting the surface. “I have a talent…”

The dirt, despite how much clearly came off already, is smeared grossly across him.

He looks so tired.

“May I—“ you grab the shampoo bottle all the way at his feet “—help?”

Defeated in more ways than one, he nods through the same concerned and confused gaze that’s become his signature. He maneuvers nearer you while you carefully wet your hands, starting a lather. His head stays down, spine exposed, as you massage at the base of his skull.

His eyes shut.

Your heart now swells with accomplishment; you gave this man a moment of peace.

Fingers gliding over the sinewy, tight bands beneath soft hairs, you press circles around and around his scalp. He cranes backwards while you move up and over the crown of his head, and by just above his ears, he’s laying his full weight in the water, lax against the rim.

You keep going long after his hair is strictly clean, though you’ll recommend he rinse after soaking because the water is too foul to count on.

He remains quiet, so you dip your hands in the water at his shoulders, shake them about, and move on to scrubbing his face clean, too, working down from the hairline and over his beard.

Somewhere around his throat, the man sniffs.

He sniffs again, raising a hand from the water to stop yours.

“My name isn’t…” His eyes open finally, only to stare blankly at the ceiling. “My name is Steve.”

“Okay,” you say, abandoning the washing to sit back on the mat again. “Do you want me to call you that or Grant?”

He turns, brows furrowed, and in the most authoritative voice, he replies, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You rest your chin on the lip of the tub, too. “I know. I won’t.”

Eyes locked, you two stare at each other for a long beat.

“The Captain America suit kinda gave it away though,” you whisper, and to your surprise and delight, Steve flicks water at you in retaliation.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “handle yourself in here while I go start the laundry.”

You stretch and almost—almost—kiss his forehead because, for whatever reason, that feels right, but at the last second you tuck your head down, acting like you were just standing up. You can’t bring yourself to look back at him while gathering the clothes.

You keep busy downstairs, scrubbing at a few spots of caked on muck, trying not to listen to the sounds of splashing, the squeaking as he moves around, the rush of the draining bath, and the tap turning back on to rinse him again. You scramble to find the biggest t-shirt and pair of pants you own (although, come to think of it, Steve’s got fairly small hips, so you grab some stretchy sweats) and hand them through the door when realizing he has nothing else to wear.

He emerges with several visible cuts and scrapes but dismisses your offer to treat them.

“It’s not worth the effort. They’ll be gone by morning.”

You’ve decided something: if he doesn’t bring it up, you won’t either.

Whatever he wants to tell you, whenever he wants to tell it, you don’t ask. You are used to keeping guests’ confidence—not that anyone tells you deep, dark secrets, but you refuse to gossip about cleanliness or things in the trash—and ‘Grant’ will be no different.

You can, however, still tease him.

“Ready to share that queen bed with Tom?” You give his beefy arm a playful punch.

Steve groans.

“Kidding,” you beam. “I’m not making you walk that path in the dark right now. An elk could get ya!”

He pinches tired eyes, a ghost of a smirk realigning the hairs of his beard. You imagine that on any other day, he would put up more of a fight, but he’s fought enough.

“Yeah, okay. As long as I won’t scare the daylights out of your parents by being on the couch in the morning.” Steve steps over to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“They’re at a hospitality conference. I run the place…mostly. Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer you a bed that fits you?” You dramatically bow and indicate your room. “This way, please, sir.”

Good thing he has no fight left in him. His eyes narrow adorably, but he doesn’t budge.

“I should let Tom know.”

“There is a phone in there, too. I’ll dial room eight.”

You get him some water, hanging his clothes to dry, offering as much privacy as you can in an old house with thin walls.

“Yeah, hi, it’s…yes, yes, I’m… Yeah, I know. I know, Sam, just—you don’t have to laugh about it. She let me use the bath, is all. You’re the one who—Well, don’t take all the damn wa—hello? Hello?” Steve is staring at the receiver of the land line when you appear in the doorway. “Uh, he…gets it.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing around your neither childish nor sterile room. You put the glass down on your side table instead of handing it to him.

“Okay, I think you need rest,” you add, sweeping your hand down his bare arm.

You marvel at how the edges of his cuts are already shrinking, knitting back together in near-realtime. Your fingertips trace around the skin like an interactive roadmap.

First heal this, then he needs this, and this is deeper here.

You wonder whether he feels pain the same as everyone else. Is it dulled? Does he just have to ignore how much and how frequently he hurts because it goes away sooner? That’s a sad thought to you. Just because he’ll be okay, doesn’t mean he should suffer more.

He’s a miracle. As Grant, Steve, Cap, or nobody at all, he’s still a miracle.

“You don’t have to go…”

The last of the evening blurs as you wake, but you remember Steve needed this. He asked you to stay.

Spooning is the only way to fit on the bed together. After finishing your own bedtime routing, you began behind the giant man, curled tight, lightly scratching over his broad shoulders and arms. He fell asleep so quickly, and you don’t recall how long after that you both turned over. You had to drape Steve’s awkward arm around you, show him he could hold you close, assure him he can be as comfortable as he likes.

Whichever way he settled is infinitely better than falling off the bed, and you’re grateful he’s accommodating in a small space. You suppose he has to be. Though, for a man as dense as a brick wall, he is shockingly pliant around you.

Shame you have to stretch, ruining the picture of fitting puzzle pieces you’ve become.

Arms out and legs long, you roll, restless on the one side for too long in the night. Steve shifts around your moves, laying his head on your arm instead of the pillow. His arm that was your pillow wedges down by your waist instead.

Your knees knock his, so even in sleep, he lets them slot through, legs entangled and…his erection laying over your thigh, the tip poking your hip.

Your body tenses for a split second, the muscles of your leg brush harder against his cock, and Steve groans softly, the arm draped over you pulling your body closer.

He’s still asleep, breathing easy, his features totally relaxed.

His golden hair shines in the early light, and he’s so, so beautiful.

You move stray locks from his face, enjoying how he nuzzles and sighs as you play. Quiet, lazy touches.

His hips nudge forward for friction. His fingers grab at your nightshirt. One of his shifts angles his length to drive against your mound instead, and you gasp involuntarily, having smothered your excitement for too long.

He stirs, a heavier, longer breath followed by Steve's whole body going rigid and his eyes squeezing shut. He tries to bury his face in your arm, and you can’t help it. You hope he’ll continue.

You shush him, carding through his hair to soothe him as you did in the bath.

There’s nothing wrong.

He can feel good.

He should feel good.

You want him to feel good. Hell, you don’t say it, but you need to make him feel good.

Steve still won’t face you. He leans closer, shielding himself with your chest, but he doesn’t pull his hips away.

You can hear him thinking through his options groggily, and in your nervousness, you pull at the fistful of hair in your hand.

Steve whimpers and juts his pelvis forward.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Did you like that? Does that feel nice, Stevie?”

His abs flutter with a spasming exhale, but he says nothing. His rough hands dig into your back while he desperately seeks more friction.

You let him—you encourage him—to keep going.

“Whatever you need…it’s okay.”

He pants into your skin, making you sweat while he dissolves into a mewling mess of shame, taking what he deserves.

He bends his leg for leverage, the sole of his foot pressing flush to your calf. You feel his thumping heartbeat along all of your skin that touches his. He swallows moans which sound hollow and deep where they die in his chest before Steve grunts and stretches, the whole underbelly of his cock rubbing your inner thigh and baiting your clit mercilessly with almost-contact.

You release his hair, asking “do you want my han—”

But it’s too late.

Steve seizes you in his last moments hard before he stills, palms so wide you’ll feel the marks over an entire shoulder blade and the breadth of skin from your ass to your ribcage.

You yelp, the nails of your trapped hand clawing at the sheets around you. It’s a good pain. It’s worth it to witness how his body melts into yours after he comes. He’s lax and heavy, pathetic convulsions of ecstasy subsiding.

You’re only just starting to feel the wet fabric on your thigh when he peels away and rushes to the bathroom.

The best thing for him is to act normal. It is normal for him to be hard in the morning, to want contact and satisfaction, and the truth is it’s perfectly normal for you to dream of providing that for him. You want that contact with him. You are satisfied when he is satisfied.

That's scary because it's a secret as hidden from you both as his identity now, but you won't talk about it. If he doesn't ask, then he doesn't want the answer. It's better that way.

So that was okay, and this is okay.

It's okay, and you tell him when you bring his gym clothes back to the door. You repeat it as he walks out of your home unable to look you in the eye, his partially-destroyed past life wadded up in a fresh plastic bag.

At the bottom of the porch steps, he turns, still focused on the ground.

“Thank you for the…the bath.”

You can’t tell anyone about him—about how you feel for him—not even him. It wouldn’t be right. He doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad you feel better, Grant.”

A/N: Google, Play 'Hopelessly Devoted To You.' *starts weeping some more*

[Next Part: Sensitive Boy, Part I]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

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sparkle-fiend · 1 year

Text

Steve loves Valentine’s Day.

It’s a holiday celebrating love and romance; the whole point is to shower someone with affection (and hopefully get laid at the end of the night). What’s not to like about that?

With girls, Valentine’s was easy. Big box of chocolates, a dozen red roses, dinner at a fancy restaurant (and maybe a little jewelry or something - depending on how much he likes her). A sweet card, for sure.

Now that he’s dating Eddie, Valentine’s Day presents more of a… challenge.

“Ugh, what am I gonna do Rob? We walked through the greeting card aisle at Melvald’s and he pretended to puke. He doesn’t want flowers or chocolate or anything.”

He knows he’s whining. He’s slumped dramatically in the single office chair in the Family Video breakroom, spinning slowly (like a pathetic little rotisserie chicken, according to Robin). He’s probably got about five more minutes before Robin snaps.

“Why do you have to do anything? You know Valentine’s Day isn’t even a real holiday – it’s just an excuse to get people to spend money on crap they don’t need…”

“Oh my god, stop! You sound just like Eddie. Valentine's isn't about spending money, it's about... showing people that you love them. Making them feel happy and appreciated and special. It’s about celebrating love.”

Robin tilts her head and her face goes a little soft, the way it does when he says something she wasn't expecting (but in a good way, not like when he says something so dumb that her body collapses and she says he's obliterated her will to live).

"That’s actually surprisingly sweet Steve. Okay….” she sighs and looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. “Maybe... you could try making something? He liked those cookies you baked for movie night."

“Those cookies were terrible.” Practically inedible. Eddie was the only person that ate more than one. (Which was either a true declaration of love in and of itself, or proof that Eddie will eat literally anything when he's stoned.)

"I don't know, Eddie is pretty easy to please. You could give him like... a cool rock, and he would probably love it."

Steve sits upright so fast he nearly overturns the chair. "Robin, you're a genius!!"

She blinks at him. "Clearly. But also, why exactly?"

Eddie is like a crow. He's forever picking up little odds and ends - cool rocks, stickers, shiny bits of paper. At Christmas, he collected the bows off of everyone's presents. Sometimes, he incorporates the stuff he finds into little props and models for his D&D games, but other times he just keeps it. He's got a whole drawer devoted to his little 'hoard', as he calls it.

Steve explains all this to Robin, who just shakes her head in bemusement. "He is so weird," she says fondly.

"Yeah," Steve agrees. He would have recoiled from that oddity in high school - would have been worried what other people would think. Scared they would judge him for associating with someone like that.

He doesn’t give a shit, these days. He sees the way Eddie lights up with happiness at the smallest things, so full of excitement and passion, and it just makes him smile. He feels grateful that he gets to bask in that reflected joy, like a flower soaking up the sun.

Valentines is two weeks away, which gives Steve plenty of time to collect a bounty of little treasures. He hits the pawn shop, the thrift store - he even drives out to the weird antique shop about an hour out of town, which looks like a normal house on the outside and is crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks and bric-a-brac when you walk inside.

He also trawls the quarry, the lake, and the woods behind his house. It's tough, because usually Eddie's little treasures just look like trash to Steve. He's not a very creative person himself, but he tries hard to see the world the way his boyfriend would.

If that means Steve finds himself debating for over half an hour on which rock is more appealing, well – it will all be worth it in the end.

———

Steve stays over at Eddie's, the night before Valentines. (At this point, he spends more time at the Munson's house than he does at his own.)

He wakes up early, slipping out of bed with slow, careful movements. As usual, Eddie rolls over with a faint grumble, bundling himself into a burrito of blankets to compensate for the void of warmth left by Steve's absence.

He moves down the hall, avoiding each creaky board like it's a booby trap in the Temple of Doom, until he reaches the kitchen - which is where Steve breaks routine. He sneaks out the back door and races across the driveway in his boxers, hopping and cursing as the frigid gravel stings his bare feet.

His carefully cultivated stash of gifts is in the glove compartment of the BMW. He already has a plan for which one will be first, so he grabs it and closes the door (slowly, slowly - the sound of Steve moving around the house is familiar, but a car door slamming in the driveway at this time of morning would wake Eddie for sure).

The first gift is a blue jay feather he found in the woods, perfect and clean with vivid blue and black stripes. He tucks it carefully under the edge of the ash tray that sits on the porch railing, before slipping back inside to start breakfast.

Thirty minutes later Eddie appears, drawn by the warm smell of coffee and the sound of bacon popping in the pan.

He drapes himself over Steve's back and murmurs, "G'mornin," sleepily into the shell of his ear, the way he does every morning after Steve spends the night. This time, Steve balances his spatula on the edge of the pan and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s waist.

He presses a cheerful kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth and says, "Happy Valentine’s Day."

Eddie groans dramatically and throws his head back, the rest of his bodyweight following. If Steve didn't have a firm grip around his waist, he would have toppled over backward; the move turns into an awkward backbend instead.

"Stevie please, it's too early for that crap. Wait until I've had my coffee at least."

Steve grins. He releases his hold just long enough for Eddie to yelp and scrabble for balance before catching him and pulling him close again.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie gasps.

"Careful," Steve says with a smug grin, laughing when Eddie shoves him in the chest and pulls away.

They eat breakfast together, and then Steve follows Eddie outside for his morning cigarette.

"Holy shit, look at this!" Eddie turns to Steve with the blue jay feather pinched between his fingers, grinning with delight. He hasn't brushed his hair yet and he's got a smear of bacon grease on his cheek, but he's so beautiful in that moment - so full of joy it shines out of him, like a lighthouse.

Just because he found a feather. Steve smiles back, helplessly besotted. "Pretty cool."

Eddie twirls the feather between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “That’s a sign that today is gonna be a good day.”

Steve presses his mouth to the edge of his coffee cup to hide his expression. “Yeah, I think so too.”

———

Eddie rolls into the Family Video parking lot around 2 in the afternoon to visit before his band practice. He strolls inside and leans against the counter, plonking a silver wrapped Hershey kiss down in front of Steve.

“Kiss for a kiss?” he says, with a smarmy grin. Steve rolls his eyes, but he checks to make sure they’re alone in the store before swooping forward for a quick peck on the lips.

“I got you something too,” he says.

“Oh?” Eddie raises one eyebrow, managing to look both curious and skeptical. “Please tell me it’s not a cheesy greeting card.”

Steve flips him the bird before reaching into his pocket. He pulls the keychain out and lets it dangle from one finger in front of Eddie’s face.

His boyfriend’s immediate reaction is to wrinkle his nose in disgust. The keychain is a garish red plastic heart, definitely the antithesis of Eddie’s usual metalhead vibe.

But it’s also sparkly.

Steve’s lips curl into a satisfied smirk as Eddie takes the keychain from him, reluctantly admiring the way light sparks off the flakes of holographic glitter embedded in the plastic. The cheap little thing shimmers like a ruby in the afternoon sun.

“Some kid dropped it. They never came back, so it’s yours if you want it.” (That’s technically true, although Steve has been holding on to it for nearly a month now, waiting for today.)

“Oh, well then.” Eddie stuffs the keychain into his pocket. “Finders keepers, losers weepers!” He sticks his tongue out, eyes wide and exaggerated – then leans across the counter and licks Steve’s nose.

“Gross!” Steve sputters with laughter. He scrubs at his face and looks up just in time to see Eddie wave jauntily on his way out the door, a second Hershey kiss left sitting on the counter in his wake.

———

After Steve's shift is over, he runs home for a quick shower and a change of clothes before meeting Eddie at the diner.

He did his best to talk his boyfriend into going on a proper date, but the most he could get Eddie to agree to was milkshakes and a movie (my choice Stevie, not some lame romance).

Steve walks into the diner and spots Eddie at the back booth. He saunters over and sets the third present onto the sticky Formica table with a click. It's a small golden gear, nearly paper-thin.

"Check it out. Found this in the parking lot."

(That's a lie. Steve carefully picked apart a broken old watch from the thrift shop in order to extract a handful of the little gears.)

"Hey, cool! I bet I could use this in the model I'm working on." Eddie pulls the pack of cigarettes out of his coat pocket and drops the gear inside for safe keeping.

"What's the model for?" Steve asks.

Eddie launches into an animated explanation of the character he's creating for a new Hellfire campaign - a sun-worshiping priest that intends to trick the party into becoming a ritual sacrifice.

"... and that gear thing would look pretty good on the top of his staff."

Steve doesn't understand much of what Eddie's saying, but he loves the way his boyfriend talks with his whole body, moving his hands and shoulders and head along with the words. He rests his chin in his hand and lets Eddie ramble until the milkshakes arrive, smiling like a dope the whole time.

Eddie has no concept of time, so Steve is in charge of making sure they finish their milkshakes and leave the diner in time to make it to the movie. As Eddie slides into the passenger seat of the BMW, he says, “Hey – you think we have enough time to stop by the Circle K?”

Steve turns in his seat as he reverses out of the parking lot. "What do you need at the Circle K?"

"Snacks! You can't go to a movie without provisions Stevie! And don't say we can buy some at the concessions stand, because the prices they charge are ridiculous."

“Well if we stop now, we’ll be late – but I’ve got some Milk Duds and trail mix…” Steve doesn’t realize what’s happening until it’s too late. Eddie pops open the glove compartment in his search for snacks, revealing Steve’s little stash of gifts.

Eddie frowns in confusion. “What the hell?” He rifles through the pile as Steve groans.

“Shit. You weren’t supposed to see those yet.”

“What is all this?” Eddie picks up a ring, turning it over in his hands. It's a bulky silver biker ring, like the ones Eddie wears every day - only this one is shaped like a bat with tiny ruby eyes. Steve is particularly proud of that one, discovered in a box of assorted rings at the pawn shop.

Steve gnaws at his lip and runs a hand through his hair, ruining all his careful styling. "I know you hate Valentines, but I wanted to do something. Just… to show you how much I love you. So instead of the cards and flowers and stuff, I tried to find little things you might actually like. For your, you know… your 'dragon hoard' or whatever you call it."

"So the keychain and the gear..."

"And the feather."

Eddie's eyebrow twitches. He stares at the contents of the glove compartment; at the water smoothed stone from the lake and the multicolored twist of ribbon, the vivid green marble and the tiny mother of pearl locket. He looks down at the ring still clutched in his hand, and blinks rapidly.

Steve glances nervously between Eddie and the road, hands tight on the steering wheel. He's disappointed that the surprise has been ruined, but more concerned about Eddie's reaction. He'd expected the other boy to laugh or tease him, not this... whatever this is.

Finally, Eddie clears his throat roughly and speaks. "Actually, can we just head back to my place? I've got something I wanna show you, and I don't think I can wait through the movie."

“Uh… sure.”

Steve's brain is buzzing as he takes a left instead of a right at the intersection. He's worked himself into a bit of a panic by the time they pull into the Munson's driveway. "Eddie, I..."

Eddie interrupts him, practically throwing himself across the center console as he drags Steve into a fierce kiss. By the time Eddie lets him go, Steve is panting. "Wha...?"

"Wait here," Eddie says with a wild grin. He presses Steve back into the seat for emphasis. "Don't move."

He takes the steps up the porch two at a time and fumbles with his key to get inside as Steve watches in a daze. He has no idea what's going on.

After a few minutes, Eddie returns to the door. He's pulled on a t-shirt with a faux tuxedo printed on the front, and he's standing straight backed in the doorway with a towel over his arm, like some kind of maître d’. He waves grandly toward Steve, beckoning him toward the house.

Steve snorts with laughter as he climbs out of the BMW. “What are you doing?”

"This way sir," Eddie replies in a terrible attempt at a posh English accent. Steve shakes his head, thoroughly bewildered and increasingly amused.

He walks past Eddie through the doorway and freezes in surprise.

The living room has been transformed. Eddie set up the gaming table in the middle of the room – set with a crisp white tablecloth, the Munson’s best dishes, and a vase full of red roses sitting in the center of the table, flanked by two candles. More candles twinkle softly from the coffee table, the end tables - even on top of the tv.

"Eddie..." Steve whispers in awe. "What is this?"

"Well, ah... I kind of jumped the gun a little. It’s supposed to be a candlelight dinner. If we'd gone to the movie, Wayne would have had time to get all the food set up. But it won’t take long, I already cooked everything. Just gotta heat it up."

Steve’s vision goes watery, smearing the candlelight into one big blur as tears fill his eyes. He blinks hard to clear them. “I thought you hated all this stuff.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Well, yeah I do. But you love it. So I wanted to surprise you.”

Steve grips his boyfriend by the front of his ridiculous t-shirt and pulls him into a bone-cracking hug, before pulling back just far enough to kiss the breath from him.

In a pause between kisses, Steve rests his forehead against Eddie’s and laughs a little breathlessly. “What made you change your mind about the movie?”

Eddie bites his lips, already swollen from kisses. Steve can’t tear his eyes away.

“I don’t know. When I saw all that stuff you collected for me…” he clears his throat, staring at Steve with wide dark eyes. “I’m… I know I’m weird. I’ve known that my whole life. I never thought I would find anyone that would tolerate me, let alone… celebrate me like that.”

He kisses Steve again, sweet and soft. “I couldn’t sit and wait for two hours after that. I had to get you home and show you how much I love you.”

“I love you too.” Steve smiles against Eddie’s mouth. “You know… I’m not really hungry yet.”

“Oh yeah?”

Steve trails his hands down Eddie’s chest, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans and tugging. “Mm-hmm. I think we need to work up an appetite first.”

Eddie laughs in delight. “Sounds like a good idea. You know how much I like dessert before dinner.”

A happy Valentine’s Day indeed.

#steddie #steddie fic #my writing #Valentine’s day ficlet #I’ve been working on this over a week #and still ended up having to rush to finish for today #not real happy with it #I wish I was a faster writer

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medium-rare-bimbo · 10 months

Text

Teehee hopper punishing you

♡masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

Contains: spanking, mean! Hopper, daddy kink

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

"Who do you belong to?"

"S-Steve HarRINGTON-"

His hands tighten their grip on your hips arching them so your head is shoved into the pillows below you.

"You want to repeat that? Who" -thrust- "do" -thrust- "you" -thrust- "belong" -thrust- "to?"

"S-StEve-" you answer is cut off by a harsh slap to your ass, your skin prickles as the impact burns, a deep bruise would settle in its place the next morning reminding you of your idiotic behaviour.

It's not your fault that you're acting out like this, honestly. Hopper never let's you do anything >:(( you're his dirty little secret and you hate it (although you cant deny the thrill you get when sneaking around with him), the constant flirting with women yet you're barely allowed to talk to a boy :(( why can he flirt yet you cant?? Its not fair !!! You've hinted at becoming his and only his but he always reminds you that you already belong to him, that's not what you mean and he knows it. You want the entire world to know who you belong to !! Officer jim hopper !! You want to be able to hold his hand and kiss him in public :(( if he wasnt going to let you have you're fun you might aswell find it somewhere else, Why behave like a good girl when pretty boy Steve Harrington can give you all the public attention you could ever want??

Your plan had horribly backfired, you had not expected hopper to find you mid act in the back of Steve's car. Shame, embarrassment and regret washed over you as hopper made some half assed excuse to usher you into the police car instead of letting the boy (who had just had his cock inside you) drive you home.

The drive was quiet and you hadn't said a word to eachother since the car started, when you were pulled into his house you didnt try to stop him nor did you try to defuse the situation you've gotten yourself into.

Which is how you got here;

Hoppers thrusts got more brutal as you refused to answer him correctly, each thrust pushing you up the bed almost hitting your head on the headboard (which hoppers hand was holding as to not cause too much noise occasionally leaving to play with your body) you've never felt so full before and although steve has big nobody was as big as hopper, with fury fueling his movements he was able to hit spots you didnt know existed.

You could feel your orgasm build up as the abuse on your cunt refused to cease, your insides would be rubbed raw from the way he was playing with you however Hopper pulled out before your peak hit, removing any sort of stimulation from your aching pussy. You mewled in despair almost sobbing as you were stolen from that sweet release of pleasure

"Nonononononono please- I- i need to cum please let me cum I'm sorry- please! I didnt mean to- I- i just did it for attention he meant nothing i promise- daddy please I'll be good just let me cum-"

SMACK

"Oh so You'll be good now? AFTER you've been bad?-"

SMACK

"If you didnt prance around like a stupid slut you would get to cum wouldnt you?"

You nodded your head, tears leaking from your eyes and onto the pillow your face was previously shoved into. Whines left your swollen lips yet hopper payed no attention, preferring to watch your hole clench and unclench with desperation to be filled. His thumb came to rest on your opening pulling at the flesh to watch the slick spread.

"PleASE daddy please I'm so sorry- I should have never done it! jus' wanted you to pay attention to me! dont like hiding us- d- didn' think you'd care about it-"

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK

you squealed into the pillow as his heavy hands rained down on your sensitive behind. Your face was hot and lips were sore from how your teeth caught on them when you cried, cheeks puffy and soaked with tears.

"Didnt think I cared about it?" He shoved himself back inside of you the burn of the sudden breach made you squirm but were quickly held still by the big man above you, a hand holding both of your hands against your back forcing it to arch, the other holding your head in the pillow as to muffle the sounds escaping you.

"Does this look like I dont care?" -A thrust matching each syllable he spoke- "do you think I'm okay with my girl whoring herself out to whatever man gives her attention?"

"Nu uh- i- I'm so sorry daddy jus' thought-"

A particularly hard thrust knocked the breath out of you cutting of your rambled apology.

"Thought what? That you could get away with being a slut?"

"NO no no no I didn't think tha'- th-thought that I wasn' your girl- thought you didn' wan' me to be"

Hoppers thrusts softened yet still had their strength as he took in your words he has told you countless of times that you belonged to him and him only. perhaps the hickeys, hip bruises, marks on your ass and limping wasnt enough for you? Or maybe you wanted eveyone to see it, the entirety of Hawkins watching the mean old man swoon for his pretty little girlfriend. He had always thought you knew that, always thought you were the one that didnt want to show affection in public.

You're sobs of gratification do not fall on deaf ears as you mutter out praises and thank yous, most of what you say is unintelligible too caught up in the pleasure he was finally giving you. Hoppers hand reached below you his middle and ring finger finding home on your clit, pinching and circling the poor nub as best he could giving the unpaused movements of his hips.

Moans and squeals fell out of you as you felt your orgasm build up again, a part of your brain wanted to scream with agony fearing the rejection and denial of release but that thought was swept over as hopper held your body closer to his. His chest touching your back with his head in the crook of your neck whispering praises that you couldnt hear, drowned out by the collision of your lower halves.

"Ah shit fuck- oh god baby cum for me come on- good girl- such a good girl for me being so well behaved- cum as much as you like there you go baby-"

"I love you daddy s'much- I love you- I love you- i love you pleeeaase-" before you had the chance to continue your love filled rambles your orgasm washed over with such force you collapsed on the bed, too focused on the feeling to continue to stay up, instead letting hopper hold you up by your hips.

"thaaat's it- well done c'mon get it all out for me-" he growled out almost reaching his end as your now damaged and sensitive pussy clenched around him. "Gonna cum in my girl- make sure it stains yo- shit- your insides make it- make it drip out of you-"

With a final harsh thrust hopper came inside you his hips stuttering as he pumped you full of his thick seed making sure to finally claim you, panting above you to catch his breathe when the pleasure died down. His vision cleared to see you in a spaced out haze, barely awake and too fucked out to care. Carefully he pulled out of you rubbing soothing circles on your hips as he began to free himself of your tightness, you whimpered in protest desperate to keep him inside you aswell as the warmth he gave you. You felt every vein and ridge of his cock leave your pussy giving you a cum filled hole in place. some of it leaked out of you and down your thighs yet hopper was quick to stuff it back with his fingers.

"Who do you belong to?"

"J-Jim hopper"

The next day he took you on a date and for the first time held you hand for eveyone to see <3<3

#stranger things x reader #jim hopper smut #jim hopper x reader #hopper smut #hopper x reader

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magpiepills · 10 days

Text

Escritorio

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Javier Pena x f reader

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: after you make a serious mistake at work, Javi decides to help you make it up to the team.

Warnings: SMUT! PIV, smoking Javi, fingering, oral, I can’t remember what else. PWP, you know the drill.

A word from the author: this is a repost! I can’t remember why I wrote this, and it’s not my best work, but I sure was horny over the idea of him smoking while he fingers reader.

It’s Saturday night, eleven PM. You're sitting and stewing in Steve’s desk chair, going over the disastrous day your team had just had. Steve had gone home hours ago, begging off with an excuse about his wife and kid but Javier had stayed to do paperwork and go over maps and statements, planning how to move forward from the complete intelligence disaster you caused. You sighed softly and slumped, tapping your pencil eraser against your lip, feeling it stick slightly to your fading chapstick. No amount of weak office coffee could make your day less of a chore.

As the newest member of the team, you were obligated to stay as long as the last person in the office did. It was some sort of hazing, apparently. Your senior co-worker, agent Javier Peña knew that, and he was happy to continue the tradition. He often worked late anyway since he had trouble sleeping. He figured he may as well accomplish something.

You had thought that the silence between you was comfortable, if not a bit tinged with annoyance on his part at having to scrap so much hard work. You didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with small talk and work was a sore subject, so you just tried to look busy. Now though, Javi looks across the desks at you and frowns, clicking his tongue.

“What’s the matter, baby? You sure had a lot to say earlier. Can’t run your mouth now? If you hadn't been so damn talkative with my CI, maybe they wouldn't have run off on us and maybe weeks of work wouldn't have been for nothing. Maybe you’d be home right now.”

You dropped your forehead into your palm, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew he was right. You’d gotten careless and tipped your hand, spooking a close associate of Escobar’s who’d been nearly ready to talk. You knew all that. Now you’re tired and cranky and this man is pushing your buttons.

“I’m sorry, Javi. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I’m going to fix it.”

You’re getting aggravated now at having to apologize again for something you’ve already apologized to him and Steve and your boss for already. Multiple times you’d been contrite and you genuinely were sorry to have cost your team valuable time and intel. Javi just couldn’t let it go, though. He couldn’t let you move forward until he felt you’d learned your lesson. He felt that it was his job to make sure you felt enough shame, you guessed. Shame had come and gone, though and now you’re ready to snap. Moments passed and he didn’t say anything else, and the room was quiet once again and you were grateful when his eyes left you and went back to his work. You really didn’t want to argue with someone who had been on the job a lot longer than you. Someone you had to see day in and day out. Someone you might harbor just the tiniest crush on. Even If he pissed you off.

The room was warm and still, if not for the yellow haze and hum of the fluorescent lights you could have fallen asleep, instead you raised your head when you heard Javier’s chair groan and creak as he stood and came to lean against Steve’s desk. He gives you a look that borders on regret and drags you to your feet, pulling you close to him. You gasp at the sudden proximity. Your mind is racing and you can’t find the words or make your limbs move to protest.

All you manage is an exasperated “Javi? What are you d-” before his hands begin roaming your body and he lowers his voice as he rubs his nose against your temple. You can smell the cigarettes and mint of his breath as he speaks softly

“I spent a lot of nights in this office, working my ass off chasing down leads. Time I could have used a lot better. Now I think you owe me. I think you should make it worth it to me.”

Your chest is heaving and flushed at how close he is, how you can feel his mustache on your face and the heat of his hands makes you feel like you’re melting. You feel yourself clench involuntarily as your pussy throbs with need, but you’re incensed at his suggestion that you owe anything to him personally.

“I don’t owe you anything, Javi. I’ve been chewed out. Everyone is pissed at me. I’ve been adequately shamed, alright?”

It didn’t seem like he was listening to you at all, though, he’s got his own ideas of retribution.

Warm, soft kisses are being pressed along your neck, up your cheek and to the corner of your mouth. Wanting him is so easy, and for a moment you let yourself imagine something more. Something soft and domestic, something totally disconnected from your current reality, the reality that abruptly slams you back into the moment.

“Javi!” Your shout only comes out as a gasp as he moves you. He is gentle but firm as he turns you and presses his wide palm between your shoulder blades to bend you over his desk, making you jolt with a firm slap on the ass.

“You’ve done something wrong and you’ve got to be punished. You don’t get to come until you’re on my cock, and you don’t get my cock until you’ve learned your lesson. Do you understand?”

You’re loathe to give him the satisfaction, but your body is responding to your obnoxiously, astoundingly attractive asshole partner whether you like it or not. A pathetic moan escapes you as you squirm under the weight of his hand. If you’re being honest with yourself, you do like it. Maybe you’d have quit trying so hard at your job months ago if you knew that making his life harder would land you ass up on his desk with your panties soaked. Maybe the day could be salvaged after all.

While Javi has you bent over the desk, he’s just leaned back in his chair, keeping your legs spread with his knees, landing a few more heavy smacks to your ass over your skirt. He smooths his hands over the fabric after each swat, squeezing and soothing the sting. When he has had enough, he tugs your skirt up to your hips and slips his middle and index finger under the damp gusset of your underwear and pulls them aside, exposing your cunt. Javi takes his time lavishing attention on your pussy.

He spreads your slick all over your folds, increasing pressure when he slides his thumb over your clit. You writhe with pleasure, desperate for more of his touch, but determined not to beg. This earns you another firm, wet smack to your already reddened cheek.

“Stay still.” Javi’s voice is firm but passive. “You’ll take what I give you until you can behave.”

His hand returns to your pussy and he uses both thumbs to slide against your clit, rolling it between them, making you cry out, but you’re careful to stay still this time. Not letting you get too close, he abandons your clit and slips one thumb and then the other into your clenching hole. He thrusts shallow and slow, gently stretching you open, watching as you drip just for him. He keeps his pace and when you’re whimpering and clenching hard, he pulls his hands away.

“Stand up.”

You groaned at the loss, making him smirk. Always so cocky. If he was anyone else right now, you’d have smacked him and ran. But he’s not anyone, he’s Javi, so you stand and turn to face him, eager to find out what will happen next, but not wanting to show it.

“Take this off. Slowly.” He tugs at the sleeve of your emerald green chiffon blouse and doesn’t try to hide how his glassy eyes wander hungrily over your body as you obey.

You unbutton your blouse and let it fall behind you, then unzip your skirt, pushing it over your hips and stepping out of it with a click of your heels. You lift your foot to pull off one of the pumps- nothing special, modest height and black, a good office shoe, but Javier stopped you.

“Leave them on. I like them.”

His admission was endearing in a way. You stood before him, in your work heels, your basic black bra, and your ruined black panties that didn’t match the bra but you were glad that they were at least the same color. You cursed yourself for being in this position. Nearly naked at work with your coworker, letting him touch you, letting him have his way, doing what he told you, and then regretting that you didn’t wear a prettier lingerie set to work just in case your devastatingly beautiful coworker decided today was the day he would sweep you off your feet? Madness.

“Javi, you could have asked me to dinner. That’s what gentlemen usually do when they want to fuck someone.”

His breath warmed your neck before he kissed you there.

“Guess I’m not a gentleman.”

Javier lit a cigarette, and tilted his head as he took a long, contemplative drag. You waited for him to say anything, but he just looked you over.

“Didn’t say you could stop, cariño. The rest- off.”

It was becoming hard to differentiate between your feelings of annoyance, anger, and lust. You wanted to smack him, to scream at him, and to climb into his lap to fuck yourself on his cock until you were both spent and breathless. You could only imagine what it was like, because while you unclasped your bra and slipped your panties off, he was fully dressed in jeans and a soft white shirt unbuttoned down his chest and exposing only his strong neck and a bit of his impossibly broad and golden shoulders. Javier Pena was a Texan Adonis, with his wide shoulders, slim waist and hips, a head of thick, curly, dark hair, and a curved nose that drove you wild. You could easily imagine him cast in bronze or chiseled from marble, brooding for all eternity.

He ate lunch at his desk some days and you envied whatever fruit he mindlessly devoured, lips, tongue, and teeth sinking into it while the tip of his nose got sticky with sweet juice. He really pissed you off. You pissed yourself off when you realized that you were now standing naked between his spread knees and his desk waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

“Up on the desk for me, querida. Lean back.”

There was no point in fighting it now, you’re naked at work, you’ve had your co-workers hands on your pussy. One leg and then the other were lifted until both your knees were in the air. Javi held your legs open with one big hand on your thigh and the other, with a cigarette between two long fingers held the other gently at the knee. You knew in no time at all the slick that had been gathering would trickle down onto his desk.

No eye contact has been made, no agreements, no declarations of love or admiration, just a series of instructions that you followed without question. He was so leisurely in the way he gazes you you, his eyes roaming over your ankles, knees, thighs, hips, stomach, tits and arms. He tilted his head and released a cloud of smoke over you.

“Do it, Javi. Whatever you’re waiting for, I’m not going to beg you, so just do it. I want to get home.”

He scoffed at that, raised his thick eyebrows in amusement.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be so demanding. Maybe it’s time you learned some patience. It’ll do you good.”

Your head dropped back to the desk with a quiet thud, exasperated and nearly out of energy to pretend you hadn’t wanted to fuck Javier since the day you first saw him. You’d spotted him across from across the street in tight jeans and a tighter black shirt that hugged his biceps, bounding up the stairs outside the embassy two at a time in a macho display that made you roll your eyes and squeeze your thighs together simultaneously. There may as well be a flashing pink neon sign floating above his head that says SEX GOD.

When your resolve broke, you were rewarded with a hot mouth to your cunt. Slow, methodical licks that teased your clit, broad stripes that spread your slick and his saliva over your folds, open mouthed kisses that sucked your folds between his lips, tender kisses to your puffy labia, and finally, his lips covering your clit to suck it and circle it with his tongue.

Your hips jerked and your knees wanted to close around his head, but he kept you open with his strong hands. You felt the hand on your thigh squeeze your soft flesh before sliding down and resting right at the crease between your leg and your pussy for a moment before you felt him at your entrance. First one finger pushed inside, then another, and when combined with the constant movement over your clit, your vision blurred. You barreled toward your orgasm, hungry for relief, and in a flash it was snatched away. His fingers slipped from your tight cunt and came down to smack twice against your cheek.

By the time your eyes refocused, Javier was standing, leaning over you to crush his cigarette into the ashtray by your head. It was all you could do not to cry.

“What are you doing? Why’d you stop?” You asked weakly.

Javi shook his head in disbelief.

“You’re never going to learn, are you? You’re a stubborn girl, you know that?”

A tear leaked from the corner of your eye and disappeared into your hair.

What happened next was an affront to feminism and you’d deny it until the day you died.

“Please, Javi. I’m sorry. You’re right. I was reckless and impatient and I should have asked for your help. Javi, please!”

It was exactly what he was waiting for.

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

The condescension had disappeared from his voice and he sounded gentler now, like he was nearly as desperate as you were. It made it easier to beg.

“Fuck me Javi. Now. Please!”

You raised into your elbows and watched as he palmed his cock through his jeans, the thick roll of him unmistakable as it reached across his left hip.

“I think you’ve earned it. You want to come on my cock now? Think you can handle it?”

Thick fingers worked his belt open, followed by the button and zipper, and when his cock was freed, you couldn’t help the way our jaw dropped to your chest.

Javier Peña’s cock was glorious. Thick and long, tan, with a vein along one side that ended just below his smooth foreskin, pulled taut by his throbbing erection, an opalescent bead of precum spilled down over the head.

The sight of him stroking himself before you was at once heavenly and pornographic. It made you want to take up oils and pastels and fill canvases with devoted studies of his turgid member.

“Fuck, Javi. Let me have it, please. Need it.”

Your eyelids feel heavy, your mouth watering at the sight of him. He had reduced you to a simpering mess, and he loved it. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a teasing half smile at the sight of you, so needy for him.

Your folds were slick, swollen, and sensitive. You whined when he slid his heavy cock through them, rubbing over your clit.

“This what you need? Hm? Are you going to come like this, or are you ready to take me now?”

He was teasing, but his voice had a faint waver of desire, telling of his own need. Before you could answer, he was inside you, the thick tip of him stretching you, stilling there for a moment before he worked the rest of his length into the tight grasp of your cunt. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with firm strokes.

“Fuck- so fucking tight, taking me so well.”

Javi moved your ankles to his shoulders and kissed your ankle, it was the most tender he’s been since this little game of his started. The first crack. One rough hand found its way to your breast, squeezing your nipple between two fingers. The sensation of his calloused hand on your smooth skin pushed you closer to your release. You were teetering on the edge, waiting for him to either pull you back or let you go over. You didn’t care which anymore. Everything else was meaningless with Javier inside you.

You bucked your hips up, searching for friction against your clit, Javi’s hand left your tit, trailing it down your stomach, over your mound to rest his palm while his thumb traced circles around your bundle of nerves.

“You look so beautiful, all full of cock.”

Words failed you. You looked at him, eyes glazed and half lidded, only able to moan.

“I like you like this. You can’t be a smart ass. I should have fucked you months ago. Be good for both of us.”

His voice was becoming ragged, his own release begging to be found inside your walls. “Come on, cariño. Come on my cock. Let me feel you. I know you’re close. Come for me.”

His command was the last push you needed. Your orgasm washed over you, rippling out from your core, making you whimper for him. The rhythmic squeeze of your pussy, your blissed out face, your bouncing tits, everything he had been dreaming of since he had first seen you all worked together to make Javi come hard deep in your pussy, pulsing his spend against your cervix. He groaned and held your hips tight against him, utterly wrecked as he came down, eyes bleary and jaw slack.

He eased out of you with a groan, and watched as his cum slowly trickled down the curve of your ass. Neither of you spoke, you laid across his desk, among the crumpled papers and the spilled pencil cup, and he stood holding your legs, gently rubbing up and down your calf, catching your breath and looking at how you’d ruined each other.

When you had the wherewithal to get up and straighten yourself back up, Javi passed you his handkerchief. It would have been chivalrous if you weren’t wiping his cum from your thighs.

He watched you redress as he tucked himself back into his jeans, only bothering to fasten three buttons, then lit a cigarette, offering it to you first. You took it, avoiding his gaze, not knowing what to say to him now. You sat on the desk and inhaled the bitter smoke, then blew it away. You looked down at the glowing end of the cigarette, contemplating the almost certain end of your career when you felt a warm hand on your thigh.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home, it’s late.”

You nodded, and slung your purse over your shoulder, and as you walked out the door, Javi spoke again.

“Don’t worry about the CI. It’s not a big deal, happens to everybody. We’ll get the next one.”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #smut #pedro pascal as javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javi pena narcos #javi peña #javi pena #javier peña #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you #javi pena smut

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

hi bestie 🥺👉👈 I saw that your requests are open so… yandere!nomad!Steve falling for someone while on the run, he still wears disguises and stays low profile so it’s easy to follow her around, but he grows tired of the distance and strikes !! me thinks… he has her swooning immediately (after all, he already knows everything about her), and goes full daddy mode during their first time: rough and nasty but sweet, a dash of mean and condescending bc she fell right into his trap 🫶✨

hi, baby! I really hope you like this, and I'm sorry it took so long, I wasn't expecting a literal writing goddess to request something, so I wanted to make it as good as possible!🥺

summary - the moment steve saw you, he knew he needed to have you. so he thought the best way to get to know you... was to stalk you, what happens when he finally makes his move?

warning - stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, semi-public, smut, daddy kink, potential kidnapping.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips and @firefly-graphics

Steve couldn’t stop. For months, he’s been following you wherever you go, watching you. He’s even gone as far as stalking you to your home, sneaking a peek through the windows. His favourite part was when you slept, well, the second favourite. Nothing could beat watching you shower and lathering your nude form with lotions afterwards or the fact you’d take out your pathetic excuse of a toy and shyly play with your pretty little cunt.

A grunt falls from his lips as he tugs on his throbbing member. Steve’s lust-filled eyes focus on your exposed cotton white knickers, balls tightening as the cloth sticks to your folds. The thought of getting caught excites him even more. Steve watches your soft breasts bounce when you stand, and the sight causes him to pick up the pace.

When Steve feels his end approach, he stops and tucks his hard cock back into his pants. A dark smile forms on his face as he stands at full height. Steve’s grown tired of just watching you. He wants to feel you under him. He wants to make you moan his name instead of those pathetic ones you let out with your small toy.

The burly man takes long strides toward the naive woman. When he gets close enough, your vanilla perfume fills his senses. His cock twitches, and the excitement of finally talking to you, makes him nearly cum. He clears his throat as he stands behind you, needing your attention.

The squeak that leaves your mouth and how you look up at him with those doe-like eyes as you spin around. Nearly make Steve go feral, he offers a charming smile, hoping not to scare you away. Steve holds back a smirk as you relax under his gaze, “sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you look and had to come to introduce myself.” He puts a handout, nearly groaning when you slip your small one onto his. “I’m Steve.”

“I’m Y–Y/n” He brings her hand to his lips and gently kisses her flesh, enjoying how her cheeks turn a rosy pink.

“That’s a beautiful name, which doesn’t surprise me as you look like a goddess.” A smooth chuckle leaves his lips, his hand still holding yours as he looks down at you. “Would a gorgeous woman like yourself be willing to let me take her out?” A dark smile appears on Steve’s face when you nod, cheeks turning a darker shade of pink.

“D–Daddy! Too much! Ohhh.” Steve growls, slowly pulling his cock from your tight cunt only to thrust back in roughly. One hand grips your hip while the other pulls the front of your dress down, groaning as your breasts bounce free. Steve leans down and latches onto your nipple, grunting as you pulse around his thick, throbbing member.

“T–Too much? Is my cock too big for the poor baby?” His large form leans over your tiny body, squashing you further into the bed as his thrusts continue. “Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you, baby? I thought you said you could take me. Were you lying to me, sweetheart?” His cock throbs as you whimper, feeling his cock throb as thick tears roll down your face. You feel so full and split open at the same time your mind begins to go dumb. “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you can answer me. Don’t you want to make daddy happy?”

“I do! I do! I wan’ make daddy happy! F–Feels good, so good!” You babble, drool leaking out of your mouth and eyes rolling to the back of your head, legs tightening around his waist, wanting to feel him deeper. A whine escapes you as his thrusts become more brutal, causing your body to move up the bed. “Daddy! M–my daddy!”

Steve grunts, his darkened blue eyes glaring down at your sopping cunt, watching his cock pierce in and out of you. “That’s right, sweetheart. All yours, just like you’ll always be mine.” Your hands curl and grip the blankets, biting into your lip as you stare up at the god-like man. Steve deepens his thrusts. “You going to be my good girl and cum? Cover daddy’s cock with your juices?” You nod, whimpering and crying as your walls tighten and spasm around him. Steve groans as it becomes harder for him to pound into you. Using some of his super soldier strength, he pushes through. His eyes roll back as you squeeze his thick member. Juices squirt from your used hole, covering him and the sheets around you. Your body sags into the bed, and exhausted moans leave you when he continues to pound into you, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. Steve buries deep inside you, letting go, spurts of his thick cum filling and leaking out of you.

You whimper when Steve pulls out of you, tiredly watching as he lifts his finger and collects the cum that leaks from your hole and pushes it back in with a curl of his finger. “D–Daddy…” Steve continues to thrust and curl his finger until you twitch and more of your juices coat him.

He takes his finger out and puts it into his mouth, groaning as he tastes you. His eyes roll back, sucking your juices off of his finger. Steve crawls beside you and pulls your used body against his large one, stroking your hair as you slowly drift off to sleep. “It’s okay, sweetheart….” He looks down at you and smirks, “You have no idea how much I have been holding myself back from you.” Steve leans down and presses a kiss on the top of your head whilst whispering. “And now that I’ve finally had you, I’m never letting you go. I love you too much to let you slip from my fingers, my sweet baby doll.”

He lies back, slowly drifting to sleep with you in his arms, smiling as he thinks of the cute little sounds you’ll make as you cry when you wake up and find yourself in an unknown place. Steve found you once and won’t let the last of his happiness disappear.

You will be Steve’s forever… whether you like it or not.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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rustedhearts · 4 months

Text

my funny valentine (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: the hand-written evidence of an affair between high school sweethearts, displaced and reunited after war.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the library

♡ the record store

tags: “darling” used as reader insert name; infidelity; mention of war/violence; darling + steve are 35 at the time these letters are written. the time skip signifies lost letters (as they might, in actuality, get lost over the years)

"you make me smile with my heart...stay little valentine, please stay. each day is valentine's day."

— my funny valentine, ella fitzgerald

May 22nd, 1961

My Darling,

Please excuse this intrusion….I got your address from a neighbor. It was so lovely to see you today. I just couldn’t stand the thought of going one more moment without speaking more to you.

I couldn’t believe you thought me lost to you. Though, I cannot blame you for this train of thought. I was gone so long. It was silly to believe you would have waited all your life. Two years was long enough….I don’t blame you for moving on. But did you need to move to London? My Darling, it’s so far from home. I can excuse the new husband given my absence and its circumstance, but the distance will not do.

Nevertheless, I’m rambling. What I truly wanted to say, what I have longed to say since I boarded that train, and what I have wanted to say all day since seeing you on that wet little park bench in your fur coat….I still love you with all my heart. Is there any chance you still love me, too?

Yours,

Steve Harrington

May 24th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

Of course I still love you. You can imagine how confusing a feeling this is to me. Given the circumstance of a loving, successful husband found after such a long mourning period in which I now ponder the merit of….how could I still love you? It goes against all good graces which that of Almighty God intends for me.

But it doesn’t change the way my heart soars for you. The way it did when I saw you approach from across the pond in that tattered coat you’re still clinging to. Your hair is longer. I find it handsome.

I feel a sting of wrongdoing course through me as I etch these words down. Though I love you, Steve, we must not continue to write. Please tell me once what you endured, and then never more. I must have the answers I went so long without. I am allowing myself this selfishness.

However, when the tale is done, I cannot allow myself the selfishness of going on. My life has altered greatly since our time together, and my duties and responsibilities now lie elsewhere. I hope you can understand.

Sincerely,

Darling

May 30th, 1961

Darling girl,

I will begin first by disregarding the words that pierced me so. I will find it difficult to post this letter and think of it as the last of mine that you will ever read. Perhaps, by the end of it, you will have changed your mind.

When I left for Germany, it was as though we were thrown to the wolves. Peril and anguish and torment were all we knew. Myself, the men boys I fought with. We were all so young. Eighteen, twenty, the youngest seventeen. I cannot explain to you the horror of watching a young man’s arm blown off.

But you do not want to hear this. You want to hear of matters obtaining to you, of course. Answers you asked for and answers you shall retain. You’ve waited long enough.

When I returned to America two months after D-Day, I was bodily unscathed but no longer the man you knew. I found myself bound to fits of emotional and physical violence. Days of hysteria and madness that alarmed even my hostess. I was in no fit state to see you. I was, as well, thousands of miles away in California. So, when we were told to board for our way home, I did not go.

California was far enough that you could not find me and the man I had become.

My Darling, I wish I had sweeter excuses than these. I wish I could scrawl something of manly note, but…I owe you honesty. This, my sweet dear, is the honest truth. I was a hollow shell of the man you once knew. And I was afraid to return home to you.

Time in California fell like a whirlpool. A year had passed, and then two. By the time I had some handle on my fits, had worked through my madness and set home for you, you were gone. Your mother said ‘off to London,‘ and with a new beau to accompany you. A husband.

Something I was supposed to be.

Where I failed, I suppose he thrived. I hope you are happy, sweet girl.

Please, feel obliged to reply.

Yours still,

Steve

June 12th, 1961

Steve,

You always knew just how to sweeten the bitterness of goodbye. So much sweetness that I grow too sick to move through with it. Alas, that is why I’ve picked up my pen to write again. Curse you, Steve Harrington. You have such hold over me.

Now, I think it only right that I answer the questions you have not asked, but that I know you are curious of. Reggie is my husband, and we met two summers after the end of the war. I went so long pale and sick with grief, thinking I lost you to Heaven. I had come to terms with this, buried any idea that you might come home.

Reggie was a businessman, in town for dealings. He hails from London, which is the swift explanation for my immigration here. Our love was quick and easy, and when he asked me to marry him on our fifth date, I had no reason not to say yes. You were, in the mind of a young girl engaged to a soldier that did not come home, gone. There was no vow or promise being broken.

I would, however, be breaking all promises of honesty under God if I were to say I have not thought of you in these past years.

I feel an indescribable ache for your suffering, and all the suffering of young men in a similar state to yours. I take your words as oath, as I promised to do so many years ago...which is why I can assure that my heart weeps for you so. Not just for your suffering, but for your company. I think it always might.

Might we allow ourselves one more act of selfishness? An act in the park, Sunday afternoon?

Please return soon.

Darling

June 14th, 1961 Darling,

I would be happy to oblige you in the park on Sunday. Will 2:00 do? Though, you were always an admirer of early morning strolls. Perhaps 10? You always did love a bird call.

Every post from you makes my heart soar, Darling. Did you know? The prospect of keeping your company for even a few hours has me yearning for a busy week, if only to keep the impatience at bay. I meant it truly when I wished your happiness. Fondly, Steve

June 15th, 1961

Steve,

Yes, 10:00 will do. I will be there, wearing my fur coat.

Eagerly awaiting,

Darling

June 20th, 1961 My Darling, Oh I cannot scrub my mind free of this torment. Our act of selfishness I knew to be tempting, but now I am delirious. If I thought my need for you was strong before, it is insufferably so now. You were so beautiful in your coat, in your plum dress. The color compliments your skin so well. I have not seen your eyes that closely in years. Only in photographs, that I horde and selfishly admire in the depths of dark nights, have I seen those eyes of late. And now here they were, staring up at me. With such blatant love as they did once before. Yes, my Darling, I saw all of it there. Are we to go on lying to ourselves, saying we're better off? Our time has passed, it has been so long, yes. Yes, I know it. But I know also that I cannot go another day without making up for the time lost between. Darling girl, please be selfish with me. Please live our days selfishly for as long as we might have. Yours, Steve

June 22nd, 1961

Steve,

I pride myself for honesty, so I will satisfy you with my brief agreement. My heart thumped so wildly in the park on Sunday that I thought it might break free from my body. Would you catch it in your hands if it had? Would you crush it? Oh, Steve, it has always belonged to your hands. The love you detected was not an illusion. It never died, not even across the sea.

Yet, what of Reggie? I love him dearly, as well, though maybe never quite like I did you. He is, nevertheless, my husband. We have grown to live such a wonderful life. And yes, we cannot have children, but we are finding ways to fill this void. The void will only grow, I fear, if I continue to be selfish with you. I will find new gaps and black holes in our life together, and I cannot be unhappy in a marriage that is sufficiently content.

Please do not ask this of me. My heart cannot bear to say no.

Yours,

Darling

June 24th, 1961 Darling, I know you are frightened, but might our love be stronger than this fear? Please do not deny me, I might break entirely apart. Do you not see the predicament we are in? To lose so many years, yet find each other in a completely different part of the world from where we were born. Is it not an act of God stringing us together again? One night, my sweet Darling. If not an eternity as we once intended, one night will suffice. Please do not say no. Yours waiting, Steve

June 27th, 1961

Sweet Steve,

I have been awake for days, ailing over your proposal. Know I do not intend to make any decision without a full realization of every consequence. To deny you would leave me with an ache like no other forever plagued on my heart. To accept, I would part ways with the very peace of mind that my marriage is pure of all faults as it is now, and was before you.

Attach the address of your hotel.

Yours,

Darling

June 29th, 1961 Oh my Darling, I believe I read over your words so frequently and at such a swift pace that my eyes are still sore. Attached is the address of my stay, and know I will be waiting no matter the hour. Come as you please, whenever you wish. I will be at the door. To hold you in my arms again is all I can live for in the hours between. Yours, Steve

July 3rd, 1961

Steve,

The loveliest of nights has passed between us, and yet I feel sick with the wrongness of our sheer audacity. Entangled in your arms, wrapped in those cotton sheets just feeling your breath and your flesh as it always was...I cannot think of a better mercy. For our suffering, for our loss. But will I obtain God's forgiveness when the day is to come? For what I have done to Reggie, I think this always a stain on my conscience.

Yet, some sort of delirium has come over me since that night. I seem incapable of clear thinking. If it is stained, let it be stained.

Please write to the attached P.O box from now on. I cannot risk interception, but I cannot risk a silence from you.

My darling Steve, will you stay?

Yours entirely,

Darling

July 5th, 1961 Darling, You cannot fathom how long I have waited to hear these words. Yes, I will stay. Yes, I will be yours, if you shall be mine. The hours allowed to us are the brightest of my days. I will find permanent residence somewhere in traveling distance so long as it allows me proximity to your love. Please come soon. I miss you terribly. Love, Steve

September 19th, 1961 Darling, You were upset last we parted, and my wish to quell your ailing grows stronger by the hour. I have grown to know your marriage and your Reggie as you have told, and I know now he cannot make you happy. I could make you happy, delightfully happy. The children you have always wanted are in our future, I know this is true. Please, change your mind and say yes, and we can have it. The future you crave, the future you deserve. Adventure, and intrigue, and passion that he cannot fathom. I have stared into the depths of your soul, and have bared all parts of my own. Can you say the same of him? Please, my Darling girl. I only think of you. Yours, Steve

September 22nd, 1961

Steve,

It is with aching eyes and a sore, sinking heart that I have prepared this for you. Know the walk to post it felt like a march to the death. In some way, this is death. Part of me, sealed away by your sweet kisses, and tender touches, and all those long hours whispering secrets in the dark. Part of me will always live in these moments, and that part of me has died.

I cannot leave Reggie, and your request of such leaves nowhere for our selfishness to go. We must not go on like this. Not if we are to live full and fulfilling lives without secret and pain. It is too much for one heart to bear. Were we to go on, it would kill me entirely. I must sacrifice a small part to save the whole. Oh, my love, I hope you understand. I hope you can forgive me.

Yours, now and always,

Darling

#rolly!#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Note

Hi! I've spent hours reading your Steddie stuff when I honestly should have been sleeping because work and adulting. Gotta be some of my favorite writing! You have requests/prompts open? I have 2! If you like them :) 1. The Soulmate idea of people having a moving animal tattoo representing their Soulmate. Steve has hyperactive bat who loves to drape itself around his neck quite possessively. Eddie with a retriever pup or something that likes to curl up over his heart. 2. Always a sweetheart Steve? No King Steve era thing. He bugs Eddie to learn about D&D to understand his kids better qnd our poor metal gremlin melts :) I'm Soft Boi, so sorry for no angst.

I'm posting the 1st one here, but on the second one, I am gonna just give a rec instead. Last Man Standing by @griefabyss69 (GriefAbyss on AO3) is kind of this request but taking it to filth level 😈 But anyways, this idea is so fucking cool my dudes. I love a good soulmate AU, and when it's something super unique like this, I lose my shit. I definitely think someone could make a slow burn with this idea and if anyone does, please let me know! - Mickala ❤️

---------------------------------------------------------

He used to hate it.

A bat was such a menacing and disgusting creature.

Anyone who saw it would give him a look that was equal parts apologetic and concerned.

But when Steve started getting left alone at home, when he only had surface level friends, when he cried himself to sleep because the silence wasn’t enough to drown out the negative thoughts, the bat wrapped itself around his neck, and he didn’t feel so alone.

He’d started sleeping with his hand on his shoulder just to feel closer to his soulmate.

Hoped that whoever it was wouldn’t be disappointed that he was theirs.

————-

Eddie convinced himself for his entire childhood that the golden retriever tattoo that ran up and down his arms every day was some sympathy soulmate tattoo.

There was no way his soulmate was someone this hyper.

And then Wayne explained there was usually a story behind the tattoo, something more than just the personality or energy of a person.

At night, the retriever would pace across his chest, eventually settling right over his heart.

He wondered what his tattoo representation was.

He hoped it was a bat.

————-

“Dude, it’s not a big deal. Just show us!” Tommy yelled to Steve from the pool.

Steve had managed to hide it from his friends for so long.

He wasn’t ashamed necessarily, but he definitely didn’t need Tommy and Carol or any of the rest of the basketball team to see it.

The tattoo often stayed hidden pretty well during the day, usually hid on his thigh or stomach. He got away with always wearing shirts for practice and skipped post-practice showers with excuses that he had a study group to get to.

But his pool was a problem, especially now that he was at an age where everyone wanted to come over to swim when his parents weren’t around, which was often.

He tried to make excuses, said he was just worried about the sun, worried about a creepy neighbor watching.

It only worked a couple of times.

Now it was night, so no sun.

The neighbor was on vacation.

And everyone expected him to strip down and get into the pool.

So he did.

Everyone stared in silence as the bat flew from his stomach to his back and settled on his shoulder.

It seemed like it wanted to be seen, but still wasn’t sure how it wanted to be perceived.

Steve could relate.

No one commented on it, probably too afraid that one wrong word would get them kicked out of the pool permanently.

When he went to bed that night, the bat took its place around his neck, his hand rested in its place against his shoulder, and he sighed.

“I hope you’re being seen,” he whispered into his empty room.

——————-

The golden retriever was completely still for more than eight hours the same night Starcourt exploded.

Eddie tried not to panic for the first few hours, knew it could be any number of reasons the tattoo wasn’t moving.

But after hour six, he called Wayne at work, worry carrying over the line as fireworks boomed in the background.

“It’s not moving. It- you said when it stopped it meant- they can’t be, though.”

“Eds, take a few slow breaths, son. C’mon now, you’d have known if he-”

“But what if mine’s broken? What if the connection isn’t right?” Eddie tried taking breaths, but it wasn’t working.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it was that his soulmate was gone.

By the time Wayne made it home from work, the retriever had moved from his forearm to its usual place over his heart, and Eddie was fast asleep on the couch, his hand resting on top of it.

—--------------------

Being dragged into more freaky Upside Down shit was not on Steve’s to-do list. Then again, it never really was.

He wouldn’t have even bothered coming with Dustin and Max if not for the fact that Dustin was terrified something had happened to his new best friend Eddie.

He tried to hide his terrible mood, but knew he was failing.

He woke up this morning to his bat already on his leg, seemingly asleep, though it was normally still around his neck or on his shoulder when he woke up.

It hadn’t moved all morning, and he was a little worried about what that might mean.

He was also getting more worried by the day that he’d never meet his soulmate.

He knew it was dramatic, but most people he went to school with had met theirs by now, their tattoos now permanently placed in matching spots on their bodies.

“Dustin, this is so stupid,” he reiterated for the hundredth time as they walked up to the boathouse door.

He kept thinking it to himself as they poked around looking for Eddie, as he was being held against the wall with a broken bottle to his neck by Eddie, as he felt a flutter in his stomach at the way Eddie was watching him as they told him about the Upside Down.

He didn’t take the time over the next couple of days to pay much attention to his tattoo, didn’t really consider the fact that what little time he slept, he was so out of it he didn’t even notice whether the bat was on his neck or not.

Didn’t think about it until a moment in the RV alone with Eddie, when something in his brain told him to check on the bat.

“Sorry, just. Can you wait one second?” Steve interrupted Eddie’s thought as kindly as he could.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie responded, confused.

He slipped to the back, not bothering to close the curtain that separated it from the rest of the RV.

He lifted his shirt in hopes of seeing it, but it wasn’t there.

He groaned and unbuttoned his jeans, rushing to just check and see if the bat had moved at all.

He shoved his jeans down and frowned.

It was in the same place still.

On his inner thigh on his right leg.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, or what he thought was under his breath.

“Everything okay?” Eddie’s voice was much closer than he expected, making him jump and rush to pull his pants back up. “Shit, was that your tattoo?”

“Yeah. It hasn’t moved in a while.”

“Neither has mine.” Eddie moved in closer. “Actually, mine’s on my thigh too. Kinda makes it hard to check.”

“Which thigh?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

“Right.”

“What is it?”

“Golden retriever. Can’t really imagine who it would be,” he admitted.

Steve’s first and only pet had been a puppy. A golden retriever named Daisy.

She was his entire world for almost a year until she chewed on one of his dad’s expensive watches and ended up being given to a man who worked with him.

He cried for days after that, didn’t talk to his dad for weeks, not that that was difficult to do since he was gone more often than not.

He vowed that he would get another one the moment he was an adult.

That didn’t quite work out.

But his nannies all used to call him a retriever, his energy contagious in the best way, his playful demeanor a relief. As he grew up, it got dulled by his parents, expectations, society, but he knew inside, all of that was still there.

“What’s yours?” Eddie asked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“A bat.”

Eddie tilted his head and looked at him, eyes squinting to take him in.

“A bat?”

“Yeah. He’s a playful guy, but kinda shy it seems like,” Steve’s smile was fond until it was sad. “At least until he stopped moving.”

“When did he stop moving?” Eddie ignored the fact that it was a he for now.

“I guess I noticed it the day we found you in the boathouse.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, possibly coming to similar conclusions.

“What about yours?” Steve asked quietly, though something told Eddie he already knew the answer.

“The day you found me in the boathouse.”

“I-”

“How-”

“Dingus, we gotta go!” Robin was suddenly yelling as the RV door slammed open.

They could figure this out later.

They would have to.

—-----------------------

As Steve sat by Eddie’s bedside in the hospital, he thought about how often the bat tattoo had been the only comfort he had, the only thing that kept him from being completely alone.

He thought about how Eddie had always done his best to include the people who didn’t belong anywhere else, how he’d put on a show to protect himself, but hated being seen.

Wayne watched him from the other side of the bed, silently judging him, probably trying to figure out how to kick him out.

But he couldn’t.

He felt the pull now.

Now that he’d been around Eddie, somewhat gotten to know him, how he was fearless when it came to the gremlins, was willing to give up his own life if it meant getting Dustin to safety, he could feel the tug on his heart.

It was inconvenient since they didn’t know when or really even if Eddie would wake up.

So he waited.

He waited for Wayne to kick him out. He waited for doctors and nurses to have answers. He waited for Eddie to wake up.

He waited to know if he’d be able to have his soulmate or not.

—-------------------

Eddie’s first word when he woke up was Steve’s name.

Steve let out an uncontrollable sob, curling down so his head rested in the sheets of the bed.

Wayne’s hand was on his back, his voice trying to speak to him and Eddie at the same time.

They’d gotten closer over the last few days, Wayne’s calm presence enough to keep Steve from completely losing his mind with worry.

But the pain meds in the IV drip seemed to catch back up to Eddie within minutes and he was asleep again.

“He woke up though. Your boy woke up,” Wayne said to him, holding his hand.

“Yeah. He did.”

—-------------------

When Eddie left the hospital, Steve insisted on pushing his wheelchair to Wayne’s truck himself.

The nurse agreed with little argument; The hospital was incredibly understaffed and overrun with patients from the “earthquake” and she had a million better things to do.

The walk down was mostly quiet, but not awkward.

“I think some of my tattoo is missing,” Eddie finally said, barely more than a whisper.

“From the bats?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Doesn’t change anything.”

“No?” he asked, voice full of hope.

“Not a thing for me.”

—------------------------

They dated.

It was unconventional in every way.

Steve had never pictured himself with a man, but now he couldn’t picture himself with anyone but Eddie.

Eddie had to explain that they couldn’t just go out and hold hands like any of Steve’s other dates, they had to be careful.

It wasn’t always easy; Steve got frustrated and Eddie got insecure.

But they always ended their nights with soft kisses, with whispered words of comfort and promises.

They fell in love like that, the tattoos only the beginning of something that no one could have expected.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #ficlet #request #soulmate au

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babyhatesreality · 11 months

Note

what if someone else tries to discipline stucky's babygirl?🥹🥹 like, some random dude who considers himself a daddy got mad for something she did?? i think daddy stucky would absoluty go ✨bersek✨

Oh....*Berserk* is putting it mildly....

But let's back up a bit first. You've been with Steve and Bucky long enough that you're truly and deeply one of the family. And with that, it means that you and your friends have gotten into plenty of trouble before at each other's places. You've been put in time outs by several of your extended family members- mostly Tony, Pepper, Natasha, and Bruce. There's a rule in the tower that if you're little and misbehaving while in their care, anyone in the family is allowed to give a time out. Of course it means you're in big trouble when your primary caregivers find out, so you don't ever MEAN to get into mischief. It just ...sometimes ...happens! Right?? :D

But there was this one time that SHIELD was introducing a group of new operatives. They were the ones who would be running some of the simpler operations that didn't require super strength, stealth, or swag. But they would have access to and contact with the Avengers, and so were brought into the Tower for training.

There was this one new recruit named Kenneth. He was tall, had a firm jaw, strong enough to handle pretty much anything- and had an extremely overblown sense of his own worth. He had decided (without asking anyone or confirming anything) that he was on his way to becoming the first civilian Avenger simply because...he was that awesome. Which he was not, but that comes later.

Since this new operatives team would also be responsible for looking out for low level threats to the Avengers themselves, they were briefed on all the Littles and Caregivers in the tower. So if, God forbid, something happened, they knew the chain of command to help take care of the Littles in a crisis situation- mostly getting the Littles to the correct Avenger.

Welp, as with most other things, Kenneth didn't feel these rules applied to him either. He knew that if he were ever to encounter one of you "littles" (as he put it, complete with his own stupid air quotes and a dumb look on his face), he'd make sure that he'd show his authority, and that would prove he could be an Avenger. *Sidenote-it's funny how these dude-bros' egos work, isn't it?*

One day Daddy and Papa had brought you upstairs with them, as had the rest of the caregivers with their own littles. It was an easy half day, and barring anything suddenly popping up, there was just regular paperwork and classified debriefings to meet about- a safe day for you all to be up there. The other littles were playing a game of tag in the big rec room, but you were feeling a little cranky from a rough night and just wanted to be on your daddies' laps. You would hop down off Bucky's lap ten minutes into a meeting to climb onto Steve's, and then back again ten minutes later. Hey, you were happy, they were happy, it was all good.

You politely asked if you could go get a drink of water, and after insisting that you could be a big girl by yourself, Bucky let you go down the hall to the kitchen area. And that's where you ran into Kenneth, who was sneaking up to the meeting, trying to make up some excuse as to why he needed to be in this Avengers-only debriefing (he was pretty sure they weren't even going to question his right to be there, but it was always good to have a plan B, right?).

He immediately identified you, and stopped you in the hallway by grabbing you by the shoulder (wrong move #1). "And where do you think you're going, little girl?" he asked you snidely (wrong move #2). You immediately stepped back, trying to get yourself out of his grip. You didn't know this guy, and you weren't supposed to talk to strangers. And no one was allowed to touch you without your permission. Daddy and Papa taught you well.

But Kenneth took that as defiance before you even opened your mouth, tightening his grip on your arm (wrong move #3...you get the idea). "You are not supposed to be wandering the halls by yourself, are you?" he sneered. "Some caregivers, just letting a helpless little girl wander around unguarded." He leaned into your face. "Someone could get hurt."

That scared you, as it sounded very threatening, so you shook your arm again, trying to pull away. "Please let go," you said through gritted teeth, trying to be polite (he was in the Tower after all, and no one got in without SHIELD's permission), but really wanting to kick this guy in his private area. Instead, Kenneth yanked your arm so hard that you cried out, and started dragging you towards the meeting room. He shoved you down onto your bottom right outside the doorway, then pointed a finger at you.

"You stay right there, little missy, and don't even think about moving. You've been very bad and you're in big trouble," he scolded, unwarranted. You just glared at him but didn't move. He didn't even bother knocking on the door to the meeting room- he just barged in.

"Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes? I've got something that you both need to see, immediately," he said arrogantly.

You heard the shuffle and scramble of your daddies moving quickly, and you knew they were panicking about you. But the second they got out of the doorway and saw you cowering on the floor with a glower on your face, they both stopped, confused.

"Baby, are you okay?" Bucky asked frantically, dropping to his knees and reaching out to you. You threw yourself into his arms, relieved.

"What happened? Why was she sitting on the floor?" Steve asked as he got down next to you and Bucky, brushing your hair away from your face and scanning you as hard as he could, looking for injuries.

"She was wandering around the halls, unsupervised," Kenneth replied lightly, the arrogance dripping off of him. "Then she was defiant and disobedient when I tried to help her."

" 'Tried to help her'?" Steve repeated, slowly standing up to face Kenneth. Anyone with half a brain could hear the steel in his voice and see the rage in his posture. Even Kenneth turned a bit pale at the fury he'd unknowingly invoked. "What...exactly...did she need help with?"

"Well, er...um..she wasn't supposed to be in the hallways-"

"She had permission to be there," Steve interrupted him. The aura of controlled anger about to snap that was radiating off your Papa was something to behold- you'd never seen him like this before and it was AWESOME. "She was getting a drink from the kitchen." He turned to you, smiling softly, but his vibranium-infused posture didn't change one bit. "Lovebug, were you able to get your drink?"

"No, Papa," you said simply.

"I see," he said, turning back to Kenneth as his gaze turned back to razor blades. "So you kept my baby from getting a drink when she's thirsty, you stopped her without permission and tried to get her to disobey OUR directives, and you barged into a classified meeting." He pinned the now completely pale Kenneth to the wall with only his clear cut steel blue gaze. "Anything else, baby girl?" he asked you without turning his head.

"He touched me," you added, then turned your gaze to Bucky, who was still holding you. "And it hurt my arm."

Bucky set you down gently, then stood up and faced Kenneth.

Kenneth was only able to remember three things from that moment until he woke up in the hospital. The first being the insanely loud thundering of crumbling concrete mixed with a strange whooshing sound that he couldn't immediately identify. There was also a cracking and a crunching that seemed to be coming from inside of him, but that didn't make any sense either...

The second thing was the fact that he was no longer in the hallway- he seemed to have somehow transported to another area that he was pretty sure was about three rooms away from where he'd just been standing.

The third thing was the sudden and overwhelming pain screaming all over his body. He had just enough time to realize that the Winter Soldier had thrown him through 3 solid walls before he blacked out.

When he woke up in the hospital, among the machines and IVs, he found a small cardboard box with all his desk items in it.

#there was also a letter from Fury #that made him vomit #it was so bad #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy bucky #daddy bucky x little reader #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy steve #daddy steve x little reader #daddy!steve rogers #daddy!steve rogers x little #daddy steve rogers #daddy steve rogers x little reader #daddy stucky #daddy!stucky #daddy stucky x little reader #daddy!stucky x little reader

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

Text

Adopt a Jock Part Four / Part Five P 1 YOU ARE HERE / Part Five P 2

As always I own my soul to @chalkysgarbagefire and Hayley for helpin out with this one!

The problem with D&D games was that the drama room was only available on specific days.

As in, the days Hellfire was scheduled as a club for, much to said club’s distress.

This led directly into the second issue Hellfire faced--finding a place to host them all when they wanted to do something as a group outside of the main campaign they played.

(At least anything D&D related, with all of the screaming, ranting, and frantic dice rolling that came with it.)

Gareth knew Eddie had been lying through his teeth when he'd try to pitch Steve's house as a Hellfire hangout. Accepted that they’d never get to use all the sweet, sweet space Steve was known to have as much as he’d accepted Steve himself.

It was a lot, after all. Particularly when Eddie’s one-shots were known to last a good chunk of the day.

Once again, Steve had proved them all wrong.

(“We can use my house.” were five words not a single person at the table had ever expected to hear out of Harrington’s mouth, and it showed in the shocked silence that followed when he actually spoke them.

“What?” Steve asked, as six pairs of eyes stared at him. “Space is the problem right? So my house is the perfect solution.”

“Are you sure dude?” Grant asked hesitantly. “You know this one-shot isn’t gonna be a like, two hour thing, right?”

To their surprise Steve just gave him a flat, almost dead-eyed stare in return. “I’ve hosted the kids at my place before. Believe me, I am well aware.”

“As long as you’re absolutely sure…” Jeff had added, and could only roll his eyes when he got a sassy response from Steve.

Gareth of course, caught the way Steve kept seeking out Eddie’s eyes, as if hoping to make their oldest friend smile simply by offering up his house.

He didn’t even need to look to know it was working.)

It had taken some creative thinking (and a few wild excuses) to finangle things so that he could show up to Steve's literal castle of a home before anyone else without alerting Eddie but he'd managed it.

It was in fact, looking to be the highlight of Gareth's month.

Possibly the year, if they managed to pull off the little plot he had cooked up.

“I still don’t get how this is a prank.” Steve said, as Gareth prepped him before the others arrived.

"Trust me. If Eddie is anything, it's a jealous bitch." Gareth replied, seated on one of the countertops. "We dethrone him and he's gonna make an ass of himself for the next week. It'll be hilarious."

"I fail to see how that's different than usual." Steve grumbled as he bustled about.

Upon arrival Gareth had found him elbow deep into making cookies and what appeared to be themed cocktails, among several other bowls full of snacks of all kinds.

There was even little finger sandwiches, the kind that absolutely looked homemade, and Gareth would have teased him about that except he’d instantly stuffed two in his mouth.

("I won't be able to host since I'm playing, so I just want everything done before anyone comes over." Was Steve's explanation, when Gareth did manage to get out a few teasing quips.

With the proud lack of manners so many teenage boys possessed, Gareth talked right through his mouth of food. "God you’re a dork. How the hell did you get popular?"

"Shut up Emerson, you're wearing two jackets." Steve snipped in response, as if he didn’t look like the poster boy for Nordstrom.)

"Don't bring logic into this." Gareth continued, as he tried to snag some cookie dough.

Steve smacked the back of his hand with a spoon.

"Get a bowl and a spoon if you're going to eat the dough!" Steve grumbled at him, already bustling to get said bowl and spoon himself. “God you’re worse than Eddie. And the kids!”

Gareth waited until Steve turned before he stuck his tongue out at him. "Whatever you say, mom."

He got an over exaggerated eye roll in response.

"Anyway, the point is you're gonna witness something we'll get to tease Eddie about for years." Gareth said, as he watched Steve dole out some dough.

"You get to watch the little hamster on the wheel that powers Eddie's brain lose its shit and cause him to do something really stupid.” He made grabby hands for the bowl and spoon, and tucking in delightfully the second Steve handed them over.

Steve himself treated the entire exchange like he was feeding a particularly vicious and wild animal, making a show of yanking his hands back like Gareth might just go for his fingers. "I just don't understand why the thing you wanna fight about is cuddling."

"Bragging rights. The jokes we can make. The fact that your thighs look like they were made out of clouds, take your pick man.” Gareth counted off, in-between bites of dough.

"Clouds?" Steve asked, tilting his head.

“Big muscley clouds, Harrington. Also Grant’s here.”

Steve blinked. “How do you-” He asked, right before the sound of a car with an engine far too loud pulled into his driveway.

“He drives an absolute piece of crap. You ride in that thing one time and you’ll be able to hear it coming for the rest of your life.” Gareth explained, as Steve peered out the kitchen and down to his front doors.

(Plural, because he had two.

Gareth had never felt more judged by slabs of wood in his life than he had when he’d walked through them.)

"Last chance to bail, Stevie.” Gareth teased. “I won't hold it against you if you call it off mid-show though."

Steve didn’t answer for a moment, too busy disrobing from his baking apron—a bright yellow and red garment that practically swallowed him whole, complete with an embroidered ‘Claudia Henderson’ over the right breast. The embroidery gave rise to a few questions but Gareth decided to save them for later.

"No, something this fucking weird has to have a story behind it and I want to witness the fallout.” Steve finally replied, before rushing out of the kitchen.

He ripped open his front door, right after a knock echoed loudly throughout the house.

“Shit! What the hell man, were you just waiting to do that!?” Stewart yelped, prompting Gareth to snicker quietly and Steve to apologize.

Like the wealthy housewife he’d been no doubt raised by, Steve went through a whole spiel as he ushered Stewart and Grant in, pointing out bathrooms, letting them know where the game was going to take place (the giant fuck off table that looked like it should be hosting some kind of high-stakes negotiation instead of a bunch of nerds) and where they could put their things (into a closet dedicated to just guests.)

The trio of Eddie, Tiffany and Jeff arrived next, the latter two having been roped into helping Eddie haul his “D&D To Go” bags around.

Steve started his little host speech over, much to Gareth’s amusement, fluttering about and entirely forgetting about his cookies until the oven dinged, causing him to swear and rush back into the kitchen.

“Dude, breathe.” Gareth told him, almost done with his bowl. “It’s a D&D game, you don’t gotta go full out for us.”

“I just want to make sure everyone has a good time.“ Steve said with a shrug. Like none of the effort he’d gone to, was a big deal.

“Careful Harrington, say stuff like that again and we’re going to start thinking you enjoy hosting us.”

“Shut up Gary.” Steve said, setting his cookies on a cooling rack. “And put that bowl in the sink!”

Gareth jumped off the counter, trying his best to remove the shit eating from his face.

He failed entirely.

xXx

As far as pranks went, this one required quite the set up.

They couldn’t do it in the beginning of the D&D game--too obvious, and too easy for Eddie to call bullshit.

Doing it at the end wouldn’t work either. Eddie would know they were trying to rile him up and would no doubt find a way to ruin it.

Years of being Munson’s best friend had afforded Gareth the knowledge that this was going to have to be split in two parts, and the first part, the setup, started now.

Slowly. Methodically.

In a way that wouldn't spook Steve, or trigger Eddie's sense for trouble.

Gareth began by selecting a seat as far away from Eddie as possible, knowing his lovestruck idiot friend would be pulling out all the stops tonight in order to impress Steve (and get him to keep playing, of course.)

Sure enough, as soon as Eddie was done setting up he crooked a finger in Steve's direction.

“Harrington you’re here, next to me.” Eddie flashed him his most award winning grin, the one that said he was up to trouble in that charming, ‘aren’t I just a charming ol’ rogue?” sort of way.

“I made you a human fighter, just to start you off." He continued, as Steve took the seat next to him. "You can always make your own character later if you don't like playing this class, but I made this set up as straightforward as possible.”

“Human fighter huh?” Steve said, glancing down the sheet. “Okay.”

“You have any questions, you just ask. I promise I won’t bite. Not for your first time anyway.” Eddie winked, dipping in and out of Steve's space as he did so.

“Dude, I am begging you to please stop saying shit like that.” Jeff said with a long suffering sigh.

“No.” Eddie replied promptly, sticking his tongue out.

Steve just ducked his head to hide his smile.

A harsh clap halted any further response, as Eddie settled back into his seat and dipped into his DM narrator voice.

"Alright my little adventurers! Are we ready to begin?" He looked around as everyone looked towards him, the energy shifting instantly in the room.

Eddie grinned gleefully. "Perfect. You all wake up at an Inn, with no memory of how you got there…"

A story was quickly spun, one of mysterious memory loss and a sense that the group needed to stay together. Introductions were given once everyone came into the tavern of the inn, cut short when they were interrupted by a lone barkeep.

“Is the barkeep a human?” Steve cut in.

Eddie paused, temporarily thrown, but nodded encouragingly. “Yes, he is actually!”

Grant and Jeff both went to open their mouths, no doubt to tease, but Harrington beat them to it.

“Okay, I roll to fight him, or whatever.” Steve said.

“I--what?” Eddie asked.

“I roll to fight him.” Steve repeated. “Oh and my character screams “Death to humans!” before he attacks.”

He sat back with a smug little grin, and watched as Eddie froze in surprise, while Grant and Stewart's jaws promptly hit the floor.

“Harrington, you menace.” Tiff cackled, delighted.

Eddie just threw his head back and laughed.

It set the tone quite nicely for the rest of the one-shot.

xXx

“Grant, why are you looking at me through a fork?” Steve asked, about thirty minutes into the game.

“I’m pretending you’re in jail.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Grant, whose character had to physically carry Steve's fighter out of two altercations he started, just gave him a flat look. “It’s spiritually healing.”

"Hey Jeff." Gareth asked quietly, as banter was traded. "I'm catching a hell of a draft over here."

Jeff raised an eyebrow at him. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Switch me seats?"

Jeff rolled his eyes, but gave in easily enough.

"Fine." He said.

Gareth did his best to keep his grin off his face.

Step one, complete!

xxx

"You come upon a door." Eddie said, sitting deep in his seat while steepling his fingers. "It's a normal door, unremarkable in every way except for two things."

Groans filled the room, startling Steve.

"Oh god, not again." Stewart moaned, raking his hands through his hair. "I can't do this again!"

Eddie's grin merely grew. "The first odd thing you notice is that the door has been put into the wall at a tilt."

"I'm gonna kill him." Tiff snarled, writing something frantically in her notes. "Munson is a dead man walking."

"What is happening?" Steve asked, glancing around.

"The second thing is that you recognize this door." Eddie's grin was Cheshire cat-esque, smug in the chaos he was causing among his friends. "It's the same door you saw at the beginning of this adventure, leading into the room the Innkeeper asked you to stay away from."

"We're boned." Grant announced, throwing himself dramatically back against his chair.

Gareth made his own dramatic, frustrated noise, banging his fist on the table.

The full glass of soda next to him wobbled dangerously.

With a cough, he made another loud "ugh!" smacking his fist down a second time, closer to the glass.

As intended, it spilled all over Tiffany.

"Dude!" She exclaimed, shoving her chair backwards and jumping up.

"Oh shit Tiff, I'm so sorry!" Gareth gasped.

It was hard to keep a straight (albeit very sorry, least Tiffany hit him with her papers) face, but he managed.

Barely.

"You got my shirt wet you dick!"

"Here, switch it with this." Gareth stood, unwrapping the red and black checkered sweater from his waist. He offered it up with an apologetic face as Tiff snatched it out of his hands with a glare.

"I'll switch you seats too!" He called as she stormed off towards the bathroom.

Jeff and Grant both stared at him with raised eyebrows as Gareth quickly shuffled his and Tiff's stuff around, taking her now sticky chair.

"Maybe we should take a break?" He suggested, trying to act embarrassed when he was anything but. "This whole area needs to be wiped down."

"Five minutes." Eddie conceded. "I wanted one of Stevie's delicious cookies anyway." He stood, putting his arms up in a lazy stretch.

Steve stood with him, leaning over to examine the mess Gareth had made. “We can wipe this down but this wood’s kinda funny, it’s gonna be wet for a bit no matter how much we dry it.”

“Well shit.” Gareth said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about the table man.”

Steve waved him off. “Don’t worry about it, the kids spill on it constantly. You are probably going to need a different chair though unless you’re fine with your ass getting wet.”

“Do you have another chair somewhere, Stevie?” Eddie asked, making a show of looking around. “Cause I’m not seeing one. Not that I care if Gary-Berry sits on the floor.”

Steve had several extra chairs in fact, but he and Gareth had hidden them all away before anyone else had arrived.

“I used to, but Mike broke two.” Steve said, and Gareth found himself insanely impressed by the improv on display.

He hadn’t thought Harrington had that level of acting in him.

“If you’re okay with sharing though, the chair’s are big enough that we can kinda squish together.” Steve continued, completely ignoring the way Eddie’s eyes about bugged out of his head.

“Only if you’re sure, man. I don’t want to be more of a bother.” Gareth put on his saddest, ‘I dun fucked up’ face, and shuffled his feet a little, just for dramatic effect.

This was the performance of a lifetime and Gareth wanted his Grammy after it, because he and Steve had planned the entire thing right down to the shared chair bit.

“You’re not, Dustin does this constantly.” Steve replied easily.

“Or we could just put down a towel.” Jeff said, with a look on his face that said he thought everyone in the room was a fucking idiot.

Gareth could’ve strangled him.

“That’s probably a smarter idea.” Steve agreed, like the traitor he was. “I dunno if that’s gonna work for your papers and shit though, so you can just hedge into my space.”

Which wasn’t what Gareth wanted, but he had to give Steve props for the quick thinking.

At least it was just a minor setback.

“I’ll get a towel.” Jeff continued, and at least they all got to witness the look that graced Eddie’s face upon realizing that Jeff of all people, knew where Steve kept his towels.

xXx

"What the hell else can we do to try and open the door!?" Jeff snarled a while later, slamming his pencil down.

They'd tried multiple different approaches and so far nothing had worked to set off whatever trap Eddie had set up. Something that made their DM absolutely delighted, while frustrating everyone else.

"I still don't get why we can't just try to turn the knob." Steve complained, staring in confusion at the absolute riot Eddie's "completely normal" door had caused among the rest of his party.

"Do not touch that door Harrington!" Grant bellowed, pointing at him.

Steve raised his hands in the air placatingly. "Easy, easy, I was just making a suggestion."

Gareth, wedged as close into Steve's space as he could get, tapped his fingers on the table twice. It was the little code he’d come up with to alert Steve that he was about to do something to piss off Eddie related to the prank (mostly, so Steve had a heads up Gareth was about to touch him, not that Gareth had spun it that way when he’d explained it) before patting Steve’s shoulder, hooking his elbow on it and leaning over. “Not gonna lie man, it’s not a bad idea. We’ve tried right about everything else.”

He could feel Eddie's eyes burning a hole in his skull from here and he delighted in it.

“Do not encourage him.” Grant said through gritted teeth.

Gareth leaned his face on the arm perched on Harrington, his hair tickling Steve’s cheek as he tried to look as angelic as possible. “I couldn’t possibly know what you mean, Grantman.”

He was flipped off in response.

xXx

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Stewart howled, and even Gareth’s jaw dropped when Steve finally gave in and tried to turn the knob--only to succeed and swing the door open.

“Well Munson? What happens to him?” Tiff said, having refused to call Eddie anything but his last name since the door had first appeared.

“Nothing.” Eddie practically purred. “I told you, it’s a totally normal door, and the only weird thing about it was that you recognized it and that it was put into the wall a little tilted.”

“Fuck you dude.” Stewart practically growled, balling up the piece of paper he’d been doodling on and flinging it towards their DM. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck. You!”

“No thank you.” Eddie replied cheekily, twirling a finger in his hair.

“We spent almost an hour trying to figure out how to open a regular door.” Jeff said, clearly processing. “An hour.”

Eddie just shrugged, shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Gareth once again tapped his fingers twice against the table, waited a moment, before banging his head gently against Steve’s shoulder. “I hate him.” He groaned.

After a long moment, Steve gently, if not a little awkwardly, patted him on the head.

“There, there, Gary. We defeated the door in the end.” He said calmly.

Gareth laughed, absolutely delighted. His head jerked up and a grin crossed his face as he immediately looked to see what Eddie made of that.

Pure murder, going by the face Eddie poorly tried to cover.

Perfect.

xXx

“With his last few moves, Sir Carrington-”

"I refuse to let that be my character's name.” Steve interjected, as he had every time Eddie brought up the name they’d apparently argued over. “If I have to figure out how to change it legally in your dumb game I fucking will."

Eddie didn’t even look in his direction.

“--Sir Carrington leaps into the air, swinging the sword of truth. It cleaves right through the Innkeeper, revealing him to be the dastardly villain you’ve heard so much about, Tareth the Trait. He’s gained an unusual amount of power after stealing the Inn from the former Innkeeper--”

“Really bro?” Gareth said, sending Eddie a flat look. “Tareth the Trait?”

“--With this final blow, Tareth collapses to the ground, dead. The Inn returns to its prior form, a safe haven for adventurers, instead of a trap.”

“Shut up guys, we did it!” Stewart said, throwing his hands up in a victory pose.

“Not gonna Eddie, I liked the twist.” Tiff complimented, a rare thing from her.

“Thank you, thank you.” Eddie stood up, sweeping an arm across his chest as he bowed. “Give yourselves a round of applause as well, especially for our dear Steven, who just completed his first D&D game!”

A cheer went up, causing Steve to flush red.

Gareth pretending to drum, knocking his shoulder into Steve’s much the way he had seen Eddie do as Steve sent an embarrassed smile around the room.

“We should celebrate.” Jeff said, as the chaos finally died down.

“I conquer, Jeff the Chef!” Eddie hollered, putting his foot on Steve’s chair. “Stevie-boy, you gotta have some good stuff around here for those big basketball wins!”

“Get your foot off the chair, Eds.” Steve groaned, but stood up (forcing Gareth to get up as well considering how far he’d been leaning into Steve’s space.) “And yeah we can order like pizza.”

“Pizza and beer?” Grant suggested.

“Oh my friend. I can do better than that.” Steve replied, a flash of his old, charming self coming through. “Allow me to raid my father’s liquor cabinet.”

“Hell yes!” Grant yelled, pumping his fist.

Tiffany rolled her eyes but didn’t protest, and neither Gareth noted, did anyone else.

Which was exactly what he wanted, because he hadn’t managed to land the perfect ending he and Harrington had planned.

Gareth would make it into Steve’s lap tonight, even if it killed him.

(Or worse, even if Eddie got there first, a thing that may very well happen considering Eddie was clearly annoyed with how Gareth had been hogging Steve.

Just as intended.)

SOME NOTES: I don't play d&d so writing it always requires a lot of research. Several pieces here (like the human fighter bit) are based off of/stolen from memes, videos or stories I read. If I fucked it up thaaaan idk squint and pretend its right LOL.

This one doesn’t have a bonus because I had to split Chapter Five into two parts. This is Part One, it’ll be one chapter on A03. It just kept going.

Also Adopt a Jock is officially going up ON A03 so I will no longer be accepting tags ( Ch. One is already uploaded I’m just struggling with the summary lol. I will make a post and link it to my pinned post when it’s up.) I will still be updating here since I am only updating chapters on A03 as fast as I can edit them, which is not fast at all, so I imagine the next few chaps will be here before there but eventually shits gonna even out, so those who did not get onto the tag list can subscribe to the A03!

Finally, Sorry this took so long, I have a prior ongoing medical issue and getting laid off fucked up my insurance. Had to cram in some procedures before it ran out. Long story short all I've done is sleep, go to a doctor or rant about one of the two lmao. Legit slept 18 hours yesterday ahaha k i l l m e

#this is more of an intro to lap wars than lap wars itself #but Part Two turns into Drunk Movie Night Sleepover Time so you bet your ASS lap wars is coming #Gareth continues to be both a gremlin #and a g #steddie #pre steddie #slow burn #steddie LOL #gareth emerson #Eddie Munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #this chapter fought me #ngl I actually extended this whole fic out bc I wanted to write more hellfire shenanagins before the summer hit #and thus Robin and the S3 plot that I'll be messing up LOL

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