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starrystevie · 11 months

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it was all supposed to be a dumb joke.

the boys had been sitting around after rehearsal one night passing a bowl and more than a few beers, laughing about how unsuccessful the newest music based social media app would be. mere seconds of songs looping over and over with other songs mixed in would never work, especially for corroded coffin where the story, the buildup of their songs was part of the reason to listen.

it all started with jeff, grinning slowly ear to ear. "what if were to get in there and take some celebrity's name for a user name? like paris hilton or something."

then it moved to gareth, who paused with a scrunched up face. "dude, paris hilton? what the fuck kind of reference is that..."

then it was over to greg, choking on a smoke-laced laugh. "yeah, it'd be funnier if it was eddie's pop prince loverboy instead."

that got everyone's attention. eddie had protested to ears that didn't want to hear it as they cackled in their studio that they rented by the hour, bent over in their rolling chairs, leaning against the side of the mixing board for support.

"loverboy?! you know i can't stand steve harrington and his bullshit lyrics, what the fuck kind of suggestion is that..."

but come the next day, when the weed had left his system and his veins were alcohol-free, eddie stared at the mixr app home screen and the blinking red circle over his inbox with disdain after successfully acquiring a user name he never would have picked for himself.

'steveharrington', eddie's account says, along with an icon of himself and his tongue out.

if it hadn't been for being less than sober when the app dropped. if it hadn't been for his best friends egging him on with taunts and jeers and kissy noises and less than sincere dreamy calls of 'oh steve' in the background. if it hadn't been for the way that eddie secretly did think about a certain head of floppy hair and soft brown eyes and shoulders littered with constellations.

if it hadn't been for all of that he wouldn't have had the chance to have his celebrity crush, the steve harrington, in his inbox at 8am on a random tuesday morning.

"good morning!" the message says simply enough. eddie stares at the words, trying to process what they mean, looking at the verified username of 'steveharrington1' next to an icon of his most recent album along with it. his inbox is flooded with people all asking him random things, thinking he's the real steve harrington, but this one verified account has him shaking.

for all that eddie is, all big hair and black jeans and skull rings and leather, he's still a man. a man who can look at a pop star, annoying as their music may be, and see charm. he can see attractiveness. he can see that smile that steve harrington has perfected behind his eyelids and he can see them strolling off into the sunset together hand in hand and he can see steve all flushed and breathing heavily underneath him on a mountain of plush pillows and he can see-

the message pings again with a new addition. "i know this seems weird and my team advised against it but i'd really like your user name of... well, my name."

eddie blinks slowly. he pictures steve maybe laying in bed, maybe sitting at the breakfast table with a cup of coffee, with his phone in his hand as he types out a message to him. to think that steve has any idea about him existing on any sort of level is doing his head in. his heartbeat races a little faster as he types back with shaky hands and a pit in his stomach.

"is this real?" is all he can type out, leaning against the kitchen counter as he waits for his coffee to brew.

three dots pull up on the app screen before disappearing and eddie pulls his lip in between his teeth to focus his energy elsewhere. he tears his eyes away from his phone and looks out the window to watch the people out for their morning walks. he's just about to the point where he thinks about maybe taking up walking if nothing else to get all the pent up energy out of him when the app dings again. as he looks back, his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach.

it's a photo of steve that can't have been released before. he's sitting outside in bright sunshine with sunglasses on, tousled hair and grin on his face. he's holding his hand up in a thumbs up and eddie can see the remnants of cream cheese on the side of his index finger.

he sucks in a stuttering breath through his teeth, trying to force his lungs to breath again. the dots pop up on screen once more and the message that comes through is instantaneous.

"real enough for you?" it reads. and then an additional message is tacked on. "need me to hold up a newspaper with the date on it?"

there's a winky face that follows and it feels fake even though it's very real. this whole morning feels wrong, unreal. he's just eddie munson, some singer in some halfway popular band in some kind of shitty neighborhood in los angeles that just happens to have not just some pop star in his dms. this doesn't happen to him.

"why did your team tell you not to message me? does my reputation precede me?"

eddie pulls his hand up to his mouth to bite at the side of his fingernail, watching the screen with rapt attention and waiting for the typing dots to disappear.

"according to this account your name is steve harrington and yes, i'd say his reputation does precede him."

eddie barks out a laugh, not exactly expecting that.

he didn't know what he was expecting out of any of this. he thought that it might help get the corroded coffin name out more if he got tangled up somehow with the steve harrington name. spark a little bit of drama to boost their visibility. but now here he is, talking to the man himself, cracking jokes and trying not to hyperventilate.

"how were you able to get this name so fast anyway? my team was on it right when the app dropped last night."

"i had the power of bandmates and weed on my side," he types back, side of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"oh so you're a musician? maybe i should be looking into your reputation then, mystery person."

eddie pauses and thinks about every option. he is semi-known in the metal scene, his outlandish stunts on stage and political speeches at shows that garner them becoming an almost brand for him. if he tells steve who he is, would he know? care? run away from the scary guy who may or may not use stage blood in every music video?

but the thing is, he's not a scary guy and he never has been. he might be a little intimidating and he guesses that's the armor he puts on everyday after being bullied in school but it's not an accurate showing of who he is. eddie is sweet, funny, kind of smart in that has random fun facts about dungeons and dragons kind of way.

and he wants the steve harrington to know that guy.

eddie flips over at his middle so his head is nearly touching the floor and ruffles his hair, giving it volume and calming down the frizz that comes from sleep. he shakes it out of his face once he's upright and grabs his garfield coffee mug if only to have something to do with his hands. grabbing his phone off the counter, he opens the camera option in their message thread and snaps a quick picture of himself grinning, mug next to his face with a matching cat-like smirk. he nervously presses send before he can even think about all the flaws with it.

"eddie munson at your service," is what he types out with a saluting emoji and a muttered prayer to whoever would listen to him that things don't end horribly.

it's not like he's expecting to sweep steve off his feet. he knows that steve has picture perfect partners, he sees enough internet news to know that gruff and dark isn't the kind of guy he normally goes for. but he looks back at the photo he sent and hopes that steve sees the kindness in his eyes, the scruff on his jawline that makes it look just the smallest bit chiseled, the whimsy and life that he embodies that comes from a tacky coffee cup.

there isn't an automatic answer and it makes whatever hope eddie has floating around his system falter. ''at this point you've probably searched me and i can reassure you, i'm not actually a vampire like google seems to think i am."

"holy shit."

it's short, two words followed by typing dots that disappear, reappear, disappear once more before reappearing for the last time.

"would you believe me if i told you that i am huge fan??"

choking on coffee hurts, eddie finds out. he coughs as the hot liquid goes down the wrong pipe and concentrates on the messages once he gets his bearings back. steve, the steve harrington, a fan of his? it's a prank, it has to be, there is no way that steve harrington-

"one of my exes took me to your show at the bowl and it quite possibly changed my life. you gave that speech about the pipeline before the encore and i went home and bought every single one of your albums that same night."

he's dead. the papers will read 'eddie munson found dead in his home in a ratty metallica shirt holding onto a garfield coffee mug and cellphone open to a chat where steve harrington tells him he's a fan of his work'. it's the only way that this is possibly happening. he's died and gone to whatever fucked up version of heaven has him still living in his shitty la apartment.

"are you fucking kidding me?" is what he types back, slamming his coffee mug onto the counter to have access to both hands. "you've heard my stuff?"

and then it happens, like out of a shitty teenage rom-com, his phone is lighting up with an in-app call from steve harrington. the steve harrington. careful not to drop his phone in his hurried movements, he presses accept faster than he thinks his fingers have every worked.

"hello?" he questions into the phone and there's no hello back, just steve apparently freaking out as much as he is.

"i hope this is okay," he says and god, does his voice sound wonderful over the phone like this. "but it's faster and i have too many things to say that typing it all out would be stupid."

eddie grins and his feet tap against the ground like an excited kid. "it's fine, i uhm... i get it. god, this is weird."

steve hums in agreement before laughing. and oh, that laugh. it has eddie floating up to cloud nine, heart thumping painfully in his chest, butterflies beating their wings wildly in his stomach.

"yeah, it's definitely not how i expected this morning to go. talking to eddie munson, wow."

"sure," eddie snorts, "you talk to celebrities all the time, i'm sure this is small fish for you."

he hears steve laugh again, soft and gentle, like it's meant just for eddie. "i might talk to celebrities all the times but not ones that i have posters on my wall of like a pre-teen. i'm properly geeking out right now."

eddie short circuits. that's the only way to explain the way his body shuts down as he slumps into an armchair in the living room.

"you, steve harrington, have posters of me on your bedroom wall?" eddie's mouth feels dry as he talks and regrets making coffee at all because he's wide awake now and feels jittery.

"well okay, to be fair, it's of the whole band and it's in my studio but you are shirtless so i contemplated putting it in my bedroom." something shifts on the other end of the line and it sounds like steve sitting down. there's birds chirping in the background and eddie closes his eyes to picture himself sitting with steve on a patio instead of in his dingy apartment.

"you're gonna give me big head, pretty boy." the pet name slips out before he can stop it and the pitch of his voice lowering is out of his control. eddie can't be held responsible for his actions at 8am especially when he's flirting over the phone with his celebrity crush.

"pretty boy, hmm?" steve murmurs back. "so does that mean you have posters of me too?"

the timbre of his voice shoots from eddie's ears all the way down to his toes, lighting his veins on fire as it travels down his body. the hopeful part of his brain supplies an image of steve smirking, relaxing in a pool chair outside of what must be a mansion, phone in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. it could be domestic, if eddie thinks about it hard enough. if he wants it enough.

and god, does he want that. domestic bliss with steve harrington.

"well i wouldn't exactly call picturing you in my dreams every night posters, but it's close enough i guess."

it's gutsy, it's brash, it's too forward for a tuesday morning but steve started it. he hears a shaky exhale on the other end of the line and lets out a chuckle. it feels like they're playing chess and there's no clear cut winner quite yet but if the match ends in a tie, eddie can't exactly say he'd be upset about it.

"i tell you what," steve says in an almost airy voice. "in exchange for giving me my user name, i'll give you my number and you can use it to see me in something other than your dreams tonight."

"...are you bribing me, harrington?"

"is it working?"

eddie takes in a deep breath and thinks about what possible plans he could have with the username 'steveharrington' that would amount to something better than taking the man himself out on a date with his phone number saved as a contact in his phone. he'd put a heart next to it and everything.

"of course it is."

the call drops away and it's quick enough for eddie to think everything that happened in the last 30 minutes could have been a fever dream but then there's three dots on the message thread and his hopeful heart starts to kick back into gear.

"213-555-5469. let me know when you've given up that username and i'll let you know when to pick me up. it's a win-win all around. turns out we each get to go a date with our celebrity crushes, how lucky is that?"

it's signed with a kissing face emoji and eddie's glad that he's sitting down when the last picture steve sends comes through. he's grinning in a way eddie's never seen before, blush high on his cheeks, sweaty shoulders and collarbones and pecs glinting in the early morning sun, and eddie thinks it's probably too early to be in love with someone but he's well on his way.

he texts the number he's sent without hesitation and without shaking hands this time. he signs the message with a black heart like it's a signature of it's own.

"lucky indeed."

#wow this got SO much longer than intended why does this always happen why can i not just shut up #anyway i've been trying to figure out how to write this for a week so enjoy #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #steddie headcanon #popstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #modern au

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yabakuboi · 3 months

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Robin has a love-hate relationship with Steve-and-Eddie. Love, because those are her best friends and her best friends are in love with each other and they never leave her out of anything. Hate, because sometimes she wishes they would because she keeps accidentally third-wheeling herself.

She doesn't hate it that much though, if she's honest. It's just fun to complain, especially because it riles the both of them up.

But right now, she's being quiet so she can witness one of her secretly-favorite Steve-and-Eddie rituals—of which there are many, but this one is silly and endearing.

It starts like this:

The waitress sets down their drinks, lemonade for Robin, coca-cola for Steve, and a cherry soda for Eddie.

"Don't you dare," Eddie says, even as Steve reaches for Eddie's drink, slipping his straw in next to Eddie's and slurping obnoxiously. Eddie doesn't even pretend to stop him anymore. "Unbelievable."

"I just want to taste it!"

"You could just get a whole glass of it! All for yourself!!"

"It's too sweet, I don't want a whole glass."

"What, so you think you can just help yourself to mine?"

Steve's grin is far too smug, even for Robin, even when Steve slides it to her so she can take a sip. Steve is right, it is really too sweet and she wrinkles her nose, but it's worth it for the offended gasp Eddie makes when she slides it back to him.

The diner is their favorite, because everyone who works there has given up on understanding their weird dynamic: Robin and Steve squished into on side of the booth while Eddie's spread out on the other, Robin making gagging noises whenever Steve brushes against her, even though they never sit in any other configuration. The staff has long since stopped asking which of them was her boyfriend, and that's perfect for her.

Besides, she knows that under the table, Steve and Eddie have their ankles locked together like the disgusting love-sick dorks that they are.

The Steve-and-Eddie show continues when their meals come out. Chicken fingers and fries for Steve because he's an actual child, and breakfast for dinner for Eddie because he likes to be contrary. And then the real performance begins.

They "fight" over the ketchup bottle, which really means that Eddie picks it up and Steve snatches it out of his hands—only for Steve to spread it over Eddie's scrambled eggs (gross) for him before he adds a disgusting amount to his own basket.

Eddie makes a game of stealing Steve's fries when he thinks he isn't looking (Steve is, he's tallying each one up in his head, Robin knows this because she's doing it too), and when he finally "catches" Eddie in the act, he steals Eddie's last piece of bacon—the one that's sat untouched for the last five minutes for this very reason.

Then, Eddie's "forcing" Steve to try his grits, like he does every time, and game eats a spoonful of it, every time, and then complains at length how much he hates it (and he actually does hate it, the texture is just not for him, Robin knows because it's the same for her too).

And then they do the worst, most disgusting thing ever: they split the pancake in half. Without fail. Without argument. Every time.

Robin, slurping on her strawberry milk shake that she will NEVER share with anyone ever, thinks that stupid pancake is like the symbol of their love or something. Sh's sure if they weren't in public, they'd be feeding it to each other.

"What?" They say it in unison, and Robin hates when they do that to her.

(Eddie complains about it right back at her, because she and Steve do the same thing to him all the time. They should blame Steve, since he's the common denominator, but he just looks so pleased about them both that they can't rag on him for it, so Eddie remains Robin's sworn enemy and vice versa.)

"What what?" she sneers at them, voice quiet. "You two are disgusting, it's like you're making out right in front of me right now."

"What are you, homophobic?" Eddie hisses back, just as quiet. "I'm in love with your best friend, Buckley. I'm making out with him in front of you for the rest of your life."

"Ugh! I hate you so much."

"Right back at you."

And then they start kicking at each other beneath the table, no doubt catching Steve's ankles in the crossfire. He doesn't tell them to stop though, and Robin can see that pleased, sappy smile on his stupid face out of the corner of her eye, so she lands an exceptionally harsh blow to Eddie's shin in retaliation for making her best friend so happy. He digs his heel into her toes in return.

#steddie #steddie fic #this was originally meant for a steddie love month prompt but i missed posting it up LOL #when will i write steddie without robin??? never #their three musketeer-ism is so important to me #they probably fight over her for best man at their wedding #and they are joint best man at her's #the robin eddie rivalry for steve's love but also they are steve protection squad and steve gossip mongers and steve hecklers #steve 'affection-starved' harrington absolutely thriving having two ppl obsessed with him rn #my fic #dribble drabble #my steddies

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strangersteddiex · 1 year

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Steve has been a librarian at Hawkins Library for a few months before he starts seeing the curly-haired metalhead coming in.

It takes him three weeks to learn the guy's name is Eddie, mainly because the head librarian - Beatrice - prefers to tut and shake her head while muttering about 'devil worshippers' under her breath.

He also learns that Eddie is the bane of any librarian's existence.

He leaves the weirdest shit in the books - things that had obviously been close to hand and easy to use as a bookmark, the best had been a folded piece of paper with a dragon drawn on it, the worst had been a suspiciously stained tissue that Steve refused to touch.

He never returns his books on time, in fact, it got to the point where Beatrice's mutters were steering towards banning him so Steve secretly covered all the late fees. He believed in free knowledge... and he kinda liked seeing the guy floating about the library.

When he decides to read books there, he sits with his ridiculous, chunky boots on the damn table like he owns the place and the chains hanging off them always make a horrendous noise against the wooden surfaces.

And that's not even getting Steve started on the Walkman he's always wearing that's blasting loud metal music through the headphones at a volume that is definitely going to give him hearing damage.

Steve is obsessed.

So much, in fact, that all of his kids have taken turns visiting him at work so that they could see who exactly was taking up so much of their babysitter's thoughts.

Things continue like this - Eddie being annoying, Steve yearning from a distance and various teenagers hiding between the shelves - until one day when Steve is flicking through Eddie's returns for whatever bullshit bookmark he's left in them this time, only to find a note aimed at him instead.

If you like staring so much, how about you do it over milkshakes tonight? 6pm?

Steve lets out a ridiculous sound that he would never admit to, fumbling with the note and the stack of books that then topple off the desk, drawing Eddie's amused gaze.

He also spills his milkshake that evening, but thankfully Eddie just laughs and helps him mop it up with napkins.

Steve learns three things that night:

Eddie only started using that library so he could also stare at Steve.

His voice was so deep and enticing that Steve wanted to wrap himself up in it.

Eddie didn't know libraries had late fees.

Steve thinks he falls a little in love on that date, mainly because he knows that even with Eddie's new knowledge of the library system, he'll still pay the beautiful boy's late fees if it means he can keep staring.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #steddie #librarian!steve #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things hc #st

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loki-cees-all · 6 months

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🐊 headcanons…

Picture it: You’re an Avenger. And dating Loki.

Of course, Steve would call an ‘urgent’ meeting on your birthday, effectively interrupting your plans. Loki isn’t pleased.

How will he make sure you enjoy your special day?

The Interruption {Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / Cee and K's Glorious Birthday Bast Celebration Prompt List / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Avengers!Reader

Summary : It's your birthday, and Loki has one goal - to make sure you feel like the Queen that you are. So when Steve sends out a mysterious email about some kind of emergency, Loki decides to take care of it before you ever find out about it.

W/c : 2k words

Content/Warnings : Fluff, hints of smut, a smidgeon of angst.

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Loki always dreamt pleasantly while you were near. His bed was a sacred place because of you, where love blossomed and nightmares faded, when laughter replaced tears and groans of pain morphed into moans of pleasure.

He always slept well while your naked bodies were tangled together, inhaling and exhaling in perfect sync, sharing warmth on cold nights in blissful uninterrupted slumber - except right now, an irritating beeping noise echoed against the walls over his dreams, incessantly increasing in volume and quickly becoming impossible to ignore.

The sound pulled him from his dreams, and he stirred underneath the weight of your sleeping body against his. Loki liked you there, with your arm draped around his waist, one leg curled around one of his, and your cheek pressed against his chest, completely passed out and without a single care in the world; it made him feel wanted, necessary, alive.

And you were in a particularly deep and divine slumber that morning, thanks to Loki’s ingenious plan of fucking you senseless the night before. But it went further than just the divinity of being intimate with the one he loved dearly, he just wanted to make sure that you slept long and well on the morning of your birthday.

Beep, beep. His eyes finally flickered open when he realized it was your phone making that sound, threatening to ruin the first of many gifts he was planning to give you today. He’d reminded you the night before to make sure it was silenced, but somehow, some kind of message was still sneaking its way through.

Cursing silently to himself, he stretched his arm out to grab the device from your nightstand, moving slowly and carefully in order to not rouse you. And just to be safe, Loki took his other hand and carefully threaded it through your hair to gently massage your scalp, hoping to keep you soothed, relaxed and unconscious.

You let out an incoherent murmur against his chest as he moved, but continued sleeping peacefully, and so Loki brought your phone closer to examine it. He absolutely despised these things, but a long time ago you had insisted on adding his likeness as an Alternate Appearance to your phone, using the justification that it might come in handy someday.

At the time he couldn’t imagine that it ever would - Loki suspected that you were just teasing him, trying to rile him up. But as his eyes scanned the preview on the screen, he was secretly grateful that you had: it was an electronic message from Steve Rogers, addressed to the entire Avengers team, to inform them of some kind of urgent matter that required a mandatory 8 am meeting.

A rage began to simmer deep in his soul. Regardless of what this “urgent matter” was - and Loki was sure that the Soldier was overreacting about it - it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Not when it was your birthday, and he had intended on spending the day worshiping you both in and out of his bed…

Loki returned the phone to the nightstand and wrapped both his arms around you, weighing his options. He could feign ignorance - neither of you saw the email because you were too busy loving each other. Or he could flat out tell Steve that neither of you were going to be available today. That it wasn’t your burden to bear…

But as his fingertips brushed against your soft skin and his lungs filled with the scent of your shampoo, Loki knew you wouldn’t be okay with that. You’d want to do your job, you’d want to help - no matter how inconvenient that was, or how much you deserved a break.

And Loki adored that about you…which is why he ultimately decided he was going to have to fix the problem, whatever it was, before you ever found out about it.

The phone had read 7:13 am before he put it back down, and Loki knew he had to work quickly. Pressing his lips to your temple and delicately cradling your head, he slowly rolled you over onto your back. You let out a groan of complaint as the movement gently stirred you awake.

“No, don’t get out of bed yet…” you murmured, frowning slightly as you reached to pull him closer.

Loki smiled as he settled his weight on top of you, loving the delicate but direct choice of words. He nudged his nose against yours as he spoke softly. “Ah, but I’ve got gifts that need their final touches in order to be perfect for you, darling…”

You sighed peacefully as you brought your hands to thread through his dark hair. “I don’t want gifts. I just want you…”

“You say that now…” Loki chuckled before giving you a slow, lingering, sensual kiss - one that was designed to lull you into submission. “But you’ll be singing a different tune once you see them…”

The kiss almost worked, but as your lips moved with his, Loki felt your fingernails gently dragging against his scalp and down the back of his neck. It was one of his weaknesses, never failing to immediately turn him on and get him going.

He moaned softly, and it turned into a low growl as you wrapped your legs around his waist. His hips began to roll with yours, and there was nothing he wanted more than to spend it inside his bed, inside of you - but he had a mission to accomplish before that could happen.

Loki steeled his nerves and grabbed your wrists, extracting them from his curls and pulling his lips away from yours. “Vixen…didn’t you get enough last night?” he hissed softly, eyes narrowed in a display of restraint even as he met your playful grin with one of his own.

“You know I didn’t…”

“Mmm. You never do, do you?” he murmured as he shifted his weight on the bed, lifting his hips from yours and pressing your wrists into the pillow above your head.

Your lips parted to argue again, and Loki quickly placed his against your throat, exhaling heavily against your skin as he kissed and sucked. You whimpered in both pleasure and submission; Loki knew all of your weaknesses too.

“Just give me a little time, darling,” he whispered softly, trailing his lips up to your ear. “Then I promise, I’ll give you everything you deserve today…”

You nodded in agreement, and Loki smiled, pressing his lips to your temple. “Such a good girl, even on her birthday…”

Your eyelids fluttered open and closed in a haze as Loki rose from the bed and began to get dressed, deciding to do it manually instead of using his seidr, and choosing casual gray sweatpants and a hoodie to further cement the idea that there was nothing to be alarmed about just yet.

He could feel your gaze upon him as he moved, and he did his best to avoid looking back; he knew your naked form would be twisted enticingly in the silk sheets, your eyes half-lidded with desire as they usually were when you were alone.

Loki loved that about you, that you wanted him so openly; it was impossible to resist - and that was exactly why he needed to fend off the Soldier’s urgent request for an emergency meeting; you deserved to be revered every day, but you especially deserved it today.

“I suppose I’ll have to find some other ways of keeping myself entertained while you’re gone…” you sighed dramatically as Loki turned to reach for the door handle.

He grinned and looked back at you, stiffening at the sight of the demure smile gracing your features and your fingertips dipping between your thighs. “You can certainly get started, dear, but don’t you dare finish until I return…”

Loki winked before disappearing into the hallway, and he chuckled to himself as he heard you laugh and groan simultaneously. The door clicked shut, and he sighed heavily as shimmering emerald light descended from temple to toe, transforming the unconcerned clothing he had left wearing into his emerald and onyx battle leathers.

He wasn’t above using whatever intimidation tactics necessary in order to intimidate the Soldier into admitting that he was most definitely overreacting about this so-called urgent matter.

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Deep down you knew that your attempts to delay or distract Loki from leaving wouldn’t work, but it was worth the try; Loki needed someone to keep him on his toes, and you loved that you could do that for him. But now he was gone, off on some mysterious errand, and even though it was supposedly for your birthday, uncertainty was beginning to creep in.

Loki was the God of Mischief, after all. Of Lies, and of Deceit. And even though you were sure he’d never do that to you, that he loved you deeply and truly, within every sense of the word, and to the point of needing to create new definitions for it -

He’d still left you alone on your birthday. The one time you hated being alone, when every solitary insecurity roared its ugly head and threatened to swallow you whole - why was everyone paying so much attention to you today? Why weren’t more people fawning over you?

How were you supposed to respond to the 20 birthday messages on your phone with genuine sincerity and gratitude? And why weren’t there 40 messages waiting for responses?

Were you spending the day in a way that didn’t seem like a waste? Were you doing too much? Not enough?

As tears filled your eyes, you tossed your phone back over to the nightstand. Telling yourself this was silly, you rolled over and pulled Loki’s silk sheets, still warm from his skin and drenched in his scent, tighter around your body and closed your eyes.

Loki would be back soon, you knew that. You were lying naked in his bed, left alone in his private sanctuary to wait for his return; that wasn’t insignificant to either of you. It meant something, it was important, and it was worth focusing on, but at some point it slipped away as you drifted between sleep and consciousness.

Eventually, the mattress dipped down beside you, and two warm hands were stirring you awake as they pulled you onto your back. Loki’s scent was stronger now, and you sighed peacefully as his lips pressed lazily along your throat.

“Mmm. You’re back…” you murmured with a smile as he settled his weight on top of you again. It felt so good to be cocooned with him, and you almost forgot that he’d even left in the first place.

“You know I wouldn’t stay away for too long…” Loki chuckled as he guided your hands to tangle in his hair. “This is where all my favorite belongings are…”

You laughed out loud, and as Loki captured your lips with his, your laughter turned into a deep moan. Your fingers curled in his dark curls, and he kissed you like he’d been away for days instead of an hour, like somehow he wasn’t sure he’d ever make it back to you.

And it was strange - his lips were cold, and he was shivering too; you’d never known him to shiver before…Your brow furrowed, and as if he sensed your confusion, his lips pulled away from yours. “Something wrong, love?” he murmured cautiously.

You gazed up at him, studying the conflicting expression etched on his features with your fingertips. “I’m fine - but you’re shivering. Are you alright?”

He smiled reassuringly, nodding his head towards the coffee table in the living area where two short taupe coffee cups and a small paper bag, presumably filled with cinnamon buns from The Clock Coffee Shop across the street, sat waiting on the coffee table for you. “Well, the caf�� was quite hectic this morning, princess, and it is snowing outside. But I’ll try to be more efficient next year…”

You smiled at the idea that Loki was already planning on spending next year’s birthday worshiping you again.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

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transvampireboyfriend · 9 months

Text

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

"I'm just saying, if the heat bothers you so much, you could cut your hair" Nancy points out, after declining Eddie's pleas for her spare scrunchie.

Robin sits on Nancy's lap, clutching the back of Steve's seat and she looks at Steve through the side mirror like she's afraid that he's about to go on a mission to defend Eddie's honor or something but Steve rolls his eyes at her. He's not that gone.

Or at least he knows how to hide it well.

Eddie's lost several of Nancy's favorite hair accessories and two weeks ago she bowed to never lend him any ever again.

Which, does not stop Eddie from asking her anyway at least once a day.

But the point is, even if Steve wanted to, Eddie's honor cannot be defended in this situation.

Nancy's leaning behind Argyle's back now to glare at the metalhead. Steve can see them in the rearview mirror.

Eddie gasps "I would never" he says, clutching his chest dramatically.

Steve secretly breathes a sigh of relief.

Johnathan chuckles at the wheel. "But you could" he comments, eyes on the road.

Steve can see Argyle subtly laughing and shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

Today is a rare occasion, Jonathan is driving them in Steve's car.

The goal of Steve's rant earlier about having to drive them everywhere was to get Eddie to drive them, so Steve could sit shotgun and watch Eddie drive.

Instead, Jonathan had offered first and then Steve couldn't go in the backseat because he's in charge of their map.

But whatever, this is fine too. He trusts Jonathan and it is nice to get a break and to be able to fully turn around when he's talking to someone in the backseat.

"Jon, I would lose all my sex appeal, you don't get it" Eddie answers, getting a box of Twinkies from one of the many bags they packed and placed on the floor of Steve's car.

"I get it" Argyle chimes in, watching Eddie pull out a Twinkie and shaking his head no when Eddie offers him one.

"You'd still be sexy with short hair" Robin comments from her seat on Nancy's lap.

Everyone turns to look at her.

"What?" she shrugs "I can say that"

Nancy chuckles into her shoulder.

Steve opens their map again to stop thinking about Eddie's 'sex appeal', even as the guy is excitedly munching on a Twinkie in the backseat of Steve's car.

He's got cream in the corner of his mouth and he clearly put more in his mouth than he can comfortably chew. He's leaning one elbow on Argyle's shoulder, his hand holding half a Twinkie, his other hand holds his mop of hair up in a high bun, causing his cut off tank to sit barely covering his nipples, his tattoos on display and his armpit hair fully visible.

Steve's fairly certain nobody else in this car would get it, but to him the sight is mouth watering. The guy is practically irresistible.

"I don't think i would've gone on even half the dates I've gone on if i didn't have my hair" Steve muses, for something to say and to add to Eddie's point, even though he agrees with Robin.

Almost everyone answers with agreeable noises, except Eddie and Robin.

Robin snorts and says "You are relentless"

While Eddie says "You don't get dates for your hair" at the same time. In a tone that suggests he thinks this is an obvious thing.

"I mean- it doesn't hurt" provides Nancy, she sends Steve an apologetic look but Steve waves her off. It's a compliment as far as he's concerned, he loves his hair.

Eddie finishes his treat and opens a new one while everyone else gives their opinions.

"For a lot of people, hair is a big part of attraction" Jonathan is saying, trying to seem like he's not speaking from experience.

"Especially hair as luscious as Steve's" Argyle agrees, leaning forward to lightly comb the side of Steve's hair, making him laugh.

"Thanks, man" Steve says overlapping Eddie's response.

"And I agree!" he exclaims "I'm saying he doesn't get dates because of his hair." Eddie goes on, waving his new Twinkie around for emphasis. "People throw themselves at Steve, and always will, but it's not because of his hair" he repeats.

Steve feels his cheeks heat up but still asks "Then why?"

"Well, because you're very pretty!" Eddie answers easily, like everyone should already know this.

Steve keeps his eyes carefully trained on the map, like he needs to study it meticulously, right this moment, while they're in the middle of a highway.

His cheeks are burning up and he can feel it spreading to his ears.

"And that's if they don't know you!" Eddie continues "If they do know you they know you're kind and brave and strong ...and generous and funny. Who wouldn't want all that in a date?" Eddie finshes.

Oh I don't know, you? Maybe? Do you? Steve thinks.

"Even bald, people would still go crazy for you" Eddie adds, his words slightly muffled towards the end as he shoves almost all of the new Twinkie in his mouth but apparently thinks better of it, biting all but a small piece.

"Here. You want the rest of this?" Eddie offers Steve, talking through his mouthful, and presenting the small piece with his ringed fingers, right in front of Steve's face.

Without thinking, Steve leans forward and takes it with his mouth, his lips burning where they touched Eddie's fingers.

As Eddie retrieves his hand Steve realizes what he just did and how quiet the car got.

He sends Robin a panicked look through the side mirror as Jonathan awkwardly clears his throat.

"Argyle's got nice hair" Robin tries.

The car immediately fills up with enthusiastic agreement and Steve slowly breathes out.

He can't bring himself to look at Eddie as he chews on his bite. He practically licked Eddie's fingers. Unprompted! The guy probably meant for Steve to grab the treat and then eat it. If he even accepted it at all!

Steve feels like an idiot and he frowns at the map again, willing himself to ignore the goosebumps in his arms and the tickling on his lips.

He doesn't see Eddie worriedly staring at him for the remaining of their conversation, until Nancy takes pity on him and offers up her spare scrunchie to distract him.

part 2

#if there's one thing you should know about them is this: they are sooooo dumb <3 #steddie #steveddie #steddie headcanon #stranger things #.#i hope the car configuration isn't too confusing here #also i didn't tag the other ships bc they're so minimal and I don't wanna clog those tags #also this could be platonic. or it could be polycule. you decide :)#i might have a part two but don't tell #also if this by some curse this is seen by someone who was there when i acted like Eddie is acting here SHUT UP #this is fictionalized and NOT YOUR BUSINESS #steddie lake fic

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thegoblinboy · 5 months

Text

Eddie skims the books on the shelf in front of him, there was no use in trying to find one he was actually interested in. He was just going to end up forgetting about it and picking up one of the lord of the rings books again. Instead he just lets himself wander through his thoughts. Letting his body go in autopilot as his fingers gently brush the spines of dozens of books.

He should be in gym class, but he isn’t. The consequences of skipping were far better than those of actually showing up. The last time he went (over a month ago now) he ended up walking out with a chipped tooth and black eye. And he can’t forget about the bruised ego.

Walking at the end of one aisle, he carefully turns and moves himself into the next. Preparing to loop through said aisle again but nearly jumping out of his skin when he nearly falls over another person. A person who was sitting down, back pressed to the shelf he was walking the corner of.

A croak like noise comes out of the back of his throat as he nearly tumbles face first into carpeting. Stumbling forward a bit and catching balance on the shelf to the left of him. Secretly praying to all that’s holy that he didn’t somehow know the entire shelf over.

“Jesus H Christ.” He spits out, a hand pressed against his chest as he dramatically breathes heavier then normal. Putting on a show for whoever nearly killed him. Turning around to face the culprit he nearly jumps back again startled.

Sitting, pretty pathetically Eddie would say, was a very beat up Steve Harrington. Who looked like a horror book came to life. His eyes, or eye was a bit glossed over and wide as he starts stuttering over his words a bit. Obviously having a moment before Eddie came along and crashed the party.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to trip you up like that.” Steve visibly cringes at his own words, as if he was also aware he seemed pathetic.

“Eh- it’s alright. Not the first time a king has tried taking me out.” He grins, before faltering a bit as he remembers that the other wouldn’t understand his DnD campaign reference.

He begins to walk away, wanting the entire awkward interaction to be over. But he can’t help but be just a bit nosy as his eyes glance down at the book in Steve’s lap. It probably had been open at one point, but it was now closed and Eddie is secretly thankful he can read upside down.

“Head injuries huh?” He points out. “Didn’t take you for a reader King Steve.” He drags the other’s name out a bit longer than he has to as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocking a hip out. He didn’t personally enjoy talking with asshole jocks, but what he did enjoy was knowing some things. He liked having some lore for the people around him.

“I’m not.” Steve snorts as he lifts the book up. “Just trying to do some research, I don’t know if you have eyes or anything but my face is pretty smashed in right now.” He retorts back with a little bit of sass. Eddie notes how his words slur up a bit, like he was drunk. But Eddie could spot a drunk anywhere and Steve Harrington seemed a hundred percent sober.

Furrowing his eyebrows, just a bit concerned he doesn’t let up the banter. Purposely forcing his eye lids open with one hand and jokingly pressing the finger tip against his eye before pulling back. Blinking the tears out of his slightly agitated right eye as he brings two thumbs up and comments, “we are in the clear I, Eddie Munson, let the record show, have eyeballs.” He grins dramatically.

“Want a gold star for that poncho.” Steve snorts, shaking his head a bit obviously amused. His body tensed up a bit as he goes a bit pale for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut with shaky breathes as his fists tighten around the book he was holding.

“Yes I do in fact want a gold star-” Eddie mumbles out gently, face scrunching up a bit more worried now as he moves his crossed arms from off his chest and moves a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey Harrington, you alright? You don’t seem like your typical charming self.” He comments as he hesitates for a moment before he crouches down. Leaving a few inches between the two of them.

Steve gives a weak nod of his head before he adjusting himself. “Yeah- just moves my head too much. Happens sometimes you know?” He chuckles gently.

“Oh thank god, you were looking a little green. Was worried you were about to hulk out on me buddy.” Eddie jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood a bit. Lifting his hand up and running one of his rings against the bottom of his lip before glancing back down at the book.

“Find anything good in there, or are you just holding it for show?” Eddie asks gently, trying to come off a bit more teasing.

Steve snorts again, sounding a bit stressed as he nearly shakes his head no again but stopped ps himself. “No, couldn’t even make it through the first page without wanting to throw up.” He groans as he quickly adds. “Not because I don’t want to read it, it’s just the words won’t sit still and it hurts my eyes which then hurts my head.” He groans as he opens his eyes back up fully and looks down at the book with a little huff.

“Could always get a nerd to do your homework for you,” Eddie jokes, slightly hinting towards Wheeler. “Heard that girlfriend of yours had a decent brain on her, she seems like the type to understand that you’ll need help.” He tilts his head to the side as he looks at the other.

Steve makes a noise that Eddie can’t even place, it sounded like the mixture of a laugh and a snort combined. “Can’t, I’m pretty sure she cheated on me with Byers. Don’t want to feel any more stupid around her.” He mumbles the last sentence out.

Eddie looks a bit surprised, he hadn’t taken Mrs Priss to be a cheater. Though he furrows his eyebrows again in thought. “If you give me a twenty I’ll read that book for you and try answering any questions you have.”

Eddie didn’t want to seem completely like a sweetheart, he had to keep up the image he had going on or else people wouldn’t take him seriously during deals. And he didn’t want to ruin said image to Steve Harrington of all people.

Steve squints his good eye at Eddie suspiciously, “I’ll pay you a hundred if you don’t mention this to anybody else.”

Eddie feels a little bit shitty for doing this but an image had to be kept.

“You’ve got yourself a deal Harrington.” His grin isn’t fully authentic as he takes the book from the other and does a playful salute as he stands up fully and begins to walk away.

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talesofesther · 5 months

Text

too close to the stars

Loki x Reader

Summary: Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, but a bit of a Christmas spirit might just change that.

A/N: I wish everyone a very happy Christmas. <3

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The sun peered over the horizon this morning only to shine over the white expanse of snow that covered the grounds of the Avengers Compound.

It had snowed pretty heavily over the night, and as Loki looked out his window, he couldn't help but think that the landscape was rather pleasant to look at—Thor had already made his way outside to shovel snow out of the driveway along with Steve, the once green fields were now a blanket of glistening white, as were the many trees around. The air was cold, but a pleasant kind of cold; it brought a feeling of calmness.

That is, until a rather sharp noise of something scratching the floor outside his bedroom disrupted Loki's peace.

Accepting that another day had begun, the god made his way outside onto the common area, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and putting on his slippers.

As soon as Loki rounded the corner to the spacious living room, his lips hung open in bewilderment and his brows furrowed in mild confusion.

You were standing on the very top of a ladder, stretching your body so you could reach the ceiling trims and lamps, all while holding an ungodly amount of ornaments, string lights, and garlands. It looked like a rather precarious arrangement and Loki found himself worrying for your safety for a moment.

"What on earth are you doing?" Loki asked, exasperated, frozen in place as he watched you.

The ladder wiggled in place when you quickly turned around to face him and Loki nearly bolted forward to catch you if you were to fall. He cursed under his breath when all you did was give him a cheeky smile.

"I'm decorating," you gestured around to the expanse of the living room, which already had most of its nooks and crannies filled with garlands, Santa Claus plushies, stockings, and the like.

Loki's frown only deepened, "We already have decorations." He pointed to the exaggerated Christmas tree that had been standing beside the TV since before the beginning of December. Honestly, he had yet to understand the humans' obsession with said holiday.

You chuckled, and the sound naturally brought the ghost of a smile to Loki's lips as well. "No, silly. I'm decorating for our little Christmas party tomorrow night, I thought the place looked a bit bare still." You winked at him and went back to work.

Loki shook his head, his heart swelling with affection. He was way past denying it already. Somehow, between your overwhelming sweetness and insistence on treating him as if he was someone worth saving, you had managed to sneak your way into Loki's cold heart. He simply hadn't managed the guts to tell you, yet.

With a flick of his wrist, the living room erupted in a myriad of greens, golds, and reds. Each decoration you had on your arms—and more—magically took its rightful place in the walls and between furniture.

A breathless chuckle went past your lips, eyes glinting with amazement as you watched it all unfold. It was incredibly endearing, the way that, despite seeing so much of it, you never ceased to be enchanted by Loki's magic. He secretly took pride in it.

"That's convenient," you mumbled with a faint smile.

"Quite," Loki stated, taking a step closer, "Now please get down from there before you break something and have to spend your precious holiday in the med bay."

You skipped down the ladder as if gravity would bend to your will, were you to fall; the tilt of your lips ever present as you came to stand before Loki, much closer than what would be socially acceptable for ones who said they were merely friends. Yet Loki would never dare to complain. If anything, he held himself back from pulling you even closer.

"Do I detect a hint of worry, trickster?" You raised a brow at him. "Would you miss me if I didn't attend the party?"

Loki chuckled lowly, his smirk was teasing but his eyes avoided yours. "Darling, you're the only reason I'm even going to this party."

You bit your lower lip to keep the smile from getting any bigger, "Flatterer," you breathed.

And Loki loved you like this, all pink cheeks and bashful eyes, as if he had the same effect on you that you had on him. He hardly dared to dream of it. But he allowed himself to bask in these tiny moments by your side.

Then your pinkie hooked around his own, and Loki was putty in your hands.

"Come on, let's take a walk outside, enjoy the sun while it's out." You tugged him toward the elevator, not once letting go of his hand.

It was indeed very pleasant outside, the soft rays of sunlight were just enough to bring a bit of warmth along with the cold winter breeze, the air was fresh to breathe in, and the snowy landscape was beautiful.

Loki's boots crunched the snow and frozen grass underneath as he lazily walked beside you. He'd steal glances at you from time to time, watching as the sunlight shaped your serene profile and how you looked genuinely breathtaking amidst the white horizon. Everything felt perfect for a precious second and Loki wished he could slow down time.

His musing was suddenly interrupted, however, when he was hit in the back of his head with something mildly solid and very cold; causing an oof to escape his lips.

He whipped his head around in your direction only to see you muffling a giggle with one hand, while the other held a snowball.

A halfhearted scoff went past Loki's lips. He raised a hand to brush off the remaining snow from his hair, as a mischievous smirk painted his features, "You little minx, you have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

A mix of a squeak and a chuckle fell past your lips the moment Loki bolted towards you and you naturally sped off in the opposite direction. You struggled to run amidst the rather thick snow and Loki took the advantage to bunch up a snowball of his own and hit you square in the back.

By the time you had made it back inside the Compound, you both had nearly run two full laps of the whole yard and were a mess of snow-covered clothes and breathless laughs.

"I.. win," you spoke in between deep breaths, one hand resting on Loki's chest to brace yourself.

"Absolutely not," Loki frowned as if you'd personally offended him. He took a deep breath himself, gesturing to your snowy clothes, "You're way worse off than I am."

"Uh uh, lies," you insisted. "I hit you way more than you hit me, your aim is shit," you chuckled.

Loki's smile followed yours naturally, he raised a hand to brush wild strands of your hair away from your eyes, his touch all delicate and soft. "You keep telling yourself that, love."

─── ·❆· ───

When the night of the celebration finally arrived, Loki found himself hesitating to get out of his room. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, slowly running a hand over the smooth fabric of his black suit. Did he like what he saw? The person staring back at him? Would you?

It was no secret that, despite accepting his presence, a few wary looks and comments still lingered between his teammates whenever he walked into a room. Loki couldn't blame them, not really. He also couldn't deny that those not-so-kind comments didn't get to him sometimes, much as he'd like to.

But then, there was you, who had never once made him feel unwelcome or unworthy. You who made him coffee in the mornings and always saved him a seat at the table. You who had a smile reserved for him ever since his first day here. You who made his heartbeat stumble and his silver tongue get caught in his mouth.

And Loki so desperately wanted to be someone deserving of all that. Still, he feared he wasn't.

A long sigh went past his lips. With a final tidying of his hair and the tie around his neck, Loki made his way out.

There was music playing in the common area. The several blinking lights you had so meticulously arranged were illuminating the room beautifully, reflecting against the many Christmas ornaments in warm shades of orange in the night. Tony, Thor, and Natasha were hanging out by the bar, with drinks in hand and loose smiles on their faces; Clint and Steve were sitting on the couch, laughing at something that Loki couldn't hear; Bucky and Sam were standing together by the Christmas tree, apparently trying to guess what was inside each present.

A few of their gazes turned as Loki stepped into the room, he could see as well as feel it, the weight resting in each one. He gave a polite smile and nod to no one in particular as his gaze skimmed around, looking for the reason he came. When he couldn't find you, he walked straight to the bar.

Loki leaned his elbows on the glass surface, closing his eyes and breathing in. There was a reason he wasn't overly fond of the team's social gatherings; he felt like an intruder, someone they were merely putting up with.

"Anything special?" Natasha's sultry voice made Loki look up. She stood behind the bar with an inquiring eyebrow raised at him.

"I'm afraid she's not here yet," Loki mumbled, which elicited a low chuckle from Natasha. The spy was a dear friend of yours and probably something close to it for Loki as well, one of the few people here who he knew didn't mind his presence.

"Actually," Natasha started, nodding towards the opening doors of the elevator, "I think she just arrived."

Loki turned around and his breath hitched. You stepped out of the elevator slowly, one hand smoothing out the fabric of your red dress—a gorgeous red dress that hugged your body and accentuated your curves to perfection. Your hair was up in a bun and there was golden jewelry highlighting your features.

The god was frozen in place, entranced by the beauty that was you. He'd never been so taken with anyone like he is with you. And when your eyes met, and a small, timid smile graced your glossy lips, Loki swore he could feel his heartbeat stumble.

You were about to make your way to him when Steve called your name and stole your attention. And then Bruce, and then Sam. Seemed like everyone wanted a piece of you tonight.

Loki had a near-empty drink in hand when you finally managed to walk up to him.

You approached him with a smirk, leaning on the bar just beside him and raising a hand to gently tug on the lapel of his blazer. "Well, don't you clean up nicely, trickster?"

Loki hummed, leaning just a tad closer to you, "I'm not the one everyone is trying to get a hold of this evening." He said lowly, only for you to hear.

"Oh please," you chuckled, briefly avoiding his gaze. "I only have eyes for one person tonight."

A beat of silence passed, even if the room was anything but silent. Tony was going on about one of the many Christmas stories he shared every year, eliciting laughs from your teammates who by now had gathered all around the living room. From the corner of his eye, Loki noticed Bucky trying to straighten the star on the very top of the Christmas tree, the one the soldier himself had knocked over earlier.

You'd be mad, Loki thought. You'd be saying something about manners and being more careful, with a smile on your lips as you easily fixed the golden star yourself.

But instead, you were here; attention solely on Loki, in your little corner of the world as the chatter around you turned to nothing but muffled noise.

Why? He couldn't help but wonder. What could you possibly see on him?

"And who is this lucky gentleman?" Loki asked, his voice suddenly way too quiet as he kept his eyes trained on his half-empty glass, "Or lady?"

Only after you didn't answer, did Loki finally look up at you. There was a soft smile on your lips, painted with a feeling he couldn't name.

"That's a secret," you whispered back and took hold of Loki's glass of champagne, leaving it on top of the bar before closing your hand around his own instead. "Come on."

Loki followed easily, he allowed you to guide him to the balcony, where the cold wind was flowing and the warm lights from inside were nothing but a faded glow coming from the glass doors.

You didn't let go of Loki's hand when you stopped walking, only squeezed it once as you looked up at him with softly furrowed brows and an adorable tilt of your head. "What's wrong? You've been all tense ever since I walked in."

Of course you'd know. Of course you'd notice the stiffness of his shoulders and the guarded look in his eyes. If there was anyone who could read him like an open book, it was you.

A breathy chuckle fell past Loki's lips, he drank in the sight of you in the night; as wisps of your hair flew with the wind and as the light from inside outlined the shape of your features.

"You know it as well as I do that they don't want me here," Loki shot a pointed look at your teammates inside, not accusing, simply stating. "I don't… belong here…" Loki's fingers tangled with yours, his thumb gently brushing the skin of your hand, "With you." The words were nothing but a breath.

You raised your free hand to his face, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers before you gingerly traced his jaw. "But you do," you took half a step closer to him, your heels bumping his shoes, "You may think that you don't, but you do. I'd miss you greatly if you ever left."

Loki met your gaze again, his eyes a pool of sentiment, walls down and as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him. He leaned into your touch, all soft and pleading. "How could I ever deserve your kindness?" He spoke quietly, almost as if he never meant to say it out loud.

But you heard anyway, and your answer came in the same heartbeat. "You already do, always have." Your voice caught slightly in your throat, overwhelmed with the affection you felt for him.

The softest of smiles graced Loki's lips, the back of his eyes burned and his heart beat out of his chest, for you, for you, for you. He leaned in, biting the inside of his cheek and closing his eyes when you didn't pull away. His lips met your forehead in a lingering kiss, a promise of the thousand words he wished to say to you, of everything you made him feel that he couldn't put into words.

When he pulled away, you were looking up at him with something akin to adoration—maybe he could dare to call it love. Your eyes shining with a twinkle of expectation.

Loki squeezed your hand, feeling his cheeks heat up. "I couldn't break your silly tradition, now could I?" He shot a glance up.

You followed his gaze and finally saw it, a glimmer of green leaves with a small red trinket tying it together, delicately flowing in the wind as it hung by the door, pretty much on top of your head. A mistletoe.

You hummed, a small smirk coming to your lips as you settled back on Loki. "I don't remember putting it there." You raised a brow at him, standing so close you breathed the same air.

"And yet it's there anyway," Loki mumbled, lost in your orbit. His eyes darted down to your lips; it was a quick glance, all timid and boyish, but you caught it.

"So it is," you chuckled quietly, taking hold of the tie around his neck so you could pull him closer still, "And I wouldn't want to break tradition either."

You kissed him then, soft lips fitting with his own like a missing puzzle piece. A quiet gasp of surprise escaped Loki as soon as you closed the distance, yet you were quick to kiss it away, trapping his lower lip between yours and bringing one hand up to tangle in between his hair.

The taste, the feeling of you, put Loki's most beautiful dreams to shame. It's white noise and being submerged underwater all the same time—sweet, warm and tasting like brown sugar and the sip of champagne you had earlier.

The world around faded to nothingness as Loki's hand traced your spine and tugged you flush to him, his breath came in trembling puffs when you pulled away just the tiniest bit. His lips tingled as they brushed against yours again.

What a remarkable mortal you were, to have a god shivering beneath your touch. And selfishly, Loki wouldn't have it any other way.

You opened your eyes slowly, tongue running over your bottom lip as your thumb traced his jaw. You breathed in deeply to catch back the air he whisked out of you.

Loki watched the stars dancing in your eyes, looking down at you as if you were his universe, and delighting in the way you looked up at him as if he were yours. Maybe that's what love was all about.

Your hand trailed down his arm, brushing the fabric of his blazer until you tangled your fingers with his.

Squeezing your hand, Loki smiled. He felt like he belonged, right here by your side.

"Come on, before they open all the gifts without us," you winked, raising your free hand to clean the smudged lipstick by the corner of your mouth.

Loki followed you inside with his cheeks and heart feeling all warm. And if the mistletoe disappeared in a flash of green after you turned around, no one needed to know.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 13 days

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8: SURPRISE!

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Bucky's surprise birthday party provides more surprises than you had hoped.

Word count 3.2k

Warnings: Birthday boy behaving badly, Priya is the warning here!

Erik’s sexual intervention had released you of the tension you felt whenever you were around Bucky and you realized that his birthday was quickly approaching. You made it your mission to start working on Bucky’s birthday party. The previous year he had flat out refused to let you throw him any festive gathering and you had only accepted that on one condition: he would get one this year. You had no intention of letting him wheedle his way out of it this year. He had begrudgingly agreed but only if it was something small and intimate with his friends only.

You had given Bucky a withering look. "Trust me! I know you well enough. You’re going to like it. I promise!"

You felt like a kid in a candy store, who had been given the keys to Willy Wonka’s entire kingdom. Glee was written across your features, you wanted everything to be perfect for your best friend. Steve was your trusty accomplice and you had invited Priya into the fold as a way to make up for your misdemeanors. She had suggested that you order food from Sticks and Stones because he loved the food there and even convinced Victor to help with the catering.

A week before the auspicious day, you had pulled Steve aside to ask him if he would accompany you to pick up Bucky’s birthday gift.

"Did you find it?" Steve asked you.

"The Glenn Miller vinyl?"

Steve nodded.

"Yeah, I found it! It’s in a vintage records store in SoHo." You smiled.

"Bucky’s going to love it. His family would play them all the time, he was such a natural dancer. It would be nice for him to do that again."

"I’m glad it’s got Captain America’s seal of approval!" you quipped cheekily.

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling relaxed and happy for once. "Do you want to go and pick it up now? I’ll drive. I can pick up my gift at the same time!"

"Oh that would be great, Steve! What did you get him?"

"You know that picture you took, the one of Bucky, you, me, Nat and Sam?"

"Yeah, I know the one."

"I painted it. There is a guy who said he would frame it and he texted me this morning saying it was ready to collect.

"Steve! I can’t wait to see it!" you squealed with excitement. "Let’s go!"

Both of you set off, climbing the stairs that led to the parking garage.

"Oh, Priya, hey! Didn't see you there!" you smiled at her as you noticed her presence at the top of the staircase.

Priya smiled back at you tersely.

"Everything okay?" Steve asked.

"Fine."

"Do you need a lift home?"

"No, I'm spending the night with Bucky."

"Ahh," Steve blushed at the implication of sex.

You rolled your eyes and tugged on Steve's sleeve. "Come on, punk. See you later Priya!"

March tenth came around quicker than expected. You waited impatiently for Bucky to arrive as his 'surprise’ party. Even though Priya was distracting him, Bucky knew about the events that had been planned. You knew he didn't like loud noises or jump scares, but he had promised to act suitably surprised.

Everything for the party went off without a hitch. The room was filled with dozens and dozens of black and gold balloons. Swing music was playing on the gramophone that Tony had purchased for the occasion. Sam cheekily had a cardboard cut out of Bucky made with his vibranium arm cut off so you could play ‘Pin the arm on Bucky’. You groaned but secretly you wanted to beat everyone.

Thor had made an appearance and was already half way through the bucketful of Asgardian ale, which he claimed to have brought for the birthday boy. Even Ayo, who you'd invited, had graced you with her presence. When she arrived, you flung your arms around the reserved Wakandan warrior. The Dora Milaje did not engage in public displays of emotion, but for you she offered a hug in return.

Things seemed to be going well. Bucky arrived with Priya and was greeted with yells and streamers. Bucky's surprise was convincing… possibly a little too dramatic, making Priya laugh and you groan exasperatedly. You stood on the side of the room watching everyone mingle, enjoying how Bucky's attention was demanded from everyone in the room. His friends were kind enough not to crowd him, or overwhelm him, but also make him feel special all at the same time.

It warmed your heart to see the light in his eyes, the enjoyment on his face. Priya was glued to his side, stroking his hair, whispering in his ear. His arm was constantly around her waist. She was the only thing that marred your perfect vision of the event.

"I am surprised that James chose that woman," Ayo appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Jesus, Ayo. We've talked about you sneaking around. Don't make me tie a bell around your ankles!"

Ayo smiled. "Why isn't that you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you told James how you feel?" Ayo doesn't wait for your reply. "It could be you dancing with him rather than standing here looking like a wallflower."

"Maybe you could dance with me."

"I think not, Y/N." Ayo never used your nickname.

"Way to let a girl down gently, Ayo."

Ayo just rolled her eyes at you and ventured over to Thor who was challenging everyone to a drinking contest, one which no one was engaging in. Steve was beside him, sipping the liquor carefully enjoying the buzz he rarely got to experience. Wanda and Vision were lovingly embraced in each other's arms in a corner, dancing like the rest of the world didn't exist. Nat was behind the bar serving her own special cocktails and flirting with a blushing Bruce. Clint and Laura were laughing with Pepper, while Tony, Sam and Rhodey were playing cards and making the most outrageous noise.

You loved your little found family, even though you missed the one that brought you up. Coulson's S.H.I.E.L.D. team had inducted you into the world of violence and espionage and aliens and time travel. It was with them that you'd learnt to control your powers and become worthy to call yourself an Avenger.

Agent Melinda May was the only member of the team you saw regularly anymore since she worked close by in the new S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy HQ. She had been your S.O. for many years and held a special place in your heart, despite her prickly exterior. She often joked that you would make an excellent addition to her staff at the Academy and to ensure that you lived long enough to accept the position when retiring from ‘that Avenger gig’.

You were brought out of your reverie about the past by Priya, who was standing on a chair shouting about it being time for presents.

Everyone cheered and you were grinning like a lunatic now. You felt excited to give Bucky your gift. The first edition Glenn Miller record was safely wrapped in a solid casing. In the Mood was the last song that Bucky and his family had danced to while he had been on leave from the War. His last happy memory of them before he had fallen from the life he had known, before he had been thrust into a world of ice and torture.

About a year ago, you had caught Bucky using your Spotify to listen to music from his childhood and had offhandedly mentioned this piece of information about his past. You kept hold of this precious tidbit for the right occasion.

Bucky had already started ripping open wrapping paper when you ventured over. Wanda had knitted him a black scarf with golden threads to match his arm, which had made him smile. Next Sam handed him a small black box which Bucky opened to find a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs.

"Thought you could use some props, spice life up a little," he winked at Bucky. Sam had a way of pushing Bucky's buttons, but you could see the mild blush on Bucky's cheeks which deepened when Priya interjected.

"Thank you very much, Samuel, but James and I don't need such tawdry things in the bedroom."

Bucky shrugged apologetically at Sam and you wondered if he was thinking about your recent conversation.

Sam was pushed aside by Thor, who deposited a large vat of ale into Bucky's arms. "Many happy returns, metal man." He patted Bucky on the back so hard that Bucky almost dropped his gift.

Bucky was depositing the alcohol on the gift table when he was approached by Ayo. "Happy Birthday, James."

"Thank you for coming, it means a lot that you took the time."

"You look like you are doing well for yourself."

"Yeah, it’s good," Bucky smiled.

"This is for you." She handed him a simple box with padding on the inside. Bucky opened it to find a pair of ornately decorated blades made from vibranium. Everyone gasped at how beautiful they looked in the dim lights. They collapsed in on themselves and were discrete and easy to conceal. Ayo pointed out a small device which acted like a homing beacon so Bucky would be able to locate them if he lost sight of them.

"These are incredible! Thank you."

Tony didn't have many words but he did hand Bucky a beautifully ornate envelope which Bucky opened tentatively. Inside was an invitation to a magnificent moonlit dinner on a yacht on the Hudson. Bucky held the gift reverently in his hands, his vibranium fingers barely gripping, as though their strength might make the gift crumble. His eyes glistened in the party lights, a thin film of unshed tears. There had been a time where they were ready to kill each other, and even now they never spent any time alone together. You knew that this gift meant a lot to Bucky.

"Dinner on a boat? I think we'll have to pass on that, I get sea sick." Priya commented, gazing at the gift certificate around Bucky's arm.

A flicker of irritation crossed Tony's face, before he grinned mischievously. "Not a problem, it's not person specific. Manchurian Candidate here can take anyone he likes. Capsicle might not be a fan of the food, but I think Cricket would really enjoy the cuisine."

He turned to wink at you, making you blush. You couldn’t help but notice the scowl on Priya’s face, no matter how short lived it was and you knew you were about to meet your comeuppance when the glowering look she was shooting in your direction turned into a beaming smile.

"Jamie! It’s my turn, baby. I have a very special gift for you!" She hands him a thin square shaped gift wrapped in shiny golden wrapping paper. "Here!"

You felt a sudden weight on your chest, a feeling of dread washing over you. It felt like things were moving in slow motion, watching Bucky unwrap the gift. You didn’t know what you had been expecting when he pulled out a shiny record cover. It was as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you, except you were paralyzed. The color drained from your face as you realized what the album was.

‘The Very Best of Glenn Miller.’

Bucky’s eyes shone brightly as he dropped the wrapping paper and ran his flesh fingers over the cover reverently. "Priya," he gasped in a whisper. "I- it's perfect." Bucky wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest and giving her a long, passionate kiss. "I love it! I love you!"

You barely noticed Steve sideling up to you, you couldn't hear him asking if you were okay. That was your gift. It was yours! If you didn’t have the vinyl you’d bought and so lovingly wrapped in your hand, you’d think she had stolen it from you. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, every attempt you made felt futile, like the air around you had left the room. He had shared the same things with her, you thought he trusted you with his past, but you weren't as special as you thought you were.

Eventually you looked up when Steve put a gentle hand on your shoulder. He whispered, almost as though his words he was about to use were criminal. "Do you remember when we were talking last week? Before we went to pick up our gifts? You don’t think she overheard us… do you? And…"

In the end, it didn’t really matter. You knew in the moment that you’d lost Bucky forever. Everything felt far away, the room was suffocating, why were there so many people? Tears burned in your orbital sockets, drowning you from the inside out. You couldn’t face them anymore, seeing the happiness on Bucky’s face, knowing that someone else was responsible for that smile, that light inside him, was heartbreaking. Ultimately, you wanted him to be happy but you wanted to share that joy with him, you wanted to be the one to give it to him and watching that mantle being taken from you and bequeathed to another person was soul crushing. Gripping your present tightly, you slipped out of the room, Steve watching your retreating footsteps with sympathy, but knowing not to follow.

A few tears escaped as you found refuge in the kitchen, but you had no desire to explain red eyes and a blotchy nose to any of the other team members or party goers, so you wiped them away angrily, taking a few calming breaths before pouring yourself a strong drink. You sank onto a bar stool, shoving the record onto the chair to your right, you had no use for it anymore. There had barely been time for you to take 2-3 sips from your drink before Bucky popped his head into the room.

"Cricket? There you are!"

"Hey Buck! Having a good time?" You plastered a smile on your face, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Deception in this case was a futile attempt, Bucky was well versed in the movements of your face. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," you lied. "Just getting a drink."

"There are plenty of drinks back there."

He looked searchingly into your eyes and the facade you had erected was crumbling. You looked away, dropping your head to try and hide your face with your hair.

"It was just a bit much, everyone there… I don’t know, I feel a little… overwhelmed."

Too much drain of the social battery, Bucky was familiar with that. He pulled out the chair on your left, almost giving you a heart attack because you had momentarily forgotten which chair you’d left the present on.

"If you want to give me my gift here, we can do it privately. Everyone else is done," Bucky suggested, leaning towards you.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. Suddenly you felt angry that he was there, why couldn’t he give you a moment to grieve? Constantly invading your space, reminding you of what you couldn’t have, dangling the carrot but keeping it just out of reach. "Well you already have the perfect gift from your girlfriend, what more do you need?" You couldn’t keep the bitterness out of your tone.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. But the damage was done. There was a deathly silence between you where you were afraid to look at your best friend.

"You know, I thought I would have you both in my life; my best friend and my girlfriend. I feel like you’re making me choose you over her and it’s not fair, Cricket! I’ve tried, I really have but you’re making it impossible! So you know what, I’m going to have to choose Priya. At least she bothered to put some effort into getting me a birthday gift. I can have a future with her."

The worst thing about his words were the disappointment and finality in his tone. And with that he left you alone with only your thoughts for company. A storm raged inside you, a maelstrom of emotions; anger, betrayal, abandonment, rejection, loss, just outright pain. How could he? How could he choose her over you? After everything you had been through together, the bond you had forged, the absolute faith and trust you had put in each other. Did it mean nothing to him? Did you mean nothing to him?

Trudging back to your room, you sought comfort in your giant bed, hoping it would envelope you completely. Wrapping the duvet around your body and over your head, you buried your face in a pillow and allowed the tears to fall. Once the gates had opened, the trickle of tears became a flood as you sobbed into your pillow to muffle the sound.

Why did he have to choose? Why didn’t he choose you? The pain in your chest was unbearable, a physical ache that matched the emotional turmoil inside you. You had tried so hard to make things work, to give him a balance of your friendship with his relationship with Priya, but now it seemed like all your efforts had been in vain. He had made his choice, and it wasn’t with you.

As you lay there in your bed, the tears continued to flow, a never-ending stream of sadness and heartbreak. You felt like a piece of you had been ripped away, leaving a raw, gaping wound in its place. How could you move on from this? How could you ever trust anyone again, knowing that they could just choose someone else over you?

You sighed, you knew now that you would never be good enough for him. Everything you’d tried to hold on to, had done nothing but push him away. You remembered when you had first understood your feelings, you’d considered pulling away to protect yourself. But Bucky had reeled you back in, constantly asking if he had done something to hurt you. So you’d given in, telling yourself you didn’t want to hurt him. But in reality, it had been selfish, you had indulged in a fantasy and ended up hurting the man you loved and getting hurt in the process.

You startled as a door slammed shut nearby. It was Bucky’s bedroom door, you could hear Priya giggling and Bucky’s deep voice through the wall. Your body froze with shock, the last thing you needed right now was to listen to your best friend having sex with his girlfriend. You shoved your airpods into your ears and turned up one of your lo-fi playlists and closed your eyes.

The decision you should have made then, was far more clear to you now. Your friend and old superior officer from your S.H.I.E.L.D. team had repeatedly offered you the chance to teach with her at the newly formed Coulson Academy. She had taught you everything you knew and believed in your ability to impart the knowledge you’d gained to potential agents. It was time for you to take her up on this offer.

As you wiped away your tears and made a decision to move forward, you knew that it was time to focus on yourself and your own happiness. Bucky had made his choice, and now it was time for you to make yours. You couldn’t continue to dwell on what would never be, on the pain of rejection and heartbreak.

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @belleofthebooks @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @love-isnt-greed @hhiggs @winters1917 @blackhawkfanatic @calwitch @learisa @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lillianacristina @mostlymarvelgirl @wintercrow @buckitostan @crist1216 @bisexualnikkisixx @robynjasp

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 22

part 1 | part 21 | ao3

“…Go ahead,” he relents with a heavy sigh.

He turns the radio back on for background noise, and Robin launches herself into a breathless recap of every minute detail she’s ever learned about Eddie Munson. Genuinely impressive how quickly the words come out; Steve thinks that if her dream of becoming a linguistics researcher ever falls through, she’s got a bright future ahead of her as one of those speedreaders who rattle off the fine print at the end of pharmaceutical ads.

Warning: Discussion of Eddie Munson may cause nausea, heartburn, palpitations, sweaty armpits, and an inconveniently timed half-chub any time you use a pocket knife. Talk to your doctor to see if Discussion of Eddie Munson is right for you!

“Which brings us to tonight,” she’s saying when he zones back in. “Let’s examine the facts, shall we?”

“Must we?”

“Yes, we must.”

She makes a loose fist, lifting her pointer finger with an aggressive flourish to kick off her ‘list of reasons Eddie has a big, fat crush on you.’ “Fact number one: he was conveniently wearing a super nice outfit.”

“He said he ran out of laundry.”

“And we’re buying that?” she scoffs. Her middle finger springs up to join the first one. “Two: he was so disgustingly up in your personal space. Like, you really should have seen it; it was—”

Mwah. Mwah mwah mwah. “Yeah, I don’t need another demonstration.”

“Three” —there goes her ring finger— “he came to a movie rental store that you just so happen to work at and then left without renting a movie.”

“Because you did something to spook him!”

“Which brings me to my fourth and final point.” Her pinky lifts up to join the team, fingers spread wide like a paper fan, and she telescopes her arm to shove them back and forth under his nose until he goes a little cross-eyed and bitches about her distracting the driver.

“Cut it out! You want me to drive us into someone’s trash cans?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well I’m sending you the invoice when it scratches up the paint.”

She retreats to her side of the car, curling her back against the door and repeating, “My fourth and final point: I think he thinks we’re dating.”

“And? Everyone thinks we’re dating.”

“No, everyone wants us to be secretly dating,” she corrects. “But I’m pretty sure Eddie actually thinks I’m your girlfriend. You remember last week when you dropped me off at school?”

He does. Eddie had actually been there early for once; had been sitting on a bench out by the soccer fields, looking surly and half-asleep while he sucked down a cigarette. Hair all messed up by the wind. Looked kind of dangerous. Wild.

“He was, like, fully glaring at me when I walked into school that morning, and then he was super rude to me in band. Which, at the time, I was like, ‘oh, well I guess that’s just Eddie no one can ever tell what his mood’s gonna be like from day to day,’ but noo-o-ow…”

She starts squirming in her seat again, excitement overflowing as she finally cracks the case. “Now it all makes sense! Oh, my god! He totally hates me because he thinks we’re dating, and I’ll bet you anything he either didn’t know we work together or didn’t expect me to be there tonight and he totally, one hundred percent was there to flirt with you because he’s in lo—”

“Okay, Detective,” he cuts her off, because the tips of his ears are burning, and he doesn’t think he can handle her saying the L word out loud right now. “You’ve made your point, thank you.”

“Tell me I’m right.”

“Uh, no.”

“Come on.” She jabs at his side. “Tell me I’m right tell me I’m right tell me I’m—”

“—A fucking menace? Gladly.”

“Translation: I’m right and you’re mad about it,” she smirks, victorious.

Steve knocks his forehead against the wheel as he pulls up to her curb. “Why do I drive you places?”

“Because you love me." She flips her visor down to freshen up her lip balm, mumbling around the chapstick, "I’m adding Surly Best Friendlish to my list of fluencies; I think it'll really make my college applications pop."

"Yuh huh," Steve grumbles. The thought of Robin leaving for college always sits in his gut like raw bread dough — thick and heavy and gross, rising to form a swollen lump in his throat. "Didn't you already submit all of those?"

"Yes, I diiiid," she sings, shimmying her shoulders with pride. "Duke's gonna say yes, I just know it. Picture it with me: Robin L. Buckley," she gestures to an imagined marquee somewhere just beyond the windshield, "class of 1990."

Steve swallows the urge to be a sulky dick about it. "They'd be lucky to have you," he says quietly.

"Nope. No no, none of that. No moping." She tugs at his arm; links their elbows together. "You're not allowed to mope when we have a party to get ready for."

"No, you have a party to get ready for. I'm going home."

"Steeeve-uh!" Holy shit. He just had to be soulmates with the whiniest lesbian in a 500 mile radius, didn't he? "Come to the bonfire party with me!"

"Yeah, that's a no."

“It’ll be fun!"

It most certainly will not be. "You really want me to go freeze my ass off in the woods all night while a bunch of former classmates talk shit about me the second they think I'm out of earshot?" He's been to enough of his parents' 'networking events' over the years to know exactly how that'll go. A full night of subtly closed-off body language, smirking whispers and judgmental glances that dart away as soon as he meets them head on. Fuck that. "Thanks, but I'll pass."

He just wants to go home. Feels momentarily sick with the desire to drive himself to Loch Nora.

"What did I say about moping?" Robin asks. She shoves into his space, hugging his arm tighter and deploying her most lethal sad wet kitten face (and Steve doesn't even like cats; this shouldn't fucking work on him.) "Pleeeease," she begs. "Vickie's going to be there, and I could really use a friend."

"So ask a friend!"

"I am, dipshit!"

Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Goddamn this woman. Steve hangs his chin to his chest in defeat, notices the weird stain he got on his shirt during work. "I have some conditions," he concedes.

She throws her arms out wide. "Condition me, baby!"

"First— ew. Okay, I don't like that; don't call me baby." Yeesh, and furthermore, yuck. "First, I'm borrowing one of your shirts, and you're probably never getting it back."

"Understandable,” she nods as she gets out of the car. Steve follows her out, propping his elbows on the roof.

"Secondly,” he continues, “I'm getting very drunk at this stupid party, and you're figuring out how we get home."

She reaches out over the top of the car; gives his hand a quick squeeze when he puts it in hers. "That's three things," she says fondly, "but I can work with that."

—

part 23

tag list part 1 below the cut; comment if you'd like to be added tomorrow (not tagging ageless or under 21s unless we're mutuals or you let me know your age ✌️)

@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @questionablequeeries @runninriot @silver-snaffles @singmeyoursimpsong @slowandsteddie @slutabed @slutforcoffein @solalasoforth @spookednsaucy

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

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loveshotzz · 9 months

Note

12 -mutual masturbation while camping in a tent.

maybe tough girl finally gets to go on the annual camping trip :)

A/N:Thank you for your request angel, the way I had to write this immediately. I love this, I love you and I love them. 💗 this request comes from my completed series All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand alone. All you need to know is he calls you Tough Girl, you’ve been dating a year and he’s got a dog named Bandit.

wc: 2k

warnings: 18+, established relationship, age gap (reader is 30 and Steve is 42) slight somno I guess? reader is touching herself but not him, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, semi public.

AIRWIY!older!steve x fem! reader

The birds chirping stirs you first, the sunlight leaking through the half opened flap at the front of the tent, second. Eyes shifting behind closed lids that aren’t ready to open yet, the soft sound of Steve’s slumbered breathing next to you brings the beginning of a smile tugging up at the corners of your lips. The clinking of metal from Bandit’s leash outside is what finally gets you to open your eyes. You’d heard Steve in a daze take him out to pee before letting him bring in the sunrise outside the tent, quickly realizing this was the dog’s favorite part of these getaways.

The air mattress makes a noise that has you cringing when you roll over on the spread out sleeping bags to get a better look at him, the fresh humidity making your skin stick to it. You can’t stop that sigh that slips past your lips at the sight as he takes up room on his back. His permanent bed head is even messier than normal from a night under the stars with your hands in his hair and the stubble that lines his jaw rubbing the inside of your thighs raw. Rejuvenated after a shower that washed off the first two days of the trip.

The streaks of gray that sprinkle through his honey locks stand out even more in the daylight. The crows feet and laugh lines that you’d like to think got deeper in his first year with you are smoothed out in his sleep. You can’t help but wonder what he’s dreaming about, secretly hoping it’s you and not just the morning that has the blood rushing south.

His chest is bare, the dark thatch of hair in the middle looking soft in the warm light, the moles and freckles that dot his tan skin beg to be kissed, just like the sun had the pleasure of doing all weekend. One leg is kicked out of the covers, revealing a low hanging pair of black mesh shorts giving you a peek at the faint hint of a tan line from your days hiking down to the lake. A big hand lays spread across his stomach while the other looks like it got halfway across the small space between you on the search for yours before he fell back asleep.

Your thighs press together in your small sleep shorts, searching for some kind of friction that you know won’t be enough for the low simmer that’s already started deep in your gut. Why did he always have to look so good?

Steve licks his full lips, and you can’t help the way your hand starts to wander towards the ache between your legs that’s begging for attention. Fighting with your self control, your nerves ring in your ears and you swear the birds outside get louder when the tips of your fingers start to play with your waist band.

You freeze when he grunts, blunt nails scratching his stomach making the muscles in his pecs flex. The slight pinch of his brows when something happens in his dream is enough for you to push past the elastic, your fingertips meeting your already dripping folds with a shaky breath through your nose.

Your hips roll, your pointer and index finger spreading your lips apart before the pads of them catch your bundle of nerves when you drag them back up with enough pressure to make you whimper. They don’t feel as good as his, and your heavy lidded gaze focuses on his hand spread across his stomach as you add a third finger to try and mimic the feeling. It’s almost enough and it makes you have to bite your lip to keep quiet, the sound of how wet you already are is almost enough to compete with the growing sounds of the woods coming alive.

“Fuck - honey,” Steve’s voice startles you, thick with sleep and the unmistakable gravel of want, “Why didn’t you wake me up if you needed me so bad huh?”

Your eyes meet his, and all you can do is whine in response when you see all the colors usually inside of them first thing in the morning are gone. The bright greens and gold specks are replaced with something dark and hungry, jaw a little slack while his own hand reaches down, squeezing his now fully hard length over his shorts to relieve some of the throb.

“You know I’d never say no to you,” He whispers, his own hips rocking into his palm. You start to push two fingers in, your greedy walls fluttering despite the embarrassment of being caught making heat rise to your cheeks. “What’s got you so worked up baby?”

He pushes his shorts half way down his hairy thighs, the full thickness of his cock smacking against the dark trail on his stomach. Already leaking, the fat tip of him looks angry as he wraps his fingers around the base, the pad of his thumb swiping over the top making him shudder. He pumps once, twice before rolling over on his side, kicking his shorts all the way off along with the blanket exposing you both to the morning air.

“Come on, don’t be shy now.” He’s closer like this, your noses almost touching and you can smell last night's bonfire still lingering. His eyes roam your body while his wrist sets a slow pace watching your nipples pebble under the thin fabric of your tank when a light breeze ruffles the walls of your tent.

“Y-you - you just looked so good.” Your confession sounds pathetic, but it makes his eyes squeeze shut and a deep breath exhale through his nose, cock twitching in his big hand before he opens them again.

He leans in so his lips ghost against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom one before licking into your mouth to steal your breath with the kind of kiss that was usually reserved for late nights after a couple of bottles of wine.

“Take your shorts off, be good for me and let me see honey.” He pants, already wrecked, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before shifting to sit up, the air mattress making you bounce with the redistribution of his weight giving him the perfect view down every curve and dip of your body.

Listening to him, you feel more exposed than ever with your legs spread wide despite no one being around. Steve groans at the visual of you like this, the motions of his wrist getting quicker while his free hand reaches down to pull up your tank by the hem, the soft fat of your breasts spilling out for his hungry eyes. It feels dirty and new, touching yourself like this for him and it only adds to the growing slick between your thighs.

“God, I’m so lucky - can’t believe you're mine. Wakin’ up to you like this? So damn pretty, baby - shit.” He groans, already babbling, squeezing hard at the base of his cock when he sees your arousal gleam in the sunlight every time you pull your fingers out, drunk off watching them disappear again.

“I want you all the fucking time, Steve.” You whine hips pushing up when you add a third one, back arching when he tweaks one of your nipples.

“Yeah?” He asks before spitting into his hand, the slick sounds of his palm working his length even harder blending in with the messy way your walls suck you in. “Tell me about it.”

You nod, completely gone by hearing him talk to you like this, curving your fingers just right to hit the spot that makes you keen. A strangled noise leaving his throat when he clocks the way your thighs start to shake, your mind racing with thoughts of him. He needs you to come soon, and when he sees the pad of your thumb start to rub messy circles on your puffy clit he knows he doesn’t have to hold off for very long.

“You’re just so sexy all the time,” it’s your turn to babble and the breathy laugh that leaves him makes you clamp around your fingers even tighter despite wishing you could roll your eyes, “Those fucking running shorts, your suits, god I want you to bend me over your desk so bad. I think about it all the - ohhhh- a lot.”

“Jesus - baby, m’gonna have you meet me for lunch when we get back, god wear that short little dress, yeah? I’ll give you what you want, shit - anything you want.” He stutters feeling himself start to get close, your confessions bringing him to the edge.

“I - mmm- I won’t wear any underwear.” You giggle before your mouth falls open, the band inside of you dangerously close to snapping at the thought of him behind his desk and the predatory way he’d watch the sway of your hips knowing you’re bare and already soaked for him underneath.

“Dirty girl,” He moans and you hear the back of his head slide against the tent, “my dirty girl.”

Looking up, your eyes roam the way his chest heaves the closer he gets to his climax, sweat beading and starting to drip down his neck where the veins protrude. His gaze is heavy and hot, and it doesn’t leave you, it begs you to fall apart for him. He watches how your eyes glaze over, completely wrecked at the sight of him and the corner of his mouth turns up.

“Gonna be good and come for me now?” It’s soft when he asks despite how filthy the sounds echoing in the tent are, and when you nod with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, his grin widens. “Of course you are, always so good, so sweet.”

The last part comes out strained, his cock twitching catching the way your thighs start to shut when the drag of your fingers in your cunt becomes deliberate. You were close. The hand that he’s kept on the dough of your breast reaches down to pull your knees apart tutting under his breath.

“I wanna see it, let me have it, come on baby.”

His words are enough for you to push your head back into the pillow, your leg fighting against his firm grip to shut as the rubber band finally snaps. His name falls from lips long and drawn out, a high pitch whine that turns into a gasp and a shuddered loud moan when he pushes your hand away to replace it with his. Thick fingers collect everything you give him, pulling even more from you when he dips inside to hit the spot you could barely reach, praising you as you come even harder.

The feeling of your velvet walls squeezing tight around him brings Steve over the edge, gasping your name with a guttural groan that vibrates from his chest as he spills across his thighs and stomach. Chest heaving from the force of it, the visual of you spread out and falling apart for him makes him see white with his release.

The only sounds are your labored breathing, and a forest that’s come alive in the daylight. You hear Bandit shuffle around to move to another spot following the moving sun as it gets higher in the sky, warming the tent more. Steve is gentle when he pulls out of you, bending down to kiss your sweaty forehead before grabbing his basketball shorts. He chuckles, wiping himself down feeling like a teenager again with nothing else around to clean himself up, your breathy giggle making his teeth shine in a wide grin before he lays himself back down.

There’s zero hesitation to pull you to his chest despite the growing stickiness with the heat, peppering kisses across your face before collecting your lips in something a little sweeter.

“Morning, tough girl.”

#my writing #leighanne practices smut blurbs #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic

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say-al0e · 2 months

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Body Electric

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Steve has never lived in a home full of noise but he likes to think he'd enjoy spending the rest of his life in one. (AKA Steve Harrington is soft and proposes.) | Ft. Anon Request: "Is that my shirt?" + "We should get married." "Funny." "I'm not joking." (Listen, when I took the requests, I intended to stick to them, even if it's been like two years.) Warnings: Mentions of the Upside Down, some anxiety. Nothing too graphic or heavy. Pairing: Steve x fem!Reader (I think it might actually be GN!Reader) Word Count: 2.7k

Faint sounds of life - rain pattering against the windows, falling in sheets; a car starting in the parking lot; music, pouring from a neighbor’s stereo and bleeding through the thin walls; a laugh track, the theme tune to some primetime television show from the apartment next door - never left much room for silence in the small apartment Steve shared with you.

If you listened, waited a few moments with bated breath, you could hear the sounds of a dozen lives being lived without ever leaving the comfort of your own home. It was strange, especially for him, as he’d spent much of his life living in silence.

There were stretches of his memory, days at a time he could recount passing without hearing even the faintest sound of life from another being. Now, nearly every moment was filled with some kind of sound; the noise of neighbors, the noise of the city, the noise of you.

It was new, completely and utterly foreign, but in no way unwelcome.

Steve noticed it before you did. You grew up in a house full of noise; parents who cut on the radio first thing in the morning, just to hear the news, and siblings whose vocabulary lacked the word quiet. He found it harder to allow it all to fade into the background and still startled at the occasional slamming door. Whereas you adjusted quickly, Steve still heard every minute noise just as clearly as he had that first night.

A small part of him - that same part that hoped he never got used to the giddy feeling that still bubbled in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, eyes glittering with a soft fondness he’d never tire of - hoped he would never adjust.

In addition to the noise of your neighbors, the world carrying on around you, Steve could clearly hear you.

The quiet humming in the morning as you dressed for class or work, usually some tune that only existed in your head; the clink of dishes as you made coffee for the both of you, his just the way he’d always liked; the sound of your voice, echoing over the shower as you danced in the bathroom; your soft breathing, quiet hums of content with each plot twist; the rustle of paper, pages flipping as you spent your night reading.

Steve was able to hear each sound you made, no matter how quiet, and reveled in the noise.

Every moment that he spent with you, in the small apartment surrounded by a dozen other lives, was one he was grateful for. And though the television played low in the background, volume never raising much higher out of respect for your neighbors - something he’d never had to consider before, something that secretly made him smile - he couldn’t remember what he’d wanted to watch. There’d been a reason he wanted it on, but you were more interesting, anyway.

He rested with his head on your lap, cradled by the plush of your thighs, and watched as you flipped through the yellowed pages of a book you’d picked up earlier in the week. He couldn’t read the title - it was upside down and the spine was cracked, the perks of choosing well-loved secondhand books - but you were enamored and that was enough for him. It would soon be added to the little shelf in the corner of the living room, already overflowing with titles you devoured steadily, but the realization only made him smile as your lips pursed in concentration.

There were moments Steve hated interrupting, blissful seconds where the weight of the world no longer rested on your shoulders. Others, however, he just couldn’t help himself. As happy as he was for you both to exist in your own worlds, there were moments he was desperate to recapture your attention and remind yourself that you were his.

As such, he felt little guilt as he shifted and turned his full attention to you.

Soft fingers gripped the hem of your shirt, rubbed at the worn cotton idly, and Steve’s warm brown eyes met yours when you spared him a moment of attention. “Is that my shirt?”

“Our shirt.” Steve laughed, easily amused by the same reply you’d been giving him for years, any time he pointed out you wearing his clothes. “I think I’m allowed to wear it. We both graduated from Hawkins High,” you reminded him - as if he needed it. He regularly regretted not meeting you sooner, not paying attention to you when you both roamed the halls of Hawkins High.

Either way, he was glad that he managed to find his way to you in the end.

“Sure,” he agreed easily, happily. “But you could wear your own. I saw another gym shirt in the dresser. What’re you reading?”

“Not as soft as yours,” you reasoned, as if it made perfect sense. And who was he to argue? He would’ve happily given up his shirts if it meant seeing you like this - soft, relaxed, content. Before he could even consider mentioning that, making the moment sappy, you hummed. “I Sing the Body Electric!. It’s a bunch of short stories,” you explained, dropping one hand to card through his hair, tough light as you worked your fingers through the freshly washed strands. “There’s one, the same title as the book, that was a Twilight Zone episode. I think you’d like it.”

Steve’s nose wrinkled. He’d never much cared for science fiction, despite your love for it, and always felt a little left out when you and Eddie began your deep dives into the meaning of episodes. He’d never managed to make it all the way through an episode and was skeptical as he asked, “What makes you think that?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “it’s just nice. It’s about a family. After the mom dies, they build this robot grandma. The daughter hates her, hates everyone because she thinks her mom left her, and refuses to love her. Then, the grandma saves her. It seems like she’s dead but she comes back and the little girl realizes she can’t leave her so she starts loving again.”

“Nice?” Steve tipped his head to get a better look at you, brows furrowed. “Jesus, babe, that sounds kind of awful. Like, horror movie stuff.” His face scrunched as he attempted to think, considering the few horror movies he’d seen and managed to retain. “Oh, like that one with the guy who puts people in his basement,” he exclaimed.

“There’s a bunch of horror movies where a guy puts people in his basement.” When Steve raised his brows, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Point made,” you conceded. “But, still. It’s a bad description, maybe. It’s, like,” you paused for a moment, thumb marking your place in the book as you considered. “You go through a lot of shit and build up these walls because you’ve been hurt. Then someone comes in, goes through it all with you, and starts to chip away at the walls. Then, they get hurt and you start to realize what they mean to you. And when they come back to you, it makes you realize that you don’t want to deal with life without them. It’s, like, poetic, or something.”

“Poetic,” Steve mumbled, agreeable. His entire body warmed at the sentiment, even as he teasingly asked, “Are you reading into it?”

“I could be.” Your fingers continued to card through his hair, touch gentle as his gaze grew softer. “We’ve been through a lot of shit together, Harrington,” you reminded him, though there was no need. He remembered every moment vividly. “You didn’t believe in love anymore and I didn’t like you very much until you saved me from becoming demodog food. Guess it’s nice to think that even with all the shit we went through, something good came of it.”

Steve knew that nostalgia wan’t the right word, not when considering the hell Hawkins put you through. But he fond himself grateful for it, just the same. When he considered his life, where he might be if he’d never stumbled upon scenes out of his worst nightmares, he wondered if he’d have the life loved so much without the hell you both went through.

As much as you teased him for being a secret romantic, he liked to think he would. In any universe, in any timeline, he liked to think he would’ve found you. Eventually, anyway.

That was a declaration he’d made before, under the cover of darkness after a nightmare or two, and he knew you felt the same. He also knew that the moment wasn’t right, not when you were looking down with a soft smile reserved just for him.

So, instead of declaring that you were the best thing he’d ever been lucky enough to find, he softly urged, “Read to me.”

Despite your rumination on why he’d enjoy the book, you knew Steve. Science fiction wasn’t his favorite and he’d likely be out in a matter of moments. He could see the surprise, your brows winging up, as you asked, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he encouraged as he brushed his fingers over your exposed thigh. “There’s nothing good on,” he teased, though you both knew he’d settled onto the couch with the intention of watching something or other. “Might as well.”

Whatever it was he’d planned on watching was completely lost, entirely out of mind - and he knew he’d only remember what it was when someone inevitably asked him what he thought of it. There wasn’t a single moment of hesitation as he turned off the television, plunging the apartment into the only sort of quiet you could get, and glanced up at you expectantly.

As you’d done a hundred times before, you picked a page and started to read. The story itself was never very important. Steve was used to being dropped into the middle of your favorite books, just because he wanted to hear your voice.

There were nights where you read him Tolkien, Bradbury, Orwell, and a plethora of others he could never name. There was science fiction and fantasy, romance and mystery, fiction and non. He’d heard at least a portion of nearly every book on the shelf because on the nights when there was nothing on, when the anxiety you both learned to live with settled a little too heavy on his chest, when he just wanted to be selfish and drown himself in your attention, you read to him. Your voice filled the apartment, soft and warm as you read from another short story.

Steve tried to pay attention to the words. He wanted to be able to discuss it with you, to have the kinds of conversations you had with Robin or with Eddie about symbolism and meaning, but he found his attention drifting.

It wasn’t that he had no interest. Though he couldn’t discuss relevant social themes in The Twilight Zone or which horror franchise was better, he wanted nothing more than to hear your opinion on the matter. He’d never read Bradbury on his own but usually found himself enthralled when you read it to him.

All he wanted was to live in that moment forever. To lie there, in the safety and comfort of your shared apartment with your voice washing over him; he was certain that there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

The thought had plagued him for month - years, really, as he’d known you were the one the moment you followed him into the depths of hell to protect a ragtag group of children - but marriage was always a fantasy. The moment hadn’t been right. He’d rehearsed the speech a dozen times, pictured what the ring might look like, where he might take you to pop the question.

It was almost agonizing, wondering when the perfect moment might strike, when you would both be ready to step into the future. But he realized that there was nothing technically “perfect” in your lives. From the moment you met, life was chaos and that was part of the appeal.

There would never be a perfect moment but he knew that nothing would feel as right as that moment, lying on the couch, with your fingers tangled in his hair as you lounged in his stolen gym shirt.

Without allowing himself to think too hard, he hummed, “We should get married.”

The words were spoken casually, as if he were commenting on the weather or the story you were reading to him. It was easy, completely concealed the heavy thud of his heart and the overwhelming noise blaring in his mind - the little voice yelling that he should’ve waited, he should’ve made it perfect.

For a brief moment, your fingers stilled in his hair. It wasn’t the first time Steve broached the subject, however, it was the first time he phrased it that way. Like he was looking for an answer, a reply, a decision.

Then, you continued carding through the soft strands as you hummed. “Funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He lifted a hand, carefully removed yours from his hair, before he sat up and turned to face you. The look on your face was nearly unreadable, though Steve had spent years practicing. He could see a slight apprehension - not at the idea; he knew you would marry him in a heartbeat, that you’d happily spend the rest of your life with him - and a hint of glimmering excitement, though it was overshadowed by an emotion he couldn’t place. Still, he carried on. “I’ve thought about it for a long time.”

“Steve.” The sigh of his name was soft, breathless, and in it he could detect the emotion that darkened your eyes. It was nerves, a residual unease - fear that life was going to well, anything more might leave you both scrambling from long-gone monsters once more.

“I know,” he assured you, voice just as soft as your own - mindful, of your feelings and of the privacy you no longer had. This was a moment for you, to be shared only between the inhabitants of the small apartment, and he was careful to keep quiet as he shifted closer and reached for your hand. “It’s weird,” he began, smiling as he met your eyes. “Some days, I wake up and I wait a few minutes, just to be sure I’m not still in Hawkins. I’m afraid that the last few years have been a dream, that I’m going to get a call any minute that the kids found something completely insane and we’re going to be running for our lives again. But I’m not. It’s over. We’re here and it’s totally scary, thinking that we could be happy, but we could. We could elope,” he offered, smile growing a touch wider when you exhaled and squeezed his hand tight.

“You don’t want a big wedding?” You’d never talked details, only agreed under the cover of soft moonlight that you wanted to be married, that your futures were thoroughly intertwined. “Wear a fancy tux, eat stupidly expensive cake, dance all night?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t really care about any of that,” he admitted. “The important thing is that it’s us. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I’ve known that for a long time. We could go to the courthouse,” he offered, grinning when you laughed. “Robin and Eddie are in this building, the kids have been begging for an excuse to come visit. Us and them, that’s all that matters, right?”

The ragtag family the pair of you had created, a lifelong bond built on a difficult experience, was, indeed, all you needed. Neither of you wanted much more than to spend the rest of your lives together, to be happy and content and enjoy the life you built, so you nodded.

“Yeah,” you agreed, smile mirroring his own as you squeezed his hand. “You’re right. Let’s get married.”

Years ago, neither of you could’ve imagined your future with any degree of accuracy. Living in a small apartment, far from Hawkins and surrounded by the noise of life carrying on, was not something either of you expected. Even less expected was falling in love with one another.

But now that you’d made it, a proposal sealed with a soft kiss and a giddy excitement to look for rings the very next day - after making the call to rally the troops - neither of you could imagine a more perfect future.

________________________________________________________

Author's Note: I almost got stuck in an elevator today. As someone afraid of elevators, it was pretty terrifying. 0/10, do not recommend.

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#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #v's fics

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geeky-politics-46 · 8 months

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Kinktober 2023 - Day 10

Exhibitionism with Doctor Stephen Strange

"Something To Keep You Occupied"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: You come up with a naughty idea for how to keep Stephen entertained at fancy boring events.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - exhibitionism, sex toys, inappropriate use of astral projection, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, reference to vaginal sex, reference to oral sex, a little bit of fluff

You had gotten and worn it as part of a deal to get Stephen to agree to go to a ceremony honoring the Avengers. It was something to keep him occupied and keep him from complaining about wanting to leave every five minutes. You didn't realize he would be such a menace with it.

Although, you probably should have. It was Stephen, after all.

The vibrator currently nestled in your panties and in your cunt had settled onto a low buzz. So low you could barely feel it, but you knew this was Stephen merely giving you a chance to catch your breath after spilling your champagne down the front of your dress and sending your silverware clattering onto the floor a minute prior. He had slowly been building up the speed when all of a sudden he turned it to the highest setting. Making you jolt in your seat. Your movements startling those around you.

You knew he wasn't done, though, because he still had his hand in his suit pocket. The pocket with the small remote control that controlled the vibrator. He also still had that wicked smile on his face as he stood by the dais with the rest of the heros, listening to the presenter talk about each one of them. Ignoring how Tony and Steve were both preparing to fight to see who could grab the mic first to give his own speech.

The only person in the room who seemed to occasionally pick up on the sound of the vibrator was Bucky. When Stephen would turn the setting higher, you would see Barnes start looking around like he was looking for a fly or other bug that could have been making that noise. It was kind of funny, actually, but you didn't dare crack a smile. That would have meant you let your guard down, and you knew Stephen would use it as a chance to strike. Even Pepper, who admittedly asked if you were okay after the champagne incident, hadn't figured out the game you and Stephen were secretly playing.

As Tony and Steve both gave their speeches, an eternity seemed to pass. Neither of them were ever short on words. The rest of the heroes basically gave up on getting back to their own tables and took seats in the chairs that had been placed on the stage.

Your nerves were still on edge from your almost orgasm earlier, and the soft vibrations of the low teasing setting only worked to aggravate you. You decided to head for the bathroom as a chance to distract you, and maybe if you were fast enough, you could even get yourself off once without Stephen knowing.

The ladies' room was completely empty. Most of the audience, those who didn't have to deal with them every day, were totally rapt by Tony and Steve's speeches. So you really felt no reason to hurry. Taking time to touch up your makeup before deciding if you would take matters into your own hands. So to speak.

After re-applying your lipstick and putting it back into your handbag, you certainly didn't expect to look up and see Stephen standing behind you in the mirror. Except when you turned around, he wasn't there. Confused, you spun back to face the mirror only to see his striking blue eyes and cheeky smile staring back at you once more.

"Stephen, what's going on?"

He chuckled and moved over to the door visible in the mirror. Throwing the lock before coming to stand behind you once again.

"Astral projection, sweetheart. I saw you sneak out, and I decided this was an opportunity far too good to miss. You see, I'm still very much sitting on that stage, remote control in my pocket, but this way, I get to see you fall apart. Completely uninhibited by the fear of others seeing or hearing."

If you concentrated, you could feel his hands coming to rest on your hips and his lips ghosting over your neck. Watching the form in the mirror where in reality there was no one visible. You let your head lull to the side and swore you could feel him sucking and biting at your neck.

"The best part, my love, is that thanks to my training, I can still control small motor functions in my body, even as my astral form is here with you."

With that statement, the setting on the vibrator changed, becoming several speeds stronger. A gasp pulled from your throat, and your eyes jolted open. Stephen's grin grew into a full-on smile. Your hands gripping at the marble of the counter, hoping to keep yourself up right.

The feeling of one of his hands moving to cup your sex and the other moving to grope at one of your breasts. The fabric of your dress bunching up as you ground down against the invisible force of Stephen's palm, making your cunt clench and your body shudder.

"That's it, sweetheart. I know how close you are. Can feel how fucking soaked your panties are, and its not from spilling your drink. I'm surprised our two super soldiers out there can't smell your sweet little cunt drenching everything. I was very tempted to let you cum earlier but then when you couldn't control yourself I knew that you would get us caught. I should punish you for that, but frankly this is more fun."

He notched the vibrator up a little higher and changed the pulse pattern so you would have to set a tempo against his hand in order to get the friction you wanted. The fingers of his other invisible hand starting to pinch and tug at your nipple through the fabric of your dress. Stephen was 100% correct. You were already insanely close to cumming, and with the added almost overwhelming feeling of his astral form pressed against your back you could practically feel your orgasm building stronger by the second. Licking at the edges of your spinal column.

"Imagine how it would look if someone else were to walk in. Find you whimpering and grinding against nothing. Like such a horny little slut. Little would they know how much of a good girl you're being for me. Now hurry up and make yourself cum. I think they are finally almost done. Then I believe I've fulfilled my part of our deal, and something tells me you'll be just as ready as me to head home to our bedroom as I am."

You fervently nodded in agreement at his statement. Unable to form the correct coherent sentence. You were very much ready to let Stephen take you back home to the Sanctum and have him fuck you silly. Just the thought made you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning loudly enough that you knew someone would hear. Still letting little whimpers and moans fall since you knew Stephen wouldn't let you actually cum if you were too quiet.

Your hips starting to speed up, and your head dropping back, a little frustrated that you couldn't lay your head back on Stephen's shoulder. As hot as this was, it still wasn't the same as having him really touching you. It only made you double your efforts to cum faster so you could get him home. Your eyes closing in concentration, focusing on the vibrations, the sensation of Stephen's hands ghosting over your form, and his words in your ear.

"Why don't you beg me? Since you were saying I'm always the one who's so impatient to leave these things. Seems like your present has worked to turn the tables on you. Tell me what you want? Tell me why you want to go home so badly? I wanna hear you beg for me as you cum."

You were on the verge of tears as you chased your high. The knot in your stomach beginning to tighten, and your hips starting to buck more wildly. The only thing keeping you standing was your grip on the cool marble countertop. You willed yourself to open your eyes and lock them with Stephen's astral form through the mirror. If he wanted you to beg, then you would make it good.

"Want to cum, Stephen. You've had me so wet all night. I'm surprised the toy could even stay in my pussy. I want you to make me cum and then I want your cock. Been thinking about you fucking me senseless since you got up on that stage. I love seeing you all dressed up and I just couldn't stop thinking about how bad I wanted to play with you cock. Watch you get hard through your expensive suit. Maybe get on my knees and suck you off. No, I don't think I could wait that long to feel your cock inside me. Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

The faint sound of Stephen growling into your ear, setting off a chain reaction in your body. Your knuckles blanching as the fire in your belly exploded, sending shockwaves through your body. Your cunt squeezing around the toy and fluttering wildly. Stephen's name coming out as cry amongst your high pitched moans and whimpers. His voice coaxing you through your orgasm.

"Good girl. So beautiful when you cum just for me. That's it, baby. Don't hold back. Such a good girl. Love you so much. This idea you had was such a good one."

As you started to come down from your high, the vibrator made you jump and squirm. Your body teetering on the edges of overstimulation. You felt Stephen slowly lower the settings until the only buzzing was what was left in your nerve endings.

You smiled at the faint form of your partner in the mirror. You looked almost a little drunk in your post-pleasure haziness. The sound of loud applause shaking both of you from the moment. Suddenly you remembered you were standing in a public bathroom and that the man who had just made you cum was actually occupied receiving an award on stage in the other room.

You moved to straighten out your dress and reassemble your hair. Stephen's astral form straightening up behind you. You knew he would have to go back into his body momentarily if your tryst was to go unnoticed by the others.

"You should get back out there, Stephen. Sounds like it's finishing up. As soon as you get off that stage, I'm dragging you off to our bed. I'll send Pepper an apology for our sudden departure later. I think we've stayed plenty long enough."

He smiled at you and nodded. Leaning in to ghost one more kiss over your neck. The ticklish sensation making you giggle and nuzzle into the air where he would have been. He walked over to the door and flipped open the lock.

Before he could pass through the door, you told him one more thing.

"Stephen… I love you too, and I am so proud of you. Now, hurry up so we can go home."

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

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eyesofshinigami · 4 months

Text

Alley Oop

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, supportive Wayne, sports talk, Eddie loves Steve

Prompt: For @sparklyslug "Love is secretly studying up on the nerd shit he's into" (I took it in a slightly different direction, but it was fun!)

WC: 709

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 11

Eddie thought he would get away with it. That no one would know. It could just be his little secret and then he could pull it out and impress Steve and show him that he does listen when he talks.

“What are you doing, boy?”

Eddie nearly pops out of his skin, throwing the magazine over his shoulder and nearly braining Wayne with it. “What?! Nothing! I’m doing nothing!” he cries out, turning around and trying to act casual.

Wayne raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you acting like I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar?” He folds his arms and pins Eddie with a look. “You know, I already told you I’m okay with you and Steve and what you get up to, as long as you-”

“Oh my god, no, Wayne. It’s nothing like that,” Eddie groans, letting his head thunk against the table. His uncle thinking he was looking at porn in the middle of their kitchen is almost worse than what he was looking at. “I’mreadingaboutsports,” he grits out quickly.

“What was that now?”

Eddie sighs. “I said… I’m reading about sports. Picked up some magazines from Melvald’s.”

Wayne looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “I don’t think I’m following, son.”

“I’m trying to learn more about sports. You know. For Steve.” Eddie talked a lot of shit about sports in high school, knows deep down it’s not really his thing, but he can’t deny how much he loves how Steve gets when he gets to share his passion for them. For all that Steve talks about how dumb he is, the guy has a brain like a steel trap when it comes to statistics, plays, maneuvers, and players. He can recall how his favorite sports team fared ten years ago, he can calculate a batting average off the top of his head, and he can predict a play that a coach is going to call before the coach does. It’s frankly pretty impressive. How could Eddie not want to indulge that? “He’s been playing in my new campaign and having a lot of fun, so… I thought I would do the same for him?”

Wayne’s lips quirk up in a smile. “You asking me or telling me?” Eddie lets out a noise like a deflating balloon, which makes Wayne laugh. “I’m only picking at ya, boy. But I think that’s sweet. And I know he’ll appreciate it. You ought to see the way that he looks at ya when we’re all watching the game together.”

That makes Eddie feel a little gooey inside. It makes him happy to know that other people see how happy they make each other. “Yeah. I want to like… understand what he’s talking about. It’s a lot more complicated than getting a ball in a laundry basket.” He chuckles, remembering the rant he sent Steve on when he said that. He’d been teasing, but when he thought back, he might have felt the same if Steve made a comment like that about one of his monsters or a plot he’d come up with.

See? He’s growing as a person!

“Even if you don’t like it, it’ll mean something to him that you’re trying.” Wayne reaches out and ruffles Eddie’s hair, the same way he’s done since Eddie was a kid. “Y’all are good for each other. I was skeptical about that boy when you first brought him ‘round, but I see it now. You keep taking care of each other like this and it’ll work out just fine.” Wayne bends down and picks up the magazine from the floor and hands it back to Eddie. “Better get to studying. The Pacers game is next weekend and I bet Steve would appreciate a trip down to Indianapolis…”

With a wink, Wayne leaves him be.

The wheels in Eddie’s head are already turning, thinking about how he can rope Robin into helping him get tickets. Maybe they can make a weekend of it, rent a hotel room and go out to dinner and just be with each other for a while.

Yeah, that sounds excellent. Eddie will get right on that, right after he learns the difference between a bank shot and a free throw.

#les writes things #steddie #steddielovemonth #rating: g #fluff #established relationship

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kaylawritesfics · 2 years

Note

I need more about Steve dating a Henderson sister! Love your writing btw ;)

omg yes absolutely !! thank you so much <3

Steve Harrington Dating a Henderson!Reader - 2

headcanons

summary: more about what it’s like to date steve as a henderson sister

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (henderson!reader)

WARNINGS: swearing, brief mentions of sex

note: i just did some quick headcanons for this but if you’d like to see a longer fic of steve with a henderson!reader let me know !! these are my absolute favorites to write :)

The day Dustin finds out you and Steve are dating is arguably the best day of his life.

“Oh my god I knew it! I can’t believe you two shitheads actually kept this from me! This is the best day of my entire life.”

From then on, Dustin insists on coming with you to see Steve at least once a week (sometimes more).

Steve loves Dustin so he really doesn’t mind at all for Dustin to tag along on a few date nights.

You and Steve babysit Dustin together !! Although Dustin prefers the term “hanging out” inside of babysitting.

Steve always brings two movies with him from Family Video on these nights. He brings one for the two of you to watch with Dustin (usually a comedy or an action movie) and then other for the two of you to watch after Dustin goes to bed.

“Okay, I’m going to bed. I better not hear any weird noises. We all like to use that couch, you know.” “Dustin!”

Your mom loves Steve. She invites him to dinner twice a week.

You would never tell either of them, but you’re secretly really thankful that Steve and Dustin are such good friends. You don’t think you’d ever be able to date someone who didn’t like your brother.

“Y/N, it’s my turn to hang out with Steve!” “He’s literally my boyfriend, Dustin.” “I don’t care, I knew him first.”

Dustin is your biggest supporter. Between Dustin and Robin, you don’t think you could ever break up with Steve. It would break their hearts.

Dustin begs to teach you and Steve how to play DnD. You guys eventually cave, but it only lasts for a couple days because you are truly so awful at it.

Steve sneaks in your window some nights, which Dustin thinks is hilarious.

“Dude, use the front door?” “No, it’s more romantic this way.”

Steve gives Dustin girl advice and Dustin really tries to follow it. He wants his relationship with Suzie to be just like your relationship with Steve.

Dustin looks up to both of you so much. He really thinks that you’re the coolest people in the world.

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

Text

It happens after a visit at the Mayfield trailer. Eddie comes up with a wonderful plan to prank Steve: He’ll announce that he’s going back to his trailer but actually sneak and hide in the back seat of Steve’s BMW - he had stolen the keys earlier and secretly unlocked it.

So, when he sees Steve starting to wrap things up so the kids can spend time together, Eddie makes the announcement that he’s leaving, and gives Max a squeeze on the shoulder on the way out. He’s giddy with excitement as he climbs into the backseat and hunches down. He holds his breath after he hears Steve yell at everyone to take care from the front of the trailer.

The car door opens and closes, and Eddie waits a moment before he jumps out, letting Steve really settle into the comfort of his car. Instead, Steve mumbles under his breath, “Okay, Harrington, hold it together. Kids are watching.”

Eddie hears him start the car and feels him reversing back then taking off quickly. There’s a click and then a cassette starts playing which Steve starts singing along to. It would be endearing if his voice wasn’t so tight, sounding like he’s struggling to hold back tears.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do as he hears the first song end. Steve says to himself, “Use her as the fucking bait… and you just let it happen!” There’s a loud noise that Eddie thinks is the smack of a hand on the steering wheel.

He curls further into himself as the next song plays. It’s one of those playlist that he knows he would make fun of Steve for if he wasn’t practically choking out the lyrics. After a loud sob, there’s a deep breath and then a stern, “Steve Harrington doesn’t fucking cry. Steve Harrington doesn’t fucking-” it’s broken off with another sob.

Then the car is suddenly coming to a stop, and the car is filled with whatever pop song Steve has playing and the sounds of Steve Harrington gasping for breath as he lectures himself about not crying. It’s fucking devastating, but Eddie knows Steve would never forgive him if he revealed himself now.

“She might never fucking walk again you fucking idiot,” Steve says then there’s another loud smack. “You were supposed to take care of them,” Steve says voice cracking awfully. Eddie hand flies up to his mouth as he chokes back a sob. He doesn’t know when he started crying.

“I need air,” Steve announces suddenly with a gasp and then the car door is opening and slamming shut. Eddie takes a moment to debate his choices. He can attempt to hurry away although he didn’t pay any attention to where Steve was driving. Or he can keep hiding in the car and risk Steve finding him during the rest of his breakdown.

Eddie tries the door handle and slowly climbs out the back. He turns to find Steve standing off the side of some back road, hands on his hips, and face staring up at the sky. One hand rises up to pinch at his nose as tears fall down his red face. He looks like he’s trying as hard as he can to not let this take over him, and Eddie can hear him still lecturing himself.

Eddie can’t stand the sight. And he can’t leave. Maybe Steve will hate him forever for intruding, but Eddie can’t let him go through this alone. He lets the back door of the car shut firmly. Steve whips his head to the side, eyes wide in shock but red rimmed and filled with tears.

He reaches up and angrily wipes away the tears. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Steve asks. Eddie just slowly approaches him as if he were a wild animal. “Were you fucking hiding in my car?!” Steve yells.

Eddie’s just glad that his anger is directed at someone other than himself. “Fucking answer me, Munson!” Steve yells again, tears still streaming down his face which he wipes at again. Eddie doesn’t answer but slowly gets closer.

“Get the fuck away from me freak.” Eddie lets the insult roll off him as best as he can as he finally gets into Steve’s space. “Go away,” Steve whispers desperately. His words betray him as Steve doesn’t attempt to move back.

Eddie lifts his arms up and pulls Steve into a hug. He tenses up immediately. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and Steve finally gives in. He sobs into his neck, nearly close to hyperventilating as Eddie runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve got you, okay? I’ve got you,” Eddie repeats again and again as Steve loudly sobs.

“It-it’s my fault,” Steve says finally catching his breath, voice all twisted up in agony that makes Eddie choke out a sob.

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Eddie says, trying to hold back his own tears.

“I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped it,” Steve says weakly pounding his fist on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie’s hands comes up to intertwine his fingers in Steve’s, making him release the fist. “We all could’ve stopped it. We’re all at fault here. The weight of the world and the fate of these kids doesn’t need to fall on you. You can’t always save everyone, but you did.” Eddie feels Steve’s grip tighten on him as he continues, “She could’ve died, but she didn’t. She might be in that wheelchair for a long time, but she’s alive. Hell, she’s even back more of an attitude when I didn’t think it was possible.” Steve lightly laughs at the remark which makes Eddie’s hold on him tighten even further.

A few moments later, Steve’s breath begins to even out enough that Eddie decides he can loosen his grip on him. He takes the moment to pull Steve slightly away so he can cup his face in his hands. His eyes are swollen and there are still tears streaming down his red face. His bottom lip is quivering no matter how hard he’s trying to press his lips together. And there’s definitely snot and tears getting mixed under his nose. It’s an ugly cry, but Eddie thinks Steve looks beautiful.

“You saved me, too,” Eddie reminds Steve. “You saved us all.”

Steve’s watery eyes search Eddie’s before he’s slowly nodding, finally accepting that maybe he isn’t entirely at fault for everything that’s happened, and maybe he even caused some good.

Eddie kisses him on the forehead and pulls him back into a hug. “You can cry, too, you know. As much as you need to because I’ve got you. I’ll be here forever if you need me to be,” Eddie says softly.

“Promise?” Steve says quietly.

“Promise,” Eddie says, tugging Steve closer on the side of the road, feeling the dampness on his shirt grow as Steve finally lets go.

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

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