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astermath · 3 days

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the harrington way･ﾟ☆

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve won’t stop distracting you from studying for your midterms. to soothe your frustrations he uses his own, supposedly more effective way of quizzing you.

word count: 3.1K

tags: kinda mean!steve, reader is in college, established relationship, oral (f receiving), a bit of a breeding kink lol, reader is a bit of a brat, unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it guys) minors dni!

notes: inspired by this ask that @stevenose wrote out for me, tysm for the inspo <3 i'm a history major so I sprinkled some history trivia in there lol

please let me know what you think!

Midterms had been positively kicking your ass. You’d been working harder than the devil, spending half your time awake in the library or at your desk, stressed out of your mind. And your boyfriend was well aware of this too.

He’d tried countless times to coax you out of your room for a date, even just to go get dinner, but to no avail. You felt bad, of course, you didn’t want your relationship to suffer under the circumstances of your education. But college is a privilege, your parents both worked very hard to help you achieve your dreams, and you weren’t about to let them down.

So, you’d compromised. You let him stay in your room while you went over your last chapters for premodern history. It was supposed to only be an hour before you’d finish up and the two of you could watch a movie, but the words weren’t sticking in your mind whatsoever. Maybe you’d overworked yourself, your stress levels way beyond anything anyone could consider healthy, but you were determined to keep trying.

You groan, flipping your glasses up to rest on your head while you rub your face. The sound made Steve rise from your bed to his feet, popping up behind you.

“You ‘kay sweetie?” His large hands settle onto your shoulders, concern only growing when he feels how tense they are.

“No,” you lean your head back, and you could see his brows furrow worriedly at the sight of your eye bags, “I’m going to explode if I have to read about another another dynasty…”

“Well, don’t,” he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, “I prefer to have you in one piece.”

“And I love you Stevie,” you lean back forward, hunched over the dozens of papers on your desk, “but I prefer to pass this course. I seriously cannot retake this.”

He sighs, hands gripping a little tighter at the taut muscles of your shoulders. It was like you were an elastic band, stretched so thin you could snap any moment. You were grumpy, and it wasn’t your fault, he knew that, but he missed spending time with you. He’s not used to spending this much time apart, even if it for the sake of your studies.

“Come on,” his thumbs press into your shoulder blades, “let me help you out a little, at least.” He starts making circular motions, and you bite your lip to suppress a groan at the contact. “Let Steve’s magical hands to their thing.”

You could just hear the smirk in his tone, but there was no possible way you could be relaxing when you hadn’t even properly revised yet. “Steve, I—“ you interrupt yourself with an accidental whine from his impromptu massage. “I can’t relax right now, I haven’t even used my flash cards yet.”

His eyes flit to the pastel cards placed on your nightstand. Clearly you’d been revising a lot before bed, which wasn’t exactly helping your sleeping schedule either.

“I can help with those.”

“You?” You lean your head back again, expecting a joking grin, but instead being met with a genuine smile. Steve wasn’t exactly what one would call an academic weapon, but you’d be rude not to let him try and help at least. “Hmm… Fine, I don‘t see why not."

He gently brings you up off your desk chair, unable to keep his hands off you now that he's started. His strong arms wrap around your waist, and he senses your hesitation at first. "If I'm gonna quiz you, ya gotta loosen up a little honey," he leans his head down slightly, "plus, I'm gonna quiz you my way."

"Your way huh?" You decide to take his bait. Though he isn’t in college like you, and he never really scored too well in high school, you were intrigued nonetheless. And you weren’t immune to your boyfriend, after all. You were bound to cave to his advances eventually.

"Yeah," his lips ghost over yours, "the Harrington way."

"Alright," you grin, "color me intrigued."

He takes that as his cue to close the distance between you two and press his lips to yours. Usually he'd start off slow, ease you into it, but truth be told, Steve had been deprived of your affection for long enough. The kiss is a lot more passionate than usual, teeth clashing slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

You stumble backwards onto the bed with him on top of you, albeit less by accident and more as an advance. His hips settle between your thighs, and you could feel the reason for his urgency pressing against your heat. Even through a layer of underwear and tight jeans, the shape of him was so clear to you.

"Steeeeve..." You whine, transitioning into a giggle as you drag out his name. His lips move to your neck, pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sensitive skin. "This all-- fuck-- part of your technique?"

You could feel him smile into the crook of your neck, hands slipping under your shirt, nudging it up.

"Yep, just let me do my thing baby... All part of the plan..."

At this point it was nearly impossible to deny Steve anything. Not just because you felt bad for your distance as of lately, but because your mind tended to go blank with his hands on you like this. You'd already succumbed to his touch, too late to turn back to your desk now.

Your shirt was discarded onto the carpeted floor, his own following soon after. He works on unhooking your bra while leaving feverish kisses all over your chest, nipping every now and then. His breath hitches when it’s discarded, and he’s met with the sight of your bare breasts. It didn't matter how many times he'd seen your tits, he'd never get tired of it. Ever.

He wastes no time in latching onto your nipple, rolling the other one between his fingers. His tongue kitten licked over the sensitive bud, hazel eyes peering up at your expression, which was growing increasingly desperate.

His lips drag over your skin, leaving tingles in their wake as he moved over your stomach. He halts when he reaches the waistband of your shorts, eyes flicking up at you for a moment before he started scattering teasing kisses right above the hem.

"Stevie..." You sigh his nickname, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him. You knew he was teasing you, lips remaining so close yet so distant from where you needed them to be.

"Impatient?" He questions, hands coming up to settle on your hips, thumbs skirting just over the edge of your bottoms.

"Look who's talking..." You scoff, the cockiness in your voice disappearing as soon as he traces his fingers over your clothed pussy. "O-Okay, jesus, quit... Quit teasing baby--"

He refrains from rolling his eyes at your attitude, knowing you were quite pent up yourself. You'd usually never go this long without fucking, so he understood the sexual frustration. Luckily, that was his exact field of expertise.

He hooks his fingers around your shorts, and you take his hint to lift your hips to help him pull them off, along with your panties, joining the rest of your clothes scattered on the floor. He smiles at the sight of your slick coating your folds so beautifully, proof of just how worked up he'd gotten you by just kissing you and touching you a little.

"Fuck, you're soaked baby," he leans down onto the bed, arms hooking around your thighs and pulling your heat closer to his face. He runs a teasing finger up and down your slit, coating it in your juices. "Jesus, she's just begging for me, isn't she?"

Your hips buck at his dirty words, whining softly. You’re so close to just grabbing his hair and grinding against his face, but you know the payoff to his teasing would be worth it in the end.

He leans down and licks up your cunt, stilling at your clit, flicking his tongue over it a few times. His brown eyes peer up at you, watching you lose your composure over just the faintest of touches. He adores watching you become undone for him like this, melt underneath his touch, loosen yourself up a little.

He continues working on your needy clit, groans sending vibrations through your core that make you grip the sheets beneath you. If your mind wasn't so hazed with what he was doing to you, you might have noticed the hand coming down to his pants, palming himself. He tended to get off on your arousal like that, your moans and whines only spurring him on further.

"Sh-Shit-- Stevie!" You cry out his name, fingers gripping his chocolate locks when his lips closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You weren't going to last much longer, and he could tell with the way you were bucking your hips into him.

He wanted to ask you if you were close, in that teasing, cocky voice he knew you secretly loved, but he’d rather die than tear his lips away from your cunt at that moment. So he just kept going, tongue lapping away at your sweet juices, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself to the sound of your moans.

The coil in your lower stomach snaps, and you moan his name loudly as your orgasm crashes through your body. Your fingers pull at his locks, earning a groan from him as your vision goes white with pleasure. You continue to ride out your orgasm against his face, whimpers falling from your lips with every roll of your hips.

Steve, a bit reluctantly, pulls away from your core, catching his breath. He looks so beautiful, lips swollen and pink, lower face just covered in your slick, hair all messy from your the firm grip you had on it.

He wipes his mouth clean with the back of his hand, grinning at your fucked out expression. “You ‘kay honey?”

You nod, a sweet, dazed smile adorning your face in response. “Yeah… Not quite done with you yet though.”

He smirks, sitting up to undo his belt, eyes not leaving yours for even a second. “Good,” he continues to pull off his jeans and boxers, “because that was only the first step of the Harrington way.”

You roll your eyes, almost having forgotten about the fact that he was supposed to be quizzing you. “You serious?”

He replies by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Do I look like I want my girl to be failing college?”

You nibble on your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly. You can feel his cock rub against your thigh, and the contact alone is sending tingles of pleasure through your body.

“Good.” He wraps his arms around your waist, almost manhandling you on top of him. You squeal from the sudden change of positions, giggling from the spontaneity of it all.

You’re already reaching down for his cock, ready to line yourself up with him and slide down so painstakingly slow like you usually would. But he grabs your wrist before you get a chance to, and the expression on his face is a lot more stern than the one you saw just moments ago.

“I’m serious about this, so you gotta be too, okay?”

“Yeah, I am, god, just— I need you inside me Steve, like right now.”

“I know sweetie, and you can, if…” He reaches for the flash cards on your desk, picking out a random one and reading over the question. “You can tell me who was widely credited with publishing the first ever printed Bible.”

You whine out of frustration, trying to think back at all of the subject matter you’d crammed into your head the past few weeks. “Shit, baby, you’re kinda putting me on the spot here…”

“C’mon,” his hand reaches down to grab his cock, running the head over your folds and gathering your slick onto him, “think sweetie, you got this.”

You bite your lip, resisting the temptation to force your hips down onto him. You peer down at him, his eyes meeting yours in an expectant gaze. “I-I, uhm… Gutenberg, it was— it was Gutenberg.”

“Good girl,” he coos, and finally pushes up his hips to slide inside you.

“Fuck!” You moan out, louder than usual. You suddenly realize your dormmates are in for quite the treat that night.

You try to move your hips, but his right hand on your hip stops you from doing so. Even with you on top of him, he’s still in full control of you, it was honestly pretty impressive.

He fucks into you at a slow, lazy pace, feet planted flatly onto the mattress to ground himself. His cock drags deliciously over your walls, and you can feel every curve and ridge of him inside you like this.

You whimper when he stills his hips, already opening your mouth to protest before he interrupts you by holding up a finger and taking out another flash card. “I’ll continue if you can tell me when Queen Elizabeth I reigned.”

“W-What… I don’t— I don‘t know, uhm…” You’d never taken the expression “fucked stupid” seriously, up until that point. He was being so mean, so teasing, and you'd be lying if you said you weren't loving it. Maybe this was his payback for being away from him for this long.

"Don't tell me I've already fucked the answers outta you," he smirks, and it makes you whine, clenching down onto his cock. You liked this side of him, so mean, even if you knew he was just going to shower you with kisses and praise after.

"N-No, I--" you furrowed your brows, "uhm... 1558... t-to..." you could feel his cock twitch inside you, and it almost makes you lose your train of thought, "1603, I think-- fuck!"

He wastes no time in driving himself deeper inside you, your treat for answering correctly.

"So smart, look at you-- shit-- my little academic..." He coos, hand coming down so his thumb could play with your clit. You begin moving your hips to meet his halfway, the obscene, almost pornographic sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room.

You almost didn't notice that he'd grabbed another card, too busy chasing your orgasm now that he was finally giving you something more to work with.

"When did Luther post the 95 Theses--"

"1517!" you cry out, hands coming down to rest over his hairy chest, supporting yourself as you worked your hips over his throbbing cock.

He looks up at you, trying to keep his own composure, but it's getting harder by the second. You look so beautiful, tits bouncing, lips parted as his name falls from them after every other whimper and moan. He's doing his best to keep up his strict tutor persona, but he feels his own orgasm creeping closer by the second, not being able to stop his hips from rutting into you.

"A-Alright--" He almost drops the stack of cards on the floor, trying to grab a random one as he reads it aloud, "Which scientist-- fuck-- f-formulated the laws of... of planetary motion-- holy shit baby--" his brown eyes find yours again, unable to hold back the continuous groans and whimpers you're earning from him.

You feel that familiar heat building up in your stomach, your thighs burning from making you bounce over his cock the entire time, but you ignore the strain it has on your body. All you want to do now is cum, feel him fill you up to the brim until it's leaking out of you.

He can tell you're not even thinking about the answer, so, although a bit reluctantly, he starts to slow down. You open your eyes, looking down at him with a pleading gaze. You're about to start sobbing, tears already watering up your vision as you bite your lip. "I-I-- Uhm, fuck, Stevie, I--"

"Come on," He taps your ass lightly to encourage you, "that pretty mind's gotta be good for somethin', think, baby."

A stray tear rolls over your cheek, thoughts of everything you'd been studying running rampant. Your eyes widen, and in a sort of eureka moment, you yell out a name. "Kepler! I-It was Kepler!"

"That's my girl," he groans out, throwing the card besides him and reaching out to fully envelop you in his arms. He starts to piston himself into you at a pace your hips couldn't possibly keep up with, instead holding onto him as tight as you could, moaning his name over and over into the crook of his neck.

"'M gonna cum," you manage to mumble between your pleas, thighs starting to tremble.

"Me too baby, gonna fill you up so good-- shit-- gonna give you your reward-- fuuuck!" He groans loudly, pulling you flush to his chest as he paints your walls in his sticky warm cum.

You follow right after, clenching down on him and milking his cock for every last drop, your body going limp against his from pure exhaustion. Your orgasm ripples through you, the aftermath rendering you completely fucked out, but blessed with the euphoria of your release.

The two of you continue to lay there for a bit longer, catching your breath and enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies. Eventually, Steve pulls out, and you sigh at the emptiness without him inside you. You feel some of his cum dripping onto your thigh, making a mental note to ask for a shower together later. In a moment, at least. When you'd regained your ability to walk.

You pull away from his neck to look at your boyfriend, who seems to be pretty satisfied with himself. "You did so well sweetie," he leans up to press a gentle kiss on your lips, "you're totally gonna ace that exam."

You'd almost forgotten you had an exam the day after, but surprisingly enough, you weren't that stressed. If you could come up with the answers while he was pounding into you, you could write them down in a lecture hall no problem.

"I'm pretty fond of studying the Harrington way, actually," you smile, reaching out to brush some stray brown locks away from his face.

"Really? Huh," he doesn't mention the fact that he didn't even look at the answer the last time. He was way too eager to make you cum, and besides, you're a smart girl. You're going to ace that exam either way. "Well, if you want," he glances at the clock on your nightstand, "I think we have time for another round of revising."

"Hm..." You pretend to mull it over, "in the shower?"

"In the shower."

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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astermath · 3 days

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tagged by @urdadsnewgiirlfriend <333

link

tagging: any mutuals who want to! <3

#teehee #i love picrews #THEY NEVER LET ME DO MY SKUNK STRIPE THO #GRRAAAHHH MY INDIVIDUALITY

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astermath · 4 days

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The touch starved prompts are making me be in my feels :') If you're still open to requests for them, can I have either "how long has it been since someone hugged or?" or "you don't need to earn my affection, not now and not ever." with Steve? Those two really hit hard for me... :')

omg i almost completely overlooked this ask i'm so sorry! the first one i answered not too long ago with this oneshot, but i'll happily write the second one!

send in some touch starved prompts! ♡

word count: 1K

You’ve been sick for two days already, and frankly, you’ve had enough.

It’s not that you feel bad for missing out on work. Seriously, you could have used a break from 10 hour shifts a long time ago already. And you don’t really have any other commitments you regret not being able to attend either.

No, Steve is taking care of you.

And it’s very conflicting.

On one hand, you love it. He’s your boyfriend, of course he takes care of you. He makes you soup, makes sure you have a blanket and a nice hot water bottle at your disposal, does everything around the house. It’s like heaven. Well, almost like heaven.

Because you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt about it all.

It’s stupid, you know it’s stupid. You would do the exact same thing for him if he was sick.

But there’s this awful feeling gnawing away at you, making you feel like he’s slaving away for you and that you’re ungrateful, that you don’t deserve it. That he doesn’t even like taking care of you, he just pities you.

That’s why when he comes to sit down next to you on the couch, reaching out for a cuddle, you pull away.

You don’t dare to look his way. You know the expression on his face already, a mixture of confusion and hurt. Mostly confusion. You’re sick, maybe you just don’t want to make him sick as well?

“Come on, we can cuddle, right? I’ve got a strong immune system, I won’t get sick from giving my girl some attention now.” He chuckles, but you don’t give in. It’s starting to concern him now. His sweet girl, not wanting to be enveloped in his arms? Maybe your sickness has gotten to your brain, or he’s done something seriously wrong.

“Hey,” He ducks his head under a little so he can get a look at your face, but you turn away. “What’s up baby? Did I do something?”

That makes you look at him, because you can’t have him thinking your insecurities have anything to do with his actions. He’s perfect, literally the dream boyfriend. And yet you feel like he’s being too good for you right now.

Your eyes are watery, and that you cannot blame on the illness. Steve’s expression softens, and he suddenly feels a lot worse for joking around just now.

“It’s just— you’re being so nice to me, and I… I don’t know…”

“Peach… If I’m doing something wrong, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“No, it’s— you’re not doing anything wrong, it’s just—“ you sigh, sniffling a little. “Feel like I don’t deserve this.” you pause, eyes quickly darting his way and back. “Like I don’t deserve you.”

Steve’s facial expression contorts into one of worry and confusion in a matter of seconds. “Oh, baby… C’mere.”

He reaches out, wrapping a strong arm around your shoulders and pulling you flush to his chest. The warm scent of his cologne overtakes your senses, and you can’t help but feel comforted by it. His large hand rubs over your back, gently, soothingly, and he presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Y’know, sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles against your hair.

You scoff; why would the Steve Harrington ever feel that way?

“Seriously, like,” he leans back a little, still holding you, “I used to be such an asshole. And you knew me back then, you’ve seen me during my worst times, when my ego was bigger than Hawkins itself, and you still decided I was worth your time. The fact that you stuck with me all that time, that really does count for something.”

You close your eyes to reminisce for a moment. He’s not entirely wrong, he was an asshole, but if anyone is the living proof that a person can change, it’s Steve.

He looks down at you, eyes full of love, glad to see you're starting to come out of your insecure cloud of thoughts.

"You know, even if you're not sick, you don't have to earn my affection."

Your head peeks out of the embrace he has you in, all curled up on his lap. Your eyes are a little glassy from almost crying, and though he hates seeing you sad like this, you do look so pretty.

"Yeah?" you ask, voice a little fragile.

"Yeah," he replies, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, "not now," peck, "and not ever."

You giggle softly, returning the gesture. The kiss deepens by the second, your lips melting together in what you could only describe as "getting lost in each other". And that's exactly what you do, because while his tongue slips past your lips and your fingers slide into his hair, you forget all about the sickness you'd been so tormented by.

Your eyes open suddenly, a soft gasp erupting from you as you pull away. "Wait, no-- no, I'm sick Stevie!"

He simply chuckles in return, pulling you in again before you can protest. "So what?" he mumbles against the plushness of your lips, "if I get sick, you'll take care of me too, right?"

"Duh," the tip of your nose rubs gently over his, "I'll make you chicken noodle soup and everything."

"Good, so," he shifts your positions, laying you down gently under him, your back flat onto the couch, "a bit of kissin' won't hurt."

You grin, the pure love and affection flooding your body making you forget all about being sick. "You're impossible, Harrington."

"You love it." He leans down to peck your lips once more.

"Yeah," your arms wind around him, "you got me there."

tag list ₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚

@palmtreesx3 @inkluvs

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astermath · 4 days

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eddie who’s obsessed with his girlfriend’s tattoos. <3

when he first meets you he can’t believe another person in hawkins shares his love for ink. especially a girl. it’s not all that common for women to be into tattoos, so when he sees the intricate pieces adorning your arms and legs, he’s more than intrigued.

and the best part is; the closer you two get, the more tattoos he discovers.

it starts when you’re making out and he slips a hand under your shirt, lifting it slightly, suddenly seeing a gorgeous piece adorning your stomach, flowing so well with the shape of your body. then his eyes move up, and he can just see the hint of an underboob tattoo. suddenly he’s harder than he’s ever been before.

and so he finds out about all of them; the cheeky stick and poke on your hip, the “one you regret” on your ankle, and the one on your lower back that always excites him when it peeks out above your shorts.

but his favorite one has to be the one on your wrist. it’s small, most people wouldn’t even notice it, as it’s surrounded by so much other ink. it’s a little bat, to match the ones on his arm. he can’t stop looking at it ever since you got it. and now that it’s healed, he always presses a kiss to it whenever he can.

well, not like he doesn’t press kisses to all your other tattoos too.

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astermath · 4 days

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Joe Keery on the New Hit List

#thats pookie #i’m telling u #that’s pookie right there!!!

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astermath · 6 days

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Y'know, I see a lot of posts urging people to comment on fics, so I just want to say, to all the people who do comment, and especially the long commenters:

thank you.

Long comments can be time-consuming. They can be difficult to write, but you leave them anyway!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who comments.

You are the highlight of fanfiction writers' days.

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astermath · 6 days

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unexpected guest *ੈ✩‧

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.

word count: 1.7K

tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!

notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me <3

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!

The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.

But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.

His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.

He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.

He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.

You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.

"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."

Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?

That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.

"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.

"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.

The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.

"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"

Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"

"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.

"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"

You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.

Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.

In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.

"Baby, where did you--"

"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.

"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."

The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.

"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."

"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.

He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.

Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.

"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.

You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.

Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”

You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.

“What?”

You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”

“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”

“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.

He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.

“No—“ he starts.

“But Stevie!”

“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”

You huff, rolling your eyes.

“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”

You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”

“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”

“You love her.” You grin.

“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.” He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.

“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”

Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”

His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.

“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”

“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.

He kisses your head once more. “Love you too.”

tag list <3

@palmtreesx3

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astermath · 6 days

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nemesis; landing page.

carmen berzatto has spent most of his career resenting you. everyone liked you, you were smart, creative, social, and worst of all, you were doing better than him in culinary school. he hated you. when his life starts taking some pretty severe turns, you show up again. he doesn't know how to handle being met with his arch nemesis again, especially during such tumultuous times.

little does he know you're a blessing in disguise.

♡ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ♡

tags; cursing, angst, carmen being pretty horrible to reader at first, slow burn (?), carmen doesn't know what his feelings mean at all, mentions of mental illness and everything related to mikey.

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astermath · 6 days

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i got helldivers 2 today and i'm SO LOCKED IN OMG

#aster speaks #YEAH IM A GAMER #AND IM GAMING

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astermath · 7 days

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take a break.

pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader

summary: dave has been overdoing the kickass activities, and you’re worried every other night could be his last. he tries to comfort you and tell you he’ll be okay. you’re not sure you believe him.

word count: 1.1K

tags: established relationship, mentions of injuries, dave being a sweetheart and loving his gf more than anything ofc, college au, regular font below!

“You’re such an idiot, Dave.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You sigh deeply. This is the third time in two weeks he’s come to your dorm window, badly hurt, asking for help.

And of course you help him. He’s your boyfriend, yes, but sometimes you get so upset at him always getting hurt that you want him to just learn a lesson already.

But he never does. So you keep helping him.

You love him. Like a painful amount, almost. You’d been together since high school, back when you found out about his vigilante persona. Now you’re in college together, and though you support his activities and what he stands for, you’re scared it could all go very south very quickly. It seems like any time he goes out to fight these days could be his last.

He winces when you clean the cut on his cheek with some antiseptic. Normally, you’d apologise, saying you just want to help. But you’re quiet. You feel troubled, and Dave can tell.

He feels more conflicted than ever. He’s feeling like he has to choose; between his principles, what he stands for, and the love of his life, his favourite girl. And that’s just something he can’t do.

Because he know he’ll choose you. And he’ll spend the rest of his life feeling regretful over the people he didn’t save.

“You’re mad, right?”

“No shit.”

“Right.” He pauses for a second. “Sorry.”

“Just—“ you hold out your hands and sigh deeply. “Stop apologising.”

“But,” he sits up straighter suddenly, “alright.” He bites back the urge to say sorry again.

Now you feel bad for being mad. Because you decided to keep being his girlfriend, even though you knew about his endeavours. You knew of the risks, of everything he stood for, and you accepted it. Because you love him. So, so much. You even took on being his personal nurse, treating his injuries whenever he needed it. But lately it’s been too much for your poor heart to handle.

It’s one thing to know your boyfriend is out there fighting dangerous criminals at night.

It’s another to see him in the aftermath of it, on the brink of consciousness at your window.

“You know I wouldn’t ask you to stop.” Your words make him look back up, searching for your eyes even though you’re avoiding his gaze. His heart aches for it, the way you look at him. But he can tell by how shaky your voice is that you’re already on the brink of crying.

“I know.” He responds. He’s quiet, he doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to say anything.

“It’s just— Dave, this is… This is a lot. You’ve been overdoing it.” You finally look up, and though he’s happy to see your pretty face, his heart breaks at the sight of your teary eyes. Of course he’s seen you cry before, hell, pretty much every time you watch a movie together you cry. But now it’s because of him. And he doesn’t know what to do this time.

“It’s just— crime’s been ramping up lately, baby. And someone has to do something about it.” He knows what you’re about to say. That it’s not his responsibility, at least not alone. That he shouldn’t feel like it’s his sole duty to keep people safe. And you know that he knows you’re going to say that. So you keep quiet.

“But why does it have to be you?” Your voice sounds shaky, like it’s going to break if you talk too loud.

“Because, if not me, then who else? I mean seriously, I can’t just have you out there in a world this dangerous. What if something happens to you?”

“How do you think I feel? What if something happens to you, Dave? Then what? What if I lose the person closest to me because he’s too stubborn to take a break?”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. Because he knows you’re right. You’ve been in the right from the start, his sense of purpose is just too connected to his persona. To Kickass.

“I’m sorry,” he reaches out for your hands, and you don’t pull away this time. They’re rough, calloused, but you’ve grown so accustomed to them. They’re warm, big, familiar. They’re Dave.

To his surprise, you lean into him, your head resting against his chest. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around you, his hand running up and down your spine in an attempt to soothe you. You’re tired too. Not only are you basically his personal nurse, but you’re also a full time college student. Dave is too. And he’d be failing if it wasn’t for you taking extra notes for him.

“I don’t know how much more Kickass my heart can take right now…”

“I get that. Ill, uhm… I’ll take a break. I promise.”

“Are you sure?” You look up at him. You’re giving him those puppy eyes that he can’t resist, whether you’re trying to or not. Maybe he’s just that weak for you.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “And I’ll take you out on a date soon. A real date, like in those movies you like to watch.”

“Will you get me flowers too?”

“Don’t spoil your own surprise now.”

You giggle, and the sound of it nearly makes him forget about all his injuries.

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, simply enjoying each other’s embrace. Now that you think about it, it’s been a while since you’ve been together like this. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, it gives you time to breathe, to think. To let everything sink in.

“You know I’d never ask you to quit being Kickass, but… One day, you’re gonna have to put it to rest baby.”

“I know.” he sighs. “I’m getting more used to being Dave though. Or— liking being Dave.” He presses a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve been making that a lot easier.”

“Yeah. I mean Kickass is cool and all, really cool, but I prefer Dave.” You peck his lips, trying to pull away right after, but he doesn’t let you. He captures your lips once more, melting into the kiss and cradling your face gently.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” You smile against his lips.

“For liking Dave. He appreciates it.”

“Yeah, well… Tell him I don’t just like him, I love him.”

“He loves you too.” His face is graced by a love drunk smile. How can someone just be so lovely?

“And Kickass is alright too I guess.”

To that, he laughs, though it hurts his ribs a bit. He definitely bruised them, for sure.

Or maybe it’s the overwhelming love swelling in his chest.

🏷️ tag list!

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme @stilloverthinking @durag-tanaka @earth-elemental18 @777iii @a-simp-for-broken-people @reneehillary69 @erodastylinson @caxddce

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