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charlottecutepie · 4 months

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₊˚⊹ᰔ Deal (Mathew Lillard!William Afton x fem!reader)

tags: public sex, m receiving, praise, riding, unprotected sex, threatening??

my notes: not really sure about this one, I might delete it later, idk yet :,) also eng isn’t my first language

“Hello? Mr. "I can't work nights?” Steve's hoarse voice asks, a beaming smile on his face as he talks to his potential victim.

It's always that fucking phone with wires. He'll never get off it. Most, if not all, questions are resolved through this damn phone.

Every time you enter this office, you see Raglan chatting sweetly on the phone, talking about jobs, vacancies, answering customer questions. And then his dark eyes rest on you, briefly studying your face before settling on your body. It's unpleasant feeling, as if you're exposed in front of him like meat on a plate when he already has a fork and a knife in his hands. There Steve lets out a laugh, takes the phone away from his ear and whispers softly to you: "you know what to do, honey." Embarrassment merges with arousal, which you can’t calm down in any way.

It always happens, it has already become a little tradition that at first you hated and denied. You were sick of yourself. But what happened? What made you like it? You started asking for more, you started coming to this damn office yourself, staring at the floor, obediently waiting for the cherished words.

"Yes, it absolutely is. Why? Have you had a change of heart?" Raglan asks with undisguised interest, clarifying Mike's intentions. He didn't even expect him to call back. This is just pure luck, Mike himself fell into his hands, so it's even better.

Every day, the same office, the same time, the same desk, the same Steve Raglan.

You're praying that sloppy sounds of you taking Steve's cock in your mouth don't reach Mike on the other end of the line, you're already ashamed enough. You try to be careful not to get his pants and floor dirty, but Steve doesn't care. His hand rests on your hair, stroking you like a little pet, an obedient pet.

Of course, you'll be obedient. You have made a deal after all.

"Let me give you a little backstory." he lowers his gaze to take a good look at you and spreads his legs wider. His cock penetrates deeper, he presses on your head, which causes an unpleasant feeling of tickling in your throat. You look at him, fluttering your eyelashes quickly as a sign that you're short of air. Fingers dig into his pants, crumpling the fabric. Steve raises his eyebrows, faking surprise, oh, what a pity. He's too rude, and you're too gentle, how cute. "Breathe through your nose or you forgotten you have one?" Steve lowered his voice.

"Can you repeat it again? I didn't hear you." Schmidt clarifies on the phone. You stop moving your head, afraid that Mike will hear something.

Steve sighs and adjusts his glasses, looking away from you. He starts explaining something again and you almost calm down, but he jerks his hips, allowing his dick to fully penetrate your throat, which makes you moan softly.

"This place was huge in the 80s with the kids." he smirks. Fortunately, Mike cannot see the face of his career counselor right now, because it’s definitely distorted by sarcasm and mockery. "This place been shut down for years. The only reason they haven’t given it the old wrecking ball treatment is the owners a bit of a… well, he’s kind of a sentimental guy, I guess. Just can’t bring himself to let it go yet." he chuckles. "Yeah…"

Steve's cock throbs in your mouth as you try to inhale through your nose. It's too much, you're slowly suffocating as now the whole situation is controlled by Raglan's hand, which is holding you by the hair. It hurts so bad, but then why you feel the warmth between your legs?

"Had some trouble with break-ins over the years. Drunks and vagrants, mostly. Not ideal…" it's surprising the way he do it, so calmly talking to someone on the phone while roughly fucking your throat. Although at times his tone is interrupted by quiet sighs. "Security systems dated, but fully functional. Floodlights on the outside, cameras inside and outside. Fair warning: the electricity is a bit… iffy." he’s all shining with joy while telling Mike about the pizzeria.

When you pull on his pants, tears come to your eyes and your throat hurts unbearably, Steve removes his hand from your hair. You release his shaft from your mouth with a popping sound that sounds very loud in such silence. Raglan smiles, looking at you contentedly, your chin is covered with saliva, cum on your lips, youre so beautiful, sweet. You’re lucky he's in a good mood today.

"Anything happens, there is a breaker in the main office, just flip it." he continues, but now looking at you, which makes it feel like he’s having a conversation with you. You exhale, wrapping your hand around his cock, moving up and down, he slowly pumps into your fist. His hand caresses your cheek, finger runs over your lips, smearing his cum, and it makes you smile a little. There's nothing to smile about, though. But you can't hold back the slight feeling of euphoria from such a gentle Steve, feeling yourself… Special? His touch is tender and his gaze has softened, he smiles while you continue to work with your hand. "Uhm, I guess that’s about it. You know, the rest is pretty easy. Just keep your eyes on the monitors and keep people out. Piece of cake." you lean closer, tucking your hair behind ear and running your tongue over his leaking tip. "Fuck, baby." he exhales, slightly squeezing the receiver of the old phone.

"Mr. Raglan?" Mike's puzzled voice. Your heart skipped a beat, like Schmidt's, but not Steve’s. Mike frowned, holding the phone closer to his ear. Did he hear correctly or….? From the very beginning of the conversation, he suspected something was wrong. Yeah, Steve's really weird.

Your innocent lick on his cock brought man to an instant orgasm. He was already on the verge from face fucking you, but the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip brought him to the limit. Putting the phone away a little further, he covered his cock with his hand until the spurts of cum laid on your face. He let out a barely heard groan, his glasses fogged up.

"I said it’s a piece of cake." Steve repeats, clearly not interested in continuing dialogue with Mike. "So, I'll catch you on the flip side… hopefully." not waiting for an answer, he hangs up.

What a good day, what an easy prey, how fortunate.

He’s in such a wonderful mood, light idea of rewarding you appears in his head. Why not?

"Come here, baby," he points to his knees with his finger, and you get up like a zombie, immediately pressing your legs together because of the uncomfortable feeling of soaked panties. Of course you're wet, this isn't the first time you are. But this will be the first time your problem will be taken care of. "you've been such a good girl, why don't I return the favor?"

Steve spreads your legs and sits you on his knee, hands holding you in place when you try move. It's not that you don't like it, you're actually losing your mind, but you feel too awkward knowing that you're in a public place. And the fact that he can feel your throbbing pussy against his knee doesn’t make situation better.

"What would you like, honey? My tongue or fingers?" he looks up at you, moving you so that your wet underwear rubs against the fabric of his pants. Your clit is stimulated, but in the most painful and torturous way, causing shallow sighs. You put both hands on his shoulders and squeeze his shirt as you throw head back.

"Please…" you're almost crying. "please, your… oh…" one more move and you'll cum. "cock, your cock, Steve, please!"

"Hush," he squeezes your thigh. "you know our little rule, don't you? Or should i remind you?"

"William," you're correcting your mistake. "William." He grunts with satisfaction.

"That's it." Afton's hands wander over your body, caressing you in right places. "Tell me honestly, you’re going to scream?" at first you don't even understand what he's asking.

He kisses your neck, continuing to slowly bounce you up and down on his knee. Thanks to you, a dark wet spot already appeared on his pants. His beard tickles your skin and his tongue leaves a wet trail on it.

"Yeah," you come to your senses, finally understanding what he meant.

William breaks into a smile. Of course, you'll scream, not just scream, but break your voice and cry, he knows that. His cock is hardening again. Afton loosens his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. He'll definitely find a good use for it, already did. He makes you get off his lap and you look down, blushing. God, you couldn't be that wet?.. It's humiliating, so embarrassing.

William pulls your panties down to your ankles, and you step over them, remaining only in a skirt and shirt. You don't know what to do. This is the first time something as it happens, you've never gone far than just a blowjob. He pulls off your skirt as well, causing it to fall along with your underwear. He pushes the clothes aside with his foot, then sits you on top of him again. William’s eyes don’t leave yours, his hand reaches down, you feel a finger at your wet entrance.

Your lips part to let out a loud moan and William steals it with a kiss. You can't make any noise. He pushes his hips up, pressing the head of his cock against your pussy. He mumbles something into your mouth, holds you tightly in one position, you’re unable to move. His tongue roughly explores your mouth. William feels your breath on him and smiles. Then his hands grope your butt and he pushes you down, slowly lowering you onto his cock.

He moans in unison with you, but quietly, working hours aren’t over yet. However, you can't hold back the loud whimpering, feeling full. It doesn't seem very pleasant at first. Afton closes his eyes, thrusting fully.

"Be quiet." another warning. "You're taking my cock so well," he praises. "don't try to pull away," his hands go up to your back. "you have no right to do that, you know that." a careful but extremely unnecessary reminder. At least, definitely not at the moment when you're having sex with him, you don't want to think about a deal. About consequences if you’ll break it.

Every touch gives you a pleasant tingling sensation and you start to enjoy it more with every second. You move on top of him, trying to find the right angle, pressing your chest against his. You don't want to look at his face, into his eyes, because even through the glasses you can see that he's devouring you with his eyes. It's embarrassing. But it gets worse when he runs his tongue over your nipple through your shirt, leaving a wet spot on your clothes. William lightly bites the sensitive skin, while squeezing your other nipple with his fingers, a hiss leaves your lips. It hurts, but it turns you on even more. His chest heaves, he tries to restrain himself from jerking his hips up and ruin your cunt the way you deserve. Your warm walls squeeze his cock too tightly as you tremble from too much attention to your nipples.

"Now move up and down," William points out. "and don't forget about hips."

He knows you've never tried this pose. Of course, he knows everything about you. He likes to be closer to his prey.

Your fingers on his shoulders tighten, you begin to move according to his words. You don't forget about your hips, as he demanded. And then something pleasant begins to spread through the body. An enveloping feeling that radiates to every nerve. His cock feels much different than it did a few minutes ago. Everything inside is burning and throbbing, your body needs more. You want to move faster, you can barely contain your moans. William puts his shoulder up, which is what you're using to shut yourself. You mumble, unable to make a sound, whine, but you continue to bounce on him.

"Good girl," his words break you. "such a tight pussy." your teeth are digging into him painfully, soaking the man's shirt with saliva.

Afton starts moving with you, now holding you tightly. It's like you're nothing more than a rag doll in his hands. Your body becomes so weak and sluggish, eyes roll back in bliss. His cock goes in and out of your pussy with an incredibly perverted sound that echoes throughout the office. Drops of sweat run down his forehead and down your back, but it feels like lava that burns to the bone.

"I-… I feel so good…" your speaking so slurred, because it's hard to talk with his clothes in your mouth, but you're so pleased that you can't control yourself. "William!"

You can't help but moan in surprise when he gets up from his chair, holding your ass, his cock still inside. It even hurts. William lays you on his desk, takes off his glasses and puts them next to a sign with his fake name on it. You dare to look at his face. He's just as horny as you are. Without glasses, he looks a little different, grey strands stuck to his sweaty forehead, hair slightly messy.

William puts his tie in your mouth, you almost choke. Afton leans down, brushes his lips against your collarbone, so sensually. In response, you wiggle your hips, trying to get him to move. William is grinning at you, at your pleading eyes. He begins to hammer in your pussy. You cry out as loud as you can, but fortunately, the tie shuts you up, leaving only indistinct "please." His hands squeeze your ass until it bruise as he thrusts into you.

William stretches you out just fine, thrusting into your cunt fast, which makes it seem like desk under you is about to break. You're afraid of accidentally hitting his glasses, you don't want unnecessary sounds. William is so damn tensed up, you realize that in all this time he has never broken eye contact with you. His cock reaches deeper when you just thought it was impossible and tears flow from your eyes. William smears two fingers with his saliva and lays them to your clit, your pussy clench around him. His fingers move sweetly and slowly, pressing on your bundle of nerves that it drives you crazy. Your legs are wobbly, blood is boiling.

"Do you want me to cum inside you, baby?" the question isnt scary at all, because your brain doesn't work. Your red, tear-stained face responds him. You just nod frantically, trying to say yes, but tie doesn't let. William smiles, runs the pad of his thumb over your clit. "Your cunt clenching around me like that, begging me to fill you up. Damn perfect."

He leans closer to your face. Poor thing, he wants to end your sweet torments, to give you what you crave. Clenching your tie between your teeth, you arch and cry, unconsciously moving your pelvis towards him. William's legs bend slightly as his thrusts become more chaotic. He keeps fucking into you, groaning softly. William wants to say so much dirty things to you, but he can't. He can't be loud, he can't be heard, no need to ruin his reputation. Let others continue to think that he's a good father, an amazing career counselor, an ideal person who helps others. And you… and you're just his little assistant, who brings coffee to his office. Let everyone think so.

Warm liquid filling you, and at first you don't even realize what it is as you cum. His fingers caress your clit with gentle circle movements while you try to bring your legs together, but eventually wrap them around him, only driving him deeper into yourself. William is unable to hold back heavy sighs, still continuing to thrust, until he sees that his cum is already flowing out of you down to the floor. Your tired eyes and his tie in your mouth, all covered with your saliva, cause him an evil smile. This day couldn't be better, today everything is going too well.

"You did so well, Y/n," he breathes with relief, running his fingers over your face and taking the tie out of your mouth. "you extended your little sister's life by one more day. By the way, tell her hi from mr. Raglan."

#fnaf william afton #fnaf x reader #william afton smut #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #dilf william #fnaf smut #william afton #fnaf x y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve #drabble #series #the lost #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

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collectivecloseness · 1 year

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6) please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me with Steve where like the reader is dying and the says 36) no! hey! Don't cry!

Prompts: 6) please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me & 36) no! Hey! Don’t cry!

(Tw: blood, trauma, basically what you’d expect...)

Steve Harrington x reader

“Y/N!!!! Y/n!!” Steve skidded to your side, already bleeding legs scraping on the ground, as he falls to your body, clutching onto the massive bat bite marks pouring blood into your clothes, that Robin and Eddie are trying to put pressure on while Nancy screams directions into the receiver of the telephone pole several yards away. You’d all escaped the Upside Down, but Steve had had to come out later than the rest of you, on a side mission not too far away.

He swore to you it’d be okay, because he was right behind you. He promised you he’d be alright, because you were worried about him being alone.

Now he’d left you, and you were bleeding.

“Y/n... oh God.” Steve cried, tears streaming down his face as he held onto your wounds Robin and Eddie already had their hands full with, before moving to cup your face. Accidentally layering your beautiful face with your own blood. Steve cried more as he realised, but he just kept stroking you.

“NANCY GET THE AMUBLANCE!” Steve screamed, his vocal cords sounding ripped, but he didn’t care about Eddie wincing, or Robin also crying, he only cared about you.

Like the first time he saw you, Steve only had his eyes on you.

“No... hey. Don’t cry! Why’re you crying...” you gently asked Steve. Reaching up a shaky hand to stroke his face, just like he was doing to yours. Like you always did when Steve cried to you. You’d never seen him cry in public before, why was he crying? You didn’t want that.

Steve sobbed, putting your hand back down, with his own shaking one. He was shocked you could even speak, because looking at you you looked.... you looked dead. You were still moving, your eyes were still open, he’d noticed your chest rising and falling too, but your body looked so pale, nothing like the usual warmth you had in your cheeks, and you were so weak... and by the way you were speaking Steve knew... He sobbed, bringing his forehead down to yours, crying loudly as he pressed against it, feeling your warmth from your skin, because you were always warm.

Steve knew it was bad.

“You’re okay baby.” Steve sniffed, swallowing loudly, like he was desperate for air, kissing against your sweaty hair, before deciding he wanted to see you better, he wanted you to be able to see him... deciding it was best, to take your hands up in his, kissing all over them instead. “You’re okay sweetheart. Just hang on, okay y/n?”

You started shaking, shivering, and Steve wobbled, spit flicking from his lips as he burst small cries again. “You’re okay baby. Help’s coming.” He shuffled closer, trying his best for once in his life, to look serious. To pretend like he had any control. So he could keep you safe. “The ambulance is on its way right now. Be here any minute, you’ve just gotta stay with me okay?”

Steve kissed you. Trying not to think about it being the last time. So he kept kissing you. Over and over. Terrified he was hurting you. And euphoric every time your lips kissed him back. “You can do that, can’t you y/n? Huh? Gonna stay with me just a bit longer? Wanna stay with me forever huh?” Steve kissed you again, pressing his tongue against yours this time and feeling nothing but relief when he felt it warm, and wet, and moving, like it should be. “We were gonna get that picket fence. Remember, tiny little Harrington’s, huh? Promised I’d get you any pet you wanted. I’m gonna stay right here with you, okay?” He shook your hands, gripping them firmly in his.

His face breaking once more.

“Please. Baby.”

You didn’t answer this time. But your face remained the same. Tired, slightly confused, but moving. Almost animated. But moving was enough for Steve. He just wished you’d talk.

Eddie had his head down, pressing agaisnt your wounds, two hands in different places. His bandana under his left hand, and your shirt crumpled to seal wounds shut on the right. But the blood just kept coming. Eddie couldn’t look up. He couldn’t. He didn’t want Steve to see his face.

But Robin couldn’t look away. She kept both her hands pressed on a big wound just below your stomach, her eyes blinking tears away, as she sniffled quietly. Her voice wavering as she looked at her best friend in the whole world, because she knew what was about to happen. “Steve...”

“No!” Steve looked up to Robin. Eyes dangerous but determined. It wavering into devastation, and just pleas, as he looked back down to you. Switching between you both. Because he couldn’t take his eyes off you. “Don’t, Robin!”

He couldn’t handle it. He didn’t need it. And Robin knew that. She quietly sobbed, only letting a couple of small cries out before going silent. Pleading with her body not to shake under pressure just this once, so she could keep leaning down on you.

You looked into Steve’s eyes, one more time. And then, right in front of him, his heart sunk as he watched them dull, your head rolling towards the sky. Still blinking. Still blinking. But not focusing on anyone right now.

“Please don’t go, please. Please don’t leave me.” Steve cried. Clutching onto your shoulders, and taking your cheek, still warm, blood from a cut on your apple still wet, in his left hand as he turned you over to look at him. Your eyes dazed. “Please baby. Please y/n, I love you. I love you! I can’t do this without you, oh God, please y/n don’t leave me. Please stay with me PLEASE!” Steve clutched onto the collar of your shirt, his other hand pounding into the earth, a cry wrecking through his entire frame, as his body shook. Hot eyes rapidly blinking away his tears as he gently cradled your jaw, his fingers stroking your soft hair, as he begged with you. Pressing small kisses to your nose, wet from spit and his tears that were streaming down, as he begged with you, saying small sweet things as he pleaded with you to stay, promised you’d be okay, pledged his whole life to spending it with you.

And then, a glorious sound came, one that Steve didn’t think was real, until Nancy came running over. And he saw how fast she’d been running, the tears pouring down her face.

And Steve knew Nancy would only leave that phone for one thing.

Steve wobbled as he moved down, closer to the dirt, pressing a shaky kiss to your lips. Sobbing when he felt you kissing him back again. When he peered those centimetres up, even with the tears in his eyes, he could see you clearly this close. And your eyes were tracking him, your lips down turned in a frown, fluttering across his soft cheeks as tears stained them, and then back to his eyes, with concern.

Steve rubbed his thumbs under your cheekbones, even though your tears had long since dried, and he smiled at you. Speaking softly, even over the sirens. “You’re gonna be okay baby. Gonna stay here with me, forever. Can stay with me y/n.”

And Steve pressed a finally alright kiss to you. Because when you saw Steve smile, you smiled too.

#Steve Harrington x reader #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington drabble #Steve Harrington #stranger things #anon #ask #Robin Buckley #Eddie Munson #Nancy Wheeler #1.2k #Steve Harrington/reader

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aclockmaker · 1 year

Text

more actors au continued from here

Shooting the first season is a fever dream. Creating and playing in a world that no one else gets to see yet—no reviews, no public, just them. The cast is tight, right away. Eddie, like, loves them. He's already made plans to go to Robin's family's house in Joshua Tree this summer.

Eddie and Steve don’t have that many scenes together. Eddie knows, guiltily, exactly when they’re all shooting.

It’s not just what goes on when the cameras are rolling, either. (Which is, like, still insane. Still makes Eddie feel like he's taken club drugs. And maybe he's not the only one, because—)

It's also that Steve is more likely to ask him to hang out, just the two of them, after they shoot together. Eddie could text him or ask him but he has a complex set of rules for how often he's allowed to be the one initiating it, because, well. He's nursing a pretty bad crush here. It's deeply unprofessional.

In the episode before this, Eddie confides in Nancy’s character, their teen journalist-detective, that he has something he thinks he needs to tell her. Something that’s going to blow her mind. But they’re just in the hall at school, the bell ringing, so he can’t do it right now. It’s his own little “I’ve got a secret, Veronica Mars. A good one.” (He’s watched as many dead-girl tv shows as he can to bone up for the role—all the classics going back to Twin Peaks. Veronica Mars is uniquely applicable because Lily does appear in flashbacks, and even though they’re subverting the trope by having a guy get killed, they all know what kind of story they’re telling.)

In the scene they shoot tonight, Steve's character comes to Eddie's house that same night before he can get to Nancy to try to convince him not to tell her. It's not clear what Steve thinks he knows, when he climbs in through Eddie's window, only that he's practically begging Eddie not to do it. He starts off aggressive, like they're yet again about to get into a physical fight. But the fact that Eddie lets him in speaks to the fact that maybe there's a little more to their relationship. And then Steve's character breaks down, cries a little, and it's really—something, to be wrapping his arms around Steve's shoulders in front of the camera and the crew, under the lights. Eddie is a professional, and he's perfectly capable of slotting those feelings into their correct file folders for later perusal, but—it's something. He's given Steve bro hugs. He's pretty sure Steve even hugged him for real the first time he saw him after he was cast (it's a blur). The only time they've hugged like this is on film.

He's not surprised when there's a message waiting for him on his phone when he eventually gets back to it post-short scene with Max, whose character lives next to Eddie's in-story. The message itself is a little surprising. Hey, I'm wrapped so I'm going home but do you want to come by? And then an address in Silver Lake.

It's not so crazy. Steve takes awhile to decompress after filming something emotional; he doesn't like to be alone. Eddie has learned this very quickly and has very quickly come to crave being the one Steve decompresses with. It just typically happens on the studio lot, in Steve's trailer. But this is fine, too. It just makes sense. Steve was done for the day so he went home. But he still wants to see Eddie.

Eddie sends back three thumbs up emojis, bangs his head on his steering wheel, and starts driving. He chews a fingernail, wonders if he should stop somewhere to get something to bring. A bottle of wine. But that’s stupid probably—it’s not a dinner party. It’s just two friends hanging out. (If he thinks it a little defensively, that’s because Mike was leaning heavy on the innuendo when he asked Eddie where he was going tonight. “Oh really, with Steve? Huh. It’s nice you two get along so well.” Eddie had just glared at him and moved on. The kid is such a little shit.)

Steve hugs him when he gets there, which is almost funny—now that he’s acted it out, he’ll do it in real life, like an echo. But it doesn’t seem fake, it just seems like that’s what Steve does when someone comes to his house. He’s a little high strung, maybe, in constant motion while he waves Eddie in and offers him a beer.

They end up on the pool deck, beers in hand, sitting with their legs dangling in the water up to their knees. It’s secluded here, big, old trees blocking them from any neighbors’ view.

“So,” Steve says. “Good scene after I left?” It doesn’t sound like what he really wants to ask.

“Yeah, fine,” Eddie agrees. “You know what Max is like—she’s too cool for school.”

“Don’t let her hear you say that,” Steve laughs.

“Never,” Eddie agrees. The teasing would never end. He glances at Steve, who seems mostly relaxed, maybe a little hunched in on himself.

“Did you ever, um,” Steve starts, looking out at the water. “Date a co-star?”

Eddie’s brain whites out a little, just static. “Uhh. I thought you were going to ask if I thought you looked weird when you cried, or something.”

Steve sputters. “Do I?”

“No, dude, very pretty crier.” Eddie smiles.

“Thanks I guess,” Steve says, frowning a little.

Eddie chews on his lip. “But, uh. No, I haven’t.”

Steve sighs. “Yeah, me either.”

Which is funny, because he’s been linked with a couple of them from previous projects, but Eddie guesses you can’t believe everything you read.

“Is there someone,” Eddie asks carefully, “you want to date?” Steve is close with Robin and Nancy. Eddie can’t see Robin dating a guy, but what does he know.

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “I feel like. I don’t know if it would be a terrible idea, because we work together.” And then he just stops talking.

“I might be able to respond better if I knew who we were talking about here.”

Steve gives him a look. “You do know. Don’t make me say it.”

“Gonna definitely need you to.” And then, because he can't help trying to make Steve laugh. "It's Joyce, right?"

"Please," Steve says, and does laugh a little. "I wish I thought I had a shot with Joyce." She's a legitimately famous actress who Eddie often can't believe he's going to share an IMDB listing with.

"But, uh," Steve goes on. “I don’t want to mess anything up, though.” Now he sounds careful.

Eddie doesn’t know what Steve thinks he’s messing up—their chemistry, he guesses, if he’s not reading this very wrong. Their friendship maybe. The show. Any remaining semblance of professionalism. Eddie is pretty ready to throw most of that stuff out the window—after all, who says just because they hook up the work will suffer? Maybe it’ll be better because Eddie won’t be crushed under the weight of absurd amounts of sexual tension anymore. Not that it’s been a hardship, but…

“I don’t think you’re messing anything up,” Eddie tells him. “I mean—personally. Who says anything will get messed up?” I think it might be worth it even if it does, he doesn’t add, because it’s shocking to even think it, and obviously too much for the moment. He doesn’t know if he really means it—this show is, like, the opportunity he’s been waiting his whole life for. But he’s already dead on it; there’s only so many flashback scenes they can film as he ages further out of the high school age bracket for a character who can’t get older.

“Yeah, but.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “The way we are on the show—“ he shoots a worried little glance at Eddie, who tries not to react outwardly to that, which is hard. “Don’t you think some of that’s because—I mean, for me at least, it is, I’m not saying—for you—"

“Me, too,” Eddie assures him before he hurts himself. “But—okay, you brought this up, not me. What do you want, then?”

“Dude, I wish I knew,” Steve says. “I mean—“ he glances at Eddie— “I know what I want, but I don’t know what we should do. But I just felt like I was going crazy, and the only person I really wanted to tell was, well, you.”

Oh. “Steve,” Eddie says, almost a warning. He wants to offer that they can hook up and it won’t mean anything and nothing will change. He wants to offer that they can date and nothing bad will happen. It’s all stupid, impossible to promise.

“I know,” Steve says miserably. “Sorry.”

Eddie shakes his head. It’s almost unbearably sweet that Steve is so bent out of shape over him. “Come on, we only have, what, two more weeks of filming? We can make it through two weeks, right?”

“Guess we have to,” Steve agrees, but he moves his hand over a little so their pinkies touch on the edge of the pool.

tagging a few people by request, thank you for being interested <3 @atlas-talks @obsessivlyme @lyriclight @deadflowercollector @thatonebadideapanda @wolfstarlights @eddiemunsonswife @alienace @wishiwasacasualfan

#thank you to everyone for name suggestions instead of taking any of the good ones i've just continued to avoid naming characters lol #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #actors au #stranger things fic #steve x eddie #also i'm not the boss of you but please don't be too invested in the plot of the tv show... for your own sanity... i will Reveal All but #i can't promise it will besatisfying

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 1 year

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Hello bestie I am ur local simp, and i am on my knees begging for HCs of the greasers dancing with you in the kitchen, my preferences are Darry and Steve i am begging

A/N: Hey there! Thanks for requesting, I hope you don’t mind the wait. They’re a little short, but I hope you enjoy them!!

DARRY CURTIS

You wanna dance? In the kitchen? With Darry?

Oh honey, that’s nothing new, my boy loves to dance with you, especially during those quiet moments in the kitchen <3

Whether it’s in the morning where one of you’s fixing breakfast, or in the evenings when dinner’s been tucked into the oven and you have nothing else to do, Darry will definitely dance with you

He likes any of the slow songs that mean he can hold you close, tucking you into his body as you sway back and forth together and looking into your eyes, those little conversations filled with sweet nothings

SODAPOP CURTIS

Yes! I cannot stress this enough, Sodapop loves to dance and would give anything to dance with you

Your dancing is not limited to the kitchen! He’ll dance with you wherever, spinning you around at the drive-in or teaching you a few moves at a diner somewhere while the jukebox plays

He’ll slow dance? But he’d rather more upbeat dances, just cause he’s so energetic

But he’ll take the excuse to hold you close, kiss you gently and smile that smile that totally knocks you off your feet

PONYBOY CURTIS

I love Ponyoby with all my heart, but you can’t look at the boy and convince me that he doesn’t have two left feet

Like, I just know that both of his brothers and his mom did everything they could to try and fix that problem but it’s entirely unsuccessful

Plus? He gives wallflower vibes, so I don’t think dancing would exactly be his cup of tea especially not out on some diner floor or school dance, I can totally see him standing by the walls with a cup of that terrible punch and one of Soda’s ties around his neck

Having said that, I think he’d make an effort if dancing was important to you, like he’d offer to take you dancing and spin you around every once in a while

DALLAS WINSTON

The kitchen? Maybe not, Dallas really doesn’t have access to a kitchen that isn’t Buck’s little half-kitchen or the Curtis’ so maybe not the kitchen specifically

But dancing with you at Buck’s is definitely doable, especially if Dal has a few in his system or it’s not too crowded

Also a firm believer that Dallas has two left feet but it’s not as bad as Ponyboy and he can definitely do a little two-step and shuffle with you

He likes dancing with you because he likes having his hands on your waist, letting them drift as low as he can get away with to then bring you closer for a kiss at the end of the song

JOHNNY CADE

I see dancing with Johnny as like a soft and intimate thing?

So like, just the two of you, spinning and goofing around together when you go out or something, dancing to the Curtis’ radio in their kitchen and stuff

That’s not to say that he won’t dance with you to whatever song is playing over the speakers at the drive-in or to what the jukebox in the corner of the diner is playing, it’s just a lot less likely

But, if you beg and plead and kiss him just enough, I’ll guarantee that Johnny will dance with you, 1000%

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Anywhere and anytime baby, Two-Bit is always going to be more than willing to dance with you

I’m not even joking, literally just say the word and Two will be tripping over his own feet to dance with you, he’s so excited <3

He has absolutely no shame when it comes to humiliating himself in public and I think a part of that factors into his dancing, he doesn’t care who catches you dancing and where you dance

So yes to the drive-in, yes to the diner, yes to whatever bar you may find yourself in on a date night, and a definite yes to dancing with you in the kitchen

STEVE RANDLE

I don’t know why, but I just feel like Steve would definitely dance with you, no questions whatsoever

I can just see him pulling you in for a quick little two-step whenever you stop by to see him at the DX, claiming that the song that started on the radio just has to be danced to as he pulls you in

Slow songs, fast songs, I just think he’d have a lot of fun dancing with you, no matter what!

And if you don’t think you’re a good enough dancer, don’t even worry about it, Steve’s not going to care and he’ll make you laugh so hard while you’re together that you won’t have time to stress about it

TIM SHEPARD

Soooooo I have a lot of thoughts when it comes to this greaser and one of the biggest one is how much fun he’d be to dance with-

He’s good at everything, even though he doesn’t look the type to be spinning around on some dance floor, he’s just got some sort of natural talent that makes him look astounding on the floor

Lines dances to slow dances and everything in between, Tim will have no problem dancing with you, especially after he’s had a few drinks and is feeling more laid-back

His hands might drift a little lower than your hips at times, but what else do you expect? He’s a hood! Besides, when you go to chastise him or move his hands, he’ll just give you this little smirk and how could you possibly be mad at that face?

CURLY SHEPARD

Unless he’s in a space where he feels comfortable, I don’t see Curly as someone who would frequent the dancefloor, it’s just not his space

He can do the dances? Would be down to goof off with you when it’s just the two of you? But he’s not big into the dance floor

Kitchen dancing though, that’s really his element and he’ll spin you around so gently, murmuring the lyrics to whatever song is playing while pressing kisses to where is closest to his mouth

10/10 experience, would highly recommend dancing with Curly as you’d feel so adored and appreciated!

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2knightt · 11 months

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gwjgdkebdj ive never asked anything from u before but can you do the gang with a reader who stims a lot cuz like i often stim like with my hands or like vocal stims like squeaking or certain words and idk how would they feel about that because i do it alot :]

↳pharmacy’s rotting my brain!₊˚✧

──IN WHICH, the gang with a reader that tends to stim!。✦

||✰ — the gang, separately can be seen as both romantic and platonic.

Johnny Cade ;

probably doesn’t care.

he thinks is a little odd at first, but gets used to it pretty fast

if you tend to do it when you’re nervous, he picks up on it pretty fast.

like, if you were in a public space that’s crowded and you were to start stimming, vocally or not, he’d notice immediately.

he’d take you away from the area ASAP.

“you good?”

“ye-yeah. back there jus, scared me is all.”

“yeah. i noticed.”

i think he tends to like, play with his fingers when he’s nervous so…he makes sure you don’t feel alone or weird because of it.

you feeling insecure over something you cannot control is beyond him.

so, he tries his very best to help you in any way possible.

if you need him to hold your hand to stop you from stimming so much in front of new people, he will NOT let go.

“johnny we left, you can let go.”

“no.”

“okay.”

Dallas Winston ;

i don’t think he minds much.

but if anyone else had a problem with it, he’d have a problem with them.

“the hell are they doing?”

“is it a problem?”

“yeah, it’s annoying.”

BAM!

dead.

he tries to understand why you do it, but doesn’t.

“i’ve told you already, dal.”

“yeah but, why?”

when you like, squeaked around him for the first time, he was probably scared.

“AH! what the fuck?!”

gets used to it though.

“jesus christ, y/n. you sound like a mouse.”

“shut up.”

if you get nervous around him and start stimming he probably would throw an arm around your shoulder and rubs his thumb up n down your arm.

he tries to help, sometimes, but fails so bad.

you probably just end up laughing at him.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

honestly, i can see pony stimming too. just a little bit though.

so, seeing you stim too make him feel less lonely.

ponyboy probably stims when he’s alone only but when you came along you’re like, the only person to know.

“me too!”

“i know, y/n. that’s why i told you.”

“oh.”

he’s always there for you!! like always.

it lowkey gets kinda annoying but whatever.

it helps ponyboy stay calm knowing your alright.

Sodapop Curtis ;

will also, beat the shit outta someone for making fun of you.

“stop that.”

“they can’t control that.”

“so? it’s annoyi-“

knocked out!

even a broken jaw, perhaps.

he is your number one defender!!!

i can see soda stimming when he gets excited, like shaking him hands, all that.

he totally understands you!!

he doesn’t mind if you do vocal stims.

you and sodapop legit understand each other.

i feel like he gets you. idk.

Darry Curtis ;

scared. he was lowkey scared when you stimmed around him.

he doesnt know why you do it??

don’t even bother trying to explain it to him.

but he gets used to it, n’ that’s all that matters.

he doesn’t even bat n’ eye no more.

he’s learning so fast at his old age!☺️

jokes…maybe.

if your certain word was like fuck or something, he lets it slide.

i think darry’s the type of guy to go “LANGUAGE!” when someone swears.

but he won’t for you.

“what? you aren’t gonna yell at them?”

“no.”

“what???”

“don’t ask anymore questions, you hear?”

Steve Randle ;

will beat the shit out of someone too.

0 fucking hesitation.

ZERO.

he is swinging without a second thought.

but, i do unfortunately have to admit, he thought it was weird at first.

he didn’t understand why you would squeak, or move your hands constantly.

but, slowly but surely, he got the idea.

i don’t see himself doing it, but he gets you.

Two-bit Mathews ;

i can see two-bit playing with his hands when he gets too excited.

so seeing you stim, isn’t weird to him at all.

he lowkey thinks it normal.

he thinks your squeaking is funny.

“HAHAHA! y-y/n, who knew you could make such cute sounds!”

he means it in a good way.

i swear he does😭.

i think he picks up on playing with his hands like how you do if he spends enough time with you.

“jeez, y/n. i’ve been hanging out with you so much ‘m starting to become you!”

“oh, shut it!”

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 1 month

Note

Do you ever imagine Steve burping helplessly and Bucky getting turned on in a public place?

This isn’t public public but something that I have been thinking a lot about recently is car rides and how an especially rough ride might jostle burps out of someone while also forcing them to hold their sensitive, overfull tummy, groaning with complaints as the car rumbles and shakes. Then, as all this is going on, there’s also nothing they can do about it because they need to get home. In fact, before they got in the car and started getting jostled around, they really wanted to get home, they were so excited to get home so they could lie down and sleep off all the excess food and/or drinks they stuffed into themselves. So they're just trapped burping and being shaken up like a can of soda, about to pop. And that’s what I’m going with here! I hope you enjoy it!

Unbeta'd stucky belly kink under the cut. Warnings for alcohol consumption (but Steve can't get drunk because we're talking about serumed Steve, so it's not really intox? yanno?), burping, bloating, button pops, etc.

Steve and Bucky have just spent their evening at the latest fancy, excessively formal gala where they’re playing politics. Shaking hands with the government officials they pretend to listen to when it comes to how to save the world, living up to their roles as superheroes who are definitely not vigilantes and certainly operate under the law, yes, sir. Really actually gritting their teeth against boredom while making polite conversation. They’re doing it for the sake of the other Avengers and so they’re not deemed as enemies of the state… again.

So, once it’s over and they’re free to go home, both Steve and Bucky breathe a sigh of relief upon getting back to their car. It’s all over, well into the night or, actually, the next day. It’s morning now. Early, early morning. But. It’s over with. Thank God.

Steve, however, sighs especially loudly, fidgeting with his tie and instantly undoing the knot the moment he drops his ass into the passenger seat, shutting his door with a little too much force.

“That bad?” Bucky smirks, teasing him but not looking over from the driver’s seat at him because he’s too busy sticking the keys in the ignition and starting the car, flicking on the ventilation system and fiddling with the radio, turning it on low for some background noise.

“You have no idea,” Steve snarks back tiredly, falling farther into his seat as he buckles up with a click.

Amused, Bucky looks over at his best guy now that the car is idling, warming up, there’s something in his voice that catches his attention - he swears if anyone said something stupid to his Steve, they’re gonna pay for it - and

Oh.

After he blinks and takes a moment to process what he’s seeing, Bucky feels his own eyes widen comically when his gaze lands on the way Steve’s gut is suddenly bulging out from his body. The breath gets caught in his throat. His stomach. Woah. It’s… it’s a thing. It’s big. Suddenly, straining the limits of his choking formal attire. His neatly pressed black suit jacket and white dress shirt underneath with the tails of his black tie falling to either side of the hill rising from the middle of his body.

“What the fuck?” Bucky murmurs involuntarily, staring at his best guy and trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. His belly is so pressed outwardly and distended that Bucky can’t see the shiny leather belt that he knows is holding up his slacks. He’s… huge.

With eyes on him, Steve stretches like a cat, arching his back like his belly actually fucking fighting to escape the formal wear and seat belt that he’s wrapped haphazardly around it. His suit looks painted on, so unbelievably tight; his seat belt is curving underneath his belly’s sudden weight and curled over the top of it, emphasizing its heft.

“C’monnn,” Steve whines, high-pitched, breaking his Captain America facade that he uses for these types of events and returning to the punk he really is, “get us out of here already.” He turns his head to the side, his blue eyes glassy.

Automatically, Bucky puts the car in gear and does as he says - he’d do anything for that stupid punk - but, at the same time, he can’t stop shooting glances over to the passenger seat where Steve’s resting, reclining, fully exhausted, in his seat. He sighs heavily again, this time it’s in relief from unbuttoning his suit jacket. Bucky catches an eyeful of it, his dick jumping, trained like a dog to a whistle but the whistle is Steve taking off his clothes. And… if possible… his belly swells outwards another inch. Maybe more.

“Jesus, Stevie,” they come to a stop at a sign, just leaving the parking garage, and Bucky uses the moment to reach over and touch his belly. Just making sure it’s real and he’s not seeing things. Patting him down. Under his palm, it’s very real. Very tight and very real, making a ripe, solid thump sound with each pat-pat he makes.

The collision has Steve stifling an airy belch behind a loosely curled fist, “c-careful, Buck,” he warns.

“Or what, you’ll pop?” Bucky’s teasing but also… he could. He might. Just look at him, nearly bursting out of his clothes. On a goddamn normal day, Bucky can’t deal with Mr. Steve I-Like-Tight-T-Shirts-That-Show-Off-Every-Inch-Of-My-Hot-Bod Rogers. So how is he supposed to deal with Steve when he’s dressed to the nines in formal wear and they’ve just had to deal with a fucking room full of stuffy politicians that frustrate him to the point of wanting to rip out his hair or punch a wall or fuck someone hard? (Preferably the last option, and preferably Steve).

He looks - Bucky licks his lips which are suddenly dry - almost pregnant. Ready to pop alright. Bucky shivers as he shifts gears.

Steve lazily chuckles at him, breathless, explaining his situation away by flapping a hand passively, “everyone wanted to have a toast to or a toast with Captain America,” Bucky nods, trying to listen and barely succeeding, “and you know how it is, I can’t turn anything down when I’m wearing the stars and stripes, it looks bad.” Steve shifts in his seat as Bucky hits the gas, the softest groan falling out of his loose, full lips already driving Bucky insane even before he admits, “so I have no idea how many flukes of champagne I drank.”

As they continue to cruise, Bucky keeps looking over at him, stealing glances, trying but failing to keep his eyes on the road. He’s trying to process the thought of Steve getting fucking wasted in this new century. Sloshed. Hitting glass after glass, bottle after bottle, until he’s flushing pink, and getting stumbly and tipsy and touchy like he used to before the serum when he was the lightest lightweight. Always snuggling up to Bucky, all over him, curling up in his lap like a cat after they went out drinking back in the day, kissing him and clinging to him, begging him with slurred words and dangerously mischievous eyes to fuck him rough and hard. Yanno how I like it, c’moooon, Buck, do meee, Bucky can still hear his drunk voice.

“Christ,” Bucky finally spits out some fucking words, his brain practically smoking, “it’s a good thing you can’t get drunk then, pal.”

“Yeah,” Steve’s breathing is labored as he tries to get comfortable, wiggling around in his seat, pulling at his now open collar and the seat belt cutting into him, “still can get full, though-”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees too quickly, too eager.

“And bloated,” Steve hisses out the tiniest of burps, leaning completely back into the leather seat, flopping back, his hands limp at his sides, “I’m sooo bloated.”

Bucky swallows thickly, “you look it… looks like you’re smuggling a watermelon under that suit.” Bucky’s flesh and blood hand aches with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel, he’d be worried about breaking it if all his attention weren’t split between making sure he’s not about to crash and Steve.

“Thanks, asshole,” Steve laughs gently, the sweet sound ending in a gasp as he feels the alcohol in his belly swirl, the finger food he ate swimming in it, there’s so much.

“Just look at yourself, baby-” Bucky can’t resist pushing further, teasing and in awe at the same time. That’s what he and Steve do, though, they give each other shit. It’s a love language.

“Mmmmm-hm,” Steve lazily glances down, moving slower with just how overfull he is.

“You were sucking that thing in?” Bucky risks taking one hand off the wheel to reach over and smack his gut. Lightly. But, still, it’s enough to jostle a bigger burp out of Steve. He can’t believe how tight Steve’s belly is. He can’t believe how big Steve’s belly is. It’s making it hard to think. “That whole time? Your poor abs!”

“Uh-huh,” his big chest heaves as he tries to breathe deeply but can’t find the room in his body to fully expand his lungs, his stomach is too big, stretched, taking up all the extra room in his body and more, “Jesus, yeah,” he agrees, “my abs hurt, they’re so stretched-”

Bucky licks his lips, why does that sound so good? To him, and evidently to Steve with his tone of voice… it’s gone all breathy and soft like it does when he likes something. Turned on and weak for whatever it is, unable to put up a fight.

“-But it feels good to let it out, too.”

Christ.

Tease much, Rogers? Bucky wants to bite back.

But instead, Bucky can’t be bothered to be ashamed of himself when he answers, “it looks good, too.” Fucking sue him. He’s attracted to Steve all the time. Constantly. How would this be different? Why wouldn’t he want him like this? Even more of him. He can’t believe how hard that dress shirt is straining to keep his swollen gut covered. There are diamond gaps of exposed pale flesh between every button. It’s as if his belly is dying to get out and swell bigger, needing more space to get larger. And he’s… he’s interested in seeing it get bigger. If Steve can stomach it (ha), at least. He doesn’t want to actually pop Steve. He just wants to push his limits. See how much he can take.

Steve huffs, shaking his head affectionately like he can’t believe it. But he blushes bright pink, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. He’s on the same page, just shier about it, “thanks, pal,” he murmurs, ducking his head, “you know how to make a guy feel special.”

Bucky snorts, “sure thing,” they stop at a red light and Bucky indulges himself, finding one of the gaps between his buttons to put two fingertips against his bare skin. Investigating the new landscape of Steve’s mountainous gut. It feels like he has a fever despite being unable to get sick these days, and when Bucky presses his fingers in, just to feel how much give there is in that tight belly -

“Oof,” Steve groans, “be carefu-uuuurpp,” there’s nothing Steve can do to stop the burp that comes barreling out of him.

“Be careful?” Bucky smirks, laughing a little, more breathless than anything, though, he had no idea that a stomach could do that. Could be so tight. He’s felt up Steve’s rock-hard abs plenty. Often, even. But… this is different and it’s exciting. “Or what? What’re you gonna do if I’m not? It seems like you’re having a hard time over there, bud.”

A car drives up behind them, appearing out of the empty night and honking, forcing Bucky’s eyes back onto the road. Ah, the light’s green, it probably has been for a while, too. So, he drives on.

Steve is about to respond, giving him shit right back, he’s sure, when the car hits a sudden pothole, jostling them both. But, poor Steve, it hits him worse. Not just startling him. The pothole is on the passenger side, to begin with, and Steve’s more affected by it anyway with his bloated belly. Despite how tight it is, packed to the brim with carbonated liquid, the dip in the road leaves it bouncing, jiggling, and sloshing violently as the car shakes. Bucky has never so deeply paid attention to the suspension because fuck. The impact seems to send a shockwave through Steve’s whole body, causing him to emit a loud, reckless belch that actually echoes in the tight confines of the car. The last of it turns into a groan as Steve curls his hands protectively around his belly like he can stop it from sloshing around. Meanwhile, Bucky could fucking thank the god-awful Nazis right now for gifting him with super hearing, forgiving all the other torture they put him through, just because he can hear the way the champagne bubbles trapped inside him fizz, tickling his insides almost… pleasurably if the blush spreading over Steve’s face and down his neck is anything to go by.

They’re both breathing harder now.

Not even a minute later after the first cacophonous, obscene accidental moment, Bucky turns onto another road, taking them home on autopilot, leaving NYC and heading towards Brooklyn. On the other road, right after the gut-churning too-fast turn, there’s another polehole, this one worse. Worse not because it’s bigger but because Bucky knows what’s going to happen. He sees it ahead of them and his brain is still processing what just happened, how seeing Steve jiggle and wobble made him feel involuntarily forcing him to picture the way Steve’s ass and tits move when he rides him, the way he groans when his dick bottoms out inside of him, stuffed full, and -

Bucky doesn’t even try to avoid the pothole, he just stares at Steve out of the corner of his eye, white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Steve’s swollen midsection heaves with another burp. Fuck. Bucky might be crazy, he might be seeing things, but his formal shirt, the buttons!, God, they’re almost straining more than they were before.

This time, his burps mix more with his groans and moans of discomfort.

Bucky’s head is spinning.

He feels like he needs to ask, “you alright?” But it’s more excitement than concern racing through him. This is… something about this is hot. Boiling even.

Letting the back of his head hit the headrest, hands supporting the underside of his belly, Steve swallows. Then, he nods weakly, cheeks flushed, “yeah,” he coughs to half-hide another burp, “‘m just gassy.”

Bucky’s gaze lingers on the mesmerizing sight before him, unable to tear himself away. The roughness of the road seems unending, who the fuck is in charge of New York streets anyway? They’re doing an awful job!, every jiggle and slosh of Steve’s belly sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. It makes Bucky’s face hot and tingly, stealing glimpses of his bloat as he takes them home.

Bigger and bigger and bigger.

He’s just filling up more with each shake-up of the contents of his stomach. Gas building. Bubbling.

Reflexively, with each belch and moan that escapes Steve’s lips, Bucky gets more and more aroused. His dick feels as hard as Steve’s belly looks. The tension in the car thickens. Steve tries to apologize for being so noisy and gassy, embarrassed, the manners he was taught holding him back, but Bucky won’t have it. Hastily, he reaches over with his hand not on the steering wheel to massage the roundest, most bulged-out part of his belly, saying, “you gotta let it out, baby, it’s okay. I want you to. Don’t hold back” He digs his fingers in just enough to cause another belch from Steve - a whimper right after - and they both squirm in their seats. “That’s it,” Bucky pats his tummy, encouraging him.

It seems impossible. He’s so full of champagne, so round. And all the sweet, fizzy alcohol is just getting more and more carbonated, more sparkling, more bubbly, more sloshy inside him with every jolt and shake of the car. Despite how much he’s burping, letting some of the gas escape, he just keeps swelling. Little by little, his belly inflates farther, expanding like a balloon. A balloon attached to a helium tank. Bucky is exhilarated by it, and judging by how Steve’s uncomfortable groans have pitched up into sounds that are more like moans of relief chasing each belch… Bucky isn’t the only one.

There’s something so hot about watching him blow up. Inflate. Expand. Swell.

The tension in the air follows Steve’s strained dress shirt, at first, it’s well-fitting, then a little bit tight, then tighter, tighter, until it’s creaking at the seams, ready to burst. The tension is so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Ready to snap. The buttons are threatening to pop off at any moment. All that gas… all the sloshing. The pressure is mounting. Every pothole, speedbump, black-tar snake, and accidental hit curb is a sweet torment for Steve, making him burp and cry out more which in turn torments Bucky. Both of them are wracked with anticipation, crawling with the need to touch each other.

The next time Bucky can take a hand off the steering wheel again and reach out to thump Steve’s swollen gut, Steve lets out a low, guttural moan, his body jerking into the sensation. But at that same risked moment, they hit the deepest, biggest pothole yet and -

Pop!

The first one is so loud and unexpected that it makes both of them jump in their seats, Bucky slams on the break which doesn’t help Steve’s precarious situation.

Pop!

The second one makes Steve whimper, trembling in his seat under the sloshing liquid inside him, swirling around, leaving him aching, the seat belt digging into him harder, feeling as though it’s cutting him in half.

POP!

The third one has Bucky swearing because fuck. Fuck! That’s so fucking hot. Steve is so big, so swollen that the buttons on his shirt, stretched over Steve’s belly have popped right off, flying forward and hitting the dash or the windshield. His shirt is no longer able to contain the bulging dome of his gut. It’s too much to handle, it’s expanded too far for the once perfectly fitted formal attire to hold on.

With each button that bursts free, a pleasurable relief in its own right, Steve’s pale, round, so fucking round, gut spills out into the heated, thick air. No longer held back by his clothes. The audible slosh of Steve’s champagne-and-gas-filled belly swelling suddenly, violently into his lap between the white halves of his now-ruined dress shirt is mouth-watering. With every stuttered breath Steve takes, stunned by arousal and shock, his gut seems to pulse with his overindulgence. Bucky can hear his heart racing and he knows Steve can feel it in his expanded stomach. All that taut, smooth, blushing skin exposed.

Oh, God.

Steve lets out his loudest moan so far, reckless with it. His hands had been braced on the center console and door handle respectively, hanging on as he was sloshed and jiggled. His hands fly up, grabbing his gut now that he isn’t so precariously balanced on the edge, feeling ready to burst with the pressure mounting inside him, forcing burps to come out of his mouth whether he wanted them to or not.

“Oh. Ohhh,” he can’t stop saying it, as if he’s shocked by what’s happening to him and he is, probably just as much as Bucky is. Somehow his flesh is still so taut. The pressure has alleviated some, but not much. He still feels like a fucking balloon.

Swollen.

Bloated.

Spherical.

Shaking, the blond caresses the surface of his shiny stomach. The heat of his belly pressing down against his thighs, in his lap, sends waves of pleasure through his whole body. He may not be so tightly compressed but the burps keep coming, released between his desperate gasps for breath, “ah, urrrp, oh, ooh, auurp, fuck me. Buurp. Guh. Uhhn. I feel so full!” He whines, “I’m so gassy, and, urrrrrp, God, so round.”

Bucky is amazed that he’s still fucking driving because he isn’t fucking functioning. Watching Steve touch himself, rubbing the dome that is his tight middle and daring to try and sink his fingers into his swollen body for relief from the pressure, Jesus Christ, it’s enough to kill him where 70 years of brainwashing didn’t.

Fuck Steve Rogers.

“Ah, oh, ohhh,” Steve’s voice trembles, “I can’t - URP - believe it. Look at me,” he begs Bucky, turning his head to the side to pout at him.

Fuck Steve Rogers.

“‘M so big! Buck! I’m so big! I didn’t know-oh, I could stretch so much. It aches,” he whimpers, “‘m so stretched! Buurp.”

Bucky stops in the middle of the road. He doesn’t give a shit anymore. It’s nighttime. There’s no one driving behind him anymore. There are other lanes. Anyone who does drive up behind him can fuck off. They can go around - they can go to hell. He needs to get his hands on that gut. Now.

Steve writhes as much as he can under the mass of his gut sitting on top of him when Bucky lunges toward him, “look at me!” he whimpers again, happy under his attention, “it, it… it fills my, my whole lap. Urrrrp, ugh, God, ‘m so bloated!”

His stomach feels so tight that Bucky can’t believe it. He can’t imagine what the pressure must feel like for Steve. The fullness. It has to be unbearable. Like being fucked full of cock but so, so much more. Hell, just looking at him is raw and pleasurable in a way that it shouldn’t be, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for Steve. There’s nothing erotic about this yet everything about it is insanely erotic… how he can’t stop making noises, uncontrolled burping. Sloshing. Belching. Fizzing. The way he’s squirming. The way he’s begging Bucky to help him, relieve the pressure, touch him, massage him, anything!

“Buck, I’m… I’m so full,” he whimpers.

“I know, Stevie,” he growls, his voice low and husky, practically already fogging up their windows he’s burning so hot for this, “but, Christ, babydoll, you look incredible.” He does. His gut is throbbing, red, and shining under the street lights. Bucky can’t stop touching his belly, massaging it worshipfully. Thumping it to hear how much his body sounds like a drum. “We should keep you like this,” he’s already salivating at the thought, his hips jerking forward to grind into nothing but thin air. He wants him so bad when he’s like this, stuffed full, exposed, and incapacitated by the sloshing weight in his big, sexy belly.

“Unnngh,” Steve whines, nodding, “it, it feels so good,” he pants, “urrrp, aarrp, ‘m so fuckin’ full, Buck.”

“You’re like a balloon,” Bucky whispers, leaning over awkwardly in the car to say the words into his mouth, kissing him desperately, “so tight you’re about to pop.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut, shivering, “keep, keep touching me, I need-” he cuts himself off, burping right in Bucky’s face with a flare of embarrassment so strong it makes him squeak. Mortified.

Bucky won’t have it, though. He bites Steve’s lower lip hungrily and digs them deeper into the debauchery, “I bet we can find a liquor store that’s still open, you wanna see if we can get a few more bottles into this tanker?” Then, he slaps his gut to make him convulse, curling around his pulsing, throbbing, aching belly.

Steve can’t take it, moaning, “yes! Yes, Buck! Please! I wanna be bigger. Fill me up until I can’t take any-ah-ahh, URP, any more!”

(Why does staring at an overflowing bottle make me horny? What even is this fetish 😂)

#ask #mylevisdontfitanymore #belly kink #text #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #chubby steve #bloating #alcohol consumption #burping

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denim-devil · 2 years

Text

Boyfriend — Headcannons // S.H

do you have just any plain old headcannons for being steve’s boyfriend? @lover-boy-mlm

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

• Steve really likes to kiss you in public…

• It’s mostly so other guys understand who you belong to, it’s kind of a possessive thing (in a good way)

• Steve is a dork, has a charming personality which had you whipped most of the time. He’s practically a fairy-tale prince, from his luscious long hair to his clothes.

• Yes, Steve is a little behind sometimes so when you correct him he kinda jokes about it (sometimes maybe a little to much) but it usually makes you laugh, his mocking is pretty funny, especially towards people you don’t like

• The sleeping arrangements are usually the same, Steve has you wrapped up in his arms, attaching you to his side, keeping you safe

• Steve is also very…VERY protective. Much like with the kids, he treats you with a kind of sterness, he wants you safe and uninjured, so the upside down is a place he wants to keep you away from…

• You both find a guilty pleasure in dancing underneath the streetlights at random times in the early mornings of the next day (usually on the weekends) it’s something Steve loves to do-

• Loves to hold your hand ANYWHERE, even in his bedroom, sitting on his bed or laying on the floor or even playing the Nintendo

• He gets a little flustered when you play with his hair and compliment on how soft and fluffy it is, it’s his pride and any words you shower him with implode his ego

• When you guys get serious, it usually involves situations dealing with unwanted feelings (Steve is a very deep lover) so you guys always check in daily, just to make sure the other is okay

• All of his friends love you, including Nancy, she actually confronted Steve to congratulate him for being himself and on being happy, Robin can’t handle it and loves having someone else to relate/vibe with, Eddie loves your music taste and often flirts (but jokingly)

• You and Steve both are mostly into the same things which strengthens the relationship, although your clothing style was the only thing that clashed with one another

• Steve buys you crop tops on purpose-

• One time on Valentine’s, Steve ended up knocking on your door with a bouquet of Roses and a box of your chocolates (because you have a really bad sweet tooth)

• Steve is the only boy that’s ever made you feel special (and that’s ever made you blush-)

• You both have great love language, When he’s using his sarcasm as a defence tactic you counter-act with the same thing which only shocks him….but secretly turns him on cause-

NSFW ~

• Steve is always most certainly the top, he loves to take control and make you feel good, but every once in a while loves to feel like he’s being cared for

• He goes feral when you wear certain laced items such as lingerie he bought from the shops located deeper into the centre of Hawkins

• Loves it when you use WAY too much lube, every is slick and slippery and it drives him insane how easy it is to slip inside of you

• Takes time to prep you, he isn’t exactly small, so expect LOTS of sensations, including his tongue (he eats ass so good)

• Loves it when you allow him to use your throat as he wishes, face-fucking is his BIGGEST kink and he’ll stop a nothing to make a mess, he certainly loves how willing you are to take it

• He’s hairy all over including his chest which not only turns you on, but himself, he definitely takes a liking to it, makes him feel more buff and he knows how crazy it drives you

• Definitely takes “Devil between the sheets” to literate. He makes it known how good he is, how the roll and pace of his hips can change so well, how slow and gentle or rough and fast he can be

• Loves using nicknames on you, definitely a “Sweetheart” “Baby boy” “Baby” kinda guy, he knows how flustered they get you which he relishes in

• HICKIES…just saying, your necks covered in them, you always have to wear shirts with high collars to cover the various red patches of skin

• His breeding kink is…out of hand (in the best way possible) which leads to alot of…intimate activities with him. (Also loves just marking you with his cum ANYWHERE)

• His aftercare is AMAZING, you can’t get enough of the back massages and pampering, the praises of how proud he was. He really showers you with alot of love.

• He cleans you up with a damp cloth…ever single time, gently and softly whilst kissing you and telling you how good you were for him

• (you don’t think he keeps your previously worn pairs of panties…why can you never find them after sex?)

• His draws are FULL of Polaroids of your naked body for when your not there…he’s a SIMP OKAY-

#male reader #x male reader #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #fluff #headcannons #i love him your honor #🥹

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sundaynightlive · 9 months

Text

august of ‘85 (Steddie, Part 1)

Steve’s hands are shaking, which is not entirely conducive to safe driving. His legs, too—he’s trembling all over. He’s had (and seen) enough panic attacks to know what’s happening. He feels like he’s going to throw up. He feels like he’s going to pass out.

He drives.

He struggles to maintain an acceptable speed, struggles not to plow through stop signs and over curbs to take corners a little sharper, get there a little quicker. He curses his parents for building a house so far from Hawkin’s tiny little doctor’s office, stupidly wishing he could’ve run there, because maybe that would’ve gotten rid of some of this nauseating adrenaline. He can’t tell if he’s building or crashing.

He coughs. It’s half a gag. Now is not the time to be gagging.

Steve tries desperately to take his mind off it, but all he can think about is Eddie. Eddie.

And August of ‘85.

But first, the end of July—

“I’m sorry, pumpkin,” his mom is saying over the phone.

It’s not like he’s all that upset—he had expected this. At least this time his parents had had the decency to warn him they wouldn’t be joining him at their beach house in Maine. The last three years, it had been a crapshoot, and if they did show, they stayed a week, max, and left Steve alone for the majority of August. This would’ve been fine, if Steve had brought anyone down there with him, but he always chickened out of inviting people, false hope overcoming harsh reality each time.

Being alone wasn’t so bad. He had all the time in the world to watch movies, visit the sights, walk along the beach, and read old books (that he suspected were meant to be decorative) he found around the home.

And he cleaned. He cleaned and managed the upkeep. He hired people to paint and he moved furniture around sometimes or bought something new if he decided his mother’s tastes had changed—he’d be damned if he was going to let them sell this place, not when all his happiest childhood memories resided here, and not when it was his only real escape from Hawkins, Indiana.

No, the house would be kept and it didn’t matter if his entire trust fund went towards it. He wasn't going to college, wasn’t moving somewhere expensive, wasn’t buying sports-cars or a thousand-dollar engagement ring for a long-time girlfriend.

He was keeping this damn house.

It’s all he had left of them.

“I’ll still go down,” he tells her, “But, yeah, that’s alright. I figured.”

“Aw, pumpkin, have fun, okay? I know you love it up there. Maybe take Nancy?” Steve flinches. Had he forgotten to tell them? Or had she just forgotten? He can’t remember.

“Right, okay. Love you, mom.”

“Love you, too, pumpkin. I’ll talk to you later.”

And by later, she means sometime within the next few months or so.

Steve hangs the phone on the receiver and sighs, stretching a little bit and mentally shuffling through possible outfits. It’s almost noon, and he has plans. Well… half-plans. He hadn’t exactly agreed to meet Dustin and Munson for lunch, but Dustin would be expecting him, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to disappoint the kid. He’s pretty apprehensive about being seen in public with the local drug-dealer and town-pariah, but Dustin has been insisting for a couple months now (all summer) that Eddie is ‘cool’ and Steve should ‘get to know him.’

How did you even fall in with this guy? He’s, like, greasy.

Freshman orientation—and he is not. Greasy. He’s really, really cool and funny and I want my two best-friends to also be friends.

Why are both your best-friends full-grown adults?

Why’s your best friend a 14 year old?

Touché. But I’m not wrong about Munson—he’s sketchy. He sells drugs.

This sounds like ‘King’ Steve talking.

King Steve wasn’t wrong about everything, Dustin.

Yes. Yes he was.

And the argument had gone on, but Dustin is impossible to outsmart or convince, so Steve had ultimately been roped into this whole ‘coffee date’ situation.

Not date. It’s not a date. It’s coffee. He’s not sure why he put it like that.

In fact, this is so casual and so pointless and so stupid that Steve is going to wear his least-expensive pair of jeans, and a t-shirt.

That’s how much he doesn’t care.

He puts some version of that on, and then immediately decides against it. He’s not used to looking so casual, and he will be in public, and despite the fallout with his friends, and his quest to be okay with being unpopular, he’s not exactly willing to also be unattractive. Not that clothes are always what makes people attractive, but it is what makes him attractive.

The nice jeans that sculpt his ass, the polos tight against his chest and working wonders for his arms—yeah, that’s Steve.

Nice jeans, blue and green polo shirt—he checks himself over in the mirror a couple times. He feels good, normal, right.

So he leaves.

On the drive over, he finds himself nervous, and understandably so. He gets along with most people easily, but Eddie Munson isn’t most people. Eddie’s like Robin, and Robin didn’t come to him easily at all. On the bright side, Steve had never been one of Eddie’s tormentors—that had been reserved for ‘popular’ upperclassmen. Eddie was technically a grade ahead of him and therefore higher on the high school food-chain despite his well-known loser-ness. Steve didn’t deal in making kids older than him miserable—just younger.

But Steve was still a well-known ass, and Eddie knew that, and if it was going to be anything like talking to Rob was, then Steve was in for a barrage of snide little side comments that he ultimately deserved, but made him uncomfortable, anyway.

Might as well prepare all his sincere responses—

I’m not like that anymore.

I’m sorry.

I know. I was stupid.

He parks. He sighs. He runs a hand through his hair. He steps out of the car.

He freezes.

Dustin and Munson are standing outside the coffee shop, chatting, and the sight sends something incredibly foreign into his guts, something he wants to clock as jealousy, but doesn’t feel like jealousy. It feels more like—

No. Nope. Nada. Not that.

Eddie Munson doesn’t look the way Steve remembers at all. He remembers choppy brown hair, wiry limbs, and clothes that never fit him—most of this is from ages ago, though, when Steve was a freshman. Eddie was in his home room that year, but after that, he rarely even saw him in passing.

This Eddie Munson, on the 20th of July, 1985, is not wiry, and wearing clothes that definitely fit him, with brown curls (like Nancy’s) clipped back to keep them off his neck in the heat. His outfit—this cropped band tee and jeans and boots—flatters him. It does more than flatter him, but Steve doesn’t think like that, so no it doesn’t.

It just flatters him.

Anyway—

Steve unfreezes. Dustin finally spots him and grins, waving him over. Eddie spots him, too, which is greatly unnerving, but whatever. Steve runs his hand through his hair again, trying to ground himself.

What is happening?

“Hey Steve, this is Eddie. Eddie, this is Steve.”

Steve extends a hand—sort of a peace offering—and is relieved when Eddie takes it.

“Dustin tells me you’re not a douche anymore,” Eddie says.

Oh, here we go.

“Trying not to be,” Steve answers, politely.

“Cool,” Eddie replies, dropping his hand, “How do you feel about Star Wars?”

What? Star Wars? Steve’s brow furrows of its own accord. He looks over at Dustin, who’s trying and failing to feign some sort of innocence.

“You told him I like Star Wars?”

“It’s the only thing you two have in common,” Dustin admits, and Eddie grins—blinding. His smile is blinding. That’s all Steve has to say about that.

“Luke Skywalker or Han Solo?” Eddie asks, and Steve’s brows raise this time, instead.

“Solo. Obviously.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong—“

And it comes alarmingly easily to them. Talking with Dustin and Eddie is like spreadable butter on toast, and it has Steve in a daze of disbelief for about the entire time. The conversation doesn’t even cease when Dustin gets up to go to the bathroom—they’re arguing about the band on Eddie’s t-shirt, whether or not Steve would like metal if he tried it, if it’s “the future of music” or just a bunch of screaming. Eddie doesn’t get mad about it, just insistent.

Steve concedes, eventually, that he doesn’t actually know what he’s talking about, and that most of his opinions are just other people’s opinions.

“We’ll listen, sometime,” Eddie says, “I have tons of tapes—I’ll bet you a hundred bucks you like it.”

“Are you free tomorrow?”

And that’s how Steve and Eddie end up hanging out at Steve’s the next day, listening to all sorts of stuff—a lot of the harder stuff isn’t really Steve’s thing, but he has to admit, at the end of the day, he did like a vast majority of what Eddie played for him.

And he really enjoyed Eddie’s company. A little too much, maybe.

“Pay up, Harrington.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve relents, “I owe you.”

“Good thing, too,” Eddie jokes, “I do not have a hundred bucks handy.”

Steve laughs. He had suspected that, but it didn’t matter to him. He liked Eddie’s company. Spending the day with someone he actually liked would’ve been payment enough. Steve doesn’t usually get to do that unless he’s working—he and Rob hang out sometimes, but her mom’s so goddamn strict trying to convince her to let Robin hang out alone with a guy is near impossible.

Hopefully, when summer’s up she’ll let Steve drive Robin to school or something.

“Figured that,” Steve replies.

An offended gasp— “Are you calling me poor, Steve?”

There’s a beat of silence, Steve’s heart sinking a little. Had that been presumptive? Why had ge automatically assumed Eddie wasn’t good for it?

Shit.

What? No, I—“

“Steve. I’m joking. I am poor. Obviously.”

Steve glares.

“Asshole.”

“You really have changed, huh?”

It feels really good to hear someone like Eddie say it.

The rest is ancient history. They’re friends, good friends, for the rest of July. And sure, that’s only eleven days, but nine out of eleven of them Steve sees, or at least talks to Eddie. He comes into family video, they chat over the phone, Steve even goes to one of Eddie’s goofy ass garage-concerts.

It’s not half bad. Eddie’s a fantastic guitar player. That part is impressive. More than impressive.

Maybe.

“You really won’t come?” Steve whines a few days before he’s set to leave for Maine, and Robin glares at him, obviously annoyed. He’s asked about twenty times in the last two days, and for the last twenty-times, it’s always the same answer—

My mom would never in a million years let me be alone with you for an entire month. And I have to work, idiot.

The idiot part seemed unnecessary, but it is kind of his fault for asking a billion times.

“We have talked about this, Steven.”

“That’s not even my name.”

“Didn’t ask, don’t care,” Robin says. “I’m not going.”

“But maybe you could meet a cute girl or something! I’m sure if we told your mom my parents will be there—“

“Steve! I. Am not. Going.”

“Going where?”

Steve jumps. He had been so busy begging he hadn’t noticed the door open, even with the bell on it, and somehow Eddie was already right next to him at the counter, leaning over on his elbows. Steve huffs.

“I’m going to Maine for the month,” Steve says, shooting a glare in Robin’s direction, “And someone refuses to go with me!”

“You’ll be fine by yourself,” Robin argued, exasperated, “You’re always by yourself!”

“But it’s boring.”

“I think you can handle boring,” Robin snaps, turning around, “If you need someone to go so bad, ask Eddie!”

Ask Eddie.

Right. How has he forgotten about Eddie?

Steve turns to him, and Eddie immediately straightens, hands up in mock surrender.

“I like ya, Stevie, but alone together for a whole month,” he chatters, nervously, backing away, “We’re basically strangers. We just met, what? A week ago?”

Steve pouts. He puts on his very best puppy dog face. He doesn’t wanna go alone—not this time. It’s fine and productive, sure, but knowing that his parents won’t be there and there’s not even a sliver of a chance of spending quality time with them? He doesn’t wanna be alone.

“Please?”

Eddie blinks. Then, he hangs his head dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.”

“Ha!” Steve cries, pointing a finger at Robin, “You’ve been replaced!”

“Please,” she says, unphased, “You could never replace me.”

She’s, ultimately, correct.

And then, August—

“You wanna do a 16 hour drive in one go?” Steve asks incredulously. Eddie shrugs.

“I mean, why not, man? You take eight, I take eight, and bam, we’re there.”

“Dude, we have an entire month to be down there. Taking a couple days to travel—“

“I hate motels,” Eddie insists, “I sleep in a shithole, but at least I don’t pay to sleep in a shithole.”

Steve can’t help but grin a little at that, despite how it’s mostly sad.

“Your uncle pays to sleep in a shithole,” he points out.

“Are you calling my home a shithole?”

“Eddie—“

“Kidding… I’ve gotta tell you something before we commit to this.”

“What? You snore?”

“I’m gay.”

Steve frowns, and glances over. They’re sitting together on his couch, almost an entire cushion apart, which is weird, but Steve supposes it’s comforting for Eddie in this moment of vulnerability. He looks awfully pretty today, in his sweatpants and baggy band t-shirt.

Steve is totally confident in his sexuality. He can totally, casually think his friend is pretty.

“And that’s important… why?”

Eddie is clearly surprised by this response. He opens his mouth to explain himself, and then closes it, and then matches Steve’s frown.

“You don’t care?”

“No,” Steve says—he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. He might have in high school, but he has changed. Extensively. He thinks about telling Eddie Robin is also gay, but realizes before he does that’s probably rude and also a breach of privacy.

“Oh.”

There’s a brief awkward silence.

“So… what’s that like, anyway?” Eddie giggles a little and then bursts into full laughter. Steve should be offended because he’s being laughed at, but he can’t help but grin along with it, anyway.

“Hey—I’m just curious!”

“Curious!” Eddie repeats, giggling up another storm. Steve sighs, shaking his head.

“God forbid a guy try learn something—“

“No, no,” Eddie breathes, putting a hand on Steve’s knee. Something jolts through his spine like lightning.

Woah.

“It’s just such a stupid question.”

“Ouch?”

“You know how you like girls?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I like guys. That’s it. You’ve got the hots for the Leia Organa’s of the world, and I’ve got it for the Luke Skywalkers.” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“The Luke Skywalkers? The goody-two shoes golden boys?”

“You’ve got a problem with my type?”

“No,” Steve says quickly, hoping not to appear judgemental, “I just thought—you just seem like more of a “bad boy” kinda guy.”

“Maybe I am,” he teases, “Maybe I like to do a little corrupting, first.”

Steve swallows hard. Eddie’s tone takes him totally off-guard—all low and suggestive. And the smile he’s wearing is so cocky. Steve should be used to this, as Eddie is often a cocky, theatrical bastard, but when it’s directed straight at him talking about “corrupting good boys” it’s just… a lot.

He doesn’t stop to think about why that might be a lot—just accepts that it is.

“Just kidding,” Eddie says. Then, “I really do just like nice guys.”

Nice guys like me? Steve wants to ask.

“Noted,” he says instead. He’s not sure which one of those was worse. “So. I take it you’re not backing down on the 16 hour drive?”

“No, sir.”

“Do not call me sir.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“Jesus Christ, maybe this is a bad idea.”

“Too bad,” Eddie sing-songs, “You’re stuck with me.”

They actually do make the trip all in one go, much to Steve’s surprise. 8 hours and 8 hours isn’t totally awful when you’ve got someone to talk to (or occasionally glance at while they sleep, fighting the feeling you get when you realize just how pretty and peaceful they look).

Yeah, it’s not terrible.

“Holy. Shit,” Eddie says when they finally make it. It’s coming up on three in the morning, but Steve isn’t even remotely tired. He’s too excited to be back, happy to finally be out of the car and far, far away from the town they came from. “It’s on the beach?”

“Oh—did I not—“

“We’re going swimming. Right now.”

“We can’t right now.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Sharks,” Steve says, putting the car in park in the driveway and popping open his door, “But there’s a pool.”

Eddie looks over at him, incredulous.

“Why would you have a pool right next to the entire fucking ocean?”

Steve grins— “For when you want to swim at 3 in the morning and not get eaten by sharks, duh.”

Eddie pops the handle and kicks open his door which is something he has been consistently doing for the last 16 hours, and Steve cringes every single time. He also doesn’t bother going for their bags—just bee-lines for the front door, Steve hot on his heels, fumbling around in his pockets for the keys.

“Holiday House?” Eddie asks as Steve steps past him. A fancy metal name-plate with those very words rests below the number on the door.

“My parents name all their properties,” Steve says as he fumbles around. This lock has always been a little fidgety, but he hasn’t had the heart to fix it. It’s too nostalgic to jiggle the handle the way his father used to while his mother told him all the fun things they had planned for the month of August.

That feels like forever ago.

“They have an apartment in New York called The Skyline and a flat in London called Elton.”

After Elton John, who Steve’s dad often called ‘the piano fairy.’ Steve’s pretty sure Eddie wouldn’t enjoy that bit of information, though.

“What’s the one in Hawkin’s called?”

Steve finally gets it. The door swings open into the hall and he steps over the threshold. The windows need to be opened and the shelves need dusted—it’s stuffy.

“The Kid,” he answers quickky, hoping to avoid any further conversation about that. He flicks on the lights in the hallway, and heads straight for the windows and blinds and curtains as Eddie shuts the door behind him and follows slowly, taking it all in—the foyer, the great room, the sun room, the dining room, the kitchen.

Unlike Steve’s house, the place has a more “lived in” feeling, with soft rugs thrown over the hardwood, fabric couches with throw pillows and blankets, and little trinkets lining the walls. There’s family photos, his mother’s art, awards won by his father, candles, memorabilia. It’s still grand, and boasting wealth—

But it’s still cozy, with white and blue tones and more windows than were probably necessary and a lofted upstairs that opens into the main area so it never feels like you’re truly away from everyone else.

Steve loves it here.

“This is insane,” Eddie says, plopping down on the couch. Steve feels himself being watched as he begins opening windows, running his hands along the sills to wipe away some of the dust before he breaks out an actual duster tomorrow.

Later today, actually.

“Welcome,” Steve says, “You’ve got a month to get used to it.”

“I’ll never get used to this,” Eddie says, breathless. Steve turns to look at him, all wide-eyed and awestruck by a house that, for Steve, is just house. A house full of good memories and comfort, but still just a house.

Eddie looks like he’s seeing the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for the first time.

Steve kind of wishes it was his first time coming here. He wishes he knew what Eddie was feeling in some way.

He wishes he could forget what this used to be for him.

“You gonna swim?” Steve asks, turning back to the windows. Eventually, he reaches the curtain pulled over the sliding glass door, pulls it away, and reaches for the outdoor lights. “Hopefully these—“

The pool, patio, and steps to the beach spring to life in warm light. Steve’s happy to see none of the string lights have fallen or broken—those were a new addition last summer and he’s actually quite fond of them.

“Are you?”

Steve hums, considering it.

Why not?

“Yeah, sure. Just let me get these open, first.”

Eddie moves past him, and at first, Steve’s unbothered at the notion of Eddie swimming out there while he’s opening windows and turning on lights in here, but then pale skin catches his eye—

He’s captivated.

Eddie’s just… taken off his clothes, fully stripped down to his boxers, and Steve probably should’ve assumed that’s what he was going to do, but it didn’t even cross his mind until it had already happened. Eddie’s standing at the edge of the pool, tying his hair back behind his head.

Oh wow.

Steve’s done a very good job of pushing it down, but this is the last straw. It floods over him, just how hot Eddie is, and sets his heart into a full race—

You like him.

You think he’s cute.

You like boys.

You like girls and boys.

But you like boys.

You like Eddie, who you’ve invited to spend an entire month in a house with you alone.

You’re screwed.

Fucked.

Ruined.

Steve only feels the tears on his face after they’ve fallen. He takes a shaky breath and wipes them away, because how stupid to be crying over this? He knows better—he’s past the point of thinking it’s wrong or unnatural, Robin made damn sure of that.

But now he’s… now he’s stuck here with Eddie. And he likes him. And he can’t have him, because how would that even work? Logistically, they can’t date in Hawkins, they can’t get married—

God, who’s even thinking about getting married? They’re nineteen and twenty!

Steve. Steve’s thinking about getting married.

But who’s to say his feelings are requited? No one. And he shouldn’t just assume because Eddie’s gay that he automatically has a shot. He’s probably the exact opposite of—

I really do just like nice guys.

Is Steve a nice guy? Lately, yes. Before? No. And does Eddie think of him as Old Steve or New Steve? King Steve or Babysitter Steve? Who’s to say?

Why is he even getting worked up. Why doesn’t he just open these windows and go outside and get in the pool? Just be normal. He should just be normal. And he should ignore all this, because it’s too much to deal with right now, at the beginning of his vacation.

Their vacation.

The last thing he’s gonna do is ruin Eddie’s vacation by having a crush on him—god, a crush? This can’t be happening.

The universe fucking hates him

Steve finishes with the windows and heads outside. Eddie’s already in the pool, and he looks downright blissful, floating around running his hands over the water like he can’t believe it’s real.

When’s the last time he went swimming?

“Don’t pee in there, or anything,” Steve says, which is stupid but he’s flustered and he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what— “Because then I’ll have to drain it and no more night time swimming, unless you’re risking the sharks.”

Eddie scoffs, turning to face him, “Steve, why the fuck would I piss in your pool?”

Fair question. Steve’s cheeks burn.

“I don’t know!”

“Too late, anyway. I already did.”

Steve, in the middle of unbuttoning his jeans, freezes.

“Are you—“

“No, I’m not serious,” Eddie laughs, coming up to the edge and dropping his chin onto his arms, grinning up at him.

It’s beautiful. And blinding. But mostly beautiful.

“You really need to figure out jokes, Harrington.”

“Maybe you’re just bad at making them.”

“That,” Eddie says, “Is not possible.”

There’s something in his voice as Steve pulls his pants over his feet that nearly knocks him off balance. Something… breathy and… Steve’s not sure. Just something, something more than teasing. Steve wants to believe it’s because he’s seeing Steve almost naked for the first time, but he’s afraid to read that far into it.

If he does, he’ll never make it in the water.

“Is it cold?” he asks, carefully sitting himself down on the edge.

“No,” Eddie replies, so Steve sinks his feet into it, and Eddie’s right. It’s a nice temperature, probably from the sun. “Is it always full?”

“No—somebody filled it last week,” Steve answers, kicking his feet a little. The water’s nice, Eddie’s nice, the warm summer air is nice.

He’s feeling a little too nice, actually.

“Are you gonna come all the way in, your highness?”

It’s Steve’s turn to scoff, then— “Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.” Eddie pushes away from the wall, and good thing, too, because he’s too busy floating away to see Steve malfunction at the insinuation. Insinuation? Maybe Eddie wasn’t insinuating anything—he has a tendency to be a bit of a drama queen.

Maybe it’s nothing at all. It’s probably nothing at all.

Steve pushes himself off the edge and into the water.

“Fuck,” he groans. He hasn’t swam in awhile, either, he realizes, and the wet feels nice and relaxing around all his limbs. Eddie is spinning in languid circles, trailing his arms through the water. He looks ridiculous, but Steve’s only thinking—

Cute.

“We have to get groceries tomorrow,” Steve says, an effort to keep a conversation going. He can’t help himself. He wants to keep talking to Eddie—it’s been like this since he’s met him.

Eddie’s just so good to talk to.

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, “You gonna cook for me, big boy?”

Steve burns. Even hotter.

“Unless you wanna waste all your money on takeout,” Steve confirms.

“Tempting,” Eddie replies, which is like him. If Steve’s learned anything about Eddie in the past 12 days, it’s that he loves Chinese food, and he’s very good at convincing Steve to get him some.

Or maybe Steve is just very eager to please him.

“And we should probably check if we have toilet paper, sunscreen—and wash our sheetd, even though I—“

Steve is cut off abruptly by a wall water smacking him in the face, getting in his mouth and up his nose. He coughs, sputters, wiping himself off and mourning the loss of what had been a really good hair day.

“You’re so—“

Steve’s turn. He splashes Eddie back, and from there it’s an all out war. Steve hasn’t been in a splash fight in a swimming pool with anyone in probably a decade, and here he is, barely breathing, laughing uncontrollably, shouting unintelligible nothings until Eddie’s seizing both his wrists and lifting them above his head—

“You lose.”

“Yeah, right.” Steve wrenches easily from his grasp and tackles him in the water, initiating some form of wrestling until Eddie's pinned to the wall, arm twisted (as gently as the angle will allow) behind his back, both of them wheezing for air.

“Asshole!” Eddie gasps.

“You started it,” Steve snaps back.

“Ow—let me go—“ Steve does as he’s told. The last thing he wants to do is—

Oh.

When Eddie turns, they’re practically nose to nose. Steve’s breath blows out of his lungs like it doesn’t belong there, and he finds himself unable to keep his eyes on Eddie’s eyes—it’s too intense.

Fingers brush over the side of his face.

This can’t be happening.

“Is this okay?” Eddie whispers.

More than okay. Perfect. Kiss me. Fuck me. Have me. Marry me.

“I—uh—yeah, yes. Please—“

Eddie silences him finally with his mouth. Steve’s eyes flutter closed—the boy tastes like pool water, spit, and morning breath, but Steve could honestly care less. He melts into the kiss, pressing into Eddie as closely as he’s afforded.

Until Eddie pulls away from him.

“Two things,” the metal-head says, breathless, but firm, “One—I refuse to be the thing that ruins your life.”

Ruin his—what does that—?

“Two—wait a week. If you still want me for the rest of August, I’m yours.”

Eddie pulls out of his grasp.

Now, today, July 18th, 1986, Steve knows in this moment, he should have snatched Eddie back and told him all sorts of things—

You won’t ruin my life.

We could be good.

I’m not waiting for you, I want you now.

Let’s do this.

But then, in the small hours of August 2nd, 1985, Steve could barely breathe, let alone think, and as he watched Eddie push himself out of the pool, boxers clinging to his ass and thighs, hair tied up and dripping, smooth skin and more smooth skin and so much skin, all he could think was that September 1st was an eternity away.

And he would take what he could get.

End Part 1

(Next Part)

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agathaharkness-simp · 1 year

Text

random robin buckley headcanons yea (ft. ronance and platonic stobin)

(i also projected extremely on her btw, it’s not my fault her whole personality is also mine)

- so we all agree that robin is at least neurodivergent right? anyways robin has so many rings and stuff to stop herself from picking at skin/nails. they don’t work as a distraction all the time but it’s better than having her fingers covered bandaids 24/7. steve would notice sometimes and give her something to occupy her hands or, if they’re someplace where they can’t goof around, he’ll let her play with his hands.

- robin loves having inside jokes with people but absolutely hates when she doesn’t understand other peoples inside jokes.

- robin is an abba lover.

- robin has a really messy room but still organized in a sense. everything is where you can see it, not put away in a drawer and forgotten, making it easier to locate her things. she will get upset if someone moves something and doesn’t tell her where they put it.

- her sleep schedule is not even a schedule at this point. there’s no pattern at all. she’ll be sitting on her bed with like dozens of papers for like a new language one night. and then a couple days later, she’s in steve’s car and telling him about the great 16 solid hours she slept.

- speaking of sleeping, she has the most bizarre dreams (like argyle in my jargyle hc’s) and will retell each dream as many times as it takes for everyone to hear about it. but as she’s telling this one person about a dream, she’ll remember something else that happened in that dream and then everyone gets the same story but slightly different from each others.

- won’t wear any other shoe except converse.

- has been rotating the same 4 outfits for like 2 years now. she’s very picky about whether this plain shirt should go with blah blah. she’s just gotta look cool in public.

- secretly loves her hair as much as steve loves his.

- robin obviously likes to doodle on things (her shoes) so steve and nancy will let her draw on them. they both got a little too trusting with the maturity of her art and then ended up with male and female genitals drawn all over them (she switched out her sharpie for a pen on those ones because she would feel bad after). she writes little jokes and would just wait for her victim to question it.

- she likes rocks. not like a full on collector but just likes to point them out when seeing a shiny one. ok yea she’s not a collector but she definitely does have some cool rocks in her room somewhere.

- robin is a warm person. her body temp could get so high that she just wants to climb in a freezer. on the other hand, nancy gets super cold. her hands, nose, and ears specifically. so naturally, nancy is always staying really close to robin like robin’s her personal heater. robin unintentionally flirts with nancy using her furnace hands. like nancy would be wearing earmuffs and complaining how she’s just getting colder by the second. and then in comes robin taking off nancy’s earmuffs and holding her hands on each side of nancy’s head. nancy sticks to robin like glue after that.

- robin hasn’t lost one single staring contest (not counting the ones who cheat aka steve, dustin, and max). steve has to warn everyone who goes against her because he’s seen her stare at a wall for 4 minutes straight during their shift in family video. only one person has gotten close to beating her and that was jonathon.

- steve and robin have matching best friend necklaces like the cheap necklaces that would break in a millisecond. yet they still treat it as if it were sack of diamonds. they agreed that they’d bring the necklaces to the grave with them.

- robin gets super excited for other peoples birthday. like she gets to show her friends how much she appreciates them with gifts on the day of their birth!!!! so steve would give her a whole bunch of cash and just tell her to go crazy. and so she does. after his shift at family video, he gets to his house and finds decorations on decorations. there’s presents set by the table and everyone is there. the byers + the hoppers, the wheelers (minus t*d), the sinclairs, and the hendersons. his house has never truly looked like a home more than it has in this moment. robin knew this too. and robin wasn’t surprised when steve tried to wipe his eyes without anyone noticing. robin then hands him a wimpy looking cake with a giant cake art rendition of steve’s hair. it was the best god damn cake steve ever had.

(anyways i think imma leave it on that giant hc that definitely felt like more of a short fic lmao)

#robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #ronance #platonic stobin #robin buckley headcanons #ronance headcanon #platonic stobin headcanons #stranger things #stranger things 4 #maya hawke #stranger things headcanons

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beezlub · 2 years

Text

Dating Steve Harrington HC

Two years; it's been two fucking years since I’ve uploaded something on here. Do I have an excuse? Absolutely not. Do I need to? Also no. Enjoy this little dump I’ve been festering on for about two weeks now.

Fem Reader

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

SFW:

100% asks you out after your opening shift at family video

Was it influenced by Robin? Absolutely. She saw the look in his eyes and knew he had something for you the moment you guys got separated by the Russians

And he possibly slipped something out about how pretty he thought you were when they were still drugged

Anyways

Surprises you with bouquets at least once a month, he won’t openly admit it but he loves seeing the look in your eyes when you grasp them and look up at him with the stars in your eyes

Weekly movie nights no doubt. You pick the movie, he brings the popcorn and coke and you snuggled under a shared blanket in your basement

Any siblings? He gets along great with them. I mean, have you seen him around Dustin and the kids? Invites your sibling along with him to do some domestic chores and very much enjoys spending quality time with them

Compliments you 24/7, no matter how you look at the moment

Breakfast in bed whenever you stay at his house

He has your favorite foods memorized, as a good boyfriend should!

Is your personal heater when you start your period. He knows exactly what to do when you ring his house up (At your house within 15 minutes with some chocolate, popcorn, his most recently worn sweater, and cuddles)

Definitely thinks you’re the most attractive person in Hawkins, maybe even the whole state of Indiana and the US

I mean you could be wearing sweatpants and a sweater (bonus points if it’s Steve’s sweater) for all he cares, and he’d think you’re the prettiest girl in the universe

Because to him, you are

Definitely tries to keep you from the horrors of the upside down, but being around Dustin, sometimes things slip

You actually find it really interesting, and you wanna tag along to see some of the stuff Dustin tells you about

Steve 100% tells you no, that he can’t risk losing you to the horrors the upside down holds, especially Vecna too

You don’t listen, and in a twist of events, end up bashing what you think is some sort of parasitic bats off your boyfriend

Steve kinda sorta finds it hot, his seemingly sweet and precious girlfriend cursing and swinging a bat with nails on it around and killing things

Definitely not something he ever thought he’d see

Opens up to you about wanting to have a family

His dream of having 6 little nuggets makes you smile at him, knowing that after all of this if any of you guys were to survive, you’d love for Steve to live out his dreams

His nightmares, not so much

You remember comforting him on some of the nights you slept over at his house, feeling him jolt awake and reach for you

The tears he had made you cry, and you promised to him one night that he’d never lose you

You only hoped to keep that promise after all was said and done

NSFW:

Steve has a breeding kink. No shame there.

I mean, if you didn’t know from his ‘6 nuggets’ spiel, god bless

Definitely one to do at least half an hour of foreplay before even thinking of going down on you

Love love LOVES the little whimpers you make when he kisses you, then works his way down your neck and onto your chest

Wants to leave hickeys all over you so others know you’re his, but you know your parents would kill you if he did that, so he refrains and only does them in spots he can see ;)

Is so handsy with you

Like constantly, hand on your thigh, and whispers in your ear, especially if you guys are in public

He knows you can be a tease, so he just does it back, dragging his hand up that seemingly shorter skirt and drawing small circles on your inner thigh at family dinners

“Baby, you wanna be a brat around your parents, bad girls get punished,” MAKES ME WEAAKK

Has you laid over his lap when you go back to his place that night, your skirt flipped high and his favorite undies adorning your cute cheeks

“Oh, you planned for this, didn’t you princess?”

Meek whimpers and moans as he spanks you, before slipping his hands down between your thighs and feeling how wet you are

“Good God Princess, you’re soaked through these pretty panties, such a slut aren’t you?”

Will finger you for hours, I’m convinced, he could get off on just hearing your moans

And if you’ve never came before, either by yourself or with another guy, boy are you in for a surprise with him

Would even let you get off on his thigh if that's something you’d want to try

Definitely tries to overstim you, he wants to see how much you can take, it doesn’t matter if you’ve came nth times, he gets what he wants

Cums in his pants if he makes you squirt, bonus points if that’s your first time too

“Fuck, baby, that was so hot, I want you to do that around my cock next time though,”

Uses a condom even if you’re on birth control, but if you insist he goes raw…

Mans does not hold back

At. All.

Sometimes you have bruises on your hips from how tight his grip is, but you don’t mind ;)

Absolutely loses his mind if you ask him to breed you, ykyk?

He would love to see you all round and glowing one day when he finally gets to marry you and put his seed in you properly

No doubt that the night you guys get married, you’ll be flipped onto the bed and fucked until stupid and his cum is leaking out of you

Favorite position is missionary, no argument there. He loves how intimate it is and how he can just lean down and kiss you or nip at your sweet spot

Although, he does like to shake it up sometimes, and loves to watch you bounce on his cock instead, especially on his lazy days when he doesn’t feel like doing too much work

Either way, mans has amazing and long stamina when it comes to the bedroom, you’ll usually cum two or three times before he cums the first time inside you

Aftercare is so precious with him! Warm damp towel swiping gently at your sensitive pussy, a nice cold glass of water for you, and some warm skin-to-skin cuddles afterward

Definitely perks to living in an empty home for Steve, especially when you get too vocal. He swears your moans bounce off the walls and into the rest of his home

Anyways, horny Steve is no Steve to mess with

reblogs, comments, likes, and follows greatly appreciated my loves :)

#steve harrington #x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #rikiaan #writing

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boldlyvoid · 1 year

Text

Midnight Runner part 2

18+ Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Summary: having a crush during the end of the world was difficult

Warnings: season 4 canon scenes just fruitier, coming out, teasing, flirting, overprotective steve

word count: 9.4k

Fic Masterlist

Steve convinces Robin to take a trip to the grocery store before heading over to pick up Dustin and Max. She doesn’t question it, she thinks it’s actually kinda cute that he wants to take care of Eddie as much as he can. He gets mostly snacks, things for breakfast and a pack of cigarettes for good measure.

Withdrawal isn’t fun and he was stressed as fuck, Steve would want a smoke too.

They didn’t talk much about it last night, not that Robin didn’t try and ask why he was being so quiet, Steve just didn’t know what to say. He has had these mixed feelings about Eddie for years… he was loud and opinionated and seemingly fearless. He had no problem biting back, sometimes he started shit for fun and he always knew how to end it. He’s probably been in more fights than Steve and yet Steve has never seen him with a black eye. Anytime Steve saw him on the bench outside the principal's office, he was waiting for his uncle to pick him up after another suspension with an icepack on his ringless fingers. He can't remember if he had his rings on that night… he was so caught up in the feeling of everything else that he can't place those little details anymore.

He couldn’t wait to see Eddie again. After a long night of only thinking about him, he wanted nothing more than to be in his presence and see his eyes and hear his voice. He knew he was pretty before, but now he was everything… he’s almost glad he never believed Robin that his mystery man was Eddie because a year of this crush he was feeling would’ve killed him. One day is already almost unbearable.

In the car, Dustin and Max explain everything they heard on the radio that night and Robin tells them that they couldn’t get a hold of Nancy, apparently, she was working late at the newspaper and must’ve stayed out… Mrs. Wheeler was worried about her, and wanted them to call if or when they heard from her, just to be safe with everything going on.

At least one of their parents was worried for them.

Everyone takes a bag out of Steve’s trunk and walks them back towards the boat house. The street is quiet, the lake is empty apart from the ducks that can be heard… and what sounds like a loon?

“Delivery service!” Dustin announces their presence as soon as the door opens.

They find Eddie in the corner, broken beer bottle still in hand, terrified, “Jesus Christ!”

Steve just smiles and gives him a little wave, the kind where all his fingers wiggle and he can’t help but smile harder. “Hi…”

Eddie sighs and relaxes, “hi.”

“We come bearing gifts,” Robin says, walking over to him while opening one of the bags, “you’re not lactose intolerant right?”

He laughs, “no… what did you bring?”

“We thought you’d like some cereal and chips… and goldfish? There’s some water, a few cokes and chocolate milk,” Robin explains.

Eddie takes a seat with his things and immediately rips open the box of cereal, he accompanies it with chocolate milk, alternating between handfuls of cereal and swigs of milk, he eats like a feral dog.

"So we’ve got some good news and some bad news. How do you prefer?" Dustin asks before diving in.

“Bad news first, always,” looks at him like he should know that already.

“We tapped into the Hawkins PD dispatch with our Cerebro and they’re definitely looking for you… also, they’re uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.” Dustin explains.

“Like 100% kinda convinced,” Max adds, having been there in Dustin's room when the transitions came through.

“And the good news?” Eddie looks at Dustin with a glimmer of hope still shining in his eyes.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” Robin answers, drawing his attention that way, all while Steve is leaning against the post, watching Eddie with a sorrowful feeling in his chest. The poor boy didn’t deserve this and there was no way for Steve to make it better for him.

“But if we found out about you, it’s only a matter of time before others do, too, and once that gets out everyone and their shallow-minded mother is going to be gunning for you,” Robin keeps rambling, knowing much more about Eddie than the other kids, she knew what things the town was going to say about him and the name started with and F.

“Hunt the Freak, right?” Eddie look her in the eye, he could tell she meant a different word but it still fit.

“Exactly.”

“Shit.”

“So, before that happens,” Dustin, ever the optimist, jumps in to soothe his anxiety. “We need to find Vecna, kill him and prove your innocence.”

“That’s all, Dustin? That’s all?” Eddie almost snaps because that doesn’t seem simple in the slightest.

“Yeah, no, yeah that’s pretty much it…”

Eddie looks like he could reach over and strangle him, it wasn’t going to be simple, not now, not ever. Even if the plan worked, the cops weren’t going to believe it was a monster from another world that did it. There were monsters in America doing crimes just as bad as this shit every fucking day, no one ever thought it would happen in Hawkins, but it is. Bringing justice to the victims, especially the pretty little white cheerleader, is going to come at a price and sometimes that price was paid by someone the jury of his peers simply didn’t like.

Him.

“Listen, Eddie,” Robin draws him back out of it. “I know everything Dustin is saying sounds totally delusional, but we’ve actually been through this stuff before— I mean, they have…”

Eddie turns to Steve, shocked that this was something he had lived through… which means all the stories Dustin had about Steve being a badass were real. He really did know how to kill anything, he really has protected Dustin from a pack of wolves… even if they were actually from a hell dimension. Steve kept him safe. Steve fought for him. Maybe he’d fight for me too?

“A—a few times, and I have once,” Robin keeps talking, still clearly traumatized by it all. “Mine was more human-flesh-based and theirs was more smoke-related— but bottom line is, collectively, I really think we’ve got this.”

Steve finally chirps in then, “yeah, see we usually rely on this girl who has superpowers, but uh, they went bye-bye, so…”

“Sore we’re technically in more of uh…” Robin tries to keep the assurance up, but everyone else also struggles to find a silver lining.

“Brainstorming phase?” Max finally finds the word.

“Brainstorming!” Steve snaps his fingers and points at him with a smile.

“There’s—there’s nothing to worry about?” Dustin’s voice goes up a pitch like it usually does when he’s lying, causing Eddie to roll his eyes.

Steve scoffs, laughing because he felt awkward, it felt like there was very little hope… especially without Nancy and Joyce. They always knew what to do.

The sound of the siren draws their attention away from Dustin's failed attempt at comforting Eddie. “Tarp! Tarp now!” Robin points to the boat, ushering Eddie over to it and pulling the blue sheet over him.

They rush to the window of the boathouse, crowding the pane, Steve stands on his tip-toes to watch an ambulance head up the road with two cop cars close behind. It isn’t even really a question if they’re going to follow it or not, Dustin simply grabs his bag and heads to the door with Max and Robin in tow. Steve stalls, knowing they have to leave Eddie if they want to go investigate, and he hates leaving him alone, but who else was going to drive the kids towards the danger? Max? Never again.

He takes a moment to tell Eddie it was just an ambulance and they’re going to check it out, he kneels beside the boat and pats Eddie on the shoulder just as he pulls the tarp back, ready to talk but Eddie grabs his wrist, keeping his hand there, “radio me later and tell me what’s going on? Me and Dustin use 96.6 on the AM frequency, no one else should be on it if you have his walkie…”

“Yeah, I will,” he gives him a sweet smile, “don’t worry.”

Steve had the worrying covered for him.

—

They’re alone in the car for maybe 5 seconds before Dustin brings it up, “so… are we gonna talk about… it?”

Steve is too busy watching the door, making sure Max is safe, “huh? Sorry, talk about what?”

For a moment he panics, thinking Dustin saw the way he looked at Eddie, or maybe picked up on all the things Steve bought for Eddie with his own money to make sure he was fed while hiding… or the way Eddie touched him before he left? But no, he once again thinks Steve is in love with every woman he speaks to.

“Your temporary insanity earlier today when you basically threw yourself at Nance?” Dustin exaggerates what just happened at the trailer park.

“First of all, that’s not what happened,” Steve corrects him.

“Pretty sure that’s what happened,” Dustin shrugs, always having to be right.

“No.”

“It was pretty public, there were like a lot of witnesses.”

“Are you implying that I still have a thing for Nance?” Steve just gets it out in the open for him.

“I’m not implying… I’m stating,” Dustin teases as if he’s trying to piss him off. “AND as it relates to your steadfast refusal to date Robin, it’s pretty much the only logical option…”

Steve huffs, that’s the part that makes his blood fill with rage, “thats not the only one… And as for Nance, I was just trying to protect a friend.”

Dustin bites the inside of his lip so he won’t laugh, not believing him at all.

“A friend, Henderson. A Friend. Okay?”

“Okay,” Dustin agrees to settle it but Steve can see in his face that he’s just going to bring it up another time, he wasn’t going to let go of it that easily.

“I don’t want to find her in the morning with her eyes sucked out the front of her skull by this Vecna creep!!” Steve panics and tells him half of the truth. He wasn’t sure if the real truth would bode well with him… sure, Mrs. Henderson was a democrat but that didn’t mean their household was okay with gay people.

The last thing he needed was to lose Dustin at a time like this.

Dustin laughs at him, it’s always funny when Steve is the one to get into these panic rambles. “You’re like bright red in the face right now.”

“No I’m not, I don’t want to talk about it— I’ll punch you so hard in your face your teeth’ll fall back out.”

Mean girl Steve jumped out before he even has a chance to realize the cage was open, he reels her back in and turns to Dustin as he registers what was said, a look of pure regret on his face.

“Woah, too far,” Dustin stares back at him, worried… he’s never been on the receiving end of Steve’s bad attitude.

There’s a pause, they look at each other completely seriously, understanding it was all a bit and it’s over now. “Not cool. Sorry,” he apologizes immediately.

“Not cool, but it’s okay,” Agrees and accepts, nodding softly and smiling, “seriously though… why is it that you’re just friends with two of the prettiest girls I know?”

It's now or never. The last thing he needed was Dustin asking him about the girls in front of Eddie. He didn’t need Eddie thinking he was just some one-time jock in the forest who wanted to try something and never talk about it again. He really liked Eddie. When this is all over, he wants to get to know Eddie better than ever before, better than anyone else knows him. And Dustin was his key to doing that.

“Did you ever consider the fact that maybe girls aren’t the only people I like…?”

Dustin is a bit taken aback by it, he purses his lips and thinks about it for a sec, and then he smiles “really?”

Steve nods, “yeah, so I spend a lot of my time talking to Robin about boys I like… and girls too. I’m just hung up on someone who isn’t Nancy, and it’s not Robin either, I’m just not ready to talk to you about it.”

“Okay,” Dustin is super understanding, “sorry for bugging you all the time, before, I never would’ve thought… but it’s cool. It’s really cool, you’d be a great boyfriend to another dude.”

“Thanks,” he manages to smile. “It’s only you and Robin who know… so don’t tell anyone—

“I would never,” Dustin reaches over and lays his hand on Steve's arm, “I promise.”

“Good,” he pulls Dustin into a hug and pats his back before he lets him go. “Thank you.”

“No problem, man,” Dustin leans back in his seat and looks out the front window as if nothing happened. “Can you not tell me because he’s not out yet and you want him to choose when I find out?”

“No… it’s kinda one-sided right now,” Steve admits. “I would call it a crush but I don’t want you to tease me.”

“No, no, it’s cute,” Dustin smirks, trying not to laugh at him. “Do I know him?”

“Maybe?” He lies, he thinks it’s convincing enough. “I barely know him.”

Dustin looks at him with a smirk, “you know, I have other gay friends who I could hook you up with?”

Steve looks at him funny, “you know other gay people?”

He nods, “yeah, why else do you think we’re all searching for fantasy worlds? This one isn’t accepting, trust me, I know… so we made a cool world in our game where we can all be different and it’s allowed… and I have a feeling based on who has a boyfriend in the game, I know who would love to have a real boyfriend.”

“Are you… gay?” Steve can’t help but ask, they’re more similar than Steve realizes, sometimes.

Dustin shrugs, “never thought too hard about it but it doesn’t gross me out to think about kissing a boy, so, who knows? I’ve just always been bullied for my disability, so in dungeons and dragons I can be both smart and agile, I don’t have to worry about breaking something or being in pain for days after a big game. I feel normal there. Everyone else does too.”

“I’m glad you have that,” Steve smiles thinking about how happy Dustin is after every game and how much that has to do with Eddie. “We really need to find a way to get the police to believe that it wasn’t Eddie… we can’t have you losing that.”

“Right,” Dustin, once again, see’s through him. “So you can take him out on a date after?”

“Do I need to take it too far again?” Steve teases, looking at him with a fake sense of dominance while holding his fist up. He smiles, breaking character and the two of them crack up. Laughing almost too hard to notice Max running towards the car.

—

If Vecna wanted to curse people with sad home lives, why didn’t he just pick Steve?

He’s the only one awake still, involuntarily taking the first watch while the rest of the party went to sleep. Mrs. Wheeler was fine with everyone staying now that she knew where Nancy was, she just made them separate at night. Steve had Dustin and Lucas with him down in the basement while Max and Robin were sharing a sleeping bag on Nancy’s bedroom floor.

Steve has been watching them sleep for about 30 minutes, they’ve been snoring the whole time, he doesn’t think they’ll wake up if he moves but he still gets up slowly. He reaches for Dustin's bag and pulls the walkie out from the front pocket and backs away from their sleeping spot. They don’t even budge, thank god.

In the back corner of the Wheeler’s basement, behind the stairs, is the laundry room and the utility closet, just far enough away from the boys that he wouldn’t be heard. He sits down with his back against the dryer and uses the light on the water heater to see the frequency gauge on the radio.

He moves it to 96.6 and holds down the talk button, “Eddie, you there?”

“Steve?” Eddie questions, knowing for sure it’s not Dustin’s voice coming through. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember a kid named Fred Benson? He was on the newspaper team with Nancy?”

“Yeah, I know him,” Eddie says with a sigh, he could already tell where this was going.

“So uh, Fred died just like Chrissy. He was at your trailer with Nance to interview Wayne and then he disappeared into the woods and they found him this morning where Cornwallis meet’s Lover’s Lane,” Steve explains and then lets go of the button.

The radio static is all that can be heard, and Eddie is quiet. Too quiet. “You copy?” Steve asks, worried he never heard him.

“Yeah, yeah sorry… Do you think the trailer park is cursed?”

“That’s what I asked when we went back to get Nancy’s car,” Steve shares with a slight smile on his face. It was weird talking to him and not playfully pissing the other off. “But uh, we’ve got more bad news… both Chrissy and Fred were getting headaches, bad dreams and visions before they died, it started gradually and then got worse until they died. It’s probably why Chrissy wanted drugs, she couldn’t handle it alone…”

“She seemed really fucked up, I mean, she’d have to be to come to me?” Eddie believes it, “I guess the trailer park isn’t cursed then because they got sick before coming to the park, they just all happened to die near it?”

Steve hates that he has to tell him this next part.

“Max admitted to us that she has all the symptoms and we were there for her vision… it was so freaky, I’m sorry you had to see the whole thing with Chrissy.”

Eddie bypasses the niceties and goes right to the issue at hand, “So we’re 3 for 3 on connections to just my trailer now,” Eddie says with a sigh.

“Yeah, but at least that gave us somewhere to start looking,” Steve assures him.

“Did you find anything?”

“When Nancy was there with Fred, your uncle told her all about Victor Creel and how he killed his family in the 50’s… she went to the Library and found some articles about it and they’re going to look into it more tomorrow, so I’m not sure if we’ll be able to come see you at all?”

“That’s okay,” Eddie replied, he didn’t really mind.

“Are you okay being there all alone?” Steve asks, still worried for him. It’s just his luck that the first person he’s crushed this hard on since Nancy would end up being wanted for murder. The last thing he needs is for Eddie to get cursed too. “You’re not feeling any of the symptoms?”

“I mean, I have a headache from being up for almost 3 days and when I do sleep I get nightmares because I’m processing the trauma… but yeah, I’m fine. It just sucks being here ‘cause I’m a little afraid of the dark… I’m not gonna lie, Steve, it’s a lot scarier now that I know what’s out there,” Eddie admits.

“I’m sorry…but you’re okay? You still have snacks and you’re warm enough?”

“Dustin wasn’t kidding when he said you were like a mother hen,” Eddie teased him.

Steve laughs then too, holding the button down so he catches the end of his giggle, “yeah, yeah, I take care of the people I care about, sue me, Munson.”

“You care about me, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a fondness in his voice that Steve can hear.

“Yeah,” Steve answers, squeezing his eyes closed with regret. “I mean, Dustin loves you so if anything happened to you he’d be deviated… I have to take care of you for his sake.”

“Yeah, no, I get it, you’re doing it for the kids…” Eddie sounded disappointed almost. “Um, thanks again for the groceries, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I’m sure Reefer Rick doesn’t have anything edible— I mean, he probably does, I should say he doesn’t have anything that won’t get you high when you eat it in his house,” Steve teases, “I wasn’t going to let you starve, it’s bad enough you’re wanted for murder.”

“Do they really think I was able to kill Fred too? Why don’t they think I’m a victim too if they can’t find me?” Eddie asks, “it’s just straight-up bad police work to think it’s me?”

“If only Hopper was still here, he knew all about this shit,” Steve admits. “He died closing the last gate that opened under the mall.”

“From the girl with the superpowers?”

“No, actually the Russian’s made it but thats another story,” Steve doesn’t want to get into it either. “El closed the first one and Hop died closing the second…. he like adopted her and everything before he died but now she lives with Jonathan Byers and his mom and brother,” Steve explains, “and we can’t get ahold of them in California, so I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

“I should’ve known there was more to that zombie boy story…”

“Yeah… it’s just gotten crazier each year,” Steve can’t believe it either, and this is his 4th go-around. “But we’ve won 3 times, so…”

“The odds look good,” Eddie agrees, somewhat optimistically. “Can you give me the stats, what kills this thing? What’s its weakness?”

“Well, the mindflayer doesn’t like heat so we’ve been just lighting everything on fire, we used fireworks last time cause the monster was fucking huge when normally they’re like either little dog size things and their mouths open like those flowers that eat flies— Venus fly traps, thats it, and there’s some that are like 8 feet tall scary men sized dudes, we call them demogorgons, they also have the big opening mouth for a head, it’s fucking horrific,” Steve doesn’t mean to ramble but he’s never really been able to tell anyone about this stuff, other than Robin.

Eddie stays quiet on the other end, “they’re cold-blooded if they don’t like heat… which would make sense cause you said their world is nasty and dark, right?”

“Yeah, only Nancy, Joyce, Hopper and Will have actually been in the upside down and come back alive, I was in these tunnels between the worlds with the kids— once again, setting shit on fire, to give the others an upper hand… It all works like a hive mind if you burn one thing the whole system suffers.”

“So this Vecna fucker must be the puppet master,” Eddie agrees, “were the other monsters just feelers for what he could do or do you think this is an evolutionary thing?”

“Evolutionary?”

“Yeah, like in my games sometimes one villain has multiple evolutions, it starts small and then gets bigger and badder as time goes on and they take more souls and shit,” Eddie explains. “Maybe that’s why Chrissy and Fred ended up so broken like that… it’s like Vecna is sucking their life force out of them for his own gain?”

“The thing we fought last time was a bunch of infected people from Hawkins who all turned to mush and then formed one big monster with a gaping mouth and 6 legs… it was huge, like the size of a monster truck.” Steve shares, “So it’s like he found a cleaner approach to absorbing them?”

“Make sure you tell Nancy that in the morning,” Eddie says as a way of agreeing with him. “That could be really important.”

“I will, they’ll figure something out with it, I know it,” Steve assures him.

“You should get some sleep,” Eddie cares about him right back. “Those kids need you at your best.”

He can’t help but smile like a fool, “okay… are you going to sleep tonight?”

“Honestly? Probably not,” he admits, feeling a lot more comfortable with Steve now… “but I’m going to let you go, have a good night, Steve.”

“Try to sleep for me?” Steve asks, softer than ever before. “Head back into the main house and crawl into Rick's bed and just try… take care of yourself.”

“Thanks, mom,” he teases Steve one last time and then he’s gone. Radio off, hopefully heading back inside to sleep.

Steve sits there for a few more minutes with the radio pulled to his chest in a semi-hug, he wanted this to work out more than anything in the world.

—

Eddie hears a car pull up to the main house just after 3 pm that afternoon, one that doesn’t sound like Steve's or Nancy’s, it sounds bigger. He thinks maybe they brought a different vehicle after whatever they were up to that led to their radio silence all day… but he can’t see the road from where he is in the boathouse.

Sure enough, he heard 3 doors slam followed up by the worst voice he knew.

“Come on out, Freak!” Jason called out, letting him know they were coming for him.

He crouches by the window, staying low and still so no one sees him back there. He takes his walkie in hand and holds down the button, “Hey, Dustin? You there? It’s Eddie. You remember me, right?”

Nothing.

“Hey, uh, if… anyones there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here. Okay?”

Still nothing.

“Wheeler?” He begs, peaking out the window to see if the jocks have spotted the boat house yet.

“Steve?!” His voice gets a bit louder, more panicked and then he reaches a new level of desperation, he smacks the radio and almost yells through gritted teeth, “anybody?!?”

Still absolutely fucking nothing.

He shakes his head in disbelief and quickly gets back under the tarp in the boat, he’ll just pretend he’s not there as long as humanly possible… he hears them shouting his name and other derogatory terms around the yard and from inside the house, threatening to kill him if they find him. After about an hour, they quiet down. It becomes a once-a-half-hour thing for one of them to yell for Eddie as they tore the house apart worse than the police when they arrested Rick.

The sun eventually goes down around 8:30, after hours and hours of hiding, he finally hears Jason say what he’s been so afraid of.

“Has anyone checked the boathouse?”

He takes a deep breath and accepts his fate, he could either sit there and wait and hope they’re not as smart as Steve to start poking around where they didn’t belong… or, he could grab an oar and he could start to paddle out across Lovers Lake, towards Skull Rock. Before he can even think it over, his instincts kick in and he’s rowing his boat away from the dock.

He gets about halfway into the lake when Jason spots him, once again, calling out for the freak. Shit.

Now that he’s been seen, he doesn’t give a fuck about being loud with the motor running, so he pulls the cord on the engine as hard as he can… and nothing. “Come on! Just come on!!”

Jason is ripping off his suit jacket, newly returned from his girlfriend's funeral, he was manic as fuck and scarier than ever. In a moment of desperation, Eddie leans towards the engine and begs her to cooperate, “come on, sweetheart, you’ve gotta help me out here…”

And to no avail, she’s dead in his hands too. Nothing seems to be going right for him. Not now. Not ever.

His anger builds the more he yanks on the cord, “you… piece… of.. shit… Goddamn it!!” He finally smacks the engine and grabs the oar again, he had to do everything himself.

By now, Jason is in the water and swimming towards him like a piranha that smells blood. Eddie paddles as fast as he can, just hoping and praying he makes it to the other side and Jason gets a fucking cramp or something so he has enough time to run. He really needs to be able to run. He was not going to die in the hands of Jason Carver, that would be fucking pathetic.

They’re so close to grabbing onto the boat and slowing him down. One wrong move and they could tip him out, grab a hold of him and drown him before he even has a chance to swim. He paddles faster and faster, always getting just a mere metre ahead of them when Patrick stops.

“Hey, come on, let’s go! We almost have him!” Jason calls out to him, causing Eddie to stop too.

He stands with the oar in his hand, waving it like a sword, “stay back!! Stay back, you hear me?!”

“Patrick?” Jason calls again, more concerned. “Patrick!!” He turns to Eddie, treading water and breathing heavily, “what did you do? What kind of devil work is… oh my god?” Jason's attention is pulled to his friend who is now floating out of the water and into the air.

“Not again,” Eddie doesn’t want to be there when it happens this time. He sits back down and paddles faster than ever before.

He runs before he can hear the sound of their bones breaking, the cartilage twisting and that awful snap and crunch… it’s the worst sound known to man and he hears it every time he closes his eyes already. He didn’t need to witness it again. He doesn’t turn back when he hears Jason's screams and cries for his friend, or when there’s the inevitable splash that indicates it's all over.

Vecna took yet another life in close proximity to him.

He gets all the way to the other side of the lake and jumps out of the boat, he doesn’t tie it down or give a shit where it ends up, he’s got to go. He runs like a bat out of hell through the woods while his mind races in a million different directions. He didn’t even realize he left the radio in the boat until he reaches an all-too-familiar spot in the woods.

The tree where it all started.

He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards it, he grips the bark like his life depends on it and then wraps his arms around it. He holds onto the fucking tree like it's his lover after a long war, his chest is heaving, and he’s so tired and out of breath and scared. He’s so fucking scared he could have a heart attack and die right here… but right here is where he belonged. Right here is safe and holy and good. He drops down to the ground, still leaning against the tree as he takes a deep breath and another one, he rubs the tree bark to ground himself with the texture and returns all rational thought back to his brain.

He would stay here tonight. No one will be cruising with a murderer on the loose and the cops had better things to do than dish out public indecency charges tonight. He was truly safe here. In the morning, however, he’d go back to the shoreline, he would get the radio from the boat and he’ll call for Steve… or Dustin. Either way, he’ll probably see Steve tomorrow.

He knew Gareth was right about his mystery midnight runner being Steve, he accepted it a while ago, actually. He just never expected Steve to be anything more than a jock. He didn’t expect him to be soft and caring and funny… he knew he was pretty sure, but his soft heart made him beautiful.

And to think that just last year Steve was playing basketball with the same kids that are trying to now kill Eddie right now… it was a strange double life that Steve led. He was both cool and responsible. He was a babysitter and a whore. He sucked dick like a god and left most of the women in Hawkins satisfied too.

He’s a bloody mystery that Harrington, boy.

And if Eddie liked anything for sure, it was a challenge. Getting Steve Harrington to like him back was going to be just that and so much more… he just had to live long enough to see it through.

—

Eddie called and asked Nancy for more food yesterday morning, they didn’t have time to visit him at all during the morning and then everything with Max got worse so Steve was preoccupied. By the time Steve sat back down by the dyer to call Eddie, it was almost midnight again and he didn’t pick up the radio at all… it left Steve with a pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

Dustin was snoring with his mouth wide open, snuggled into a pillow on the floor, he let Lucas have the full couch tonight. Lucas stayed up a bit longer than he should’ve, worried for the girl he loved, he stared at Max until his eyes got heavy and sleep took over… which was exactly when Max stopped pretending she didn’t still love him, she walked over to the couch and wrapped a blanket over him, she kissed his forehead and went right back to the desk in the corner as if nothing happened.

Steve saw it all happen from the laundry room, she saw him talking to the walkie and just turned her music up louder, giving him the privacy that he didn’t need because Eddie wouldn’t pick up. Every few minutes he asked the same question on the radio, “hello? Anyone there?” Not wanting to say his name because he had no idea who else was on the line, anyone in the town could be on this frequency. Yet no one answered.

He moves back over to the couch with the radio on a low volume so he could still hear Eddie if he called but it wouldn’t startle the kids awake. He watches Max in the corner, her headphones on and music blasted, she was drawing in the corner with a little light on, perfectly fine.

Dustin's watch starts to beep at 4:30, Steve watches him sit right up and rub his eyes with a groan. He lets out a huff and then turns to Steve, “my turn to keep watch.”

“I’m good,” Steve waves him off. “Go back to sleep.”

“Nope,” Dustin stretches, his voice almost disappearing as all the air in his lungs is expelled. He takes another deep breath and then stands up, “I’m going to pee, your eyes better be closed when I get back out.”

“Fine,” Steve wasn’t going to fight with him, he simply clutches the radio a bit tighter and settles into the chair in a comfortable position.

His eyes are closed for barely 2 minutes when his brain wanders into sleep, his head drops forward and his breathing picks up. It makes Dustin smile when he comes back from the bathroom, he puts a blanket on Steve’s lap and leaves him be. He needed this rest.

He wakes up clutching a pillow like his life depended on it, startled and alarmed by how peaceful the sleep was until now. He stared at the black nothingness of his closed eyelids for 4 hours straight before Nancy was waking him up with a shake.

“We’ve gotta get ready to go, I’ve still got some of your clothes in my room if you want to change,” She admits. “Track pants and a yellow sweater?”

“Kay,” he hums, rubbing his eyes until he sees blue and green dots and his head starts to feel like he’s spinning. “Anything happening?”

“There are reports of another body being found, we need to go see—

“Eddie?” he wakes right up, realizing he doesn’t have the walkie anymore, he looks around the room and he’s the only one still downstairs. “Has anyone contacted him?”

She shakes her head, “still nothing.”

“Let’s go,” he rushes past her up the stairs to the main floor and then up more stairs on her way to Nancy’s room. The boys were rifling through Mike's drawers for new shirts while Robin and Max wore something from the bags they packed days ago, at the start of all this. They came prepared.

He changes in the bathroom as quickly as possible and returns to Nancy’s room with his keys in hand, “I’m going to take Dustin to the store, Eddie said he was hungry yesterday… we’ll be back in 15?”

“Okay,” Nancy doesn’t care that he’s all concerned for Eddie like he’s his lover, but Robin smirks at him. “Remember, he asked for beer when he called and with this news… he’s going to need it.”

—

When they roll up to Rick’s house, there’s a media frenzy and a million and 1 cop cars lining the streets. They all rush up behind a news van just in time to hear the inevitable. “We have named a person of interest… Eddie Munson.”

“Ah man,” Steve groans. “This is not good. Really not good.”

Everyone agreed but no one says anything, they just glance at each other, feeling a bit more than defeated. They felt hopeless.

“Dustin, can you hear me? Wheeler?” Eddies voice crackles through the radio about too loud for where they are.

Dustin is quick to pull the radio out and turn the volume down, “Eddie, holy shit? Are you okay?”

“Nah man, pretty… pretty fuckin’ far from it, actually,” he admits, sounding totally and utterly devastated.

“Where is he?” Robin asks just as Dustin hits the button to talk back. “Where are you?” He asks.

“Skull rock, uh, do you know it?” He asks, probably because Dustin's a kid, he shouldn’t know the most popular make-out spot in Hawkins.

“Uh, yeah?” Dustin answers and turns to Lucas, “that’s near Cornwallis and—

“Garrett,” Steve finishes his sentence for him and pats his shoulder, running back to the car. “Yeah, I know where that is.”

Nancy tosses Steve the keys and they all follow him back to her car, he drives like a crazy person when he needs to, and they needed him to. They all pile back into the station wagon and he basically burns out, leaving tire marks on the asphalt.

He takes them down lover's lane back to Cornwallis for just a mile until he turns onto Garrett, heading up another mile to an all too familiar spot. The snow was long gone but the snowmobile trail was still there, he takes the car off the road and onto the trail, making everyone in the car scream and hold onto things to stay steady. He’s only off the road not even 20 seconds when he comes to an abrupt halt behind some bushes, “it's north from here.”

“Got it,” Dustin replies, digging out his compass while the gang gets out of Nancy’s car.

“And you said I was a risky driver!?” Max complains, straightening out her shirt and taking a deep breath. “That was insane?”

“I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta find him before the cops do?” Steve reminds her, feeling snippier than ever. He doesn’t stand around to listen to her answer, he starts walking in the direction he knows they should be going while they all follow.

“Damn, okay, what happened to you thinking he could’ve done this?” She can’t help but ask as she runs up beside him.

“He means a lot to Dustin… I’m not letting another one of you go through what you and Nancy have,” he admits… it’s not a lie, but it’s not where his true intentions lay either.

“Yeah, no, I get it,” she backs down. “But who’s going to take care of you?”

“What?” He stops.

“Who’s going to take care of you so that he doesn’t lose you? You’re the most important person he has, Steve, killing yourself to keep us safe is going to hurt him just as badly,” she reminds him, sounding a lot wiser than she should at 14.

He wraps his arm around her and keeps walking, “you can, how about that?”

“Deal,” she laughs and shoves his arm off of her, still not a touchy person.

Lucas catches up to them, hands full of groceries, Robin has another bag only she has chosen to walk with Nancy. Dustin has his compass and takes the lead, and it’s all fine and dandy until Steve starts to notice the same tree again and again… he tries to tell Dustin this, but he makes Steve look at the compass, he gives him a snarky lesson on how they work and Steve shoves him into a bush lightly.

“Hey!”

“Dude, I’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way,” Steve argues. “I know these woods better than any of you. This is the wrong direction.

“It’s north, I’m positive, I double-checked the map.”

“You do realize Skull Rock is like a really popular make-out spot?” Steve starts to lose his cool.

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until I made it popular,” Steve brags. “Alright? I practically invented it… we’re heading in the wrong direction.”

At this point he’s fed up and anxious, he cuts to his left and just starts going out on his own. He jogs downhill, jumps over twigs and keeps going no matter what Dustin says.

“Steve?!” Dustin simply calls after him, not wanting to admit he’s wrong.

“Stop whining and trust me!!” He starts to run, making up for lost time.

These were his woods. He played pretend out here as a kid, he followed his idiot friends out here to party and smoke, he had his first beer by the lake with Tommy… he had his first time by the lookout in his Beamer… and he met Eddie at that tree.

He stops just for a second to look at the tree, knowing skull rock was just a stone's throw from where they are. He keeps going, through the bushes and past the overgrown branches, “oh, boom!” He cheers when he finally sees it. “Bada-bing bada-boom, there she is, Henderson, skull rock.”

He holds the branches back so that the rest of the party can make it to the clearing in front of the giant rock formation. “In your face, man, in your stupid, cocky, little face.”

“It doesn’t make sense?” Dustin stares at him like he grew two heads and then back to the rocks.

“Yeah, yeah. Even with it staring you right in the face, you can't admit it. You just can’t admit it that you’re wrong, you little butthead,” Steve drags on, eyes trailing the place for any sign of Eddie.

He drops down from the rock then, “I concur,” he announces his presence, drawing Steve's attention right to him, he has to try not to smile, instead, he turns away and rubs his face. “You, Dustin Henderson, are a total butthead.”

“Jesus, we thought you were a goner,” Dustin sighs, walking into Eddie's space and stealing a hug from him.

“Yeah, me too man,” he sighs, patting his back while staring at Steve, he lets him go and keeps staring.

Steve gives him a smile and a nod, playing it cool when on the inside he wanted to run over to him and wrap him up in a hug, himself and make sure he was okay. He wanted to hold his face in his hands and look him over, he wanted to brush his hair out of his face and look into his eyes and— and he really needed to stop thinking about it.

Robin walks up to Eddie then, “hey, you’re okay?”

He nods, “yeah, as good as I can be.”

Steve didn’t even realize that Robin and Max were carrying the groceries for Eddie, not until Robin started handing him things, “how long have you been out here?”

“Since like 10 pm,” he explains, ripping into the bad for literally anything, he was so hungry he could eat a horse. “Tweedle dee and dumb chased me into the lake and then Patrick started to float and I couldn’t be there… I couldn’t handle it again so I did the thing that I do now. I ran.”

Eddie takes a box of cereal out of the paper bag, they’re cinnamon toast crunch this time because Steve thought he might like something different. He all but moans when he sees the box, “oh I’m so fucking excited to eat, I haven’t had anything since I called Nancy yesterday morning…”

“Dustin ate most of your Pringles,” Max teases, handing him the other bag of groceries and Lucas hands him the pack of beer, too.

“You’re a godsend,” he thanks Nancy, his eyes are like 10x bigger than normal, and he’s so happy he could cry…

“Steve got it all,” Nancy points and Steve straightens out, looking terrified as all eyes shift to him. “He’s the only one that can get beer…”

Eddie gasps, knowing he’s older than Steve and still not able to buy beer himself… “Harrington, do you have a fake ID?”

He nods, “yep… one of my dad's business partners is 27, he gave me his old licence. Don’t expect me to get you booze all the time now.”

“Well, thank you,” Eddie gives him a sweet smile. “But what the fuck took you guys so long?”

“We have a lot to tell you,” Nancy sighs, she takes a can of Pringles from Eddie’s snacks and leans against the rock. “We’re going to be here a while, dig in.”

—

“Sick, thats just fucking sick,” Eddie’s sarcasm is palpable, he shakes his head and rubs his eyes, it was a lot of information all at once and the only thing that really stood out was the now Eddie was wanted for not 1, but 3 murders.

The whole time they’ve been talking, Dustin has been pacing, talking to himself and smacking his compass in his hands. He looks distraught, he’s thinking so hard smoke might start coming out of his ears while the rest of the gang immediately starts discussing how they’re going to kill Vecna before he gets Max too.

“Well, we’re one step closer, we know how Vecna attacks,” Robin, once again, tries to make it seem like they’re got it all under control.

“And where he attacks from,” Lucas agrees, standing so close to Max you’d think they’re dating again.

“So, now we just need to sneak into his lair in the upside down and… and drive a stake through his heart?” Max suggests, arms crossed, a smug look on her face, she thinks it’s going to be easy.

“If he even has a heart,” Robin jokes.

“A stake? Is he like a vampire— is he a vampire?” Steve's voice lowers with excitement, it’s both cool and terrifying.

“It was a metaphor,” Max looks at him like he’s an idiot and Eddie jumps in to save him

“A bullet should work on him, right?” Eddie suggests, knowing where they could get some guns.

“I say we chop his head off,” Lucas throws in for good measure.

Steve looks like he’s about ready to ask how that would help when Nancy steps back in… Eddie only knows because he’s been watching Steve talk and switching his attention over to Dustin every few seconds. He’s still pacing, still talking to himself, it’s strange, sure, but Steve is too pretty not to stare at when he talks.

“yeah— I say all the above, but we can’t do any of that,” Nance reminds them. “We need to find another gate.”

“We need to get El’s powers back,” Max follows up, it seems like the most effective way to win this.

“Everything was like way easier. We had this girl… and she had superpowers—

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned her,” Eddie cuts him off, he remembered perfectly everything that Steve has said to him these last few days. “But, hey uh, Henderson’s no uh, cursed? Is he?”

Steve looks at Eddie and then Dustin and back to Eddie, catching his eyes and staying there, “cursed, no, no… mental? Absolutely.”

“BOOM!!!!” Dustin suddenly pops off, everything clicking in his head.

Everyone jumps out of their skin for a moment, startled to their core by the sheer volume of his voice. “Badda… badda… boom!” He points at Steve and walks toward him. “I was right. Skull Rock was north.”

Steve's blood starts to boil, like a real brother, Dustin never fails to find a way to grind his gears and piss him off. He crosses his arms and sighs, “seriously? You’re serious?”

“Mhm,” Dustin smirks, holding back the key information so he can wow them in a sec.

“THIS IS SKULL ROCK?!” Steve freaks out, pointing at the fucking rock formation and then down to Eddie who’s squatting on the floor like a fucking champ… (he’s been squatting for so long, Steve is a lot more than impressed, he was invested in seeing how long he could go. But that’s not the point.)

“You’re totally, absolutely, 100% wrong! Right now!!” He speaks with his hands, gesticulating with anger.

“yes… and no.”

“Oh my god,” Steve has to fight off the urge to swing at him, he instead turns around and covers his face. He takes a few deep breaths while Dustin continues.

“This compass worked correctly when we left the Wheelers, it was correct when we got in the car on Kerley but it started to slip the further east we went,” Dustin explains. “Now! it’s… way off?”

Steve turns back to him, looking at him with an expression Dustin can read as ‘and your point is?’

“When I was leading us here I wasn’t wrong!” Dustin assures, pointing to his own chest, he stares into Steve’s eyes for approval. “The compass was.”

“So you’re using faulty equipment? Dude, you’re still wrong!” Steve can’t believe him, or his fucking tone.

“It isn’t faulty… Lucas, do you remember what can affect a compass?” He asks as if he’s Mr. Clarke and this is grade 7 all over again.

“Any electromagnetic field!” Lucas clues in immediately, validating Dustin's theory.

“Yep,” Dustin smiles, ego bubbling inside of him and reaching a boiling point that they can’t return from.

“I’m sorry…” Robin steps in, “I must’ve skipped that class?”

“In the presence of a stronger electromagnetic field, the needle will deflect towards that power… so either there is some super big magnet around OR—

“There’s a gate,” Lucas cuts Dustin off, remembering how he was the first one to ever find a gate to begin with.

“But we’re nowhere near the lab?” Nancy is trying so hard to comprehend all this, but geographically, it’s not working in her mind.

“But what if, somehow… there’s another gate?” Dustin hypothesizes. “A gate that we don’t know about…? It’d have to be smaller. Way less powerful.”

“Snack-sized gate!” Robin teases, remembering all the little labels on the snacks Eddie just ate, it fit the situation and even made Nancy smile a bit.

“Okay but how? Why?” Steve is the last to really get on board with it.

“No idea?” Dustin admits. “All I know is something is causing this disturbance, and the last time we’ve seen anything like it, it was a gate. And I hope it is because then we’d have a way to Vecna and a shot at freeing Max from this curse…” and with that, Dustin makes his grand exit from stage one and heads into the woods.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Steve yells at him, but he doesn’t stop. “Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Eddie's still a wanted man! We can’t just go for a hike in the woods??” Steve panics, his voice even cracks.

Robin looks at him with a knowing smirk, Nancy even picks up on it, they knew Steve more than anyone else in the party. Eddie however, he’s never seen Steve react like that… in fact, no one has ever really cared for his safety like this. No one but Wayne. Wayne would probably like him.

“This little steal capsule might be the key to saving both Max and Eddie,” it’s incredibly pointed at Steve, and then he turns to said wanted man. “What say you, Eddie the banished?”

Everyone turns to him and he looks away, staring off at the ground, he bites his lip and thinks about it. “I’d say you’re asking me to follow you into Mordor… which, if I’m totally straight with you, I think it’s a really bad idea…”

He catches Steve nodding along, clueless, but agreeing.

“but the shire… the shire is burning,” Eddie exaggerates, hyping Dustin up unintentionally to the point that the 15-year-old starts to jump up and down like a toddler, rustling the leaves under his feet.

Eddie places his hands on his knees and stands up straight, “so Mordor it is.”

He walks right past Nancy, just as clueless as Steve, but she doesn’t care, she follows Eddie. And Robin follows Nancy, and soon, everyone is following Eddie who isn’t ready at all to be a leader. He turns back around and notices he left all his shit by the rock just as Steve is catching up with everything.

“The fuck is Mordor?” He asks himself, absentmindedly following everyone when Eddie bumps into him on the way back to the rock, “get your shit man, let’s go.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Eddie picks it up with haste and runs back in front of Steve, slipping on the dewy grass and almost falling when Steve places his hand on his back to keep him steady.

Dustin takes the lead again, explaining the science to Nancy and Robin who followed him the fastest. Lucas and Max have heard it all before, so they just trail behind and no one cares that Steve stays back with Eddie, about 10 feet behind everyone else, he bumps Eddie’s shoulder and smiles at him. “You’re not going to thank me for breakfast?”

He laughs, “just add it to the things I have to thank you for.”

“Huh?” Steve doesn’t know what he means.

“You know,” Eddie references towards the trees, “just everything you’re willing to do for me… without anything in return.”

Steve almost stops breathing, stopping dead in his tracks, “you know?”

He nods, “yeah, I’ve known for a while… why when did you figure it out?”

“When you almost killed me 2 days ago?” Steve admits, he bites his lip and then shakes his head as he laughs. “I mean, Robin was saying it was probably you, but… I don’t know, I was kinda building him up in my head and then I couldn’t—

“Separate fact from fiction,” Eddie cuts him off, knowing all too well what thats like. “Gareth accused me of the same thing.”

Steve sighs and pats his shoulder, making him keep walking so they don’t lose Dustin and the gang. “Come on, we can talk about it later… I have a lot to tell you if we make it out of this.”

“I’m honestly surprised you’re not freaking out?”

“I had my time to freak out,” Steve teases. “Robin heard it all.”

“So she’s…”

Steve nods, “yeah. Is Gareth?”

Eddie nods too, looking forward to see everyone so far ahead of them. “Are you?”

Steve smiles, “yeah, couldn’t you tell?”

Eddie chuckles, “yeah, which is why it was so hard for me to come to terms with the fact it was you… cause like where the fuck did that come from, Steve?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. It’s pretty easy to replicate once I’ve had one… and I’ve had quite—

“You whore,” Eddie whispers as he bumps his shoulder, smirking away. “But it paid off…”

“You’re going to give me an ego,” Steve shoves him right back.

“At least we’ll know where Dustin gets it from,” Eddie teases him once again.

And Steve loved every second of it.

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#cruising fic #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fanfiction

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thorniest-rose · 1 year

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Ok so Steve breaks up with Eddie bc their relationship is just too intense. They’re just completely co dependant with each-other and he doesn’t think it’s normal and tries to do the right thing. Eddie doesn’t give a fuck though and just wears him down any way he can. Whether it’s making him jealous, ‘randomly’ bumping into him, spreading rumours about him etc… eventually Steve can’t take the mind games and tries to hash it out. Eddie gets off on the fact that Steve finally came to him, and masterfully sweet talks him into giving things another go. This is the toxic cycle. Eddie can be the sweetest most wholesome guy when he wants to be, but he can also fuck with Steve’s head like no other when he wants to, as well.

oh my god I honestly love this so much, I can't lie. There's a big part of me that always craves dark and messy relationships in fic, I think because I find it a lot more true to what real-life romance and relationships can be like. Like I understand that fic is about escapism and of course it's lovely to write sweet fic where everyone gets their happily ever after, I TOTALLY understand that desire. But I also love it when characters are complicated and flawed, and where relationships are passionate and intense but with all the bad things that come with a highly charged dynamic like that. When people get jealous and possessive to the point of controlling, and where two people become completely codependent and so wrapped up in each other everything else falls away.

So I would LOVE to see a fic where Eddie and Steve break up but they're still obsessed with each other. And I'd love to see a version of Eddie, who never had anything of his own growing up or anything special that belonged to him, who's unable to let Steve go. Who would actually be mean to Steve and say nasty things because it's so much better to get a rise out of him than to be given the cold shoulder. And, as you've said, I would LOVE to see an Eddie who, yes is sweet and gentle and sensitive, just like he is on the show, but has another side where he's manic and obsessive and who knows how to manipulate a deeply insecure Steve to get what he wants. Like is it unhealthy? Yes. Is it toxic? Yes. Does it verge on being abusive? Yes! But sometimes that's exactly the kind of fic I want. Like I love how you've written "he can fuck with Steve's head like no other when he wants to" and I think that would be SUCH an intriguing dynamic to explore within the realms of a Steddie fic.

I think people generally get scared of writing fic like this because of the potential backlash and being accused of romanticising unhealthy or abusive relationships (which has happened to me in the past). I feel like dynamics like this were much more common in fic years ago and now are much harder to find. But the landscape of fandoms is so different now too. Content is policed to a much higher degree and there’s a lot of judgement and public scrutiny. Where there used to be this collective understanding of “don’t like, don’t read” etc, people are a lot more aggressive now when they see content they don’t like and will readily call people out publicly and question their motives. And it's such a shame because I love variety in fic, and while I love fic that's sweet and tender, there will always be the part of me that craves darker fic too.

Anyway this was a whole rant sorry!!! But your ask is like catnip to me, I want to write a toxic ex Steddie fic so badly.

#asks #steddie #i'll add #tw abuse #just to be safe #i don't actually ever consider what i write to be abuse but i have had people accuse me of that a lot in the past #toxic ex eddie verse

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savemewattpad · 8 months

Text

Snow On the Beach Chapter One

"did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen?"

Summary:

Former Avenger Leila Whittaker lost everything in the snap–her chosen family, her reputation, and the love of her life. Three years later, she’s keeping a low profile in New York when Natasha, the de facto leader of the intelligence community, calls her back into the field for some undercover work. Leila finds herself paired with Scott Lang, known to the public as Ant-Man and known to Leila as some guy she met on the Raft six years ago.

This is fine. Leila is content with sticking with what remains of her team, and keeping the rest of the world at arm’s length. Most of them want to be there, now, anyway. And that’s fine.

It’s fine, except that Scott Lang turns out to have a way of getting under her skin, in a way she can’t quite shake off.

Chapter Summary: Scott and Leila both agree to get back in the game.

Warnings: None

Pairings: Scott Lang/OFC, past Steve Rogers/OFC

Tags: @ocappreciation @arrthurpendragon @suethor @notaboutcat (let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from this list!)

FF.Net | AO3 | Masterlist

Out of all the recurring nightmares Leila’s had over the course of her life–and there have been many–this one might be the most versatile.

Sometimes it starts differently, but it always leads to the same place. She's on a stage, being controlled by puppet strings, and she looks up and finds the person controlling the strings, and it's always different, but pulling from the same pool of people. Everyone who’s ever interfered with her autonomy. Thanos, David, Johnny. Iain Warner, one time. Her past self, with blank, emotionless eyes, a few times. Occasionally more than one person, even if the people in question never met in real life.

It’s Thanos, this time. She locks eyes with him, and as always, she wakes up.

Leila isn't a shrink, but it's not hard to figure out what the dream means. What's trickier, and what she hasn't quite figured out yet, is what to do about it.

She sighs and drags herself out of bed, and tries to shake the nightmare off. Sometimes she can't; sometimes it haunts her all day. A few times she's woken up into a panic attack. Today, though, is one of her better days; she can already feel it slipping out of her mind like sand through her fingers.

She’s on her third chai latte when her phone rings. “I'm on my way,” she lies.

“Hello to you too.” Natasha sounds amused.

“Thought you were Tony,” Leila replies, stirring her latte absently. “I'm heading up there today. It's Morgan’s birthday.”

“Be sure to enjoy it, because I need you to come in tomorrow.”

Leila pauses. “So this isn't a social call,” she says, hiding her unease under a layer of snark.

“'Fraid not, Princess.” Despite being out of the field for years, Leila’s nickname, derived from her codename–Snow White–lives on. Old habits die hard, she supposes. Natasha has been calling her that for…almost a decade, now.

“I'm retired, Nat.”

“No, you're clinically depressed. There's a difference.”

“Thanks, Doctor Romanoff, I'll keep that in mind.”

“You can ponder it more tomorrow when you come in.”

“Make someone else do it.”

“We need someone with your specific skill set.”

“Make Talos do it.”

“He's busy.”

“Then make Gravik do it.”

“Also busy.”

“Then make–”

“Stop naming skrulls. Besides, we need someone with your experience with organized crime.”

“You have that experience, too.”

“I've got a lot on my plate, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

And Leila can. The responsibility Nat took on in the aftermath of the snap is extraordinary. Sometimes Leila feels bad about rejecting her offer to be her right hand. Then she remembers why she did.

It's funny, in a way, that the thing that's made her more trouble than she's worth is the one thing that wasn't even her fault. (It wasn't, right?)

“Organized criminals lost people, too. They're not gonna want to talk to me.”

“They won’t be talking to you. They’ll be talking to each other. Or so they think.”

“Yes, I understand how shapeshifting works.”

“Leila,” Nat says, suddenly serious in a way that makes Leila sit up straight. “It’s about the Trust. That’s why we need it to be you.”

Leila takes several moments to process this, making a point to take deep breaths.

“Fine. I’m in.”

“Good. Meet me at the compound tomorrow at 8.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Lei–by the way, just so you aren’t taken off guard–you’ll be working with someone.”

Leila tenses reflexively, and tries not to let that tension into her voice. “Who? Anyone I know?”

“You might remember him. His name is Scott Lang.”

It’s early mornings like this that Scott starts to have reservations about X-Con. He comes into his office, and something about the morning light reminds him of the single office they’d inhabited years prior, lit almost entirely by fluorescents, four desks crowded into the space. Him, Kurt, Luis and Dave. It’s him, Kurt, Luis, and a small number of employees now.

(He wonders sometimes, which office Dave would’ve taken, and if he would’ve liked it.)

The success of the business is great, of course. It’s great to be able to help support Cassie. It’s great to be able to keep people employed that would otherwise be exactly where Scott was when he got out of prison. And it’s great to help keep people safe.

The only problem is that the business didn’t start growing to this level until right after the snap. Scott doesn’t have, like, hard data to prove it, but he can never shake the idea that there’s a cause-and-effect there. People, now more than ever, want to feel safe. X-Con can’t protect people against genocidal aliens, unfortunately, but it can help them feel protected. Scott knows he isn’t doing anything wrong, technically–why people give him their business is their own prerogative–but sometimes it feels opportunistic, anyway.

He’s at his desk, going over his schedule for the day, when the door to his office swings open. “You have a visitor,” Jez announces.

“You could’ve used the phone,” Scott says without looking up.

“But then I wouldn’t get to spend this quality time with my favorite brother,” she replies, leaning in the doorway.

“I’ll be sure and let Matt know you said that.”

“He knows what he did.”

If Scott had more time, he’d probably take the bait, but he doesn’t. “Can you send the client in? It’s a tight schedule today.”

Jez gives a lazy salute and heads back to the front desk. Weeks ago, their usual secretary had resigned, and Jez has been “filling in” ever since. She’s not an ex-convict, and she didn't have secretarial experience, which makes her a nepotism hire by any definition, but she needs the work, and Scott’s been watching out for her since she was nine years old. He’s not going to stop now. Besides which, she’s done enough free babysitting for him over the years to have earned it, anyway.

He’s also pretty sure that nobody here–outside of Luis and Kurt, who knew her pre-X-Con–has figured out that she’s never been to prison. Not that it’s a secret, but still. She’s young, but even on her best behavior, she still has roughly the same personal energy as the Tasmanian Devil from Looney Toons.

(He remembers her first visit to him in San Quentin. “It’s weird, because I always thought I’d be the first one of us to go to prison,” she’d told him.

“Sorry, first?” he’d asked.

“Yeah. Me, then you, then Matt.”

“Why would Matt go to prison?”

“Wrong place, wrong time. I’d be locked up on drug charges, obviously.”

“Of course.”)

The door opens. He looks up and smiles. “Hi, I’m Scott, thanks for–” he pauses, and then tries not to sputter. “Hawkeye?”

Clint Barton gives him a half-smile, the kind where Scott can’t quite tell if he’s happy or not. “Scott,” he greets. “Good to see you again.”

Leila always forgets how beautiful the sky above Tony’s home is until she’s there. It’s one of those summer nights where the twilight seems to last forever, and she knows that once the sun is finally down, the stars in the sky will be actually visible, unlike the city. She can even see a few of them now, faintly.

It’s the lakeside that ties it all together, though. Isabella had wanted to live somewhere by water, and Tony had, as he did to any and all requests or mild whims that Isabella made, obliged.

Isabella is some ways ahead of them, maybe ten yards, holding a toddling Morgan’s hand. Still clearly in sight, but far enough away for Leila and Tony to talk, which Leila knows is coming–otherwise they would’ve had Leila take Morgan for a walk by herself while they cleaned up the house.

“So,” Tony says, “why’re you crashing on our couch tonight, again?”

Leila knows what he’s actually asking. Are you okay? Do you need to not be alone? Are you about to go off the deep end again? Are you trying not to relapse? She kicks a rock into the lake.

“I’m just saying, it’s an expensive couch,” Tony continues. “I feel like I at least deserve to know. Not that you aren’t always welcome.”

“I know,” she says, and she does, both about the couch and the welcomeness. Leila could ask to move in tomorrow and Tony would have the guest bedroom decorated for her within the hour. Her friendship with him is possibly the one thing in her life that she’s never questioned.

“I’m going to the compound tomorrow,” she says finally. “Nat wants me back in the field. It’s just easier to stay here than go home and come back up.”

Tony whistles lowly. “You sure you’re up for that?”

“No. But apparently I’m the only woman for the job.” She pauses. “It’s about the Trust.”

“The Trust? That crime ring we took down back in…” Tony runs the numbers in his head. “2012?”

“Apparently we didn’t take it down far enough. Or someone decided to reboot it.”

Tony nods. “Are you working alone? I imagine it’s hard to build trust, given…well, you know.”

“Given that half of the world hates me.” Leila can handle innuendo from anyone else, but she doesn’t like dancing around things with Tony. His straightforwardness is one of the things that first drew her to him.

“That’s the one, yeah.”

She smiles a little despite herself and kicks another rock. “Apparently I’m going in with someone named Scott Lang. Nat said I might remember him, from the Raft back during the whole Accords thing.” Leila had only spent a few hours on the Raft, and she doesn’t remember a lot of it. Frankly, the entire debacle is somewhat blurred in her mind. “I don’t, though. Do you?”

Tony thinks. “Right. Ant-Man. He was in Munich with Cap.”

There’s that straightforwardness she loves. Tony is one of the only people who doesn’t hesitate to mention Steve around her. The good, the bad, all of–

“Sorry, did you say Ant-Man?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Why the fuck is he called Ant-Man?”

“Cause he shrinks. He can also grow, but I guess ‘Giant-Man’ didn’t have the same ring to it.”

“I dunno, I might take it over Ant-Man.”

“Because you’re the expert on code names.”

“Snow White is a perfectly respectable code name, thank you.”

“Sorry.” He gives an exaggerated bow. “Please forgive me, your highness.”

Leila laughs. “How do you even know all this?”

“I have a vested interest in knowing the names of people who may or may not hold grudges against me.”

“That’s healthy.”

“That’s precaution.” Tony takes a few quick strides and then steps in front of her to face her. “I’m serious. Are you okay with this? It’s been years.”

“It’s only been three years. Not even that, actually,” she waves a hand. “As long as this doesn’t become a recurring thing…I’m fine. I can handle it.”

Tony watches her for a long moment, looking for any sign of indecision on her face. Finally, he nods.

“Alright. As long as you stay up long enough to watch Tangled. It’s Morgan’s favorite right now, and she wanted to watch it with you.”

Leila smiles. “Traitor,” she mutters. “But yeah. I can do that.”

Scott clears an hour from his schedule (he makes a note to thank Kurt and Luis both for taking on his meetings that day), and makes three phone calls.

The first one is to Hope.

He explains the situation: Clint Barton (yes, that Clint Barton) showed up at his work asking him, on behalf of Natasha Romanoff (yes, that Natasha Romanoff) to get involved in some kind of espionage-related, superpower-related mission-type-thing. He said he wouldn’t do it without Hope (nobody can say he doesn’t learn from his mistakes.) Barton said they wanted him for his security and heist experience more than for his Ant-Man activity. Scott said he’d think about it.

“So now I’m asking you,” Scott says.

“Asking me what?”

That’s actually a good question. “I’m asking if you think I should agree to help,” he says, “and if you think I should do it without you.”

“I mean, you’re always better off with me there,” Hope replies easily. “But if they’re trying to keep the team small, and you trust them…I think you should at least consider it.”

If you trust them. He supposes he does. The Munich incident had involved a lot of mistakes on Scott’s part, but that hadn’t been either of their fault. Neither had the way it ended.

“Have you told Maggie?” Hope continues.

“That’s the next call I’m making.”

“Make it. And think about it. But if you say no, just don’t do it because of me.”

The second call is, as promised, to Maggie.

“Hey, Scott, is this important?”

“Uhhhhh….yes. I’d say so.” He clears his throat. “I need some advice.”

“Okay, but can you make it quick? I’m on my lunch break.”

I can try? “Yeah. Totally. It’ll be quick.”

“Okay. What’s up?”

He tells her the same thing he told Hope, and then tells her what Hope said. “So now I’m asking you. Do you think I should do it?”

“No, I don’t, but that’s not the question you’re actually asking.”

“Okay, what am I asking?”

“You’re asking me if you’d be a bad person if you said no. And you’re asking me if you’d be a bad father if you said yes.”

Maggie’s ability to cut to the heart of the issue is not a quality Scott remembers her possessing during their admittedly short-lived marriage. He wonders idly if, given enough time and thought, he could pinpoint exactly when it started.

“Okay. So what do you think?”

“I think nobody could blame you if you chose to stay out of it. And I think you’re going to do it anyway.”

Scott stays silent for a long moment, and Maggie takes it as an invitation to continue.

“It’s who you are, Scott. Since the day I met you. You see a chance to be useful, to help someone, and you can’t resist.”

Scott sighs. “And Cassie?” he asks hesitantly.

It’s Maggie’s turn to stay silent for a moment. Then, finally: “I can’t ask you to be someone you’re not. But Cassie’s already lost one father. If things get too dangerous, do you think you can back out?”

Scott looks at the photo on his desk. Him, Matt, Jez and Cassie.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

The third call is to Clint Barton.

“Barton,” he answers. There’s a sort of lazy quality to his voice.

“Hey, it’s, uh, it’s Scott. Lang. Ant-Man.”

“Name rings a bell. Made your decision yet?”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m in.”

#scott lang x reader #scott lang x oc #marvel oc #mcu oc #avengers oc #sotb

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