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gunsandspaceships · 2 months

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Tony Stark’s achievements

Childhood:

“Brilliant and unique mind”

At age 4 built his first circuit board

At age 6 built his first engine

Cracked the Pentagon’s firewall in high school on a dare

Went to college at 14

Built cool smart robots (Dum-E and U) when he was a teen

At 17 graduated summa cum laude from MIT

Polyglot

Before Afghanistan:

“Da Vinci of our time”

Became an owner and CEO of Stark Industries at 21

Successfully ran the company for decades

Advanced the world of technology, not only in weaponry and robotics but also:

created advanced AI J.A.R.V.I.S.

created holographic interface technology

created repulsor technology

Participated in charity

In and after Afghanistan:

“I’m sorry, I’m not Tony Stark”

Survived an open-heart surgery in a cave, without general anesthesia

Lived with, in fact, a debilitating wound, shrapnel, and a huge and dangerous technological device in his body for years and was willing and capable of doing not only his usual work but also being a superhero and doing all these next things...

Did not give up under torture and fought with his captors

Invented and built a miniaturized Arc Reactor, in a cave, with a box of scraps

Invented and built Iron Man armor, in the same cave, with the same box of scraps

Escaped from captivity by himself (with help from Yinsen, but without any armed assistance)

Became an expert in piloting and driving

Saved people in Gulmira

Saved a USAF pilot

Probably the best hacker in the world, was able to easily hack networks of the Pentagon, US government, AIM, and SHIELD

Fought with Iron Monger after nearly died. Defeated him and saved many lives. Was ready to die for that

Built many more different Iron Man armors

Fought terrorists between IM and IM2 (IM2 tie-in comics)

Saved a submarine crew (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

Saved a woman from a fire (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home)

“Stabilized East-West relations” (IM2 - newspapers in Vanko’s home), so the world was “enjoying its longest period of uninterrupted peace in years”

Organized Stark Expo

Was able to keep Iron Man armor in his safe hands despite the government’s and HYDRA’s attempts to take it for themselves

Defeated Ivan Vanko in Monaco

(Re)Discovered a new element

Synthesized it, by building a particle accelerator, at home

Revolutionized energy industry and science. Gave clean energy to the world

Defeated Vanko in New York with Rhodey, Natasha, and Pepper and saved many lives again

Saved Peter Parker (IM2)

Made it so that the Abomination would not leave prison and join the Avengers

Built Stark/Avengers Tower powered by Arc Reactor technology

Saved Steve Rogers and many civilians in Germany from Loki

Was able to fight with Thor on equal terms

Biggest brain on Earth, arguably - in the Universe:

best scientist on the team, in SHIELD, on Earth, in the Universe

expert in nuclear, particle, and quantum physics

was able to learn very quickly – became an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics in one night

Successfully tracked Tesseract by its gamma radiation with Bruce

Saved Helicarrier with the Avengers and SHIELD agents on board, almost died

Saved Rogers from a merc right after that

Fought with Chitauri, killed many of them, saved a lot of people

Was able to blow up a Leviathan by himself

Saved New York City by redirecting a nuke to the wormhole

Saved the world by destroying Thanos’ Chitauri army, almost died again

Founded The United States Department of Damage Control to clean up after battles

Rebuilt Stark Tower into Avengers Tower and gave each team member their own quarters

One of the best biologists and biomedical engineers on Earth, even if it’s not his main area of expertise:

helped Maya with Extremis back in 1999, because knew more in her own field, and even didn’t remember that

was head hunted by Aldrich Killian to work on Extremis with/instead of Maya, who was the leading expert in tissue regeneration

improved and stabilized Extremis, so it became safe regenerative technology, and with it…

cured Pepper

healed extensive injuries in his chest

invented and implanted devices for remote control of his suits (into his forearm in IM3, and most probably into his brain for Mark L armor in Infinity War)

invented build-in diagnostic system in his suits

Invented many devices for protection purposes (ex. bomb disposal)

A capable detective. Figured out the cause of explosions in IM3 on his own

Saved Pepper instead of himself by putting Mark 42 on her during the attack on his Malibu mansion

Survived the attack with a barely working prototype suit. Shot down a helicopter with a piano

Was able to fight with enhanced fire-breathing regenerating terrorists without armor and weapons in Rose Hill. In handcuffs

Knowledgeable and skilled in medicine:

saved a kid with his arc reactor in a deleted scene from IM3, selflessly pulling it out of his chest and performing defibrillation under electric shocks

knew how to recognize hyperglycemia when Harley was eating 3rd bawl of candies

closed his wound in Infinity War with nanoparticles

performed first-aid on Bruce after his snap

Built a lot of stuff from random things he bought in a store for the assault on the Mandarin's mansion. In a motel

Successfully stormed the Mandarin's mansion full of armed and huge security guys with dogs. Alone. Without his armor

Successfully escaped captivity in the Mandarin's mansion with just a few pieces of armor on

Saved all the people who fell from the Air Force One

Stormed Roxxon Norco ship with Rhodey, without a suit. With one handgun

Saved the US president

Defeated Killian and his Extremis-enhanced terrorists, saved many lives

Built quinjets

Created Iron Legion

Became the benefactor of the Avengers, provided them with everything, was a combatant, and also the team’s pilot, hacker, engineer, medic, and scientist

As an Avenger saved many lives on missions, including destroying the rest of HYDRA in AoU

With Bruce’s help created Veronica and Hulkbuster suit

Defeated a rogue Iron Legionnaire with a fork

In contrast to other team members was able to function after Wanda played with his mind

Defeated mad Hulk. Saved a lot of lives in Johannesburg

Easily hacked nuclear codes in Nexus and found J.A.R.V.I.S. “in the world’s biggest haystack”

Created advanced AI F.R.I.D.A.Y.

Many advanced AIs

Created Vision

With the Avengers defeated Ultron and his army

Evacuated people who were left in Sokovia

Saved a falling evacuation shuttle with people on it

Together with Thor saved Earth by destroying the falling Sokovia

Rebuilt Stark Compound into Avengers Compound for the team in Upstate New York

Invented several medical devices, including leg braces, blood toxicity detector

Sponsored the development of technology for psychotherapy (B.A.R.F.). Prevented it from being used for harm

Funded all the students’ projects at MIT

Did everything possible to legally, politically, and physically protect the team before, during, and after the Civil War

Was able to disarm Winter Soldier without a suit, with only one armored glove

Figured out Spider-Man’s identity

Created Spider-Man’s suits

Mentored, sponsored, and looked after Peter Parker

Saved Peter Parker (SMH). Twice

Saved the ferry from sinking

Invented nanoparticles

“Earth’s best defender”

Went to space to save Peter, Strange and bring back Time Stone

Saved Peter Parker (IW)

Saved Strange on the Donut spaceship. Killed Ebony Maw

Cloak of Levitation chose him as his second favorite (deleted scene with Tony wearing Levi and Strange in Mark L)

Was respected by Thanos himself

Withstood when Thanos hit him with a moon

Fought Thanos, made him bleed, kept fighting even without armor

Survived a severe injury thanks to his own invention

Was able to function, tried to fix Benatar, and return home while injured and ill with an infected wound

Built a lab for Bruce and helped him to become one with Hulk (combine the best of both worlds)

Became an amazing dad

Became an expert in time travel physics

Discovered/invented (controlled) Time travel

Built a time machine

Went on Time Heist and stole Tesseract from a guarded military base

Created his own Infinity Gauntlet

Thus brought half of the universe back to existence (Bruce snapped and partially sacrificed his health, but nothing would be possible without Tony)

Saved Bruce’s arm by providing emergency medical care

Fought with Thanos again and…

Saved the whole Universe

#tony stark #iron man #mcu #marvel #the avengers #avengers endgame #captain america civil war #avengers age of ultron #iron man 2 #iron man 3 #spider man homecoming #avengers infinity war

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cybersunnie · 1 month

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So Divine ✶ Steve Harrington

18+ / MDNI — literally just smut w/ some fluff, f!reader, petnames (sweetheart, baby) got inspired by @/season4steve's comments (wc: 1k)

Steve was a gentle lover.

Compliments, spontaneous gifts, late-night calls because he wanted to hear your voice before bed. He was always soft and sweet with you, all boyish charm and smiles.

With his parents out of town again, you and Steve had the house all to yourselves. It started innocently. A movie night at his place, cuddling on the couch, the light touch on your hip growing more greedy as the night went on. You tried to ignore it, eyes trained on the screen, but you were still all too aware of his glances and smirks that meant no good.

Your efforts were pointless.

The cheesy horror flick Steve had mindlessly picked out at work turned into background noise when he leaned in and kissed you slow, testing the waters. Your lips melted between his, warmth blossoming in your chest, your skin tingling. Whispers of I want you filled your ears, and you were suddenly putty in his hands—a mindless thing made of flesh and bones.

One thing led to another, and the both of you stumbled up the stairs and to his bedroom, giggling into the other’s mouth.

Your curves and edges, and his scars and birthmarks.

Steve had you pinned beneath him, his sheets wrinkled and a mess, clothes discarded and forgotten. You gasped so prettily for him, your face crumbling with ecstasy every time his hips snapped forward to meet yours, the slow drag of his cock making your head spin.

Even as he took you, Steve was nothing but gentle. Every kiss and touch ghosted over your skin like he was afraid to hurt you.

As if you were a delicate flower, each limb a petal he wanted to preserve, to dote on.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped out, his nose nudging yours, urging you to look at him.

You keened, cheeks burning, eyes hazy with pleasure. How Steve looked at you was overwhelming—like you were the only good thing in the world.

"Yeah? You like being my pretty girl?"

You nodded and held him tighter, not wanting this to end. Your nails dug into his back, the crescent indents adding to his constellation of moles and freckles.

With Steve, all you saw were stars.

His gaze softened, a crinkle between his brows. "I know you do," he murmured, ducking his head down and kissing your jaw. Steve felt you shiver, your cunt squeezing his cock, snug and warm. He fought the urge to bite your shoulder as he buried himself deeper inside of you. "Fuck, sweetheart. You're killing me."

You wondered if Steve knew how much control he had over you. If he knew that his voice made everything around you feel light. If he knew that, in your mind, he embodied the night sky.

That he was timeless. Divine. A mysterious beauty.

He deserved to know.

But your voice was gone, the words stuck in your throat. The knot in your stomach grew tighter. The inevitable inched closer. You could only utter a meek whimper of his name with your fingers digging into his flesh.

Steve pulled his face from your neck and looked at you, stilling himself. “What, baby?”

He sounded so concerned, so sincere—it just made you want him more.

You whined and pressed the heels of your feet against his ass, begging him to move, to keep fucking you. Thankfully, Steve took the hint, pulling out a few inches before pushing back in, his heart swelling with pride when you whimpered.

Steve knew you were close. He could fucking feel it.

"Keep squeezing me like that—holy shit," Steve groaned, almost whining, as your cunt pulsated around his cock. "You're close, huh? You gonna come for me?"

Overwhelmed, you shut your eyes. It was too much. Steve's body flushed with yours, your ears buzzing, your heart pounding so hard it rattled your ribcage—it was all too much.

And Steve noticed. He always noticed.

Soft and soothing, he whispered your name and grasped your chin, your skin warming under his fingertips.

"Look at me."

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes. Steve smiled the same smile that swept you off your feet the first time you met him. He leaned his forehead against yours, his usual sweet brown eyes hardened with lust, with the desire to please you.

"There we go," Steve murmured, kissing your lips. He let go of your chin and moved his hand, his large palm enveloping the side of your face. You leaned into his touch, your brows drawing tightly together as Steve kept fucking you nice and slow. "You still with me, yeah?"

You nodded, mind-numbing.

"Yeah," he cooed, his mouth hovering over yours, breaths mingling. A pitiful whine escaped you, and he swallowed it with another kiss. "You're okay. You're doing so good."

It was all tangled heat and longing. Your hands trailed into his hair, soft and roots drenched with sweat. Mouths hung open, moans and gasps, your hearts becoming one.

Steve grunted, head dipping down into the crook of your neck, his hips rocking into yours. "C'mon, baby, give it to me."

You were at his mercy, unprotected, bare of armor.

The knot snapped.

Pleasure erupted in the pit of your belly and wrecked through you. You cried out his name in gasps and moans, your legs locking around his waist, fingers tugging at his hair. Steve whimpered as if he was wounded, his thrusts faltering, tongue swirling over your pulse points, and teeth nipping at your skin.

Wrapped up in the other and your sweaty limbs entangled, the intensity died down, heavy breaths filling the air. Neither of you moved—a silent agreement to stay connected a little longer.

"I love you," Steve whispered, leaving a trail of kisses along your jaw until he reached your mouth. He stared at you with adore-filled eyes, his cheeks flushed and hair disheveled from your own doing. "I love you so much."

Through your haze, you grinned, fingers sowing through his hair, "I love you more."

Steve snorted, shaking his head. "Impossible."

author's note: yay i finally finished something!!!!! it had been such a long time since i wrote smut so i'm sorry if this wasn't up to par LMAO but i love me some soft and sappy sex

anyways i hope you enjoyed this!!! tysm for reading! <3

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #✶ — sunnie writes st!#✶ — steve harrington

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bookshelf-dust · 8 months

Text

kiss it better

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3,176

warnings: swearing, sick fic (sorta), steve not taking care of himself, anxiety, stress, mental breakdown?, best friends to lovers deal (let me know if i missed something)

a/n: hi! it’s been awhile. i’m sorry about that. this has been a very slow process for me. my mental health is shit, and that’s probably obvious. i hope it hasn’t seeped into this too much, but it probably will with the next few things i write. i apologize for taking so long to post, for disappearing, for not really making this the blog it once was. but i’m not the same person i was then. so we’ll see where this goes. i hope you enjoy this one a little. i love you.

————

The shrill sound of a phone ringing scares you awake, eyes flying open, heart pounding so aggressively you fear for a split second that it might burst.

You sit up quickly, enough so that you make yourself dizzy trying to get your bearings. You roll onto your side, and reach blindly across the edge of your nightstand, grabbing for the green plastic that’s shaking with the force of which it’s ringing.

You almost fall out of bed, just managing to catch yourself as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

Your voice comes out weak, thick with sleep and the longing for more rest. It startles you and makes you clear your throat.

“Hey, it’s me.”

The voice on the other line is even weaker than your own. It’s quiet.

“Steve?”

Your eyes find the alarm clock on your dresser, bright red letters telling you it’s just after one in the morning. You might be half-asleep, but you’re conscious enough that your heart rate picks up, registering that this isn’t when your best friend normally calls.

You hear him breathe, along with some shuffling. He’s nodding his head, but realizes you can’t see.

“Yeah. Listen,” he drags a shaking hand down his face. “I’m sorry to call so late.”

“Hey, it’s okay. What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

He goes quiet for a moment, but you wait patiently for him to continue. He must be trying to get something out, and you don’t want to pressure him, or cause him stress in any way.

Steve huffs, frustrated with himself.

“I-I’ve got an insane headache, and we’re out of goddamn medicine. My parents were here, and my mom was hungover and I guess she must’ve emptied us out, but it hurts too bad to drive, and…” He trails off, breathing heavily.

His pause lends you a moment to process, and you decide to speak up. If his head is killing him, you know finding the energy to speak to you, let alone call, has to be draining. You wouldn’t want him to suffer anymore than he already is.

“Stevie?” you start, happy to hear a small hum that encourages you to go on. He registers what you’ve called him, something you don’t call him often, and his chest aches. “I’ve got some I can bring you. I think all the drugstores nearby are closed.”

You swing your legs out from under the covers, pushing yourself off the mattress. Pressing the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you pull on the pair of sweats slung over the end of your bed, trying not to bust your ass as you hop into them.

“Is anything else hurting you?” you ask, gently as can be.

“Honestly?” he responds. “I think I’m sick. I can’t be sick, can I?”

You stand upright once again, taking the phone firmly in your hand.

“I think even King Steve can get sick from time to time. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

————

Steve’s not sure you understand him. He can’t be sick. He’s got shit to do. He has a shift tomorrow, and he’s pretty sure Dustin needs a ride one day this week because Claudia is on a “girls trip.” He has to keep working on his college essay, because he’d told you he was almost done, but really he isn’t.

Steve doesn’t have the time to be sick. And he can’t have you ruining your own schedule to come and babysit him. He’s supposed to be the babysitter. Not the charge.

He should be able to take care of himself, but of course, the one time his parents come home they clean out his mediocre supply of medicine. Something he’s always stocked up on, given his tendency to get the shit beat out of him, or the nasty string of tension headaches that just won’t quit.

And his head is killing him. He has his palms pressed to his temples, trying (and failing) to dull the ache. There aren’t any lights on in the kitchen, where he’s sitting on the floor, back pressed to the cabinets.

He’s trying not to move too much either, because he’s dizzy. This probably has to do with the fact that he skipped dinner, feeling too nauseous to eat. Now that Steve is hungry, he fears he won’t be able to get up and fix anything.

Maybe you’ll be able to help, he thinks. But that voice is quick with a counter argument. No. I need to do it.

He perks up at the sound of the front door opening. “Steve?” you call out, careful not to slam the door or yell too loud. It’s also why you hadn’t rung the doorbell.

Steve raps his knuckles softly against the countertop, hoping it’ll be enough to clue you in. He can’t bring himself to shout right now. You follow the sound, taking the few steps toward the kitchen.

When your eyes lock on his figure, see the way the heels of his hands press into his eyes, you realize how young he looks. He almost looks small, legs pulled up to his chest, big, lanky body compacted as much as possible. He looks vulnerable. You’re sure he hates that.

“Hi, Steve,” you say, keeping your voice low.

He looks up at you, and his face splits into a sweet grin. He’s happy that you’re here, even if that voice is screaming at him, wanting to punish him for asking for help.

“Hey, honey.” You smile back at him, and his heart rate picks up. Sometimes he forgets how beautiful you are, and then you’re standing in front of him, snatching every last breath from his lungs.

You set your bag down beside him and reach out, brushing his hair back from his forehead. He feels a little warm, but not feverishly so.

You move away from him, grabbing a cup from the drying rack. You fill it up with water and crouch at his side. Steve takes the glass from you, head resting against the cabinet to watch as you grab him some medicine. You hand him a few pills, and he takes them quickly. If he doesn’t get this headache calmed down soon, he thinks he might just die.

Steve keeps drinking the water you gave him, and you push his hair back again, watching the way it curls around his ears.

He drinks about half of the water before he pauses, taking a deep breath. He looks at you then. It’s mostly dark in the kitchen, but the lamp on the table by the front door is on, so you’re a little backlit from it. Not to mention the moonlight seeping in from the window above the sink.

You look gorgeous. And you came over to take care of him. You got up, at one in the morning, and drove to his house, just because he asked you to. Hell, he hadn’t even asked. He hadn’t gotten the words out. But you’d known. You’d known exactly what he was trying to ask, and you’d offered your help with no qualms.

Steve’s nose starts to sting, and that pressure from behind his eyes—it starts to release. Before he knows it, his vision is getting cloudy, and he’s crying. He can’t be crying, can he?

You carefully remove the glass from his hand and move in between his spread knees.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m here, and I’m gonna take top notch care of you.”

“I know you are,” he says, voice breaking. “But I should be able to do it myself. I always do it myself.” He presses his hands against his face, but you catch his wrists and gently pull them away.

You hold your arms out, and Steve practically falls into you. He buries his face in your neck. He can feel the warmth of your skin, the cotton of your sleep shirt. You smell like soap, that fancy conditioner you use.

One of your hands finds the base of his neck, nails scratching gently over his scalp, thumb dragging over the top of his spine. Your other rubs soothingly up and down his back.

“But the thing is, Stevie, you don’t have to.”

He’s not a loud crier. But he is sort of panicky, breaths coming quick and short, chest heaving against your own. “I know you’ve always had to do a lot by yourself, but you can ask for help, and you don’t have to punish yourself for it, either.”

You feel him nod against your collarbone. His hands are fisting the back of your shirt. Eventually, he pulls away, but keeps his eyes closed. He tries to keep his head turned from your gaze.

“Hey. Look at me.”

He does, albeit reluctantly. Steve’s cheeks are flushed, lashes clumped together and lips parted where he tries to suck in a good deep breath.

You reach up, fingers gently sweeping away the remainder of the tears on his face. He leans into your touch, and you let him. You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his forehead. You’ve never done that before.

Steve recognizes that you’ve never done it before, even if it’s sort of fuzzy. Sure, he’s kissed the back of your hand and you’ve reciprocated, but he’s usually the one to initiate physical affection. You’re too shy most often, even if you ache to do it.

Fuck, he wishes he were a little more coherent right now.

“Can you stand for me? It’s late, and I think you need to rest.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sure.” Now that he’s thinking about it, getting in bed sounds so nice.

You stand first, and watch as Steve pushes off the floor, gripping the countertop on the way up to steady himself.

“Come on. The stairs are gonna be a pain.”

He reaches out for you, and you let him take your arm. He pads out to the staircase, and you watch each precarious step he takes, hoping he won’t get too woozy and trip.

By the time he finally makes it up there, he’s wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his face between your shoulder blades. You soften beneath his hold.

You walk slowly towards his bedroom, and he waddles behind you. You push the door open. “M’kay, Steve. Wanna change clothes and hop into bed?”

He pulls off of you and grabs hold of his dresser. “I’m not givin’ you a free show.”

You snort. “I’ll go get some more water and be right back.”

His grin fades. “Please be fast.” He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to leave him.

“Steve, I’m practically The Flash.”

He laughs, pulling a pair of sweats and a t-shirt out of the drawer. Usually he’d sleep in less, but with you here he feels he should keep his modesty.

When you return, he takes the water from you, drinking it faster than he probably should. Steve feels like he’s had the shit beat out of him, and for once—he hasn’t.

You’d sat down on the edge of the bed, not noticing the way he’s staring at you. You look up when he sets the glass down. He drags both hands down his face.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

He exhales. “I want you to stay here with me, but I don’t want you to get sick. The idea of you being on the couch, which is like, miles away, is driving me insane.”

“Steve?”

“Huh?”

“Can’t I just sleep on the futon?”

His eyes move towards the other side of his room where said piece of furniture is pressed against the wall. He’d bought it when group sleepovers became a thing after all they’d dealt with. Jesus, his brain really isn’t working.

“Oh. Yeah, honey. Just don’t want you to go far.”

You lean forward and push his hair back from his forehead. You’ll need to remember to take his temperature come morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, Steve. I promise. Not until you’re all better.”

————

When Steve wakes up, you’re not there. He starts to panic, thinking maybe he’d been too much, maybe he’d shown you a side of himself he shouldn’t have, that maybe you left.

But you return to his room just as he’s about to start looking for you. There’s a thermometer in your hand.

“Morning, sleepy boy. Are you coherent enough for me to check your temperature? Or no?”

He yanks the covers off of himself, and his shirt has ridden up. You catch a sliver of tummy before he sits up fully, and you miss it the second it’s gone.

“Hit me, I can take it.”

You roll your eyes but stick the thermometer under his tongue when he opens his mouth. When you pull it away, you’re happy to see he hasn’t got a fever. He was warm last night when you kissed his forehead, but you’re thinking it was from stress or just overheating.

“No fever. What’s buggin’ you today, Stevie?”

He flops onto his back, and his shirt rides up again. You mentally slap yourself for being so enamored by it. All your brain can compute is tummy. Steve’s tummy. “My head still, and my stomach. I feel like I haven’t slept in four years.”

His words snap you out of your reverie. “Four years? That’s incredible. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Steve stares at you for a moment, though it looks as if there isn’t a single thought behind his eyes. “Yesterday…morning. I think. Yeah, I had a banana.”

You stare back, rather appalled at his statement. “Steve.”

“Hm?”

“All you’ve had to eat in the past twenty four hours is a banana?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus christ. Get your ass up and come with me.”

Steve doesn’t move. Rather he watches you move, right out the door and towards the top of the stairs. You pause and turn around, crossing your arms.

He huffs. And then he slides down the side of the bed like a child before crawling up and following you to the kitchen.

Over the course of the next few hours, you manage to get Steve to eat, shower, and go for a short walk, weather permitting and all. He’s looking astronomically better than he did last night.

Steve sits opposite you on the couch, his socked feet in your lap. “What do you think my deal is?”

You rub your hand over his calf. “I think you just had a little bug. Or maybe you let yourself get too stressed out and your body couldn’t take it.”

He blinks. “Is that…that's not a thing? Is it?”

“When’s the last time you gave yourself a fuckin’ break, Steve? When you just took a day for yourself rather than worrying about who needs to go where, or if you’ll have to cover a shift? You have to take care of yourself, or this is the kind of shit that happens.”

“Being overwhelmed about your parents, not eating, worrying about that application, all of that is fucking with you. That headache was probably a stress headache. They’re killer. I want you to be healthy and comfortable, Steve.”

You exhale, and close your eyes. When you open them, Steve has sat up, scooting towards you on your end of the couch.

He might still be tired, but he can’t believe this. He can’t believe you. No one has ever worried for him in this way.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask.

He barely even registers your words, too busy memorizing every line on your face. You look so fucking beautiful. It almost makes him angry.

“I’m thinkin’ about how bad I want to kiss you.”

Your face starts to burn. You shove his shoulder. He looks at the place where you’d pushed, quirking a brow, but grinning nonetheless.

“What?”

“Steve, you can’t say shit like that.”

“How come?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“Best friends.”

“Well yeah, but best friends don’t say that to one another.”

His grin widens. He looks more awake than he has this entire time.

“Oh, but you haven’t said it.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Steve gets his voice up that little bit higher, doing a cheap imitation of you. “‘Best friends don’t say that to one another.’ Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but that implies you want a kiss too, doesn’t it?”

You drag your hands down your face and flop back against the arm of the couch.

“So you gonna say it, or what?” He’s shifted, and you can feel him hovering over you, but you refuse to move your hands.

“Of course I’m thinking about kissing you, Steve.” You suck in a breath and open your eyes, locking with his own. “But you’ve got cooties.”

Steve rolls his eyes before he backs up and yanks on your ankle so that you’re flat against the couch.

“You did not just lecture me about self-care just to tell me I have cooties. I didn’t even have a fever.”

“I didn’t even have a fever,” you mock, lowering your voice in what is quite possibly the worst impression of him you could do.

He’s quick about it. Almost stealthy, not that you’d ever boost his ego by telling him so. But his fingers are reaching for your sides, the tips dancing over your shirt, that tiny sliver of hip showing where it’s ridden up.

Steve is practically drunk off of your laugh. It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, and when he goes for your neck, when you tilt your head and trap his fingers between your cheek and shoulder, he thinks he could die.

You and your laugh. The fact that you drove over at one in the fucking morning, without even thinking about it, just because you care. That you stayed the night, listened to his pitiful thoughts, took care of him…it’s too much.

Never in his life did he think he’d find someone like you. Someone who makes him feel like he matters. You’d made him realize how smart he is, how capable. That he could do things for himself and not just to please his dickhead father.

You have made him whole.

He lets up when you start breathing extra heavily, only to tickle the underside of your foot before he quits, just to piss you off. You kick him in the side.

“I think a kiss from my very favorite person might be the best form of self-care there is, honey.”

You sit up. “Wow. King Steve really never died.” He raises his hands like he might tickle you again, but you catch them before he can do any damage. “Okay, sorry!”

Before he can register it, you’ve leaned in and pressed your lips to his. When he does realize, he lets out a surprised hum, and you can feel that smartass smirk forming on his face.

When you pull away, he whines.

“All better?”

Steve falls back against the couch, pulling you with him just to get that laugh out of you again.

“I’m healed.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

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andvys · 3 months

Text

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of loss, allusions to depression, fear of loss, hurt/comfort. reader calls her sister 'twinkie', mentions of abuse, mentions of sex

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As Steve shows up on your doorsteps with an apology, you let him see more of just the you he already knows

Word count: 7.6k+

Author's note: shoutout to my co-writer (shut up, you wrote the dialogues and ideas with me, don't say anything) @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His heart was pounding, his body was shaking, his eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he stared at the same exact spot. The dried blood on his hands was starting to make him feel sick. It was Eddie’s blood. He hadn’t cleaned it off yet, he was still in shock, still in pain after what they had all gone through.

Eddie made it, he was going to be okay, his injuries were bad and he was losing blood, a lot of blood, but he would be okay. And yet, Steve had felt anything but it.

He almost lost a friend, he almost lost Max, he almost lost… you.

He was sitting down beside you, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up and face you. You looked so… dead. Your skin lost its color, and the bandage around your head was new, yet there was a blood stain already. The machines were beeping beside you, it was the only sound in the room.

And then the door opened, only then did he lift his head to look up, expecting it to be your parents or maybe your sister but it was only Nancy. A cup of coffee from the machine outside in her hand, a sad look still resting on her features.

“Hey,” she whispered as she walked towards him, handing him the cup, “here, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a regular coffee.”

They’d been together for over a year and she couldn’t even remember what he liked. Should he even be surprised? No. A small thing like this still managed to hurt him.

“Thanks, Nance,” he mumbled as he tried to give her a smile. He reached for the cup, ignoring the way it felt when his fingers brushed hers, how his heart had fluttered despite her rejection only a few hours back.

She cleared her throat and looked away, sitting down at the end of the bed, she looked at you.

He took a sip of the hot coffee as he leaned back in the chair, he avoided looking at you still, instead he kept his focus on her, the way he always did. There was disbelief, anger and sadness flashing in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I can’t believe that Jason did that to her,” she whispered, “I knew I saw something in his eyes, I just didn’t think that he was this violent.”

Steve nodded.

He too was still in disbelief.

You survived the night in the upside down, you fought off bats, didn’t even bat an eye when one of them got you good, but Jason, you almost didn’t survive him. And Steve felt so much rage as he sat there and thought of the guy that almost murdered you.

“Yeah, me neither.”

There are monsters in different dimensions, in dark worlds, ones that do not know of a different way of living, they exist to kill because it is in their nature. But sometimes there are worse monsters, ones that hide behind kind eyes, ones that are raised into a world that should be more humane but because of them, it never will be. This world will always be just as dark as all the other ones that exist in secret. Jason was one of the monsters that got to you.

This world is a hell just like the ones he and his friends had been dragged into but there’s still kindness left, peace and order. Though, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what this world would have turned into if Vecna had won.

He would have brought endless war and chaos on this planet and people would have followed, they would have turned against each other so quickly. Everything would have crumbled into pieces.

Shivers ran down his spine as he thought of what could’ve happened had they not stopped him. You were a part of it all, you helped in stopping him, had you not been at the Creel house, things could’ve gone sideways so easily.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, clearing his throat. “Thank you… You know, for jumping into the water and saving my ass back there.”

Nancy furrowed her brows, a soft laugh fell from her lips, she looked away from you and turned to face him, shaking her head a little.

“Everyone did.. And, she did first. She jumped first on the boat and she jumped first into the water, then I followed, then Robin and then Eddie.”

His eyes widened, flashed with confusion as he tilted his head at her.

“Huh? Who jumped first?”

Nancy’s blue eyes were filled with confusion, her bangs fell in front of her eyes as she turned back to you, saying your name.

You were the first to jump.

You were the one to go after him first.

You wanted to save him.

How could he throw such horrible words at you after what you had done for him? After risking your life to save him?

He wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the guilt that kept him up all night. He wanted nothing more than to drive over to your place and apologize, even if he would have to drop to his knees, he would.

But Max had told him that it was better to wait, to give you the time that you need, so that’s what he did. But he was going crazy, the guilt and the regret were eating at him, making him feel worse and worse with each passing second.

Going to work that day had been torture as well, he was nervous and restless, he kept bouncing his knee and tapping his pen against the unmarked crossword in front of him. His mind was forcing him to think of you, of the look in your eyes, of the tears and the hurt. He felt so awful, he felt like King Steve again and he is someone he despises, just the way he despises himself, right this second.

Robin told him to leave before he could even finish his shift, knowing that all he wanted was to set things straight, to make things right with you.

And here he is now, standing on your porch with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

He doesn’t know how you will react to seeing him here, but knowing you, he is certain that you will slam the door in his face – he’d deserve it.

He rang the doorbell once before, but you didn’t open it. He wonders if you saw his car in your driveway already. He rings it again, hoping for you to open, hoping for you to give him a chance so he can… try, try to make it up to you.

He tugs at his hair, feeling more and more stressed the longer it takes you to open. As he stands there, staring at the wooden door, he realizes that it’s only the second time that he stands here, on your porch, on the doorsteps of a big house, just as big as the one he lives in, if not bigger. The inside of your home is just as much of a mystery to him as you are.

Steve knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing and he still opened his mouth and threw words at you that you didn’t deserve – even when you pushed him, even when you were being mean to him, you had never sunk so low just to hurt him, not once.

After he got all this anger off his chest, you were no longer the girl he saw before, you were someone else, someone vulnerable, someone heartbroken and that hurt even more to think about.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when you finally open the door. He snaps his head up and his eyes meet yours for the first time that day.

He had seen you in a bad state before, after your fight with Jason Carver, after the surgery that saved your life, you looked bad. Your skin was marked with bruises and scars, you had that traumatized look in your eyes that no one dared to even mention. You barely ate or talked for the first few days, whether it was because of the surgery or the trauma that Carver had left you with, you were in a bad, bad state.

But he had never seen you like this before.

Not even the sadness from last night was this strong as the one in your eyes now. They are glassy, a mix of anger and hurt swirling in them. Your lips are puffy just like your eyes, from all the crying. Your hair is messy, a big hoodie that doesn’t even seem to belong to you hanging loosely on your form.

Another pang of guilt hits him at the sight of you.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you try to slam the door shut again, but he jumps forward, pressing his palm against it, “Blondie, please! I just want to talk!”

He hears your sniffle, like you’re trying not to cry again. You stop pushing against the door but you don’t pull away either, you don’t let him see you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he hears you say.

“I-I just want to apologize, I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it. I messed up.. fuck..” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling desperate to fix this between you two, “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry, Blondie.”

“Y-You’re forgiven, now please leave..”

The weakness in your voice makes him feel like the worst person alive, knowing that he is the cause of your suffering, right now.

How did you feel last night?

“No,” he begs, shaking his head as though you could see him, “please just let me in, I-I want to talk to you, I want to fix it, please let me fix it.”

You are silent on the other side of the door, you don’t move, you don’t speak. You hesitate. And it feels like forever that he stands here with a pounding heart, willing you to open the door and let him see you, talk to you.

Without a word, you open the door and you step aside, crossing your arms over your chest.

He swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he takes in the sight of you, once again.

You stare at him with both impatience and annoyance now, wanting to get this over with quickly, while he wants time – time with you.

He had never felt such desperation before, especially now that he sees you.

“There’s nothing to fix, it’s okay, you told me what you–”

He says your name, and he says it so desperately that it shuts you up.

“I won’t leave until I can properly apologize to you.”

You blink, your upper lip twitches and you take a moment, staring at him for what feels like forever until you nod.

“Fine..”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He takes a deep breath before he steps inside the house he has never been in before, he closes the door behind him and he can’t help but look around, taking in the sight of the big hallway, the wide stairs are on the right side, pictures hang on the wall all the way up to the second floor, there is one that is slightly bigger than the others, and even from afar, he recognizes you – you are no older than twelve in that picture, you wore a wide smile on your face, pigtails that were tied with pink bows at the end, you were wearing a dress and you looked happy in a way he had never seen before. Your big sister was next to you, holding your hand as your parents stood behind you both, the smiles were genuine, even on their faces.

Only as he stares at the picture, does he realize that he has never actually seen your parents before.

“Are your parents home?” He asks without looking at you, still questioning

You hesitate.

“No… I uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, not knowing what else to say or do.

Steve is too busy staring at the picture, trying to remember your parents, wondering why they didn’t come to visit you at the hospital, only your sister came to see you.

When he looks down at you, away from the picture of the girl that once looked so happy, he now sees a broken one, for the first time, he sees past those glares and cold looks.

He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m really sorry about all the awful shit I said to you last night, I was angry a-and I let it out on you and you did not deserve this, you really didn’t deserve any of the words I threw at you.”

You blink, and you press your lips together just like you did before, just like you did last night.

“It’s okay–”

“No, I said things that I had no clue about and I never wanna do that again. I just, I want to understand you.. I want to get to know you because.. fuck, I’m realizing how much I’m hurting you.”

Your eyes soften and you genuinely look surprised at his words, eyeing him as you stay silent.

You don’t blame him, he’s not at fault, not entirely. He knows nothing about you or your life, so how could he know that those words would cause so much damage?

You carry guilt, just like he does.

You both kept throwing knives at each other, hitting one target after the other but you were both blindfolded to the pain you were causing to each other.

You shift, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater you are wearing, you close your eyes for one second, taking a deep breath, before you open them again and look up at Steve.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, surprising him with your words.

He expected you to be more stubborn than this, but you seem willing to let him get to know you, the real you.

“Anything you want to give me really.. so… I just want to stop hurting you without me realizing it… I don’t… I need to stop hurting you, Blondie.”

You look at him, really look at him, and you notice that he looks just as bad as you do. His hair is messy – a very unusual sight for him. He has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept all night and his eyes are filled with guilt.

With a sigh, you tilt your head into the direction of the living room, motioning him to follow. You turn on the lamp on the dresser, making the room appear lighter, it’s gloomy outside and the rain has been falling all morning, it only just stopped.

“Sit,” you mumble, pointing to the couch, “wait here.”

He nods at you and sits down, he watches you leave the room again and listens to your footsteps as you make your way upstairs. He looks around, there are fewer pictures around here, though still enough for him to get curious about your parents again. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers on the small table in front of him – Daisies. A throw blanket lays on the other end of the couch, an open book next to it, were you reading when he got here?

It doesn’t take you long to come back into the room.

Steve’s brows furrow a little when he sees the shoebox in your hand, you place it in front of him and take a deep breath as you look into his eyes, pointing to the box.

“Here’s everything you need to know about me.”

His lips part at your words.

“You can look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know and then we can… move past all of this and go back to the way things were before yesterday.”

He blinks, noticing how your shoulders slumped a little, you don’t want to go back to the way things were, and neither does he. He enjoys the bickering but not when it means that he is hurting you.

You break eye contact, and turn around, “I’m gonna get us something to drink, feel free to look..”

And with that, you leave again and Steve, he stares at the box for a while, feeling like he is about to intrude, despite you telling him to open it, to look inside, he still feels like he is intruding. But his curiosity gets the best of him, he removes the lid carefully and puts it down on the table.

Polaroid Pictures.

So many of them. The box is filled, all the way up to the top with pictures of friends and family. The first one that catches his eye is the one of you and Max. He reaches for it, bringing it closer. You are both smiling into the camera, Max is wearing her red sunglasses and you are wearing your heart shaped ones, an ice cream cone in her hand and a can of diet pepsi in yours – he can’t help but smile as he stares at it, you looked so happy.

The date was written under the picture, with a pink sharpie: May 7th 1985.

He places the picture down, reaching for the next one.

This one doesn’t have you on it, only your sister, with a black cat on her lap – Luna, the cat’s name was Luna, he overheard you talking about her to Max. And your sister, he doesn’t remember her actual name, only the nickname you called her when she came to see you at the hospital; Twinkie. He almost laughed at that, the first time he heard it.

The next one is one of you and your dad at the beach, he recognizes him from the picture in the hallway. Both of you were holding surfboards. Your eyes shone with happiness, a bright grin on your face, your dad’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder. In this picture, you looked even happier than in the one from last year. – This one was taken in the summer of 1981, you were only fourteen.

He flinches a little when you place a soda can in front of him, “here, I found some coke in the fridge, figured you’d prefer that.”

He raises his brows and then looks at the pepsi you’re holding in your hand.

“Oh, thanks,” he mumbles, trying to smile.

You nod at him as you sit down beside him, looking at the picture that he’s holding.

“We spent the summer in California, my parents had a summer house in Monterey.”

“Had?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper as sadness takes over your features, a sadness he hadn’t seen before. It’s not the kind that he had seen last night. It’s one that reminds him of grief, like the one on Max’s face when she mentions Billy.

Oh no.

“My sister sold it last year, I asked her not to but.. for some reason that house gave her more painful memories than this one,” you say as you gesture to the room you sit in, you lean forward, placing your drink on the table as you reach for a picture in the box, “that was.. that was two weeks before they uh.. got into an accident.”

You hand him a picture but he can’t look at it yet, too busy staring at you and at the way you try to hide the tears in your eyes.

Steve’s heart aches in his chest, the guilt eating at him like never before.

“I-I’m so sorry, Blondie,” he whispers as he slowly looks down at the picture, at your parents who both smiled into the camera. That one was also taken in the summer of 1981.

Steve started to feel a little sick as the seconds went by, at each picture that he looked at.

“Twinkie and I took the flight back with our grandparents, we wanted to spend one more week with them in Indianapolis before going back to Hawkins, we didn’t know that this would be the last time we’d ever see them.”

His heart no longer aches at your words, it breaks for you. He didn’t know this, he never knew anything about you. You lost your parents when you were so young, right before your first year in high school.

Now he understands why you had always looked so.. lost.

Why you had been so rude and unapproachable. You pushed people away while you were grieving, you didn’t want anyone to see.

He doesn’t know what to say, no words will give you the comfort that you still clearly need.

“I-I never knew.”

You chuckle as you look at him, still blinking away those tears, “I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not when it just happened.”

“Why not?”

“I’d forever be the girl that lost her parents, and honestly, I’d rather have the whole school hate me than give me pitiful looks.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, shaking his head at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, running his fingers through his messy hair after he puts the picture down, “you’re just so… I don’t know, it’s just.. classic you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not with anger in your voice but with curiosity.

“Well, you’d rather have the whole world hate you than let them see you vulnerable.”

You shake your head at him and his eyes meet yours as he turns back. There is that look in your eyes, the one that reminds him that he doesn’t know anything about you.

“I let some see.”

Right. Some.

He nods and looks away.

He’s surely not one of those that you let see.

When he reaches for the next picture, he freezes, staring at the two little girls with wide eyes. It’s not hard to figure out who the one next to you is. Strawberry blonde hair, the two front teeth way too big for the small face, she was wearing a cheerleader costume – not knowing that she would’ve become cheer captain years later. Chrissy Cunningham.

The girl next to you was Chrissy, you were hugging each other from the side, giggling.

He looks at you, you were wearing a fairy costume, green and pink colors on the dress, and your smile was big. You looked happy.

He shakes his head a little, not understanding what he sees in front of him.

He had never seen you and Chrissy around each other, not even once. In fact, he rarely ever saw you around anyone for that matter. Sometimes he saw you talking to Jonathan, something that gave him more of a reason to dislike you back then, he’d throw the word ‘freaks’ at the two of you whenever he passed by you. The memories of that fill him with guilt and regret, he always wishes that he could turn back time and change things, change the way he acted.

But he never ever saw you even talking to Chrissy.

He slowly turns to face you, holding up the polaroid, “y-you and Chrissy knew each other?”

You only glance at the picture before you look down, “yeah, we were childhood best friends, we grew apart but… we still kept in touch. She’d stay over sometimes.” you explain, not meeting his eyes.

You lost your parents. You lost a friend.

His words from last night echo in his mind and the guilt crashes over him, harder than before.

No words appear before him, what can he say that will make you feel better in the slightest? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.

That’s what Max had told him. Now he understands. Even more so, when a different picture catches his eye, one that shocks him even more than the previous one.

Only this time, he doesn’t just freeze, he feels a shiver running down his spine and his chest feels weird, all of a sudden. Because the guy in the picture isn’t someone he ever expected you around with.

He takes it, between his thumb and his forefinger, bringing it closer with a shaky hand. He blinks, like he can’t believe what he is seeing, but it’s real, it’s so very real. No amount of blinking will transform the guy into someone else. It’s unmistakably Billy Hargrove in your collection of polaroids, a collection that reminds you of the people you loved. The box of memories that is frozen in time.

Billy is sitting on the hood of his car, a cigarette held between his fingers as he snickered at the camera. It was taken back in 1984.

You were friends with Billy Hargrove?

He can’t even utter a single word, just reaching for the next picture which is just another one of him.

Billy was lying on the grass, probably in your backyard, his eyes were barely open but he was smiling into the camera, with a thumbs up in the air. It’s clear that he was drunk when you took that picture.

He feels your eyes on him, he notices you shifting on the couch as you lean back, still looking at him. He doesn’t turn to face you, not yet. Too curious to find more pictures of Billy, he doesn’t expect the next ones to be more intimate than the ones before.

He stares at the one of you first, it looks as though you have cried, but you are smiling, and the only thing that covered your body was a blanket, while pushing the camera out of your face.

And for a moment, Steve can’t help but think how beautiful you look in this picture with your hair all messy, your exposed skin looking so soft and glowy beneath dim lights, and a smile so content.

But the picture of Billy makes him frown. He was sitting on your bed, shirtless and with a cigarette between his lips, his eyes were red but he was smiling just like you were.

It’s obvious what happened before these pictures were taken and he can’t shake the weird feeling in his gut, the longer he looks at them.

Were you and Billy dating?

Is that why you have been so miserable since last summer? Because he was just another name on the list of people you have lost?

As though you can read his mind, you lean closer to him, reaching for the first picture you ever took of him, the one where he sits on the hood of his car.

“I ran into Billy at Big Buy’s, well, behind the building. He was smoking a cigarette and he was crying. I hadn’t seen him before, it was the weekend before school started again. I approached him and he obviously tried to scare me off, but… fucker didn’t know who he was talking to,” you chuckle. “He was being rude, like really rude, calling me names and trying to get me to leave, I stepped on his foot and he yelped, literally yelped. I left after that but uh, after that, we just started pestering each other at school and then one day, he showed up here, with a bleeding nose and a busted lip, he didn’t know where else to go.”

Steve watches you, the way your eyes are filled with sadness as you look at the pictures in front of you.

“It took him a while but eventually, he opened up to me, about his dad and everything.”

He knows about Billy’s dad, about the abuse, the emotional and physical abuse. Max told him all about it.

“So uh, then that happened,” you murmur, awkwardly, not meeting his eyes as you point to the pictures of the two of you only covered by the sheets.

“Were you two dating?” He asks, and somehow he feels a knot in his stomach at that question.

You scrunch your face up at his words, almost in a way that makes him laugh. You shake your head at him.

“Fuck no. We weren’t even attracted to each other. I just, at that point we were close and I trusted him so uh.. I just wanted to do it with someone that I felt comfortable with and uh, the beer helped too, I guess,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

Steve turns away from you, biting the insides of his cheeks, the knot slowly undoing itself in his belly.

“We never mentioned it again after this, it wasn’t awkward or anything, we were just.. best friends.”

There is no bitterness in your voice, he notices. You had no feelings for Billy and that for some reason, and that for some reason makes his shoulders relax.

He looks back at you when he feels your eyes on him, your smile has fallen.

“He came to my house… you know.. after he beat you up and he was drugged by Max.”

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips.

“What?”

“I told him that it was wrong, what he did, that you did the right thing, that I told him time and time to lay off Max. Damn, I even slapped him across his head when he broke her skateboard.”

His eyes soften, and his lip twitches.

“I-I was doing the right thing?”

“You protected Lucas. When I found out how he was treating him I got so mad at him, we got into a fight and I didn’t talk to him for days. I just hated what he did to him and to Max,” you mumble, breaking eye contact when the look in his eyes gets a little too intense for you. You also didn’t like what Billy did to Steve, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Billy he was.. driven by his father’s words and actions. The abuse turned him into that. He was vulnerable with me, but– the anger was still inside of him… bright red.”

As Steve looks back at the pictures, he realizes that he had never seen Billy like this, happy, smiling. He almost looks like a different person. Regret floods through him, he can’t help but wish that he would’ve gotten to know this side of Billy, the one that you knew, maybe things would’ve gone differently if he did, maybe Max wouldn’t have lost her brother.

“I never saw Hargrove like this.”

“No one did,” you shrug, “only me, sometimes Max. I-I tried to change him and his dumb views but Billy was just.. stubborn and angry.” You shake your head, blinking away the tears that welled up in your eyes, you close them and tilt your head down. “A-And then he pushed me away when he.. when he was possessed.”

Steve notices the way your voice got so much more shaky than before, how you seem to be on the verge of tears.

“Max,” he whispers, now understanding why or who the reason was for your friendship.

“Yeah… Max. We received letters, well, notes from Billy,” you mumble.

He watches how you bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the tears with the sleeves before you reach for something in the box, a folded piece of paper that you hand to him.

“He told me to stay away in mine, all messy, but he said that he didn’t hate me, that he could never..”

Steve doesn’t open the note, your words are enough, he doesn’t want to intrude more than he already did, he understands this enough. Billy pushed you away to keep you safe, and he did it with cruel words to keep you away, because he knew that that would work with you.

Steve is at a loss for words.

“And Max, he called her his sister in hers. She didn’t read the note until a few weeks later though.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and it all clicks in his head.

Why Max had been suffering as much as she did in those months after Billy’s death, why she seemed more depressed than ever when the summer was over.

“Is that why you are so close with her? … For Billy?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding. “She’s like a sister to me, I’d do anything for her.”

And you did. You did and you almost gave your life protecting her.

“And I almost lost her too.”

Just like everyone else you loved and cared about.

Steve’s words did more damage than he thought they did, and they echo in his mind, over and over again.

Don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did.

The nausea that fills him almost overwhelms him, it almost knocks the breath out of him. He swallows harshly, and he starts to put the polaroids back into the box, blinking as he looks at each and every one of them again.

His eyes linger on the one of you smiling, the one from the year before. When you found your happiness again when a new friend had stepped into your life.

Steve couldn’t stand Billy Hargrove, he really couldn’t stand him, but his death was cruel and even he didn’t deserve what happened to him and you didn’t deserve to lose another person you cared about.

You lost. You lost people, you lost family, you lost friends and you lost your spark, your happiness. And now he understands why you are the way that you are. Why you keep pushing everyone away, you’re scared to lose again, scared to get too close to someone only to watch them being taken away from you.

As he stares at your smile, he can’t help but frown at the picture in his hand because he will never get to see this. He will never see you like this with him and in this moment, he can’t help but envy those who will.

“You are right.” His voice sounds small, filled with regret, filled with sadness and hurt.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know what loss is. I– shit. I don’t know if I could have handled it like you did.”

You feel your eyes burning at his words and before you can even try to blink your tears away, one falls from your eye.

Steve’s eyes soften when he hears your sniffle, he watches the tear roll down your cheek. He moves without thinking, raising his hand up to your face, he catches the tear with his thumb.

You freeze and your lips part in surprise, his touch giving you butterflies despite what happened yesterday.

His touch feels so foreign on your skin, yet comforting and warm, like something that you have been craving and longing for since always. You slowly turn to face him and only then, does he realize what he did.

His cheeks flush red and his eyes fill with embarrassment, he clears his throat and pulls his hand away from your face, not knowing that this makes you feel empty again.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, apologizing to him, for the first time. “Knowing that they’re alive yet still deciding to leave you behind.. that’s not easy either.”

He appreciates your words and his lip twitches, he shrugs, trying to play it off – The pain he always endured by himself and never voiced out, and he won’t start doing it now. It’s done with.

“I have the kids and Robin.”

“Right,” you whisper as you push yourself up, unable to sit here with him any longer, you reach for the box, ignoring the confused look that he gives you, “they take care of you.”

He noticed the sarcastic tone at that last phrase, but he nodded either way.

“Okay uh, time to go, Lego head. I need a shower.”

This time, he can’t help but smile at the nickname.

“Okay, Blondie.”

You lead him back out into the hallway, avoiding the hazel eyes that fill your heart with nothing but sadness and longing.

You feel your heart pounding, your eyes still burning as you feel yourself nearing the edge of yet another breakdown this day.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, taking a hold of your arm he pulls you back so he can see your face again.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes show him so much and now he can’t help but wonder if these emotions have always been there and he was just too blind to see them or if you only showed them now.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” he whispers.

Your lips twitch, though not into a smile.

“Me too, Steve.”

He keeps holding your arm, ignoring the wish to hold you instead.

“Are we.. good?”

His question makes you laugh and you squint your eyes.

“When have we ever been good?”

He rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but smile. He brings his left hand up, running his fingers through his messy hair.

There is that look in his eyes, the one that shows you that he is thinking about something, deeply.

“Do I still call you Blondie…?” He asks as he realizes that he had always called you by a name that must have taken you back to a time where you had felt the saddest, the loneliest. You were fifteen when you had bleached your hair and tried out new styles, all the time. He never knew that it was something that you needed to do, to distract yourself from the grief. You had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to be with. You only had that – box dye, makeup and new clothes every week.

Oh.

You swallow the lump in your throat, digging your nails into your palm. He knows.

“I would be mad if you didn’t. It’s weird when you say my name, Harrington.”

He chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“Yeah yeah, Blondie, keep acting like you don’t like it.”

You smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see it.”

“I guess we’re still Lego head and Blondie then, huh?” He asks, snorting.

“Always.”

He licks his lips, nodding.

“Always,” he chuckles as he lets go of you and walks towards the door, he opens it, but he doesn’t step out, right away. He looks back at you, one more time, “you know, I didn’t mean a single thing that I said to you, last night. And I’ll do anything for you to believe me. B-But, I think that you’re amazing and the people that had the chance to get to know you… the real you were really fucking lucky.”

He leaves you with those words, closes the door and walks away from you.

And you stare at the front door for what feels like forever before you finally break into tears. You were pushing away your pain and your sadness but the fight from last night, his presence and his words have made it all so much worse again.

You bury your face in your hands as you sit down on the stairs, letting tears fall that you haven’t felt in ages but instead of relief, you feel frustration running through you. You didn’t miss this, you didn’t miss this for a single second.

There is a knock on the front door and it fills you with annoyance when you expect it to be Steve again.

Wiping your tears with anger, you rip open the door, expecting to see him again but instead it’s Max on your doorstep. Max and Eddie.

You blink, looking between them, back and forth.

Max’s blue eyes fill with worry as she looks into your glassy eyes.

Eddie smiles at you, despite matching the look in her eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t let me come in yesterday so I assumed that if I brought Red here you would let us in,” he says, still smiling cheekily. “We brought movies and got your favorite snacks,” he points to Max’s backpack.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the kind smile on his face, of the guy that has been trying desperately to be your friend, makes you want to continue crying. You don’t know how, but you keep your tears at bay.

You know that they can see that you were crying, but it brings you comfort to know that neither of them will push you to talk about anything.

“Hey guys,” you try to put on your best smile as you greet them, you step aside without another word.

Eddie’s smile widens, he bumps his shoulder into Max.

“Hey,” she smiles, still eying you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, placing your hand on her shoulder, “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t push you to talk, she doesn’t ask any more questions either. She just walks straight into the living room.

“She feels at home, huh?” Eddie chuckles.

“It’s basically her second home so yeah,” you laugh.

His brown eyes take you in, his lips twitch but his smile doesn’t fall. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t speak up.

You both follow Max into the living room, expecting her to be unpacking the snacks but instead she stands there frozen in place as she stares at the box of polaroids.

Your eyes widen and in panic, you rush over to the coffee table, wanting to close the box.

“S-Shit, I’m sorry–”

“No!” She grabs your hand before you reach for the lid. “I-It’s okay, I’m okay. A-Are you though?” She asks as she looks away from the pictures of Billy.

Eddie looks between you two, furrowing his brows as he takes a step closer. He looks into the box and his eyes widen instantly.

“Holy shit, is that–”

“Eddie don’t,” Max warns him.

You shake your head, “no.. no, it’s okay, Max.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at Max or you, he is staring at the picture of her brother, in shock.

“I-I promise, it’s okay,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel your heart starting to pound again, “I just.. I need some fresh air, I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room, rushing out of the house. You sit down on the porch steps, taking a deep breath. The earthy smell that lingers after the rain comforts you a little.

You knew you wouldn’t get more than a minute to yourself, because only moments later, the door opens. You know that it’s Eddie, you hear the flick of his lighter, and seconds later, the smell of smoke fills the air, mixing with the smell of the after rain.

You hear his footsteps and then he sits down next to you. Without a word, he offers you the cigarette. You take it, placing it between your lips, you take a drag and blow out the smoke.

Eddie doesn’t talk, he just wants you to know that he is here because he wants to be, he wants to be your friend but you don’t want to lose him too.

“I lost a lot of people I cared about, Eddie.. Every single one of them, my parents, Chrissy, Billy.. I almost lost Max and you too,” You trail off, taking another drag before you hand him back the cigarette. “And I can’t lose any more people, Eds.”

He stares at you with his big sad eyes that you can’t bring yourself to look into for longer than two seconds.

“I feel like I’m fucking cursed or something. Everything that I touch immediately rots. That’s why I just.. I keep pushing you away because I already lost a best friend.. so just please.”

He sees the way you’re blinking, the way your hands are shaking just like your voice is. He knows what you’re asking of him and he only shakes his head in response, moving closer to you as he feels his own eyes burning.

You’re his friend, a friend that he doesn’t want to lose either.

“Nah.. It will take a whole swarm of demobats to rip me away from you. And even then, hey, I will still survive, already did once,” he tries to crack a joke but only makes you tear up even more.

You finally turn to face him, looking into the kind eyes of your friend before your eyes move down to his neck, to the bandaid that covers his scar.

“But–”

“No buts. You are not cursed. You are not responsible for anything that happened to those people. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to love, Darling. Let yourself do it,” he says, smiling as he throws his cigarette on the pavement before he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer, “and stop pushing me away, please.”

Your bottom lip trembles and the tears flow like a waterfall, you stop fighting it, you stop fighting him and you let him pull you into his arms, closing your eyes as you lay your head on his chest, letting yourself fall into the hug that you so desperately need.

“Let it out, sweets.”

The soothing tone in his voice makes you cry even harder, your tears seep through his shirt but he doesn’t mind, he rubs your back and holds you. Your heart is crying, your brain is banging, your breaths are cut short thanks to your sobs, but it’s something you needed. And even through all of that, you are feeling so relieved, so light at each sob that rips out of your throat.

And when you feel Max’s hand in yours, her head on your shoulder as Eddie still holds you, you know that everything will be okay, that you will be okay. You might not need anything else for now… these two people right here are making you feel fuller than you ever felt in the past year.

You won’t lose them.

You won’t have to live without them.

They will be more than just a short time.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals:

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @sherrylyn628 @livosssblog

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

Text

(Continued from this snippet! Content notes: police interrogation, homophobia)

“You don’t look gay.” The detective gives Steve a very obvious once-over. Steve tries to look gayer as subtly as he can.

“Sorry,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to let my boyfriend know you don’t think I look gay enough to fuck him.”

The detective’s face twists slightly, like he’s smelled something bad. “No need to be like that. I’m just saying, I bet a good-looking guy like you could get a girlfriend pretty easy.”

“You’re not my type,” says Steve. He smiles with his teeth, even though his heart is going fast and he can feel his palms starting to sweat.

The detective’s hands tense, and Steve wonders if he’s about to get hit, but they relax again and the detective sits back.

“Just doing my job,” says the detective. “Because, funny enough, we asked around with all your little friends, and it seems like you used to be a bit of a ladies’ man.”

“Things change,” says Steve.

“In fact…seems like none of your friends ever even saw you talk to Munson before. Moved in different circles and everything. I remember what high school was like.”

The detective leans close.

“So why would the captain of the swim team, a nice normal boy from a good family with a string of pretty girlfriends, ever—ever—stick his neck out like this for some murdering scum like Munson? That’s what I’m trying to figure out, here.”

“Don’t fucking talk about him like that,” says Steve. His mouth is dry. His pulse is thundering in his ears. “He didn’t kill anyone. He was with me the whole time. He’s—he didn’t kill anyone.”

“Hm,” says the detective.

It takes a while for them to stop interrogating him. They keep asking him the same questions over and over, trying to trip him up. He asks for water and doesn’t get it. In the back of his mind, a hysterical little voice is shrieking Scoops Ahoy! I work for Scoops Ahoy!, but he manages to keep it locked down. Doesn’t let himself get baited, just keeps repeating that Eddie was with him the whole time and neither of them know anything.

It takes a while, but it’s over eventually.

When he leaves the station, Eddie’s standing outside with Hopper and Joyce Byers, wearing a shirt and jeans that definitely belonged to Jonathan at some point. Eddie’s got his hands tucked into his armpits, looking antsy and tense, but he’s free and standing on his own two feet. It’s a pretty big upgrade from when Steve last saw him about a week or two ago.

It’s almost too easy to go straight over to him, wrapping him up in a tight hug like they’ve had their arms around each other a million times.

“Oof. Easy there, tiger,” laughs Eddie. “I’m, uh, still a little fragile.”

“Sorry,” says Steve, and loosens his hold. He doesn’t let go all the way.

“Come on, boys,” says Joyce. “I’m taking you two home. Steve, Eddie’s been staying with us, but we’re a little short on spare beds and it’s not great for his recovery. We’re moving him to your place until we can figure out something better, okay?”

———

Joyce drops them off and helps carry in a few garbage bags full of Eddie’s stuff. There’s not that much.

And then the door closes behind her, and Steve’s alone with Eddie for the first time since—actually, maybe ever.

“So,” says Eddie. “What…the fuck, Harrington.”

“Is that an actual question?” Steve says. He rolls his shoulders, trying to get some of the stiffness out. “I mean, didn’t Hopper and Mrs. Byers explain everything to you?”

“Kind of? I mean, I still think this is probably the worst idea of all time, but they told me—anyway, what I meant just now was a much more personalized and individual what the fuck. As in, why the fuck would you agree to any of this? You know you’re never gonna get another girl in this town to look at you now.”

“Dumping me already? Ice cold, man.”

Eddie groans and actually throws his hands in the air in frustration. Steve hadn’t known people did that in real life.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie wheels around and grabs two of the garbage bags. “I can’t do this right now, I need to take a fucking nap. We will be discussing this later.”

“Still don’t know what there is to discuss,” says Steve, but he picks up the last garbage bag and leads the way to the spare room.

Eddie pitches forwards onto the bed, arms outstretched and face mashed into the pillow. “Fuck yes, I am going to marry this goddamn mattress. Hit the lights when you leave,” he says, slightly muffled.

For a second, Steve finds himself stepping forward with a hand outstretched to—do something. He’s not sure what. Touch Eddie’s hair, or something dumb like that. His face warms. He’s really glad Eddie isn’t looking at him and doesn’t see how he’s kind of just standing there with a hand out for no reason.

He turns around, flicking the light switch on his way out, and doesn’t look back.

#steddie #the document title for this is literally “2 cakes”#bc again...there is already a fic with this premise. by bonitabreezy. as I have already said: please go read that instead!#this is like the writing equivalent of a figure study #don't know where it's going or if it's going anywhere. I truly am just vibing with increasingly dubious historical accuracy.

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

Text

Adopt a Jock Part One / Part Two / Part Three PART FOUR YOU ARE HERE Part five

As always I own my entire soul to @chalkysgarbagefire

Steve didn't show up to lunch that Monday.

This was a problem, because Gareth and Eddie had carefully prepared the entirety of Hellfire to help make Steve play a D&D one-shot.

(Well, mostly Eddie--and he'd left out the parts about how the entire goal was to acclimate Harrington to hugs and high fives.

Gareth assumed that was a more careful conversation they'd all have later, outside of school grounds.)

"Eds, if you jiggle your legs any harder the table is going to take flight." Gareth complained, scooting away before he got jabbed in the gut.

"Where is he!?" Eddie muttered, glancing at his watch for what had to be the twenty-fifth time. “Are we sure he showed up to class this morning?"

Stewart, the only person to share a class with Harrington, gave their leader an exasperated look. "Yes, I’m sure."

He flicked his spoon, pointing it towards Eddie. "And yes he looked fine, yes, everything seemed normal, no I don't know why he's not here and no, no one fucking abducted him, or threatened him, or any of the other crazy excuses you keep coming up with!”

Eddie’s frown deepened as Gareth and Grant traded concerned glances.

"Maybe he just didn't want to sit with us today." Jeff remarked, approaching the topic with the same care a technician had when approaching a live bomb.

Gareth thought it was a smart move, considering Eddie looked like he was about to rocket into the ceiling.

"He's sat with us everyday, why would he change now?" Eddie argued.

"Maybe there's a basketball thing happening. Or he's saying hi to his jock buddies." Gareth tried, using the same cautious tone Jeff had.

"We’re his friends!" Eddie snapped, looking two seconds away from losing his shit entirely.

Almost unconsciously, Gareth and Jeff both raised a hand almost to try and help calm him.

Like he was a wild horse and they were the preteen girls in the movies determined to establish a bond before he killed their grandpa or some shit.

This was what happened when one deviated from a predetermined Munson-made plan. Not that Steve had known that of course, but then, he wasn’t exactly catching the fallout, was he?

‘I am making Harrington buy lunch after this.’ Gareth thought, as Eddie returned to bouncing both his legs almost frantically. ‘From someplace expensive.’

"Maybe Hargrove ate him." Grant suggested, as if the very thought of Billy Hargrove wouldn’t set Eddie off on a rampage.

"I could see it." Stewart agreed. "Dude has cannibal vibes."

"Not. Helping." Jeff hissed, his palm still in the air and hovering vaguely over Eddie’s shoulder.

Sure enough, Eddie’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of Hawkin High’s new King. "That’s it. We’re going to find him.”

“Have fun.” Tiff said, waving him off.

Eddie glared. “We’re all going.” He practically spat.

With a put upon sigh, Tiff set her food down. "You really want to spend the rest of our lunch period stalking around the hallways looking for Harrington?"

Eddie gripped the edge of the table so hard his knuckles went white.

"Yes Tiff, I do." He said, a manic gleam in his eyes.

He shoved up from the table, striking the kind of pose he often used during his rants. “This is a break in a pattern of behavior. A veer from an established path! This is the very first sign in every horror movie that something is wrong!”

He went to put his foot up on the edge of the table, like a pirate captain looking to the seas ahead, but instead missed it entirely and fell forward.

Eddie flailed for a moment, before managing to catch himself on the edge of the table. Instantly he began acting like he’d intended to fall like that from the start.

“I refuse to let any of us behave like idiotic, stupid, horror movie characters.” He finished dramatically, hair hanging in his face.

“You’ve been watching that Sherlock Holmes show again, haven’t you?.” Jeff asked him flatly.

“Among other things.” Gareth muttered, because as usual, he was the one who’d been watching said shows and movies with Eddie.

Not that it bothered him any, just that it meant he got to watch his best friend adopt new behaviors in real time.

Eddie flew back up, flinging his hair out of his face with a dramatic toss of his head.

“Come on my Watson’s! Let’s go find Harrington. I have a one-shot to pitch dammit!” Eddie outright yelled, flinging his arm skyward once again.

He got several startled glances in the cafeteria for it, but as used to Eddie as they all were, no one bothered to say anything to him.

“Why the fuck would we all be Watson?” Stewart muttered as he stood.

“I agree. Obviously, I’d be Watson.” Gareth said, also getting to his feet. “You’d be Mrs. Hudson.”

“Oh fuck you, I would at least be the other crazy smart dude.”

“Mycroft or Moriarty?”

“Mycroft.” Grant and Jeff chanted as one, the both of them putting their food away.

“Not one of you is any Sherlock Holmes character. Except maybe the dog.” Tiff cut in with an eye roll as she finally gave in and stood herself. "Now come on, let's go take Eddie for a walk."

Said metalhead flipped her the bird, but otherwise didn't protest.

(Probably because this wasn't the first time they'd had to do laps with Eddie.)

xXx

"Maybe he just went home." Gareth said reasonably some fifteen or so minutes later.

They'd made their way through the school, Eddie obnoxiously bursting through all the bathroom doors to loudly (and embarrassingly) yell for Steve.

They hadn't seen hide nor perfectly shaped hair of their wayward jock, and none of them were looking forward to trapezing around the outside of the school to hunt for him.

Thankfully, they didn't have to.

"Wait.” Tiffany asked, as they passed by the small little hallway leading to the art and photography rooms. “Is that Steve?"

Immediately all heads turned towards the direction she had pointed in.

"I think so?" Jeff guessed, eyeing the guy standing in the hallway down from them.

Gareth squinted, trying to get a better look. "Looks like." He agreed. "Also looks like Tiff was right, he is hanging out with other people."

Eddie tensed at that. A true feat, Gareth thought, because he was already wound so tight he looked in danger of snapping in half.

"Fucking useless." Tiff muttered.

Louder, she said; "Let's try that again. Isn't that our idiot jock with his ex-girlfriend and the guy she supposedly cheated on him with?"

The lot of them watched as Steve stood in one of his classic defensive positions (arms tucked into his sides, back rigid and chin down, like he was about to perform some kind of football tackle.)

Nancy Wheeler faced him, her own chin raised and her arms crossed like she was about to give the lecture of a lifetime.

In between them stood Jonathan Byers, though he was angled more towards his girlfriend than Steve. The guy practically radiated discomfort but seemed to be managing.

Even if his shoulders were practically above his ears.

It didn't exactly look like a two on one situation, but then it didn't not look like it either.

"Shit." Gareth said, which summed up the situation rather nicely.

"Should we go save him?" Grant asked, concerned.

Not one person moved.

Instead, all eyes went to their fearless leader--who was uncharacteristically silent.

Gareth took in the narrowed, frantic-turned-furious look upon his friend's face and wondered vaguely if he was going to have to stop a murder today.

Possibly two, depending on Byer’s involvement.

"Defensive position boys!" Tiffany called out, breaking the spell with sheer volume as she made the decision for them. "Eddie, you with us or not?"

Brave words for her, considering Gareth knew damn well that Tiff was often more bark than bite.

Thankfully, it worked.

"Right!" Eddie barked, jerking in place as he came back to himself. "Our Stevie needs us, men and Tiff!"

He pointed forwards, like a war general leading a charge. "Hellfire, move out!"

Fanning out into a triangle behind their club president, the lot of them followed as Eddie marched forward.

"You know I didn't mean it like that." Nancy was saying, and even though Gareth didn't know her he could tell she was frustrated.

"You have people you can talk to. You have m--" she cut herself off when Eddie strode up next to Steve.

Then blinked rapidly, reminding Gareth of a startled cocker spaniel when the rest of Hellfire fanned out around Harrington like wolves guarding their young.

(Or brightly colored and very angry ducks, but wolves sounded cooler.

Plus the last time he'd said something like this aloud; Grant had loudly informed him it was actually Muskox that made protective circles, Stewart brought up that triceratops were cooler, Jeff decided they should be bees and Tiffany had gone off on a tangent about badly done animal behavioral studies.)

"I daresay I agree!" Eddie said, taking a dramatic leap forward and startling Steve and Byers both.

That alone was a cause to worry--Gareth couldn't recall a single time Steve wasn't hyper-aware of his surroundings enough to get properly lost in it.

At least lost enough that he missed an entire group of people approaching.

"Steve is more than welcome to talk to people! His people." Eddie leaned forward a touch, the smirk on his face the one he used when he was playing up his role as the town's satanist cult leader.

To her credit, Nancy recovered remarkably fast. "I take it you believe that's you?"

Eddie reared back, like a cobra rising to strike. "Why Nancy Wheeler, Stevie here is an adult and can choose who he wants to talk to.”

He turned, one hand over his heart and the other held out to Steve. " Ain’t that right, big boy?”

Nancy and Byers both just stared.

Gareth couldn’t blame them, he was staring too.

Apparently deciding Eddie was too ridiculous to deal with, Nancy returned instead to talking to Steve--who, Gareth noted with more than his fair share of pride, looked a bit more grounded now that Hellfire had arrived.

“I understand that we’re in a weird place right now, but you have to know I still care about you, right?” Nancy bit her lip, clearly unhappy to have an audience but plowing ahead anyway.

"I'm fine, Nance.” Steve told her, voice steady, but growing flat.

He was shutting down--shutting her out, if not everyone out. Gareth knew, if only because he’d watched Harrington do it to them more than once.

(Knew because he himself had shut downs just like this. Eddie and Nancy were the kind of people who got loud in their anger, demanding people see and face them.

Gareth on the other hand, even with his more explosive temper, often ended up more like Steve when faced with breakdowns with people he cared about. He didn’t want to hurt them. To say the wrong thing, to lash out when someone was just trying to help.

It was safer to shut up, back away and put some distance between yourself and whoever had pissed you off.)

Either Nancy wasn’t aware of that or was too deep into her own emotions to see it, because she took a half step forward. “I know you’re not fine. I know you, Steve.”

“Not anymore you don’t.” Steve responded, and Gareth wondered if he realized he was leaning away from her--and towards Eddie.

Considering the way Wheeler’s eyes bounced between them, he knew she definitely had.

Quite possible Byers too, from how he had to stop himself from pulling Nancy away.

“I’ve been working hard to become someone else.” Steve added. “So you don’t have to feel responsible for me. I’m not your problem anymore.” He spoke without malice, just with the pure emptiness of someone who completely believed everything he said.

“Steve-” Nancy protested, but Eddie cut her off.

"You heard him." He said, peacocking his little social win in a way only Eddie could. "Now if you don't mind, I have extremely important things to discuss and you have cut drastically into my time."

He flicked his fingers in a shoo gesture, one that made Nancy's eyes spark in a way that quite frankly, terrified Gareth.

"Fine." She grit out through clenched teeth. "You know I’m always available to talk, Steve."

She strode off, passing Steve and the rest of Hellfire without a glance backwards.

"Sorry man." Jonathan muttered apologetically to Steve as he passed, following after his girlfriend.

Steve waved him off.

"Well she's just a delight." Jeff muttered, once Nancy was well out of hearing range.

Steve's entire chest heaved in a sigh, swaying slightly backwards as if the entire confrontation had physically drained him.

"She's trying to help.” Steve muttered softly, scrubbing a hand down his face. “She's just...coming at it wrong."

He turned, seeming to finally notice that all of Hellfire was there. "What are you all doing out here anyway?"

"Rescuing you." Grant informed him.

"From Nancy and Jonathan?" Steve said in disbelief.

Like Byers hadn't supposedly kicked his ass already. Nevermind the moping Wheeler had caused.

(The entire school had witnessed the moping.

It was, after all, part of what had drawn Eddie to Steve.)

"Yes." Tiff replied bluntly. “Also if she corners you like that again, I will make it my personal mission in life to top all her test scores.”

"I--okay." Steve blinked rapidly, clearly unsure of how to process that.

“Not that I needed rescuing,” He continued after a moment, staring at the whole group. “But why were you looking for me in the first place?”

His voice was slowly recovering, coming out of that weird flatness it had scrunched itself into. It was an excellent sign, a sign of trust, and Gareth leapt to keep it before someone could say something stupid and fuck it up.

"Eddie needed you to pitch his next one shot idea and couldn't wait for you to show up." Gareth admitted. “We decided to hunt you down since you were missing lunch.”

“Oh.” Steve blinked again, and though it’d be concerning on anyone else, the guy just looked like a lost puppy. “I’m sorry man.”

“It's alright Stevie. I just thought you'd totally ditched us.” Eddie sniffed dramatically, looking like he was going to wing an arm around Steve’s shoulder but thought better of it. “No biggie.”

He pouted, and made absolutely sure Steve could see him do it.

“Is this you trying to get more of my M&M brownies?” Steve asked after a moment.

“Oh my dear, sweet, athletic friend. Not at all. Instead, you are going to play the one shot I worked so hard on.” Eddie bounced his shoulder into him as he spoke.

It was a weird little compromise the two of them seemed to have, since Gareth had regularly witnessed Eddie ping-ponging off Steve’s shoulders. “Let us break your tabletop cherry.”

“Or what?” Steve asked, the tiniest bit of humor peaking through.

Eddie stared at him, abruptly still and completely serious. “I will cry, Steven. Loudly.”

It brought a small smile to Steve’s face.

“Fine. I’ll play your dumb dweeb game.” He said, and couldn’t seem to stop the smile from overtaking his face when Eddie threw his arms in the air and cheered.

“Come on, I’m pretty sure the bell rang forever ago.” Jeff said, as they began to venture out back to the main hallway.

(“Hey guys?” Steve asked, right before they all split up to go to their various classes. “Thanks. For the save.”

Eddie positively beamed. “Anytime, Steve. Anytime.”)

xXx

“Hey Gareth?” Steve asked a few days later, joining Gareth in the library during his free period.

(Gareth himself was skipping, because if he had to listen to yet another lesson on the Crucible he was going to declare himself a satan worshiping witch and demand to be hanged.)

Gareth hummed to show he heard, as he carefully took stock of the loot he’d gotten from their last game. Eddie had been pretty good about it for once, and he wanted to look things over before the one shot.

“Can I ask kind of a weird question?” Steve rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Shoot, Stevie.” Gareth replied, finally comfortable enough to use the main nickname Eddie had nailed the poor guy with.

“Did Eddie give me a character with bad eyesight or “night vision” or whatever, because he thinks I have bad eyesight?” Steve’s fingers made sassy little air quotations around “night vision” because he knew damn well it wasn’t called that and didn’t want to get chewed out.

It was appreciated, even if it was cheeky as shit.

Gareth stopped writing. “Why’d you think that?”

“He just keeps acting like I’m my character.” Steve replied with a shrug. “Like all that stuff we planned about how my character gets around and relies on the group since he can’t see that great in the daylight? He does it for me too.”

“It’s Eddie, he’s eccentric.” Gareth struggled to keep a straight face, trying not to give the game away.

Laughing would absolutely clue Steve in to the fact that Eddie was doing it on purpose.

“He just keeps telling me before he touches me. Outside of the game.” Steve continued, utterly baffled.

Of course, Eddie was doing far more than that, in order to keep up the appearance that he was just being a weirdo who was too into his game. (Instead of trying to alert Steve to the fact he was going to lean on him, hug him, or do any other thing involving skin to skin contact that usually made Harrington panic.)

“If you don’t like it you should tell him,” Gareth said. He knew it was the better option, encouraging Steve to communicate. They could come up with something else if this was too weird (as frankly, many of Eddie’s plans could be.

Bless the guy but he had a habit of going for the dramatic over the practical.)

“No!” Steve protested, far too quickly.

He cleared his throat with a cough, and continued in a much calmer voice, “No, I don’t wanna ruin his fun or anything.”

As far as excuses go for letting something happen it was a weak one, but Gareth wasn’t going to call him on it. If Steve wanted to hide behind Eddie and his “fun” then Gareth would happily pretend to buy it.

Would buy whatever excuse Steve needed, to help make the guy feel more comfortable and like himself than the still often vacant ghost that hung around now.

“Just wanted to know if he actually thought my eyesight sucked.” Steve finished in a mumble.

“Well you did trip over the curb that one time.” Gareth teased playfully, and shot a grin at Harrington when that awkward look of his melted into something more offended.

“I was walking backwards!” Steve defended, his normal, almost bitchy tone returning.

“Uh-huh. And what about when you almost ate shit over that garbage can and Eddie had to save you?” Gareth taunted.

He grinned, watching as a blush overtook the older boys face, Steve glancing away frantically and--

Oh.

Oh!

'Oh-ho, ho, ho!' Gareth thought with absolute glee. The entire fucking school knew what Steve looked like when he had a crush, (Steve himself had made sure of that with Nancy) and Gareth recognized the beginning of it happening all over again.

Steve Harrington had a crush.

On Eddie.

Gareth could work with this.

“You know….” He paused, grin turning sly as a sudden idea came to him. “If you want to mess with Eddie a little bit I have an idea.”

Steve stared at him, confused. “Why would we want to mess with him?”

Gareth leaned forward. “Because pranks are fun, Harrington. Legend has it you even used to do them.”

Steve still didn't look convinced, but the nice thing about a man like Steve was that all Gareth had to appeal to was his sense of adventure.

“Now." He clapped his hands together in a move that had very much been stolen years ago from Eddie. "How good are your acting skills?

Meant to post this yesterday but I got surprise laid off last week and that pushed me back a bit, sorries! Absolutely related, I have a Ko-Fi now lmao. It’s https://ko-fi.com/sp0o0kyghosthost

Unemployment should go through just fine so I don’t really think I need to full panic but hey if you wanna throw me a dollar and yell “Dance writer dance!” I’ll do a lil tippy-tap jig.

#fucking jobs #this ones a bit more whumpy #steddie #pre steddie #they gettin there though #hellfire adopts Steve #adopt a jock #eddie munson #steve harrington #gareth emerson #Nancys in this one #she cares theres just a lot of hurt there #Eddie on the other hand is JEALOUS #that is HIS jock thank you!#He is REHABBING that jock!#dont you make his Stevie sad!#Gareth is now playing matchmaker #Lap Wars is coming

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bratphilia · 6 months

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the flip side (m. schmidt x reader x w. afton)

note: remember that mike fic i wrote where i mentioned his voyeurism kink? here we go.

pairing: mike schmidt x reader x steve raglan / william afton

tags: bondage/restraints (both m/f receiving), gagging (m receiving), cuckolding/voyeurism, doggy style, spanking, dubcon, dom!william, sub!reader + mike

mike awoke to a low whistling sound. the last thing he remembers is dreaming the same dream he's been having his entire life, except this time, instead of ghost children leaving cryptic messages for him, all he could hear was your voice in the distance crying out to him for help. when his eyes opened and he gained consciousness, he found himself in a nightmare beyond anything he's ever experienced in his sleep before.

it was you, blindfolded, completely stripped nude and handcuffed, laying on your stomach on an old mattress on the floor. he seemed to be in a dark basement. before he could think he tried to call out your name and lunge himself towards you, but he was halted realizing he was gagged by a cloth and restrained around his chest and wrists. he was completely powerless.

"ah, good," a cheery, oddly familiar voice calls, "you're finally awake."

steve raglan, his fucking job counsellor, steps into his line of vision. "we almost got started without you."

mike wanted to demand what the hell was going on, but he can only punctuate it by wriggling aggressively in his restraints. steve only laughs at his helplessness.

"you just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" steve asks rhetorically, and mike had no idea what he's referring to, but he has an inkling it has to do with freddy's, because what else could this be about? "so i decided to take something from you." he gestures toward you. your eyes are squeezed shut with tears rolling down your face. mike looks at you pitifully. he hates to see you cry, especially now that he can't do anything about it.

"as you may have guessed by now," steve rambles on, starting to unbutton his shirt and strip himself from his trousers, "i'm going to use your little girlfriend, and you're going to watch. completely powerless to stop it."

you begin to sob. "no...! please, don't..."

"shut the fuck up!" steve's tone switches so easily. he walks over to you and grabs you by your cheeks and bends down to your level, whispering something mike can't hear, but you obviously don't like the sound of it as more tears run down your face.

steve turns to address mike again. "now, any preferred positions?"

mike only blinks. did he really just fucking ask him that?

"oh, wait!" steve laughs, like him being gagged and unable to answer is the funniest thing in the world.

"she sure is gorgeous. you picked a good one," steve comments, making mike's blood boil. no one should call you that, only him. "let's see... what about you, princess?"

you sniff. "just... get it over with." mike's heart breaks slightly at your lack of resistance, but he understands that steve is probably going to kill you if you don't submit to him.

steve frowns. "well that's no fun."

he walks around the mattress, observing you, while you bury your face into the cushiony surface, embarrassed. "i think i'll make this easy for you two. i'll just take you from behind, sweet girl."

"mmph!" mike cries out against the cloth. he's violently rattling against the restraints, desperate to break free.

steve just chuckles at his futile attempt. "don't hurt yourself, kid."

he kneels down on the mattress and adjusts you to his liking: bent on your stomach so your ass is in the air. steve immediately sticks his cock inside of you and doesn't even give you a grace period to adjust.

something inside mike's stomach stirs. it's a... pleasurable feeling. but one he can't relieve, so it's even more so frustrating.

you cry out loudly. grasping desperately at the fabric of the mattress but your grip keeps coming loose due to the rough physicality of which steve is handling you in.

"please!" you practically scream. "please, i can't take it!"

steve just laughs, almost evilly. "you hear that mike? hear your girl beggin' for me?"

mike lets out a grunt. he can feel his pants tightening. as much as he hates to admit it, he's getting aroused off of this.

the room is filled with the noises of skin slapping, steve's grunts and groans paired with incessant moaning. it was all overwhelming to mike. he shut his eyes, trying to block off the tirade of steve's praises — his 'good girl's, 'yes baby's, 'take it for daddy's, and so on — and tries to focus on the noises tumbling uncontrollably from your mouth. he starts bucking his hips to create friction by rubbing his dick against the fabric of his pants.

mike doesn't realize it but muffled, quiet whimpering noises are coming from him. however, steve notices.

"oh, you sick fuck. you like that, huh? like watching a stranger fucking your girlfriend, huh?" steve asks with a wide smile on his face. then he grips you by your hair so you can look at him. "look at him, sweetheart. see how pathetic he is? he's getting off to this."

fuck, your eyes. mike comes from that alone. he stops bucking his hips and just watches you listlessly, in true post-orgasm-clarity fashion. steve's grunts grow louder and more ravenous, until he eventually reaches his own orgasm. he pulls out of you and spills his seed all over your lower body. steve sits down on his knees at the edge of the mattress while you lay there, crying and shaking.

"i might have to keep you two," he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

#five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x reader #steve raglan #william afton #william afton x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #well.#at least mike comes in this one

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 6 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 37

Part 1 Part 36

Between being poked and prodded by doctors, visitors trickle in. Hopper stops by, gruff as he claps Steve on the shoulder. Mrs. Byers pops in too; she hugs him gently, kissing his forehead with warm lips. Something inside of Steve burns.

His Mom doesn’t come. Neither does his Dad. Or Tommy and Carol. Steve wonders what it says about him that no one he knows comes by. From before. Before monsters and strangers made their homes in Steve’s life in equal measure

His life is thin. And everyone is holding it up to the fluorescent hospital lighting and looking right through it. Like his old Hawkins High basketball shirt from Freshman year, worn and washed enough to make the thread loose and thin everywhere but the seams – almost translucent. No one who knows him comes.

But Eddie never leaves his side.

He’s still there three days into Steve’s hospital stay when Nancy Wheeler shuffles in, Barbara Holland flanking her like a bodyguard.

Steve shuffles up in his bed, foisting himself up with the multiple pillows Eddie’d stacked behind him earlier. Barbara loiters in the door, light glinting off her glasses almost menacingly as she purses her lips and looks Steve up and down.

“Harrington,” she says, leaning against the wall with crossed arms.

“Holland,” Steve says, voice still croaky.

Eddie’s not saying anything, but he’s sitting up in his seat now, staring fixedly at Nancy as she does the same. Neither of them are blinking. He clutches the sheets tightly, wrong-footed.

“Glad you’re not dead,” Barbara says, ignoring whatever Eddie and Nancy have going on.

Steve nods, clearing his throat, looking down at his lap. He tries to run his fingers through his hair, and meets only stubbled skin. It’s just another nail in King Steve Harrington’s coffin. A week in that other place, and it’s hard to put him on, like a fancy suit. But now the suit’s for his own funeral, and he doesn’t know how to talk to anyone who isn’t Eddie or Will.

“I’m sorry about Tommy,” Steve says, blurts involuntarily in the silence. He hears Eddie shift, doesn’t look up from his lap to see how anyone else is reacting. “That wasn’t cool.”

He thinks of Tommy slinging the same curses at Barbara that his Dad slurs at the television screen when he’s three whiskeys deep. Thinks of Barbara’s nasty voice in the Upside-Down, hears her saying, maybe he’s off with his parents, like they’d ever take him anywhere.

Like they’d even realized he was missing.

“You’re not responsible for Tommy Hagain,” Barbara says, “I don’t give a fuck about Tommy Hagan. I care that you’re friends with such a piece of shit.”

Nancy lets out a sharp, reprimanding, “Barb!”

Barbara continues, ignoring her friend. “You don’t get a free pass because you tried to get eaten by a monster.”

Steve snorts, looking up at Barbara Holland, really looking at her for maybe the first time. Her jaws clenched, chin held high. She looks like she’s just as likely to deck him as help him with his homework. Tommy Hagain had shouted slurs at her back that could get her killed, lies or not, while Steve made excuses, and she’d still showed up in his hospital room before his best friend.

Steve looks Barbara in the eyes and says the only thing he can, “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

Barbara squints at him judgmentally before rolling her eyes and taking a seat by Eddie’s side. “Whatever, Harrington,” she says, eyeing him critically. “How are the injuries?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says, ignoring Eddie’s scoff. “I’ll be out of here soon–”

“–with required physical therapy–” Eddie interrupts.

Steve plows on, “–and back to school in no time.”

“–after another week of bed rest.”

“Glad that’s all cleared up then,” Barbara says.

As if Eddie’s attention finally being away from her has made her bolder, Nancy shuffles her way closer, sitting on the foot of Steve’s bed. Everyone else goes quiet. Barbara’s eyebrows are raised as she looks over at her friend, and Eddie looks one second away from lunging out of his chair and ripping out her throat. Clearly, something had happened while he’d been away.

“Steve?” Nancy says, shoulders back, chin raised, as she finally meets Steve’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Steve blinks. “For what?”

Nancy bites her lip, shifting her gaze to the empty side of the room. “For leaving you at the party,” she says.

“Nancy–”

“And for,” she says, looking down at her clasped hands before looking back up into his eyes. “You were gone, and Jonathan–”

She stops talking abruptly, looking at Steve beseechingly, like he should already know what she’s talking about. He looks over to Eddie, hoping for help, but Eddie’s too busy glaring at Nancy, so he looks over at Barbara, hoping she’ll put him out of his misery.

“Nancy and Jonathan have a thing going on,” she says, mouth pursed again, but this time, like she feels bad for him. It takes him a minute to figure out why.

“Nancy, it’s fine,” Steve says, trying to think of a tactful way to tell her he’d forgotten they were dating at all. “We kissed a few times, that’s all.”

He doesn’t know how to tell her that his life rearranged itself around Eddie Munson and Will Byers, can’t explain the pull – the way she sort of fell away on his list of priorities, without it sounding cruel.

“Really?” Nancy asks, at the same time that Eddie says, “are you serious?”

Steve nods. “Really,” he says, meeting Nancy’s eyes. They’re glittering, and he can almost remember that feeling from before. The euphoria of having Nancy WHeeler’s undivided attention. But then Eddie takes his hand, and it fades back again. “Friends?” He looks from Barbara to Nancy, offering the branch to both girls.

Barbara shrugs, but Nancy smiles, “Friends.”

They don’t stay much longer, both slinking off now that the air’s been cleared. Eddie stays by his side, like he always does.

“You’re really fine with her running off with Big Byers?” he asks. “Just like that?”

Steve rubs the back of his head, grimacing at the way the prickly hairs feel on his palm. “Does it make me an asshole if I forgot we were going out?”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, tangled hair trailing down his back, neck muscles straining. His eyes are twinkling as he answers, “I think just this once, you get a pass.”

It's not long until his next visitors of the day stop by. Luckily, they end up being far more enjoyable. Will comes into the room, standing in front of the door, hand clasped on the doorframe.

A body collides with his back, sending him stumbling forward as his fingers scrabble to keep their grip on the frame.

“Will,” a childish voice whines form behind him. “Let me in!”

Eddie’s laughing at his side as Will smiles sheepishly at them. “I brought the party,” he says, looking at his shoes and then up to Steve’s eyes repeatedly. “They wanted to meet you.”

Steve’s stomach flutters, a weird mix of anxiety and excitement coursing through him. “Uh, okay,” he says, sitting up straighter to try to look over Will’s shoulder and see whoever is trying to get past him into the room.

Will steps to the side, and nerdy kids pour in. The first a gap-toothed kid with curly hair. He smiles broadly at Steve, bouncing up to Steve’s bed. Next is a black kid with an awkward smile, shuffling his feet as he follows his friend over to Steve, rubbing the back of his head. Lastly, is Nancy’s brother. Steve recognizes the chubby cheeks and awkward haircut from the pictures lining the Wheeler’s staircase.

His arms are crossed, and he’s glaring at Steve, but he comes up to Steve by Will’s side.

“Children,” Eddie says, opening his arms magnanimously from his seated position, like he’s welcoming them to his grand castle. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

The curly-haired kid squints at him, “don’t you live in the trailer park?”

Eddie puts his hand to his heart, falling back into the chair like he’s been shot. “You wound me, Henderson,” he says, wobbling his bottom lip like he’s about to cry. “I live to serve my King.”

It’s a joke, he knows it’s a joke, but it curls strangely in Steve’s stomach. Like he’d eaten bad Chinese food but wanted to keep eating more. He decides not to think about it anymore.

“You wanna introduce us?” Steve asks, looking at Will.

Will looks up at him through his bangs, smiling softly. “Steve, this is Dustin,” he says, pointing at the hyper kid with the missing teeth, “Lucas,” gesturing at the awkward smile kid still loitering behind him, “and—”

“Wheeler,” Steve finishes. “You look a lot like your sister.”

Mike grimaces, glaring at Steve. “It’s Mike,” he says.

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. “Will talked about you all,” Steve says. Will smiles bashfully, and Mike’s frown lines lessen, clearly pleased. “Told me all about your adventures.”

Dustin sits familiarly on the edge of Steve’s bed, bouncing with excitement. “Will told us you played D & D with him!” he says, as if that was leagues more impressive than fighting real-life monsters, “and that you kicked Xanthar’s ass!”

Steve’s mind’s still a bit hazy with drugs, but he remembers Will whispering hints conspiratorially into his ear, practically leading him by the hand to his victory roll.

“Beginner’s luck,” Eddie says, reaching over to pat Steve’s thigh. “I’ll get you next time, Stevie.”

That gets Lucas into the mix. “Next time?” he asks, awkward smile turning genuine and excited. Even Mike can’t tamp down the glimmer of interest in his eyes as he leans closer to Eddie. Steve can’t blame him. Eddie’s got this magnetism about him – it either draws you in or repels you back out.

“You’ll play again?” Will asks, enthusiastic.

Eddie leans his elbow on Steve’s bed, and he knows by the sly glance sent his way that he’s in trouble. “I’m in if Steve here is.”

The force of four children sending wide-eyed pleading looks his way is enough to send him huffing back into his pillows. “This isn’t fair,” he says, glaring at Eddie, even as his heart blooms. Eddie just keeps smiling at him. “Fine!” He throws his hands in the air before crossing them in a huff. “But I lost my character sheet.”

Eddie brightens, reaching beneath Steve’s mattress, and pulling something out. It’s a crumpled piece of paper, torn at the edges, and stained. He smooths it out before handing it over to Steve.

Steve looks down at the character sheet Eddie had made for him, his character’s name and stats printed at the time, Steve’s own notes scrawled along the bottom as things had come up.

“I hid it when the scientists started stealing our shit for their tests,” he says, leaning back in his chair, obviously pleased. “I figured a paper originally from the Upside-Down would be right up their alley, so I snagged it for you.”

There’s a lump in Steve’s throat. He pushes past it, muttering a quiet, “thanks,” as he runs shaky fingers over the ragged paper.

As children bicker around him, begging to play right away, Steve looks down at the paper and thinks that Eddie Munson might just be a miracle.

Part 38

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic

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rogueddie · 2 years

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Steve is so tired. He's trying so hard, but it never feels like enough.

He started learning first aid almost immediately after the first incident. Couldn't get that things claws out of his mind, couldn't stop thinking about how little he and Nancy could have done if it had decided to take a swipe at Jonathon- he'd looked so helpless, made Steve feel so guilty for taking so long to come back.

But it had come at the cost of everything else. He was so focused on learning first aid, on learning as much about emergency care, that he fell behind in school. It's hard to thinking about How To Kill a Mockingbird when he's trying to get stitches right, when he's got the mental image of Jonathon or Nancy bleeding out stuck in his mind.

And then in the second incident he'd been surrounded by kids, so small and... breakable. He doesn't think he'll ever stop having nightmares about dogs, opening faces, Max screaming or his fragile Dustin had felt when he'd tried to lift him out the way.

The kids shouldn't have to just deal with the trauma. But who can they talk to? Actually talk to? There's no one apart from each other... so Steve seeks out therapists, books, teachers. Anything and everyone who will let him talk with them. Absorbs as much as he can and, when he feels prepared enough, he starts to reach out to the kids. Starts talking to them.

They get happier. It's so painfully visible, the bounce in their step that returns whenever they finish talking to him, that the parents often pull him aside to thank him. It gets to the point that Hopper asks him to start coming to the cabin, start talking to El too.

After the third incident, though, he isn't sure what he can do to help. Isn't sure he should, not until he gets help himself. But the only person he feels comfortable talking to is Robin and that's not good. He's tried so many times to tell her that she's becoming codependent on him, that it's only encouraging him to depend far too heavily on her in return. Neither of them actually care that much.

Max stops talking to him. El won't answer his calls and Will doesn't know how to open up over the phone. Oddly enough, Jonathon is the only one in California that opens up to him. Though, that's probably because he's high all the time.

By the time the fourth incident rolls around, Steve is tired. Bone deep, exhausted. He's not sure he can learn anything else, isn't sure how useful he can really be. And with the amount of primal fear that is horrifyingly visible in Eddies eyes? He's not sure he'll ever know how to actually help him. Help any of them.

But then Eddie is bleeding. There's so many bites and Steve acts on auto-pilot. Yelling out instructions at Dustin and Nancy, snapping his fingers at Robin to get her to kneel on his other side. He ignores the way she sobs as she presses where he tells her to- he can feel guilty about forcing Eddies life into her hands as well later.

Its hard, long work, to stitch Eddie back together. He's not sure it'll be enough, isn't sure it isn't a wasted effort, but he has to try. He has to.

Two weeks later, he's released from the hospital. A lot of the stitches that are still holding him together, hidden beneath bandages, are the same ones Steve slowly weaved into his skin. Eddie constantly brings it up. Constantly brags that, not only did Steve save his life, but he's still holding him together.

When Steve tries to talk to him, though, it's all flipped on its head.

After Eddie finally gets it all off his chest, eyes red but so much more relaxed, he turns a tired smile on Steve. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Why did Steve Harrington learn first aid?"

Steve blinked at him, a little confused. But Eddie raises an eyebrow, expectant. So Steve started talking- but once he started, he couldn't seem to stop. He just unloaded everything, all the fears and trauma, everything that drove him to learn. To be better, to be useful.

"-And it's still not enough!" Steve finally sobs, already regretting opening his mouth. Eddie is so cool, has been there for Steve in a way he hadn't known he needed so bad. And now he's going to lose him, Steve is sure. He's going to see how useless Steve is.

"Steve, hey, no," Eddie hushes, moving to sit next to him, to curl an arm around his shoulders. "You've done more than anyone should've asked of you. More than you ever needed to. From what I've seen, you're the only thing holding this ragtag group together. They would've fallen apart without you. You're not just useful, Steve, you're the most important."

He kisses the top of Steves head, holds him tight. He doesn't seem to care when Steves snot gets on his top, just rubs his back. It's nice, Steve realizes. Doesn't know how he hadn't realized how much he needed someone to just... hold him. And Eddie holds him tight, fingers digging in, like he's trying to make it clear to Steve that he isn't going to let go.

Steve, finally, relaxes.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #sort of #most just steve going through trauma #sorry?#ficlet #hurtcomfort

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year

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Eddie and Max get out of the hospital at the same time. Eddie's scars are tender. It hurts to move sometimes. But he's got ointment, and pain pills, he'll be fine.

Max can see, not super well, but it improves a little every week. Her arms are mostly healed, she still has slings for when they ache. Her legs are healed, technically, the bones anyway. But she's got braces and isn't supposed to walk on them yet. She can stand on them for a couple minutes off and on to stretch them. But she goes to physical therapy multiple times a week.

Her mom had been rightly worried and upset and freaked out, because they couldn't afford a van for her wheelchair. And yeah she can get out of her wheelchair if she needs too, but its easier on her body if she can just, roll in and out of a vehicle.

So eddie tells her mom he can drive her around. All they need is a ramp for his van. He already had straps in the back to secure things, they use them on Gareth's drum set. The relief on Max's mothers face and the way she hugs him genlty is... too much. He just smiles and looks away, nodding when she thanks him again.

He drives her to therapy twice and decides that her trailer needs a ramp too. A good one. He can't help lift Max's chair, so he just has to watch Max's mom struggle to get her up the stairs.

So he goes home and starts drawing. He can see it in his head, the way he wants it, bigger than it probably needs to be, but he wants the slope to be low impact, because once her arms get strong enough to move herself, he wants her to able to do that. He just... doesn't know how he's gonna manage to DO all this.

But he goes to the hardware store one day, with Wayne, because Wayne knows things, about everything. And Wayne helps him pick out the wood, they estimate the numbers and then buy a little more, just in case. And they load it up, and drop it by Max's house. And the next day, Wayne goes to work, and so does Eddie.

He ties his hair back, shoves himself into a pair of Wayne's old cover alls, and walks slowly over to Max's, she doesn't have therapy today, or the next two. Eddie doesn't think he can get it done by then, but he's gonna fucking get it started if it kills him. He pops a pain pill into his mouth, takes a swig from the water he'd brought with him, takes a look at the drawing he'd made, and gets to work.

Max rolls onto her small porch steps about an hour into Eddie's work, he's been measuring and cutting and just separating things into piles. She says his name softly and he looks up, squinting, he's covered in sweat. And his body fucking hurts. He wipes at his forehead with his arm and limps over to Max. She's holding out a new glass of water.

"What are you doing?" Her voice is ...tight. Like she knows exactly what he's doing. Eddie chugs the water and hands her back the empty glass.

"What? You don't like suprises?" He huffs, smiles with the tease. She smiles back, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He rests his hand gently on her knee, gives it a squeeze, then heads back to where he was,

"Go inside. I can't keep an eye you when I'm working and if you roll off that teeny tiny porch you're mom'll kill me." She snorts, but does as he says. A few minutes later Eddie hears the door slap shut again, and looks up to see another glass of water sitting on the porch. He shouts a thank you, and keeps working.

It only takes another hour before he almost has a breakdown. His skin hurts, he's hot, his hands are shaking. He's downed three more glasses of water. His last thank you had been so strangled that Max had just looked at him and then disappeared into the house.

He's sitting on the porch steps now, hands shaking in his lap, tears falling down his face. He can't take another pill yet. He's got two hours. He takes a few very deep breathes, about to steel himself and get back to work, his hands are on his knees, about to push himself up, when he hears the car.

He looks up, and Steve's car is parking at his house. His hands fall from his knees. But its not just Steve in the car, Nancy and Robin are there too. All of them in old looking jeans, and ratty looking shirts.

Robin's are covered in paint. Eddie's breathing goes shakey as Steve pats Robin's shoulder and points at Eddie. Robin nods and heads for him, doing a weird little run, Eddie can't help but smile. Steve and Nancy are grabbing things from Steve's trunk, Eddie doesn't see what things, before Robin is filling his vision, dropping to her knees in front of him looking concerned as her hands gently cradle his face.

"Hey you. You okay? Max said you might need some help." Robin breaths it out like a sigh, like she'd been holding in her worry. Eddie bites his lip to stop it from trembling anymore and nods. She nods back with a smile.

"Okay cool. Well, help is here. Help being, Steve and Nancy." She nods to them.

"And I'm gonna sit with you until you're feeling a bit better okay? Then you can jump back in." Steve clears his throat aggressively as he walks past her at that. Robin's face scrunches.

"Maybe." She tells Eddie. Steve was ... was he mad? He wasn't looking at Eddie, just helping Nancy get the tools they'd need out of the box they brought. Eddie had some tools, but just for one person. Robin rubs his knee gently and squishes in next to him on the stairs.

"So you got baby sitting duty?" He asks her, his side pressing into her as almost all the fight to stay upright leaves his body. She's steady beside him, holds him up easily, her hand curling around his bicep for extra support.

"Well, Nancy and Steve thought it was probably best that I don't handle tools. So yeah, but hey, babysitting you's not so bad. I mean you're a GREAT conversationalist." Robin smiles brightly at him, watches him try to smile back and then grimace.

"You okay?" Her voice is concerned now, and that apparently draws Steve's attention. He's at Eddie side in the time it takes for Eddie to nod, his face still scrunched in pain. Steve kneels, looks up at him.

"Where are your pills?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head.

"Hour an a half." Eddie grunts out. Steve's head falls and then it's shaking, he sighs, and fuck, he sounds disappointed. And he's glaring at Eddie when he finally looks back up.

"What the fuck were you thinking? Doing this by yourself, with no one here but Max to help you if you got hurt. Did you think about that?" Steve's voice gets louder as he talks.

"Steve." Robin's voice, a warning.

"No. Robin. This is... you could've gotten hurt Eddie." He huffs it, his voice is full of frustration, and anger. Eddie just stares at the ground, tries to breathe around the lump in his throat.

"I know I fucked up alright? Can we spare the lecture?" He grits, his voice is wobbly. Steve doesn't hear it, just huffs again and stands, Eddie sees his hands hit his hips and braces for whatever he's gonna say next.

"What was Max supposed to do if you got hurt? Huh? She can't help you dude! And Wayne's at work! You're all alone out here, when you shouldn't even be out here in the first place!" Steve is openly yelling now, both Nancy and Robin saying his name as Eddie's shoulders shake. Eddie clears his throat roughly, pushing the tight feeling away so he can speak. He shoves himself to his feet with a wince, pain shooting through his body.

"You think I dont know that? I know how fucking alone I am. Thank you. Steve." His hand clenches at the pain in his side, a whimper rips out of his throat, tears burn his eyes and fall. Steve looks startled, then concerned, reaches out to steady him, Eddie slaps his hand away, hard.

"Don't fuckin touch me." He growls, wipes at his eyes with shakey hands and starts walking to his trailer. His foot hits a dip in the ground and he stumbles, Robin catches him, just enough to keep him on his feet. She lets go immediately as he shrugs her touch off gently, and keeps walking.

"FUCK!" he yells it, to no one really, just built up frustration clawing its way out of him. He stomps, carefully, up his own trailer steps, and lets the door slam shut behind him.

Max's trailer door squeaks open, and the three of them turn to see her looking at Steve.

"That was harsh. I told you to come help him, not fucking yell at him and make it worse." The look in her eyes could cut glass. Steve droops under her scrutiny, his hands moving to cover his face.

"Fuck. I know." He groans. He looks up, and over to Robin.

"What's wrong with me?" He sighs, his head hanging again. Robin gives him a sympathetic smile, walks closer, rubs at his arm.

"You care about him. And you were mad. And when you're upset you get...." she trails off, thinking.

"Bitchy." Nancy supplies, moving to his other side, her hand on his shoulder as he glares at her.

"What? You do. Eddie was trying to do something nice. Something amazing, actually, for Max." Steve glares harder, she holds her finger up, silencening whatever he was about to interupt her with.

"And yes he went about it the wrong way. He obviously should have called for help." Robin chimes in, squeezing his arm.

"But no one said he was a genius. He's just trying to help." Nancy finishes, moving her hand over his shoulder soothingly.

"I know that. But he can't... he can't just help others to point that he hurts himself!" Steve flails a little, both Robin and Nancy leaning away from him, out of his flail range. They share a look though. And Max snorts behind him. He wips around to look at her.

"What? What was that for?" He asks, his tone, to his dismay, bitchy.

"Did you hear what just came out of your mouth? Have you met yourself?" She asks, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. She glares at him until he deflates. He sighs. Squints against the sun as he looks up at the sky.

"I need to go apologize." He says. All three girls nod.

"Yep." Nancy says, pressing her lips together so she doesn't smile.

"Definitely. 100% yeah." Robin squeezes his arm again, gives him an encouraging nod.

"If you don't. I'm throwing myself down these steps and telling my mom you left me unsupervised." Max says, her voice flat. Steve's eyes widen, and then he gives her a look.

"Jesus. Alright. I was already going. No need for threats." He calls the last part over his shoulder as he makes his way to Eddie's trailer. He bounces up the steps gingerly and knocks.

"Come in." Eddie's voice calls. Steve opens the door, the living room is empty. He walks down to Eddie's room and his heart sinks. Eddie has one arm pulled up inside his coveralls, it's bent at an interesting angle, he's sitting in the edge of his bed, his face is wet with tears. He flinches a little when he sees it's Steve standing there and that hurts Steve too. He moves closer, just one step and then Eddie chokes out,

"I'm stuck." And Steve moves fast. He kneels in front of Eddie, trying to look at the situation, his arm is caught in the sleeve, his elbow shoved into it tightly, he moves Eddie's wrist and Eddie flinches again.

"Does it hurt?" He asks, keeping his voice quiet. Eddie nods, bites his lip. The sleeve is pressing hard into Eddie's arm, right where one of his scars is. Steve winces in sympathy.

"How attached are you to these?" He tugs on the front of the coveralls, Eddie looks at him.

"I'm not. They're Wayne's old pair." He says, his voice tight from the pain.

"Okay good." Steve says as he slides his pocket knife out, flicks it open, and cuts the sleeve in one fluid motion. Eddie's arm drops free, another whimper falls out of him at the release.

Steve cradles Eddie's arm, holds it gently as Eddie catches his breath. His fingers squeeze Eddie's wrist and he opens his eyes. Looks at Steve.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Steve says, not letting go of Eddie's wrist. Eddie blinks at him. Stares. Then shakes his head.

"Don't be. I fucked up. You were right. I shouldn't have been out there by myself." Eddie frowns, wipes at his wet face. Steve shakes his head then, pushing himself up onto his knees, his back straightening, moving him closer to Eddie's face.

"No. Don't do that. It wasn't your fault. Okay? I shouldn't have yelled. You were trying to help Max. And I just... I didn't wanna find you hurt. Again." Steve looks at Eddie, really looks at him, tries to convey what he means without having to say it. Eddie's eyes are wide, and a little glassy from crying, but Steve sees it, the moment realization hits him.

"Okay. I won't do it again." Eddie nods, moves his wrist in Steve's hand so he can curl his fingers around Steve's wrist.

"Thank you. Just call us. We'll help you. Okay? And Eddie?" Steve swallows, stands and lifts Eddie to his feet, Eddie blinks at him owlishly.

"You're not alone. I'm sorry if we made you feel that way." Steve whispers it, feels his throat burn as Eddie starts crying again. He wipes at his face and shakes his head, looks at Steve with some strange frown smile combo.

"No I know. I just... it's always just been me. And Wayne. Ya know?" He says, holding onto Steve as he sways, dizzy. Steve holds onto him right back.

"Yeah. Well... not anymore." Steve shrugs, smiles, and then tugs Eddie out of his room. They get him another pain pill, Steve rubs some ointment onto the scar on his arm, and then they go back outside.

Nancy is cutting wood while Robin measures and marks. Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's hand until he has him sitting on the porch steps. Max hands him another glass of water.

"You're drinking me out of house and home Munson." She teases, he stares her down as he chugs the water, holds the glass back out to her and wiggles it with a shit eating grin.

"Unbelievable. Sending the girl in the wheelchair to do your errands." She sighs, but smiles when Eddie hops up and gets the door for her, follows her inside to help. He pops back a minute later and hands Steve a peice of paper. It has his plans for the ramp on it.

"This is sort of what I was aiming for." He shrugs, watches Steve look over the paper.

"You did this?" He asks, looking back up at Eddie. Eddie nods, wraps his arms around himself, feeling self-conscious under Steve's gaze.

"What? What's wrong with it?" He asks when Steve says nothing.

"What? Oh no, sorry, nothing's wrong. It's just super detailed." Steve smiles, shakes his head, hands the paper to Robin and Nancy.

"Yeah well, I wanted it done right." Eddie shrugs, Nancy makes a weird moaning sound behind them, both of them look to see her looking down at the paper in her hands, lovingly. She looks back up at Eddie.

"Finally! Someone else detail oriented. I'm making copies of this." She sounds genuine as she waves the paper, smiling at Eddie. He flushes red and moves to sit on the steps again. When his hands stop shaking he helps Robin with the measurements.

She measures, he measures, Nancy and Steve cut.

It takes them two days. But they get it done. The ramp wraps around the side of the trailer, where Max's mom always parks. He bought some plywood as well, to put down on the ground, so Max's wheels wouldn't sink.

The first time she pushes Max down the ramp she nearly cries as she throws herself at Eddie. Hugs him tight and then apologizes when he huffs in pain. Max grabs his hand, looks up at him with her bright blue eyes, and kisses his arm. Just a little peck, smooching the bats on his skin. But he gets it. That's all she needs to do. He knows she's grateful.

Steve shows up at Eddie's trailer the day after they finish the ramp. His eyes are wild and he looks like he's been shoving his hands into his hair for a couple of hours. Eddie gets half way through asking what's wrong and then Steve is kissing him. They almost fall into the trailer with the force of it. Steve catches them, rights them, but doesn't let go of Eddie, just lets out a breathy,

"Sorry sorry." As he keeps them steady. Eddie just smiles dumbly at him. Wayne stands from the couch, clears his throat awkwardly and pats Eddie on the shoulder as he leaves, says,

"Told you them coveralls was lucky boy." He winks as he passes them. Eddie's laughter filling the trailer behind him as Steve's face goes crimson and he drops his head on Eddie's shoulder with a dramatic groan.

#eddie munson #max mayfield #steve harrington #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie blurb #fates Endless Inkwell #fei #my writing #my fic #mine

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harmonictechnicality · 1 year

Text

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes.

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one.

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender.

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers.

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.”

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.” Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days.

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating.

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky.

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes.

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head.

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer.

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line.

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused.

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it.

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.” Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat.

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching.

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest.

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body.

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question.

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him.

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #day six: true #truly truly dumb and fun #major himbo and major himbo-enjoyer #was this an excuse to cause chaotic piercing headcanons? always.#okayokay I hope you like Eddie drooling over Steve on this fine Saturday afternoon xx #*bows and scurries back off into my writing corner*

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tmpestuous · 2 years

Text

One Step at a Time

summary: when you get brutally injured on a mission with no way to contact anyone, bucky goes out to find you.

pairing: bucky x avenger!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: angst, slight protective!bucky, mentions of death and killing, mentions of torture, blood, injuries, trauma, injured!reader

a/n: here’s another avenger!reader one shot from the long list of ideas i have… i’m thinking of making them all connected so it’s the same reader from six days (: i promise my next fic won’t be so depressing i apologize

Trying to fight off the hand currently clasped over your mouth, you were only repeatedly unsuccessful. Steve hadn’t seen you get dragged off, turning around and panicking immediately.

You could hear his calls for your voice become increasingly faint as the men dragged you to a secluded room you assumed Steve wouldn’t be able to access.

“What do you mean you don’t know where she is, Steve?” Bucky sat, still in his disheveled state from being woken up abruptly by Sam for an emergency meeting.

“Buck, wake up man,” Sam said, clasping Bucky’s shoulder lightly and shaking him a bit.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, Bucky wondered what could possibly be so important this early in the morning. He never got much sleep when you went on your missions, feeling the bed to be a little too empty and thus, leaving him lonely with his thoughts.

Looking at the clock, it read 4:17AM.

Looking back at Sam, Bucky knew something wasn’t right. Sam’s usual, playful nature replaced with one that looked remorseful.

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked hesitantly. “Everything okay?”

“It’s Y/n, Buck,” Sam responded, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. He looked nervous, almost as if it was his fault. “She’s missing. Steve wants to have a meeting with us.”

“What do you mean she’s missing?” Bucky said calmly, though he most certainly felt his heart drop from his chest.

Sam was just as distraught as Bucky in the meeting, bobbing his knee up and down in his seat. He had told you Steve was swapping with him for the mission, second guessing himself after taking it up in the first place. You were upset he wasn’t joining you, having been the only person you trusted enough to go on missions alone with besides Bucky since you recovered from the explosion. It made him feel guilty that it had resulted in your disappearance.

It had taken you a while to feel comfortable enough to start participating in any missions, and even when you did, you always made the effort to stay in the same room as someone else. You couldn’t bear to be alone again, more than just fearful to end up in another situation where you had no idea what to do with no immediate help.

Plunging the knife into the chest of the last man, you exhaled a few shaky breaths.

You had been fighting these men for what felt like hours. One of them had managed to stab you in the side while you weren’t looking, and to your eventual disadvantage, you pulled it out of your suit and used it to deal with about ten other men on your own.

Staring at the last man only pushed you to look at the vast amount of bodies around you, about twenty of them laying in pools of blood everywhere, most of which you barely recalled finishing off.

You had experienced your fair share of moments with blind rage before, most of which came from your time with Hydra. But you made the effort never to kill someone. A vow you made to yourself, which was now broken.

Choking on a sob you didn’t realize was coming, you stood up and placed pressure on your stab wound before searching through the room for medical supplies. It was clearly a doctor’s room, one that reminded you of the office you spent a lot of time in while captured by Hydra.

Finding a first aid kit, you did your best to stitch and patch the stab wound with so little supplies. Once you were finished, you put the jacket of your suit back on, knowing it was freezing outside and you had to find some sort of shelter.

If there were more men coming to the building, the last thing you wanted to do was try to fight more of them off in your current state. You had hoped Steve made it out, now doing everything you can to do the same for yourself.

Finding a nearby exit, you walked out into the cool air.

It was gonna be a long walk.

Steve was still in his suit, dirt covering his face though it did nothing to mask his solemn expression.

He wasn’t sure how the two of you got separated. He was keeping a close eye on you since the last time you were paired together, things went bad. Hell, you almost died. Steve was simply starting to think he gave you bad luck when you were around him.

“I– I’m not sure,” Steve choked out, and he wasn’t lying at all. “We had made it inside and were met with some resistance, but we didn’t split up. We got caught up fighting and when I had turned around, she was gone. I didn’t leave her, Buck, you have to believe me. I wouldn’t do that to her. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Bucky believed him, but he couldn’t help but overthink the fact that you’d been caught up in a bad place in the last two missions you’ve spent with Steve. It was his best friend and, of course, he knew he’d never have ill intentions with you.

He just hoped you were okay.

“It’s okay, Steve,” he reassured. “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.”

God, you had hoped they’d somehow find you.

You swore you’d been walking in circles for ten hours, searching for the safe house Tony had informed you and Steve was near where your mission was taking place.

You were so tired. You had barely managed to fight off all of the maniacs who had tried to hold you captive in the old Hydra base you and Steve were assigned to get rid of. You recognized a few of them from your days in the organization, but it took you a lot longer to fight them on your own after getting stabbed in the side and a few hits to the head.

You had never done any killing with Hydra, seeing as they never got you to commit to it, but something had triggered you to kill almost all of them. The only ones who didn’t reap such consequences were the ones who had ambushed you and Steve when you both had found an entrance into the building.

You felt sick to your stomach because of it, along with all the energy being drained from you slowly but surely with every step you took towards nowhere at this point. You had lost your transponder somewhere in that god-forsaken building, so on top of losing Steve, it wasn’t like anyone back at the compound could track your location either.

Steve.

You assumed he’d started to look for you after you lost each other, but you had no idea if he was still in this general location. He might’ve stayed or gone back to the compound to tell the others you were missing.

It genuinely wasn’t his fault you got separated, and you’d only hoped he knew that. Someone who might not know that, on the other hand, is Bucky. You then hoped he wouldn’t give Steve a hard time, not wanting them to have any more tension than the last time you suffered while paired up with his best friend.

“She still has to go to the debrief, Bucky,” Steve pushed. “It’s been long enough and we’ve pushed past protocol longer than we ever have.”

“What if she doesn’t want to talk about it, Steve? We all went to debrief, why does she have to do it too?”

“She experienced what none of us did,” the blonde countered again. “No one knows what happened in that room but her. We need every detail.”

Reluctantly, Bucky gave in. But he regretted it the second things were rough in the meeting.

“You have to remember, Y/n,” Steve tried to encourage you, but it wasn’t really working.

“I told you I never found where it came from, I’m not making that up,” you defended.

“You said you didn’t remember if you found where it came from.”

“The last thing I remember was seeing one blink of a red light before the explosion. I don’t remember if it was actually the source or something else. I never found it, Steve,” you urged softly.

Bucky was getting irritated. You hadn’t talked much to him about what happened because you hated how you felt afterwards, and now you were sitting here getting interrogated by Steve who hadn’t been there every step of your recovery.

“Y/n–”

“I think that’s enough, Steve,” Bucky said before grabbing your hand and standing up. “We’re done here.”

Your recollection of the memory was short-lived when you felt your suit starting to feel a lot wetter than before, peeking down to see it staining with fresh blood which means your wound had reopened. Limping towards what looked like an empty house, seeming freshly abandoned, you winced at the pain in your side. Walking up to the front door, you quickly jammed it in, glad to feel warmth in contrast to the cold air from outside.

Looking around to see if anyone was inside, you found yourself alone. Settling on a first aid kit from the bathroom, you plopped yourself on the couch and ripped the jacket of your suit off, almost peeling it with the dried blood making it stick to your skin a bit.

You did your best to restitch and patch the stab wound, but you knew you’d certainly have to redo it in a few hours. You could feel yourself getting lightheaded, likely from the loss of blood and lack of nourishment. Trying your best to stay awake didn’t work as well as you hoped, but you held on for as long as you could.

Back at the compound, Bucky was packing everything he possibly needed. He didn’t know how long it was gonna take to find you, but he sure as hell knew he wouldn’t stop searching until he did. He had told Steve it was best for him to stay for this one, knowing he was feeling the guilt of having you go lost in the first place.

Bucky heard a knock at his door, turning around to see Sam in his doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, seeing Bucky zip his bags.

“Let’s find her.”

It had been less than five hours since Steve had broken the news that he lost you. First, he told Bucky and Sam, knowing it’d be of most importance to them. Then the rest of the team had joined in on the meeting, immediately making plans on how to find her.

Sam, Natasha, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Thor had agreed to go with Bucky to help find you. Bucky had no problem going on his own, but Natasha assured that it’d be best for everyone to join in. They attributed your last known location to the last signal your transponder gave off, and thus decided to start there.

Steve waved them off as they left on the jet, but everyone was aware he’d be tracking from back at the compound.

Upon making it to the location of your mission and where they knew you had been at some point, they found your (now dead) transponder in the middle of a pool of blood. There were bodies everywhere, and Bucky had only grown anxious.

You had never enjoyed getting unnecessarily violent, and in that, you always reminded him of himself. He was aware Hydra hadn’t toyed with your head nearly to the extent they did with him, but it was enough to do some damage.

You’d confided in him with all of your stories, never going into extreme detail out of compassion for his own experiences and not wanting to trigger him into those thoughts. However, he knew that you’d never killed anyone. Beaten some people beyond a general healing point, definitely, but you couldn’t bring yourself to take a life. Hydra had their fair share of punishments for you because of that but it hadn’t broken you to the point of reaching that point.

Seeing all the dead bodies scattered across the room, there had to be about twenty of them. Bucky didn’t want to admit it, but it undoubtedly scared him. If you were in that much trouble to cause such damage, he was worried about what state he’d find you in.

Seeing everyone make their way out of the room, Bucky shook the negative thoughts from his head. He didn’t want to distract himself from his priority: finding you, regardless of what state you’d be in.

“If she’s injured, she couldn’t have made it far,” Natasha stated, staring around at the outside of the building from an open window. “She might still be around here somewhere, maybe hid–”

Lights from a series of vehicles appeared outside. About four dozen Hydra men made their way towards the entrance of the building, murmuring about how they needed to find you before the Avengers did.

“We’ve got company, boys,” Natasha stated instead of finishing her previous thought.

Bucky made his way to the window, seeing that horrid insignia his memory would never let him forget. “Hydra. There’s more of them still around than I thought.”

“Cut a head off, two more take its place, huh?” Natasha recalled the organization’s motto. “We need to do this quickly, we don’t know how much time Y/n’s got and we still don’t know where she is–”

“Go,” Bucky said. “Go find her, I’ll handle them.”

“Buck, is that really the best ch–” Sam started.

“I said, go.”

“I’m sticking with you, everyone else can go.”

Bucky sighed before nodding in agreement. Natasha made her way out with Tony, Thor, and Clint, finding a back entrance. Bruce was still in the jet, tracking nearby buildings you could possibly be in. Thor, Natasha, and Clint decided to split up and search each one, Tony trying to find heat signatures that could somehow match yours.

Bucky and Sam made their way to the ground floor, watching all of the men surge in. Bucky loaded his rifle, Sam releasing Redwing to count how many men there were.

“There’s 40 of them,” Sam whispered loud enough for only Bucky to hear him.

“20 for each of us, huh?” Bucky adjusted his hold on his rifle from around the corner of the hallway. “If Y/n can do it, so can we.” Feeling a boost in confidence, Bucky started to make his move, knocking out a few men right away as Sam did the same.

He knew he couldn’t let anyone get to you before anyone from the team did, even if it meant letting the others go ahead of him. He felt a lot more calculated than he usually did, knowing your life (or death) was in the gamble of the entire operation.

You, on the other hand, were about to give up. Staying awake has never been this difficult, but with your pulse going faster by the second and the sudden chills you were feeling, you had a feeling this was it.

Your wound hadn’t opened at all in the last two hours, but you attributed it to pure luck at this point. The way you were feeling could only be coming from the gaping hole on the side of your torso, even covered.

You still tried your best to keep your eyes open, knowing you weren’t going to let yourself die cold and alone in the middle of nowhere. You felt awful, a few tears shedding from your eyes from how sick you were starting to feel. You wanted to sleep, but you were scared to go under and then not wake up.

Not to mention, you couldn’t sleep knowing the nightmares that were inevitably going to come. Feeling physically awful was one thing, but watching all those lifeless bodies fall to the floor after you killed them only made you feel worse. You couldn’t get the memory out of your head, only sobbing slightly to yourself thinking about it.

The thought that lingered even more in your head was how you were gonna tell Bucky. He knew you’d never resort to such drastic measures and you were afraid he’d look at you different once he found out.

If he even found you alive at this point.

The team had searched about 40 houses in the last two hours, eventually teaming up with Bucky and Sam who had dealt with all forty men in the span of half an hour. They even checked the safe house in case you had made it and passed out before communicating with them, but you weren’t there either.

“There’s only one house left on this entire street,” Bruce spoke through comms.

Bucky’s anxiety was only going sky high with every second they hadn’t found you yet. They had no idea what your condition was like and he was doing his best not to think of the worst possible scenario. He’d hoped the tricks he taught you while on missions with him had helped somewhat, like knowing how to stitch a wound or finding a safe place from danger.

Bucky’s racing mind was interrupted by Tony’s voice on comms; he had gone to check the house and determine if there was anyone inside.

“Heat signature matches Y/l/n’s, and it’s not looking too good,” he said as he landed back on the ground.

The team rushed over, Bucky running faster than he’d ever run before. Opening the door in a rush, he saw you laying on the couch, taking staggered breaths with your eyes closed. Everyone had walked in behind him, Natasha alerting Bruce that they had found you and telling him to prep the jet.

Bucky’s only focus was you. He placed his hands on your cheek, startling you enough to push him back before your eyes landed on him.

“Bucky?” you said, definitely not believing your eyes as you looked around and saw everyone else in the room.

Bucky approached you again slowly, not wanting to scare you further since you were probably in shock.

“Hey, baby, it’s me,” he assured you as you stared him down frantically before you started to sob. “We came to take you home, alright? We’re going home.”

As the jet landed outside, Bucky picked you up in his arms. You instinctively curled up against him, hiding your cold face in the warmth of the crook of his neck. After everyone boarded, the jet made its way back to the compound.

Bucky had looked at your wound, replacing the dirty gauze for a clean one. You’d cried almost the entire ride, all of your emotions rushing in like a freight train.

It hurt Bucky to see you in such a state, knowing you were tired of all the losses in life. He knew exactly how it felt, but he’d also felt you deserved it much less than he did all those years. You didn’t kill anyone like he did, you didn’t ruin anyone’s life like he did, you didn’t make people scared of you. He tried to shake those thoughts from his head, knowing you’d scold him again for thinking so low of himself in comparison to you.

Running his hands through your hair, he stayed next to you the entire time, reassuring you that you were safe and soothing you as best as he could.

Once you all had arrived to the compound, it only got worse.

A gurney was waiting for you on the landing pad, which you didn’t want to be laid on, to begin with. Once they had strapped you down, your cries only got worse, screaming Bucky’s name out as they took you to the medical bay. Bucky wanted to follow, but Sam stopped him, saying it was best to do the debrief right away.

You refused to let anyone touch you unless Bucky was there, and the doctors in the medical bay were getting so frustrated, the only choice they had was to sedate you in the meantime. When they had finally patched up your wound properly, they left you to rest.

Rest was very much not in your cards, however, with your crying fits continuing and Bucky’s hearts breaking into about a million more pieces than before when he walked into your room to see you crying to yourself.

“Y/n…” he spoke softly, sliding into the bed with you carefully and pulling you into his arms, cautious enough not to hurt you further. Kissing the top of your head multiple times, he rubbed your arms up and down until your cries eventually stopped.

“Y-you’re gonna hate me, Bucky,” you said with a shaky voice. “I don’t want you to hate me when you find out what I did.”

“Baby, what are you talking about?” he looked down at you, but Bucky was well aware what you were thinking of. “I could never hate you. Ever. Not after everything we’ve been through together, okay? Don’t ever say something like that.”

Bucky heard you sniffle and saw a few tears fall down your cheeks, heart aching at the fact that you might start sobbing again. You slowly wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face from him in his chest.

The following days were still rough. Bucky felt lucky enough that you’d have your meals with him, but you didn’t feel like leaving your room. Steve had checked in with you and said you wouldn’t have to update anyone on what happened after you got separated. Not until you were ready to talk about it.

Bucky stayed with you more often, even after you pleaded with him to not tear up his schedule for you. He skipped out on a mission just so he could stay with you, which he assured you was okay because it meant his next mission would be with you.

The only way you got him to go back to his routine was to offer to train with him. He had asked you a million times if you were sure, knowing what most likely occurred back on your mission’s complication. Eventually, he gave in as he always did, but he knew he wasn’t going to rush you into anything.

Picking up your normal tools for your usual, more-intense sparring sessions you always had with Bucky, your hands started to shake. Bucky noticed and rubbed your shoulders smoothly.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for,” he whispered lowly in your ear. “Just take it one step at a time, okay?”

You nodded up at him, putting your tools down. You thought it’d help to move slow, but the second you knocked Bucky down, you kneeled down next to him, anxiously asking if he was okay with tears in your eyes.

Bucky looked up at you quizzically, knowing you knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you couldn’t hurt him detrimentally from a normal sparring session.

He wiped your tears away as you stared at him with fear in your eyes, only making him feel even worse about you experiencing what you had experienced alone.

“Baby, hey,” he said as you shut your eyes and cried. “Look at me.”

Blinking a few times, you sniffled and looked down at him, completely uncaring of your tears that had fallen on his shirt.

“You could never hurt me, my love,” he rubbed your cheeks with his calloused thumbs, though it was the comfort you surely needed. “The only way you could hurt me is by breaking my heart and I know that’s not gonna happen anytime soon, right?”

You shook your head.

“Then don’t worry so much, baby,” he leaned up and kissed your lips softly. “I’m more than okay. You were just better than me. Let’s go shower and watch a movie.”

Standing up and lifting you up with a helping hand, you both walked back to Bucky’s room which was the closest. Stepping into the bathroom, Bucky let the water run from the showerhead so it could get warm. You stripped yourself of your clothes as he did the same, before getting into the shower.

After cleansing yourselves, Bucky rubbed your tense shoulders once again as you leaned into him.

“I killed them,” you muffled into his chest.

“Hm?” Bucky questioned, not quite hearing you over the running water and with your face down. Lifting your chin up to look at him, your eyes were puffy and red from all the crying you’d done all day. “You don’t have to talk about anything, Y/n. Okay? We can talk about it some other time.

Shaking your head, you sighed in faltered breaths. “I killed them, Bucky.”

Bucky looked at you with sorrow. He didn’t know how to tell you that he already knew, he didn’t even know if it was the right thing to tell you. All he did was brush your tears away and kiss your forehead, nose, then lips.

“You need to relax a bit, baby, okay?” he spoke in a soft tone. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

Staring up at him in confusion, you shook your head again.

“You know already,” you confirmed to yourself, knowing Bucky too well to know he would usually ask if you wanted to talk further about something before putting it to bed. “You know I killed all those people.”

Bucky sighed, staring into your eyes before closing his and nodding slightly. “I do.”

“And you don’t look at me differently?” you asked, your voice a lot more calm and collected now. “I broke my promise, I didn’t even show them any mercy, Bucky—”

“Do you look at me differently knowing all the people I killed?” he interrupted, placing his flesh hand on your cheek and rubbing it slightly with his thumb. “You don’t, you never have. You knew who I was when you first got here and never looked at me differently. Why would I do that to you?”

“That’s different,” you countered. “You had no idea what you were doing, Bucky. I did.”

“You were defending yourself,” he retaliated, doing his best not to downplay your feelings. “If you hadn’t killed them, who knows what they would have done to you? It’s Hydra, they don’t care who they hurt or how they do it. If I were you, I would have done the same thing.”

He was right and you knew it. You laid your head back on his chest, scared to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t want you to look at me like I was broken,” you admitted. “I don’t know who I was when all of that happened and I just— it felt like I was trying to escape them all over again and I’ve never experienced that before. I was scared.”

“And that’s okay,” Bucky reassured you the same way he always had, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “You’re not broken, you’re just healing. There’s nothing wrong with that, baby.”

You sniffled again before leaning into him more. “Can you just hold me for now?”

Bucky kissed your head again, squeezing his arms around you in all the warmth he could possibly transfer.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

—

I promise this is the last of my desire to write angst with injuring the reader… thank you for reading!

tags: @jessybarnes

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader

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froggibus · 1 year

Text

The Death of Peace of Mind - Stu Macher! Ghostface

Pairing: Stu Macher! Ghostface x f! reader (reader uses female/she/her pronouns + has a pussy), Billy Loomis! Ghostface x f! reader (at the end), Billy Loomis x Stu Macher

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2k

Summary: after finding out your boyfriend is the masked killer who’s been plaguing Woodsboro, you only have one request—you want him to take out his darkest urges on you

CW: Dark content ahead!!! dubcon, knife play, blood play, bondage (use of handcuffs and blindfolds), Stu cuts reader, bloodloss, oral (f! receiving), unprotected sex (yk what im gonna say), creampie, Stu chases you with a knife, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mentions of a threesome, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

incredibly self indulgent fic of my favorite Ghostface & the idea of being railed by him <3 this is a bit darker than what I normally write lol, also very tempted to write about getting railed by both Billy & Stu now

update ish? self indulgent part 2 w both Stu and Billy here

————

The minute the phone rings, the blood rushes to your ears. The entire town of Woodsboro had been warned against answering calls from unknown numbers after what happened to Casey and Steve. You weren’t worried, though.

Why fear the boogeyman when the boogeyman is the only person who makes you feel safe?

Stu always insisted on never letting you see the darker parts of him, on never sharing the weirder things he was interested in. He wanted to protect you from himself and the fucked up things he wanted to do to you. That all changed this morning when you stopped by his house to make sure he was awake in time for school, and saw the Ghostface mask in his closet.

You had grabbed it and tossed it at him, forcing him to explain himself.

The boy had stuttered over his words before he finally confessed: he was the one who had been killing people all around Woodsboro. Even more surprising than that was that he had a partner. Everyone, even the police, had only suspected one person was doing it.

He mumbled countless apologies, begging you not to leave him and begging you not to tell anybody or else ‘he’ would be mad. In all of his grovelling, though, he never mentioned who his partner was.

You cut him off. “Is this the dark stuff you didn’t want me to know about?”

He nodded slowly, tips of his ears burning red.

“Stu, I’m not going to tell anyone,” his head snaps up at your words, eyes lighting up. “But I have one condition.”

“Anything.”

You take a deep breath, biting your lip. “I want you to lose control. Do whatever you want to me, just let go. Don’t worry about whether I like it or not…just, show me those parts of you.”

“Y/n…”

“I mean it, Stu. Please?”

He’s reluctant to give in. He knows he would never hurt you, at least not severely, but the thought of showing you who he really is and what he wants to do makes him shiver. He doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like you do now.

Still, he gives in. He tells you to go home and relax, and maybe stock up on first aid supplies.

The thought of what he’s going to do to you fills you with excitement.

And now you’re sitting next to the ringing phone, knowing when you answer it that things will never be the same.

You press the phone to the side of your face, the cold buttons raising goosebumps on your skin. “Hello?”

“Hello, y/n.” The voice on the other end is deep and raspy, so masculine it has you clenching your thighs together.

“Who is this?”

Stu can’t help but smirk on the other end of the line. You’re playing the part of the innocent, dumb victim perfectly, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on. God, the things he wants to do to you.

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” he responds.

“I don’t think so.”

You lay down on your back on the couch, playing with your hair, with the collar of your shirt, anything to keep you focused on the man talking in your ear.

“Come on,” he almost growls, “why don’t you tell me your name?”

You can’t help but giggle at the frustration in his voice. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I want to know who I’m looking at.”

You suck in a breath. Smooth, you think. If you were anyone else, if you actually thought there was a chance he would kill you, his words would make you freeze. But tonight, all they did was make you shiver in anticipation.

You can feel your underwear soaking through with your arousal, your whole body warming. “L-looking at?”

Stu almost laughs at the way you nervously stutter. You sound so cute, so innocent…he really can’t wait to ruin you. He stifles his laughter from inside the closet.

“You heard me,” he says. “Don’t you want to know where I’m hiding?”

“You’re…you’re inside?”

A wave of fear washes over you. How had he gotten inside without you noticing? Is this how he had gotten to Casey, too? You hate how much it turns you on to think that he’s been here the whole time.

“Take a guess, come find me.”

Stu watches through the crack in the door as you stand from the couch with that puzzled look on your face. You spin around, the phone still pressed to your ear.

“What happens if I find you?”

Stu stays silent for a minute, watching you look around the living room to find him. Just as you get to the closet, your palm resting on the handle, he responds.

“I get to see what your insides look like.”

He pushes the closet door open and shoves you against the wall. You squeak, letting the phone clatter to the ground. Stu grabs your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head.

His other hand reaches for the knife in his waistband, holding up at eye level so you can see it. Your heart speeds up, your arms shake, your knees threaten to buckle.

He presses the knife at the centre of your collarbone, just above where your t-shirt begins. You can feel the sharp tip press into your skin, just enough to cause a bead of blood to roll down your chest.

“The things I’m going to do to you,” he breathes.

You almost call his name, but you know he’s not your boyfriend right now. You know he needs to let go, and part of that is to let go of himself, too.

He drags the knife down, cutting into the fabric of your t-shirt. He applies just enough pressure to easily slide the fabric, but not enough to actually hurt you. Still, you can feel the cool metal on your bare skin and it causes you to whimper.

Stu groans. You’re being so good for him, standing so still and just letting him do what he needs to do. He digs the knife into the soft fabric of your shorts, taking his time in slicing them down the middle.

Both pieces of fabric fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear in front of him. “I-I—” you’re not sure what you’re trying to say, but the words won’t come out regardless.

“I-I-I,” he mocks, holding the blade against your throat. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you.”

You whimper and kick against him, your knee grinding against the bulge in his robe. He drags the knife just above your collarbone. He presses in hard, hard enough to draw blood.

The warm blood leaks down your chest, dripping down your stomach and your underwear. The slight sting makes you whine even more and rub your thighs together.

He releases your hands. “Run,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in obeying him. As soon as your feet are on the ground, you’re tearing away from him. You can hear him walking at a leisurely pace behind you, laughing mockingly. Something about him chasing you, cutting you…it’s overwhelming, it makes your head fuzzy with pleasure.

You run up the stairs, turning away as soon as your feet meet the plush carpet of the landing. You turn around, only to see that he’s gone. You suck in a breath. Where could he have gone?

Arms wrap around your waist, a knife pressed into your side. “Got you.”

You squeal, kicking against him. He’s much stronger than you, though. He pushes you against the wall, using it as leverage to lift you up.

You wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you to your bedroom. He tosses you onto the bed, slamming the door behind him. You squirm, your sheets staining with the blood that dripped down your body while you ran.

You look up at him with those damned eyes, blinking slowly. His robe is stained with your blood, the knife in his hand slick with the red.

He crawls on top of you, yanking your underwear off and tossing them into the corner of the room. Your pussy is soaked as it is, but your blood has started to run into the juices, and the smell is fucking intoxicating.

He moves his face between your legs, the white mask looking up at you. You whimper and roll your hips against his face, staining the white with your red.

He tears off a strip of fabric from his robe and ties it around your eyes. “No looking,” he orders.

He tilts the mask up just enough so that his mouth and nose are out before licking up the blood from your thighs. You taste just as good as you smell, and it only makes him want more. He flicks his tongue across your opening and you whine, bucking your hips against his face.

He goes to work licking and sucking at your clit. He’s drunk from the taste of you, and all he wants is more. He presses the knife against your thigh, digging it in hard enough to draw blood. The pain in your thigh mixed with the pleasure in your core has you crying out, forcing you over the edge.

You finish hard, your slick coating his mouth and nose. He doesn’t stop, though. He keeps eating you out like you’re his last meal.

“P-please,” you whine.

“Please what?”

“Stretch me out, ruin me, just…please?”

Your breathless begging is so fucking cute that he can’t hold back anymore. He pulls the mask over his face again, laying on top of you. He pulls out a pair of plain metal handcuffs, and gets to work securing them around your wrists. He does it tightly enough that it digs into the skin and makes it impossible to escape, but not tight enough to be painful.

You struggle against the restraints, unable to see or feel him now. He shuffles against you awkwardly, pulling his cock out of his pants. He’s already rock hard, the tip coated in precum.

He lines up the head at your entrance and shoves his way inside. He’s so perfectly sized, always stretching you out perfectly. You whine, instinctively going to reach out for him before remembering the restraints on your wrists.

His thrusts are desperate and needy. All he wants, all he needs, is to bury himself inside of you. To fuck you like he needs to and absolutely ruin you.

“F-fuck,” you stutter out, forcing your hips against his to meet his thrusts.

His hands grip your waist tightly, his mouth hovering over your pulse point. He licks up the remaining blood from the cut on your collarbone, and the copper taste on his tongue only drives him to fuck you harder.

The way you're so wet for him, just from him cutting and fucking you. Hovering above you, fucking you like it's the last time, he's never felt more content. It's like the darkest parts in you pacify the darkest parts in him, and that's all he's ever needed.

You can feel yourself getting close, your muscles contracting with every deep thrust. You feel slightly lightheaded, but you’re not sure if it’s from your last orgasm or the blood loss.

Stu holds you closer, his body collapsing onto yours as his thrusts get sloppier. You know he won’t last much longer, either.

You squirm, bucking your hips to try and get him as deep as possible. He hits that sweet spot one more time and you come undone, your muscles spasming around him. Your pussy clenches around his cock and that’s all he needs to spill hot cum deep inside of you.

Your head rolls back, your body going limp. Stu pulls out, kneeling on top of you. “Think you can go another round?”

“C-can you?” You breathe heavily.

He reaches his hands around the back of your head to remove the blindfold. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus, fixating on the masked man above you.

“Not me,” he grabs your jaw in his hand and turns your head to the corner, where a man in an identical costume stands. “Him.”

“Him?”

The masked man steps forwards, slowly pulling the mask from his face. Billy Loomis is smiling at you like the devil, “hello, y/n.”

He pulls the mask back on, coming to rest on the bed next to Stu. Both of the Ghostface killers have their eyes fixated on your bound, writhing form on the bed.

“I think she can do one more,” Stu says.

“I think so too. I think she could take both of us.”

“B-both of you?”

Neither boy acknowledges you, too busy talking as if you’re not laying right in front of them. God, they’re going to be the death of you.

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