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#meet cute
dead-dove-yandere · 9 hours
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I have another idea, but it would be a spoiled and clingy Princess with her dear childhood friend. I now have no way of elaborating on this idea, other than a Princess - 💙☺
Ooo, this is interesting because I have mentioned a few times about a Knight OC I never posted - maybe if I ever end up posting him, there could be some kind of crossover with him and the Princess? Idk lol Dead Dove Extended Universe confirmed
Anyway, I hope this is okay!! I really like historical stuff, especially Mediaeval and Victorian era my university dissertation was about Mediaeval monks and how their handwriting influenced modern letterforms and typography so this was very fun to write!!
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OC Intro - Her Royal Highness, The Princess Theophania
Royal Yandere
Female ♡ 24 ♡ Human ♡ Princess
TW: Stalking, obsession, abuse of power, implied murder, reader is gender neutral as far as I could manage but it was kind of difficult since nobility titles and servant titles were very much gendered in the middle ages
♡ - You were fortunate - your mother working as a chambermaid in the castle and you being born around the same time as the princess meant that unlike most people who weren’t nobility, you got to spend time with Theophania.
♡ - You were childhood friends. Whenever she had a spare moment not taken up by her education, she’d run down to find you, and you’d both play whatever games you could think of until some tutor or the Queen dragged her off again.
♡ - She’d always smile at you, and even as children, as you looked at each other, you couldn’t help but wonder - what was the difference between royalty and the common folk? Why were they kept so separate?
♡ - As time went on and you both grew older, however, you two were kept separate more and more, the King finding it unbecoming that the princess spent her time with a commoner. Eventually, it got to the point where you never saw her anymore as she was kept locked away, learning the responsibilities that came with royalty.
♡ - It wasn’t until you were grown, and took up working as a servant yourself, that you saw her again - a banquet, held in honour of her reaching the age were she was ready to be married. You were stunned by her beauty as she stepped into the grand hall, luminous before all the guests. You doubted that she even remembered you existed.
♡ - But Theophania never forgot - as her eyes scanned the hundreds of people looking at her, she recognised you almost immediately even though you’d changed so much since you were children. She never forgave anyone that she’d been torn from you, and now she had influence of her own as a fully fledged royal, she was determined to use it to get to you.
♡ - The King brought in many suitors for Theophania to court, each bringing lavish gifts of fine silks, gold, furs, jewels, rare spices and fruits from the East, myrrh from the Holy Land, or rare texts, all in hopes of winning Theophania over. Knights, nobles, princes and kings from other kingdoms all came to try their luck at being betrothed to Theophania, but all were rejected.
♡ - Theophania was determined her marriage shouldn’t be one of political convenience. She wanted a love match, and she wanted you, but she knew the King would never allow her to marry a commoner. So she had to get creative.
♡ - There was a great deal of controversy and outrage when, out of nowhere, she asked for you to serve as her chamberlain, getting rid of her old one. You could hardly believe it yourself - did she really remember you?
♡ - You struggled to get used to your new duties, helping her get dressed, stoking fires to keep her warm, bringing her things to eat, cleaning her chambers, yet she was very forgiving of you when you did make a mistake. She never mentioned the time you spent together as children, though, making you wonder if she really did recall.
♡ - More suitors tried for her hand in marriage, and the King was becoming impatient, ready to begin forcing her to marry one. But that’s when they began to mysteriously die.
♡ - Everytime a new suitor came, he was discovered the next morning, dead. No one could work out how they died, and rumours began to spread that the Princess was cursed.
♡ - The many gifts from her dead suitors stayed stashed in her room, and after spying you admiring them, she gave you a wicked smile, and offered them to you. You declined at first - it was illegal for a commoner to own such finery, and besides, you couldn’t have read any of the book anyway with no education of your own. But Theophania insisted.
♡ - She fed you sweetmeats and quinces and fruit dusted in beautiful spices the likes of which you’d never tasted. She draped you in furs when you were cold and silks when you were warm and demanded that anyone who objected leave you alone before they were executed. She patiently sat next to you, teaching you how to read and scribe with a quill, so that you could be educated.
♡ - Little by little, you began to look less like a servant and more like a noble - completely changing over the course of months.
♡ - Suddenly, the King mysteriously began to get ill, a terrible sickness worsening with each passing day. It looked as though he may die soon - but Theophania was oddly calm.
♡ - With no brothers to speak of, nor a husband, she’d be next to inherit the throne, and as the King became too weak to rule, she had to take on the mantle of Regent Queen, making her the most powerful in the Kingdom.
♡ - With no one left to challenge her, she turns to you, a saccharine smile on her face. “My beloved servant - Now I am Queen, how would you like to be gifted a Dukedom?”
♡ - After all, she couldn’t marry a commoner - but nobility was more than acceptable.
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Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post
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hitlikehammers · 2 days
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PART TWO: Fail-Pirate!Eddie/Castaway!Steve (Pirate AU)
🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊
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Chapter Two: A Most Compelling Gaze
CHAPTER ONE // Chapter Three on 28 March 🌊
also on ao3
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He might be a piss-poor pirate, but Eddie’s not an idiot. He knows this was intended as a test—for the both of them, according to the Captain:
To test your loyalty after so many missteps, Munson, can’t help but doubt your commitment to this ship Reefer Rick had cackled at him through those rotting teeth of his; and to tease out the worth of the heftiest catch you’ve managed to date!, and they’d all laughed then, the whole of the crew, even those Eddie counted as the closest thing he had to friends, though their bellies shake less, their chuckles carry less an echo, and that’s something, maybe.
Maybe.
So yeah: Eddie’s well aware it’s a test, setting him up to babysit the castaway? It’s also to have a fucking laugh; probably more geared toward the latter, if only because they won’t fucking stop.
Because it’s one thing to imply attraction to the 'pretty-boy flotsam that was too big for even you to miss, Munson', because one, they’re pirates, degeneracies of all stripes were in their natures, Eddie’s known preferences being the very least of the lot and certainly far from unique, and two: fuck but yes indeed, even Munson couldn’t miss the heaven-sent vision who was now resting in his care, or capture, depending on who was asked.
Eddie didn’t see much difference, if his heart fluttered when he looked upon that face each time; if his pulse eased and the sun shone brighter through grimed window panes like sorcery, when Eddie watched the man’s chest rise and fall: alive, color back in his cheeks, his lips, and gods be good or cruel in turns, those lips—
But the crew, of course, can’t stop with the obvious; oh certainly not.
No: they have to cackle and ask more lewd lines of implication, most egregious—and of course most popular—being variations on oh yes, yes, too big for even the Merry Moron Munson to miss, but is the catch big elsewhere, hmm? Did you stick him with your pole, forwent the hook altogether? Or maybe he’s so large even you could have snagged him by his coc—
Eddie does his best to ignore all that, and just stand watch over their formerly-waterlogged not-quite-prisoner, scooped from a not-quite-wreckage, as in: no wreckage. None anywhere near, and the Captain had demanded they look and look hard, not chancing leaving unclaimed booty on the water but—nothing. The man came from nowhere. The crew’s more suspicious than curious.
But that’s another thing Eddie never fit in with, when it came to his shipmates.
And if—if, in the purely hypothetical instance—but if Eddie does retreat from the taunting behind the closed cabin doors where they’ve laid the mystery man to recover, and hopefully soon wake? Maybe Eddie retreats to the room he's babysitting in part because...he blushes easy, alright?
That’s not a crime, save one of his birth; nothing he can do to fight against it. So much as learned well in his youth: he knows keenly when it’s best to run.
Behind the doors to the cabin where the pretty mystery man too large to miss is lying in an oddly-clean bed for the vessel. That’s just a happy coincidence of the sort Eddie doesn’t normally stumble upon, so he’s got no interest now in staring the gift-washed-up-on-his-metaphorical-shore in the mouth.
“Your mouth will get dry.”
Eddie startles hard enough at the bedside of the Mystery Man to splay on the floor, knocked to bruise: he hadn’t realized he was gaping.
The sprawling as he stares up from the floor doesn’t seem to…incline his jaw to closing.
Mystery Man—who’s awake, good god, he’s awake, alive and awake and dry and warm, Eddie scrambles to pull himself up on the bed frame and he can feel the man’s warmth, and his skin’s got a golden sort of gleam that Eddie hadn’t noticed before but oh hell that does absolutely nothing to stop the stirring in Eddie’s trousers, holy fucking hell—
And oh. Oh, then the Mystery Man is reaching, slowly, blinking just once before he slips a fingertip under Eddie’s chin and nudges his lips closed with a pop.
He feels so warm. Eddie cannot goddamn swallow.
“Sorry,” the man’s turned half on his side, half on his stomach now, peeking almost adorably, almost shy but no, no: far more coy the way he looks down at Eddie, sitting up but still on the godsdamned floor. “I’m just kind of really partial to not drying out.”
Eddie blinks, stares, tries to parse the words around the echo of the touch; mouth. Dry. Right.
Right, he…right.
In hindsight, it’s either a very odd or very suggestive comment, but Eddie doesn’t intend to have access to hindsight any time soon, certainly not soon enough for it to matter, because the Mystery Man is blinking at him, and his lashes look like the patters on the hard outsides of a scallop, so long and previously delicate, fanned out to cast their own shadows, catch their own light.
“You’re awake.”
Which: obvious. Idiotic to state plain. No wonder they call him ‘moron’ as a rule on this ship, he does nothing to prove it wrong, though in fairness here and now: how in every hell imaginable is he supposed to be anything but dumbstruck by the eyes open, fixed on his, close-on to glowing with the amber shift of them, like fine whiskey he’d never had the coin for but has once or twice proven light enough fingers to snag. But they’re more than that, even: the same color but caught inside the sunset-meeting-moonrise where it lilts along the water, the copper starburst of it with the soft shift of the waves in greens, bare hints of blues—intoxicating.
What else can Eddie be but a fool, in sight of those eyes?
“Mmm,” Mystery Man hums with a quirk to his lips and stretches between the linens as if they were silks, rather than hole-ridden, and quite suspiciously stained; “for a bit.”
Eddie halts, pulse kicking a little extra hard because—
“A bit?” And his voice doesn’t squeak. It doesn’t squeak.
The way the man’s mouth curls upward calls Eddie out as a bald-faced liar.
“Your friends are,” the man licks his lips as he seems to consider his words; “quite colorful in their attempts at humor.”
Good god, the things, the things they’ve been saying, that this man has heard, about Eddie, and, and—
“You’re stuck here with me?” Mystery Man tips his head, half askance but also almost half apology which: in light of the moment, it’s the oddest thing to concern himself with.
In light of the man’s everything, it is the most absurd concern Eddie has ever been led to entertain.
“I wouldn’t say it quite like that,” Eddie manages to speak almost-evenly, with his heart still thudding loud enough to muffle his own words back to his ears. He’s almost proud of the effort made.
He’s absolutely proud of how it seems to be at least part of what provokes a full smile out of the Mystery Man, and if Eddie’d thought his eyes could, did glow? Gods above: this smile itself, but then compared in turn to the warmth that rises through Eddie to see it, a soft banked fire that rises from his toes and licks around his limbs, swells in his chest: oh.
Just, just oh.
“Good,” the man grins at him, sounds the like warmth Eddie feels, with an extra hint of satisfaction, a gilded edge of teasing maybe, even: “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck with you, either.”
Eddie let’s himself have a moment, even two or three, just to bask in the light of it, the way his pounding heart’s shifted to fluttering: no less frantic but more like how flames can dance, erratic but so clearly life-giving, evidence shone inside their light. He lets himself have the moments before he clears his throat, and tries so best to act like a grown man with some shred of dignity. Only a shred.
He’s not asking for miracles, here. Or: none beyond the vision wrapped above him in a pirate’s best bedding.
“How are you feeling?” Eddie finally manages to ask a question of import.
“Oh,” the man almost startles, or else his brows quirk a touch in something close to confusion before he seems to take stock of himself.
“Mostly alright,” he concludes with a nod; “I’d just gotten,” he chews his lips and oh, perhaps Eddie asked after the well-being of the wrong person in his room, his heart back to drumming because all hells, but that is a sight.
“Disoriented,” the man settles on; “the water was,” but he stops short, cuts himself off and something in what’s not said feels important and Eddie may have chased it if not for how shiny the man’s lips still looked.
“I’ll be fine,” the man smiles soft, then, assured him genially; “you needn’t—“
“They’re suspicious,” Eddie blurts, suspects he lands on it like a die rolled at random in the hopes he’ll say something other than you’re exquisite or the like. At least he rolls random but safe, not to mention true.
“You,” Eddie narrows his gaze, means to nod down to the unexpected quality of the man’s clothing and—
Meets the tufting of chest hair where the bedclothes end beneath the throat. Oh.
“You wore finery,” Eddie manages, and barely that, maybe not even that because his eyes catch the careful drape of the white cloth softer than anything Eddie had ever felt, drying as best as possible across mismatched seating, hoping to catch sunlight when it couldn’t be trusted just to the deck for the breeze, but however it drapes: it is very much drying. And very much not being worn. Which, which means—
Eddie might start believing in the deities for the simple fact that he hadn’t fully processed until this very moment that the beautiful Mystery Man was wholly bare beneath an ownerless shift that someone had scrounged up when they’d stripped his sodden form, drenched from the waters after rescue—and that, aside from the longshirt?
The man was nude under the sheets in front of him.
Especially given his height—about to Eddie’s own but even lying down, hells; even sleeping his frame was more impressive, more expansive somehow—but either way the shift was from a woman once braved back to the vessel, clearly, and it didn’t stretch far past the Mystery Man’s waist and—
Oh, oh, Eddie may have chosen the exact moment to consider belief in the gods just so he could wish them fire and damnation and a swift death for the way his blood rushes southward, the way his eyes dart to the line visible under the coverings where the shift has tucked even higher, under the clear peaks of firm but unbothered nipples—that peek through the linens very much as if they should be bothered, nay, worshippedas a gods-damned rule—but the line of the shift runs just below those tempting buds now, and Eddie is going to damn all the gods to their own hells because of course his eyes drift lower, to where the line was expected to fall; lower to where a different line of a clear curve and shapebetrays itself with an almost casual grace beneath a single thin covering, so close to Eddie’s face, Eddie’s lips—
“This?”
Damn all the gods to every conceivable hell.
Eddie tries to suck in a steadying breath when he looks up, grateful the man’s eyes are cast down but cursing the deities to burn in punishing flames for eternity when he sees the man’s hands near his throat, the linens pooled closer to his waist and the shift pulled down to betray more of the thatch of curls at his chest, but his fingers are threaded through something shining, something metal: a chain, not good but brighter, the likes of which Eddie’s never seen, not Pirate’s gold with its enchantments but similarly beguiling; otherworldly.
How did he still have it, where none of the crew had pocketed it before they left him in Eddie’s charge? How had Eddie missed it in the hours between?
“They think you royalty to ransom,” Eddie chokes out as the man tucks the pendant under to the shift he pulls back up just the slightest bit, and Eddie wills himself not to dwell on what that means for its too-short hem; reveals to his own heart that his will is lacking in the extreme before he barely sighs out: “or some competition to send to the plank.”
Because the clothes, even without the adornment at the neck, betrayed wealth, either by birth or business. Neither was particularly kind or tolerated by a pirate crew.
And ostensibly it was part of Eddie’s job, here, to discern to which the man belonged.
But before Eddie even has a chance to collect himself to something more pressing, if not imposing, the man takes it in his own hands to turn serious in a way that…that feels weighted, heavy in the air. Like the clouds hand spread palms to press upon mere mortals, Eddie none to be spared.
“There is no one who would pay my ransom in any manner you’d deem fit,” the man speaks solemn, but resonant, even if he’s tone is just above a whisper; the words themselves are honest, and that pangs deep in Eddie’s heart—who could not miss this man? Who could not desire nothing more in this world but his safety, his return to their side?
Unthinkable.
“And I swear to you upon all that I am,” and it’s the resonance, again, the way it almost shakes intangible things in the air around them, as if the vow it in as power somehow, or else isn’t actually the important piece of the statement at all:
“I do not deal with, or approve of, the trading companies that pollute these waters,” and there’s a pause, and it strikes heavy too; somehow mournful; “and so many others.”
The man’s voice dips then, there’s no clear reason for the way an echo rings but it does. It rings inside Eddie’s bones.
“I believe you,” Eddie breathes, a little shaky with it just for the gravity still in the room; “but that means we will have to concoct an alibi to get you safely back to shore."
Because Eddie believes him wholly, even if he cannot articulate the why—still, though.
The crew saw tell of riches. They will need a reason—not a particularly ironclad one, none of them are especially sharp—but some means of convincing them to let the beautiful man return to his home. No matter how Eddie wishes he wouldn’t, and not only for his own selfish, foolish wants—if it’s true they’d pay no ransom, Eddie can barely stomach the notion of returning this near-heavenly creature to such people who cannot see his worth.
He begins to ponder, concoct a tale, but then the man intervenes, definitively:
“I did not intend to get to shore.”
There’s something certain in his tone, but something strange likewise in his words. Eddie isn’t sure if it’s their cadence, or their order, or maybe the words themselves.
“You are very curious,” Eddie doesn’t hesitate to say, when an answer eludes him for enough heartbeats in a row.
“I am aware,” the man smiles crooked, but his eyes dance, prismatic.
“You have the most compelling gaze.”
Eddie has to blink a good many times, and swallow around his galloping pulse, to realize he hadn’t spoken. Longer still to process the words hedid not speak.
When it hits him, though, the curse of his easy flush sets his cheeks aflame.
And the breathtaking mystery man smiles wider, stealing breath he’s already taken entire: greedy.
Eddie is flooded with heat, with; with want.
“Does your compelling gaze have a name to match?”
Eddie nearly chokes on the thump of his heart because, how is a man so suave and charming real, and how is he mostly-baker, barely covered laid out before Eddie Munson?
Unfathomable.
“Eddie,” he coughs out, like the syllables get knocked by his riotous heart; “and,” he 
does not squeak, he 
stammers at a particularly high pitch:
“And you?”
“We are…where?”
Not an answer, nor a question Eddie expects. It must show, because the mean leans his chest, and his wholly unreasonable patch of curls between his pectorals just a little bit closer to ask anew, as if to clarify:
“Where would the stars place us in the night?”
Location. Bearing. Right, yes.
“New Providence is far in our wake by now,” Eddie answers in truth, which was part of why the man’s appearance made so little sense, especially in absence of a wreckage.
“Hmm,” the man hums, and strokes his chin—which should not be attractive, which should not somehow find a new way to ramp up his heart rate, and yet.
Eddie can feel the wild pumping graze the neck of his shirt.
“I am known by different names in different places but, no matter,” the man shakes his head and smiles before the first half of the sentence has a chance to make as little sense as it deserves; before he speaks but not just speaks, reaches for Eddie’s hand where it’s still gripping the edge of the bed where he still sits on the floor and Eddie thinks he means to shake it.
No.
No, he lifts it swift to his lips—so >i>soft—and kisses quicker than a blink before giving back Eddie’s hand and smiling oddly…oddly genuine—
“Eddie of the most compelling gaze,” that’s the genuine thing, he means that and Eddie marvels for it; “call me Steve.”
Steve. Steve. The name flows, sings, swims a little like the man’s own eyes. It suits so true.
“In our alibi,” Steve picks up, and it’s unfair for Eddie to call it sudden; it >is>feels sudden, but he has no concept of how long he’s sat and tried to brand to feeling of lips on his knuckles, perhaps minutes at least; “do you suppose there’s a tale to be woven that could keep me aboard with you, for a time?”
And it’s a surprise, but Eddie’s learning: this man, this Steve, is steeped in secrets and surprises. And maybe Eddie wants to devour him entirely.
Asking to be kept here? To stay, near Eddie, where he may have some chance to try and catch him in actual fact, instead of laughable happenstance?
Oh; he’ll give the deities another chance, in that case.
“You’re in luck, fair Steve,” Eddie chances a little hint of a flirt, mostly in heat, for show, but Steve lights up and he lets himself hope as he stands only so he can bow a bit theatrically and look up through his curls with a wink when he says:
“Weaving the perfect tale just so happens to be my strongest skill.”
And he thinks that’s the end of it, that he sticks on a high note but then Steve’s eyes drag across him, up and down where he’s stood in full height before him for the first time and those eyes: they expose him before those lips quirk at the corners and the voice speaks simple and clear but strikes somehow, inexplicable, like a pie down Eddie’s spine as Steve breathes deep, sighs smooth:
“I do not doubt you in the slightest, noble bard,” he says with feeling; “but I find myself unconvinced you’re not selling the rest of your attributes short.”
At which point Eddie may or may not turn on his heel and make for the deck to fetch water for his charge before the blood-rush to his cheeks sets some precarious too-parched woodscrap to flame and put fire to the whole fucking ship.
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nonomives · 1 month
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I did something
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hairmetal666 · 3 months
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Eddie's a mechanic, has a shop in Indy. It's only got two bays, but he owns it, he saved up the money, it's his. He runs it with Wayne, is building up a customer base. He loves it.
Within the year, a bakery opens up next door, separated from Eddie's shop by a narrow alley. He has a perfect view into the bakery's kitchen from the shop's office, and almost immediately catches a glimpse of the drop-dead gorgeous guy behind the mixing bowl. He's got sun-golden skin, swoopy brown hair, wide puppy dog eyes, the poutiest mouth, and a face dotted with freckles. Eddie gapes at him for a solid two-minutes, salivating over the bunch and pull of his muscles as he kneads a ball of dough. A wet dream come true.
Eddie's always sneaking glances at the shop next door, can't seem to keep his gaze off the most beautiful man he's ever seen. Over the next few months, he becomes familiar with this herd of kids that hang around the bakery at all hours. There's one, curly-haired and mouthy, who often makes the baker frown with his hands on his hips, but as soon as the boy walks away, the baker smiles all wide and fond.
It's a silly crush, no big deal. He has a weakness for brown-eyed pretty boys, so what? It's not like he's going to do anything crazy, like make a move.
It's past midnight, a few months after the bakery opens, and Eddie's in his little office, doing the monthly accounting. He's exhausted, tired of calculators and numbers, when a flash of light catches at the corner of his eye. He blinks a few times, sure it's the exhaustion setting in, but it doesn't go away.
Instead, there's a light on over at the bakery. It's a kitchen light, and the baker is standing at the stainless steel counter, looking unlike Eddie's ever seen. His hair is a soft wave, swooping onto his forehead. He wears grey sweatpants and a yellow sweatshirt. Tonight, his movements are less precise and practiced; he's slow and contemplative as he gathers ingredients and mixing bowls.
It's been long enough Eddie should look away, but he forgets that it isn't a dream, that he's actually watching the baker roll up his sleeves as he whisks. It's inevitable that, eventually, the baker catches Eddie staring. He just smiles, though, and waves. Eddie manages to return the greeting before awareness smacks him in the face, and he flees the office and the building in acute embarrassment.
They share waves after that. Smiles. Laughter once when Eddie's reading over an invoice and walking, smacks face-first into the doorframe. Eye rolls after the baker gets into an impassioned argument with the curly-haired boy, one that involves a copious amount of thrown flour.
They exchange waves and smiles and goofy expressions, and it shouldn't escalate further, but one day Eddie steps into the shop's waiting room to find the curly-haired boy sitting behind the reception desk, flipping through Eddie's new dnd guide.
"What." Eddie says.
"You," says the boy. He's pointing and glaring and Eddie is a little scared.
"Me?"
"You like dnd?"
He hopes his sigh of relief isn't audible. "Best DM this town has ever seen." He postures and smirks.
"Doubt it," the boy says.
Eddie lets out an offended squeak, dramatically smashes his hand over his heart. "Insulted! Maligned! In my own place of business! Oh!" He falls into a dramatic swoon.
The boy snickers. "I'm Dustin," he says.
"Eddie." They shake hands and Eddie does not laugh at how overly serious this is all is. "Sir Dustin, what brings you to my fine establishment?"
Dustin shrugs. "Steve."
"Steve?"
Dustin rolls his eyes. "The bakery."
"Oh," Eddie says. Steve. The baker is Steve.
He's having a little trouble breathing, sure he's done something wrong, a distinct feeling of doom settling on his shoulders. "Why?"
"He won't stop talking about the mechanic next door but refuses to introduce himself. Plus, I saw your D20 tattoo the other day."
Eddie's barely hearing him, reeling over the knowledge that Steve talks about him to his gaggle of children. He barely hears the rest of the conversation, but the next day Dustin shows up with the rest of the kids, Lucas, Mike, Max, El, Erica, Will.
They're loud, chaotic, wild, and somehow--before they leave--they've coerced him into running a one-shot for them. They come by in twos and threes for the rest of the week, eating all the snacks in the waiting room mini-fridge and talking at him and Wayne as they work.
It's Friday, it's sweltering, he's closing the shop for the night with the top of his coveralls hanging off hips, his sweat soaked undershirt tossed behind a tool chest. He steps into the waiting area and nearly jumps out of his skin to find a man there, holding a plastic container.
Steve.
"H--hi," he stutters. And fuck, he's shirtless. He's standing in front of Steve for the first time and his nipples are out. This is it, the moment he finally dies of embarrassment.
Steve's eyes are locked on Eddie's torso for a few seconds too long, cheeks flushing. He blinks, finally looking at Eddie's face. "I'm Steve. From the--the bakery next door?" He points. "I--uh--I wanted to stop by and apologize?"
"What?" Eddie asks. There's too much happening for him to keep up.
"Um, the kids?"
And Eddie can't fathom why he needs to apologize, can only stare at Steve in confused disbelief.
"It's just. They can be kind of a handful. I used to babysit Mike and the whole group of them started following me around, and--Anyway, I think Dustin took it upon himself to try to introduce us. I've been wondering where they keep disappearing off to, and Max told me today that they're here with you, and I thought I probably owed you an apology. You're trying to work and I know they can be a bunch of shitheads, and oh my god, I'm rambling, I really am turning into Robin, Jesus Christ."
Eddie is fucked. Oh he's so fucked. He's charmed, endeared, can't stop smiling at Steve who is somehow even more beautiful up close.
"I forgive you," Eddie says. "They're nice kids."
Steve lets out a hard breath. "They are, huh?" He smiles. "Don't let them hear you say that. You'll never get a moment's peace. And they shouldn't have been over here bothering you, anyway."
"It wasn't a bother. Though, they did eat all my snacks and swindle me into running a one-shot for them. Still not sure how that happened."
Steve laughs and his eyes crinkle at the corner. So fucked. So fucked. "I should've known that you play that game of theirs."
"Aw, not a dnd fan, Stevie?"
Steve blushes. "It's--there's a lot of math."
Eddie laughs, already knows he's never getting over this one. "You bake professionally."
"It's different?" Steve laughs. "Fine, fine! You got me, it's not my thing."
"Bet I could change your mind," Eddie says. He doesn't mean to be flirting, can't stop himself.
"I bet you could," Steve agrees. He moves his hand, like maybe he's going to run it through his swoop of hair, then seems to remember he's holding baked goods. "Oh, uh, please take these cupcakes as my apology for accidentally saddling you with my group of semi-feral children."
"You're already forgiven, but I'll never say no to a cupcake."
"You should stop by the shop tomorrow, then" Steve says. "On the house."
"You've already given me these." He wiggles the cupcakes in Steve's pretty face.
"I only save the free samples for the hottest customers." Steve does run a hand through his hair now, and it's dorky as fuck, but Eddie still feels like he's died and this is heaven. "See you tomorrow?"
Eddie can only nod as Steve backs out of the office with a cheeky little wave.
He goes to the bakery the next day, sure he just let his crush get away from him and imagined the entire interaction with Steve. Except, when he walks in, Steve smiles all big and pretty in his little blue apron, invites Eddie back to the kitchen.
And if they share their first kiss against the stainless steel countertops, it's between them, Wayne, and all the kids who spy on them from the shop's office window.
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steddielations · 3 months
Text
Steve acts on instinct.
There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.
There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.
They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.
“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.
“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”
Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”
It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”
“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”
Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.
“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.
He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.
It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.
“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”
Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.
“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”
Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.
Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.
“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.
“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.
The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.
He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.
“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”
He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”
“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.
“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”
Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.
“I think I’d definitely remember you.”
Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.
“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”
Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”
“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”
Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”
Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”
“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.
Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.
It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.
That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.
Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.
“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.
“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.
“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”
“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”
He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.
Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.
He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.
Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.
“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.
Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.
What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.
At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.
Oh.
He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—
Yeah, just. Oh.
Part 2
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stevebabey · 3 months
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have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3
Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.
In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.
Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.
She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.
And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.
So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?
The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.
So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.
Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.
Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.
7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.
This was his Friday night plans.
His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—
“Hi.”
Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.
Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.
Holy shit, this dude was hot.
He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.
He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.
“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.
God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?
The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.
Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?
“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.
He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.
The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”
Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.
“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.
“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”
“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.
Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”
Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.
“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”
He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—
“Can I get you two started with anything?”
The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.
“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.
“What? Not a milkshake man?”
Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”
Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”
Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.
“Did you just order for me?”
“Did you just diss milkshakes?”
Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.
“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.
“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”
Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.
“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”
Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.
“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”
Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?
Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.
“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.
The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.
Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.
Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”
Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.
The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.
Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.
"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"
His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.
"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."
Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.
"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."
Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.
Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.
"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."
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diabolichare · 2 months
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Is this courtship?
Danny is going to Gotham for his scholarship.
Good news! There's another halfa in the city, and he seems to be a good guy. Bad news: the nearest path to his university is through that halfta's haunt. He could take the long way around, but the costs would be more than his budget can handle, and he'd like to avoid dealing with a pissed-off Red Hood.
Hopefully the offerings will be enough to sate his annoyance (and help maybe, god that man has the most malnourished core he's ever seen).
Jason is getting incredibly confused over the strange gift baskets that keep appearing on his patrol routes.
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kitchen-spoon · 1 month
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Steddie where Eddie moves into a small house in a retirement mobile home park. He is the youngest guy there and is pretty handy. All the old ladies in the neighbourhood start to talk about him when he begins to offer his handyman skills to them as well.
One day after finishing up winterizing Mrs. Harrington’s water supply to her trailer she invites Eddie inside for some tea to warm up. Winter hadn’t hit yet but it was already nippy out she told him. Once inside she invites him to come over Sunday night to join her and her friends ‘book club’. At first Eddie politely declines but once she explains to him that its all the old ladies in the neighbourhood sitting around drinking wine, smoking joints, and gossiping he’s in.
Enter Steve who visits his grandma every Sunday for dinner and sometimes stays for her gossip sessions with all the other bitties in the neighbourhood because the snacks are always great. Steve is surprised that week when the door bell rings and a hot long haired pierced man covered in tattoos is standing there instead of another old woman handing him her coat and cane. Steve sputters for a moment but then his grandmother is coming up behind him explaining this is the young man who fixed her water supply for her.
“Well um, thank you for that.” Steve nods awkwardly, watching over his shoulder as his grandmother waddled away back to her friends. “You didn’t have to come though, sorry if she twisted your arm about it, she’s stubborn.” He rubbed at the back of his neck with a small chuckle.
“It’s okay I really don’t mind.” Eddie smiled easily, inching his way into the house and Steve’s personal space. “Smoking weed with a bunch of old ladies and gossiping about my new neighbours sounds like a great way for me to spend my Sunday.” He winked.
“I- yeah it is pretty fun.” Steve agreed having not moved at all. “The snacks are always great too, you’ll have to try Betty’s blondie cake it’s always my favourite.” Steve leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.
Eddie beamed back at him, eyes roving all over Steve’s face before pausing at his lips for a second then darting back up to his eyes. “Lead the way then big boy.” Eddie bit his lip at how red Steve’s face got, he decided to push it slipping his hand into Steve’s.
“Yeah- uh sure yeah.” Steve nodded dumbly staring at their connected hands for a moment before snapping out of it and tugging Eddie along. “Everything is set up in the living room, I just got the fire going to so it should be warm.”
By the end of the night Eddie and Steve were melted into one another on a small single seater in the corner of the room. They watched as all the ladies gathered their coats one by one as their husbands came to collect them.
“It’s sweet.” Steve sighed unprompted, his head lolled against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie made a questioning noise so he continued. “Seeing their husbands come walk them back home at the end of the night. They aren’t annoyed that their wives are giggly and a bit wobbly they are just happy they are happy and want to be there to take care of them.”
“You are a sappy stoner Steve.” Eddie teased, he moved his hand over and dropped it onto Steve’s thigh giving it a squeeze. “Can’t say I blame you though, it is very cute to see.” Eddie sighed before unsticking himself from Steve’s side and making his way to the door himself. “I better get going, no husband to come walk me home”. He blushed at the implication of his own words.
“I’ll be your husband.” Steve blurted then immediately turned red. “I mean- I meant that I uhum-“
“You can walk me home Steve.” Eddie smiled wide and teasingly. He looked his arm through Steve’s and tugged him through the door, waving goodbye to Mrs.Harrington with a promise to be back next week.
The walk was short considering Eddie was only 2 houses down and one across. They kept their arms looped the entire 3 minutes they walked, and once they reached the door Steve still hadn’t let go.
“Well goodnight.” Steve spoke first, ducking his head away. He took a deep breath then looked back to Eddie determination on his face when he spoke. “See you next week?”
Eddie smiled but shook his head, “I was hoping sooner, how does Wednesday sound?” He moved in closer his hand sliding down to Steve’s waist.
“Wednesday is great I love Wednesday.” Steve nodded frantically then cringed. “I mean I don’t actually love all Wednesday’s just this one because we are-“
Eddie cut his rambling off with a kiss. He leaned in and connected their lips, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Steve’s head.
Steve melted into the kiss, his body going lax in Eddie’s hold, “Thanks for saving me from embarrassing myself further.”
“Anytime sweetheart.”
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stevieschrodinger · 2 months
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Steve sighs to himself. It's so godamn cold his car door handle is frozen.
Which means he can't open the door.
Which means he can't get in.
It's fucking dark, it's fucking cold, and Steve is one hundred percent done. If he was actually parked in the lot at work this wouldn't be a problem - isn't normally a problem - he just goes in and gets a mug of boiling water and dumps it over the door handle. Not today though, oh no, the lot at work is being resurfaced and he's been forced to park a ten minute walk away for three days this week.
Steve contemplates what to do - actually briefly contemplating taking a piss on his own car door handle and wondering if that would even work- when the only positive about this whole thing comes around the corner.
The dog walker guy. He's so cute, especially in the cold, all his fluffy hair poking out from his lopsided, clearly home made, knitted pom pom hat. Yesterday he had a whole pack of dogs with him, today he's got one.
It's a very old looking Jack Russell, waddling along. Cute dog walker guy stops, "Bill," he calls after the dog. The dog does not stop, waddling on in a determined fashion. "Bill, this is our car," the guy tries again. Bill has made it maybe fifteen feet, but he turns and looks. Seems to come to the conclusion that, 'oh yeah, that is our car,' and starts to waddle back.
The whole exchange makes Steve's day better, and he can't help the laughter. Cute guy laughs too, giving Steve a 'what can you do' kind of shrug, and the prettiest smile Steve's ever seen.
Cute dog walker guy scoops Bill up and puts him in the passenger seat, before heading around to the driver side, he must notice Steve's helplessness, or demeanor, or something, because he asks Steve, "you okay man?"
"Yeah, yeah, I just...locked out you know, doors frozen."
"Huh," the guys says coming over to inspect Steve's frozen handle, "well, I usually get Bill a pupachino, want to get coffee with us? We can bring back a couple of to go cups of hot water?"
And that sounds way, way better than pissing on his car, "yeah,that's great thanks, I'm Steve, let me at least get the coffee."
"Eddie...and are you cool with a geriatric guy sitting on your lap, because Bill already called shotgun."
"I think I'll cope."
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bleedingoptimism · 3 months
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They hear the ‘ding’ of the elevator as they walk inside the very luxurious building and Robin grabs Steve’s hand and makes them run to the door yelling, “Hold! Please!”
A hand covered in rings and with short nails painted black appears from inside and holds the door for them. They get in as Robin breathes out little ‘thank yous’ under her breath and Steve smiles at the gentleman who helped them. His brows go up a little at how handsome the man is. He’s wearing black dress pants and a black silk shirt under an also black suit jacket. The whole look is expensive and the man wears it very well. With his long curly hair tied at the back of his neck, plus the rings, the nails, and the surprising amount of piercings in his ears, he looks like a rockstar. He has a cute nose and full lips that look very enticing and big beautiful brown eyes that are looking back at him. 
Steve smiles once more and nods politely figuring he should stop staring. They have to go up like a billion floors or something so this is going to be a long elevator ride. Probably shouldn’t make their traveling companion uncomfortable. 
He distracts himself by looking at Robin, fixing her hair behind her ear. She looks great. Slack pants and a tight dress shirt in grey tones with black suspenders adorned with metal cufflinks. Short hair loose and just the right amount of disheveled and a graphic eyeliner so sharp it could cut you. He would know. He did her makeup. They were asked to dress party chick but professional, which neither of them knew what the hell meant but Steve is pretty sure Robin nailed it. He just hopes he did a good job too.
He’s wearing a white thigh shirt of a soft material he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of and black dress pants, the ones that fit him like a second skin, paired with a big leather belt, just to add a little extra. He tries to inconspicuously check himself out in the mirrors of the elevator but accidentally meets eyes with the well-dressed man again. Who adverts his gaze quickly and Steve realizes he just caught him checking him out. He smiles to himself and looks down bashfully only to be horrified by what he notices because, his white shirt? The stupid fabric he can’t name? Totally sheer. Well not totally, but a little. Like he can see his nipples right now a little.
Oh my god. Oh my god.
“Robin, we need to go.” he suddenly says grabbing Robin by the back of the elbow. 
Robin turns to him previously just nervously watching the floor numbers change and frowns worried, “What? We are already here, Steve! What do mean?”
“I need to go home and change Robin! I can’t-” He whispers to her, although he knows it’s in vain, there’s no way the handsome man isn’t about to hear a very embarrassing conversation. 
“We are literally in the elevator. We are not going back home so you can change!” Robin huffs annoyed now that she knows it wasn’t anything more serious, “What’s wrong with your clothes?” she asks pinching his shirt between her fingers.
Steve turns his back to the man and crowds Robin, facing her, “Can you see my nipples?” he asks trying to keep his voice low but he hears a cough that sounds suspiciously like a chuckle behind him. 
Robin looks at him like he’s lost his mind but, as always she goes with it, “Yes?” 
Steve puts his palms over them and gasps and Robin starts laughing “What are you doing?” she says between giggles at the same time Steve exclaims, “I can’t show our new boss my nipples!” 
“Steve, what?! I thought it was on purpose! You know, just a peek, a little chess hair, a little nipple.” Robin says still laughing but stops when she sees Steve is looking actually distressed. 
She huffs and runs her hands up and down his arms comfortingly.
“Why would I want to show them my nipples!” Steve groans and Robin shrugs.
“It’s sexy? We were asked to dress for a party”
“Why would I want to look sexy for work?” Steve asks again, still trying to convince Robin to let him go home and change.
But Robin tilts her head to the side, “But you can’t turn that off, though? Like, you are always sexy.”
Instantly his mood changes and he smiles and coos at her, “Aww, that’s so sweet, babe! But you are biased…”
Robin scoffs at being babied and raises an eyebrow, “How am I biased?”
“Because you love me!” Steve answers like it’s obvious. And Robin nods as if taking in the information.
“Okay. I see your biases and I raise you the following point: It’s objective. Because I’m a lesbian.”
Steve laughs, but he’s not the only one. For a second, Steve had forgotten they had an audience member. A very handsome audience member. He blushes, the guy must think he’s such an idiot. But at least he thinks they are funny. He turns back to his side and smiles at him again. 
But Robin suddenly jumps a little beside him, like she had just noticed him, and says, “Stranger! Opinion?”
“Rob, no-” Steve starts but Robin leans over him to talk to the man, “Shirt. Good? Bad?” She says moving her hands in front of Steve as if she was showcasing him. Steve blushes some more and tries to keep a neutral face. So he ends up just white-man smiling awkwardly.
The man chuckles again and then looks at Steve from top to bottom and back again, “You look good,” he says smirking.
And Steve's blush deepens. But Robin either doesn’t notice or is enjoying it, because she keeps questioning him, “Good. What are thinking? Slutty or sexy?”
The man leans his head to the side, his eyes roaming over Steve's chest and Steve has to resist the urge to cover his nipples again.
“It’s sexy.” he says, voice deep and serious as if this was an important conversation and not Robin and Steve being dumbasses, “Like, sophisticated sexy.”
Steve shakes himself to try to make his blush go away and addresses the man, “I- well, thank you, first. And second, I’m sorry you were dragged into this. But would you want to look sexy meeting your new boss?” he asks him.
He taps his chin in thought and then says, “Your friend is right though, are already here. Just don’t flirt with them and you'll be fine!” 
At that Steve purses lips and Robin snorts rudely. “That might be a problem,” she says.
The man laughs surprised and Steve can’t help but think he has a really nice laugh, “How?” he asks them.
“Steve has a little miscommunication problem,” Robin explains, “When he tries to be charming people think he's flirting.”
Steve crosses his arms and huffs making the few locks that fall on his forehead lift a bit and fall back down, “I have no idea what I’m doing wrong! I’m just trying to be nice..”
The man is looking at him with raised eyebrows and he blinks a couple of times before snickering, “Looks like your friend is right, again. You just can’t turn sexy off, uh?”
Robin laughs really hard at that and Steve goes back to full tomato status.
“I could've tried!” he says, not even sure what are they arguing about anymore.
“How?” Robin asks him amused.
“I don’t know, a big sweater? Something knitted, comfy?” he tries but they both shake their head at him.
“That sounds sexy too,” The man says and Steve frowns,
“Literally. How?” 
“It gives off fuck vibes. Like you are really fuckable,” he says, and then his eyes go wide and he bites his lips.
Robin’s eyes go wide too and she snorts, looking at Steve who is just staring at the guy with his mouth hanging slightly open.
“Sorry!” the man says, raising his hands in mock surrender, “That was so out of line- I- oh! Saved by the bell it seems,” he says when the elevator dings, “This is my floor”
The doors open and Argyle and Jon are on the other side and Steve realizes, this is also their floor.
“Eddie!” Argyle says as the man moves towards him and they shake hands enthusiastically. 
“Steve, Robin” Jon greets them with a smile as they slowly walk out of the elevator, watching Eddie’s deer-in-the-headlights expression.
“Ah! I hope you had a pleasant elevator ride and didn’t do anything awkward!” Argyle jokes completely oblivious, “I’m a little sad I didn’t get to introduce you guys!”
“...What do you mean?” Robin asks with a forced smile.
“Steve, Robin: This Eddie Munson!” Argyle says moving behind Steve and Robin and hugging them by the shoulders so they stand directly in front of Eddie, “Your new boss!”
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steddieasitgoes · 9 months
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Steve’s parents leaving him home alone more and more after the Fall of 1983. Half the time they don’t even tell him in advance, he just finds out from a note left on the kitchen counter and $10 to cover pizza.
Steve waking from a nightmare, friendless, alone (let’s pretend he and Nancy didn’t get back together), and hungry. The fridge is empty and Bradley’s Big Buy is closed for the night. He tries to go back to sleep but his stomach won’t relent so he reluctantly gets dressed and drives 15 minutes to the 24 hour McDonalds in the next town over.
The same McDonalds where Eddie works the drive thru headset at on the weekends. He’s not exactly fond of the job and finds dozens of ways to make it more entertaining — like coming up with terrible nicknames for the company.
Steve is taken aback the first time the static drive thru speaker welcomes him to “McCrap-lds.”
It makes him smile for the first time in weeks.
Neither Steve nor Eddie recognize each others voices as they banter back and forth. Steve ask for recommendations, Eddie makes fun of him but gives in.
When Steve pulls up to the window he expects to meet the funny drive thru employee but he’s greeted with a tired middle-aged women instead. Apparently Eddie lost window privileges after an incident. Steve doesn’t ask questions.
When he wakes up from another nightmare a week later, he returns to the McDonalds and engages Eddie in more easy banter before ordering his food.
It becomes a habit — one he keeps up for the entirety of the summer of 1984.
Steve and Eddie never meet face to face but that doesn’t stop them from venting, joking, and sharing their McDonalds recommendations through a shitty drive thru speaker.
Then on the first day of senior year, Steve is in line for the terrible cafeteria food (it makes McDonalds look like a Michelin Star meal) desperately craving chicken McNuggets and sweet and sour sauce when he hears a familiar voice. He turns quickly, eager to finally learn who the mystery guy responsible for making him laugh at 3am in a McDonalds parking lot is only to find Eddie “the Freak” Munson waltzing across lunch table going on and on about how conformity is killing kids.
Steve’s in shock. How could the sincere and hilarious guy he’s been shooting the shit with all summer be The Freak?! But then Eddie’s foot catches on a lunch tray and he topples ass first to the floor. When he pops up he takes a dramatic bow and makes a joke — one that sends Steve into uncontrollable laughter.
Yep, Eddie “the Freak” Munson is McDonalds guy.
And Steve knows exactly what he has to do.
He figures out where Eddie’s locker is and then excuses himself two minutes before the dismissal bell so he can get himself into position. When Eddie saunters over to his locker at the end of the day, Steve is waiting for him.
“Think it’s time I cash in on that free sundae you promised me a few weeks ago.”
Eddie stares at Steve dumbfounded for a moment, mind reeling as he process what Steve is getting at.
“You, Steve “the hair” Harrington are the McDonalds guy? My McDonalds guy?”
“Well I’m certainly the McDonalds guy,” Steve says taking a step closer. “Buy me that free sundae first and then we can discuss me being your McDonalds guy.”
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dead-dove-yandere · 1 month
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OC Intro - ╹◡╹
Secret Admirer Yandere
??? ♡ ??? ♡ Human? ♡ Office Worker
TW: Stalking, obsession, delusional behaviour, threats, mention of a blade, implied kidnapping/murder
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♡ - You’re an office worker - it’s not your ideal job, but it pays the bills. You keep your work life strictly separate from the rest of your life, always keeping your head down and focusing on the task at hand rather than talking to any of your colleagues, but not working hard enough to get noticed for a promotion. You don’t plan to stick around in this career after all.
♡ - Any of your coworkers shouldn’t have known much about you at all. To be honest, you didn’t know much about any of them anyway. You were perfectly happy just blending into the background.
♡ - But, one Monday morning, as you near your desk, you notice something unusual. Pasted right on the corner of your computer monitor, sits a post it note. At first you assume someone missed you and wanted to leave a reminder for some kind of memo or meeting, but reading it sends a shiver down your spine.
♡ - “Have a wonderful day at work, honey. ╹◡╹”
♡ - You stare at the message on the yellow post it, written in red biro, trying to fathom who it’s from. You assume someone must have left it on the wrong desk by mistake, and throw the post it away.
♡ - The post its don’t stop though. Everyday you come to your desk and see a new one, all with similar cutesy messages, all signed off with that smiley face.
♡ - “Make sure to drink plenty of water! ╹◡╹”
♡ - “You look amazing today, honey. ╹◡╹”
♡ - “I miss you so much! ╹◡╹”
♡ - On Friday, you get sick of it. You go around, asking all your coworkers if their partners have perhaps got the wrong desk, but no one seems to recognise the handwriting.
♡ - Giving it up as a bad job, you decide to talk to HR about it once Monday rolls around again.
♡ - The weekend comes as a bit of relief, but it doesn’t last long.
♡ - Monday inevitably arrives, and again, there is a post it note on your desk. You do a quick tour of the office, hoping to perhaps catch the culprit, but everyone has yellow post it notes on their desk - there is no way to tell who it is from.
♡ - You go to HR, but there is little they can do for you without any knowledge or proof of who is leaving them. Deflated, you go back to your desk and work, trying to focus but unable to.
♡ - When Friday rolls around again, the note reads differently than usual.
♡ - “You seemed stressed, honey. Let me take you out tonight - my treat. Meet me at 7, at that restaurant we both like. Wear something nice. ╹◡╹”
♡ - You haven’t a clue what restaurant they mean, and even if you did, there is no way in hell you are going with some stranger that seems to have some strange one sided love for you. You crumple the note in frustration and throw it away, as you have with all the other post it notes.
♡ - Monday arrives again, but this time instead of a note, it seems there is a letter.
♡ - it’s written on the standard issue memo paper found anywhere around the office. It seems crumpled and tear stained. Whoever is writing them seems to have switched from a red biro to a red ink pen, but the ink seems oddly dark and brown.
♡ - “Honey. I waited for you all night. You never showed. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? How humiliating it was to be sobbing in the middle of the restaurant? I came back here at the weekend and found all my love notes for you in your bin. Why are you so cruel? Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore? You’re coming home tonight. I let you stay at your own place long enough, I know new couples need time before moving in together but this has gone too far. You haven’t even visited or called or texted once. Come home. We have some serious discussion to do. ╹︵╹”
♡ - You can’t bring yourself to get any work done, you can’t bring yourself to eat, you can’t even bring yourself to try and tell HR again. You stand up and do another lap of the office, carefully examining everyone’s faces, trying to work out who might have sent this damned letter, but you can’t tell. You haven’t even the faintest idea.
♡ - You eye all your coworkers with suspicion, until finally you can’t take it anymore and hide in the toilets. You stay there, frightened to leave, right up until it’s time to clock out, and even then, it takes you a long time to work up the courage to leave.
♡ - When you finally get out, the office is empty. There is no one else there, apart from you. You find the darkened cubicles eerie, yet you breathe a sigh of relief anyway. Surely that must mean the note writer is gone too? You run out into the car park, making a mad dash for it, then stop short just as your car comes into view.
♡ - It’s covered in post it notes of varying colours, each one scrawled in that weird red ink. Some are angry, others plead for your forgiveness or return. Every single one is wet with tear stains.
♡ - You freeze. You have to call the police - you’ve let this go one long enough. You take a step back, ready to run back to the office and hole yourself up until the police arrive, only to stop when you feel a knife against your back and hear a voice you don’t recognise.
♡ - “Oh honey, you aren’t getting away with this that easily…”
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Personality
The most mysterious of all, “Smiley” (╹◡╹) hasn’t quite seemed to grasp that it wouldn’t be obvious to their darling who they are. In their eyes, they’re already with their darling, and their tactics are less trying to get close to their daring and moreso engaging in what they think is cute couple behaviour. When their darling ignores or dismisses their bids for attention? Well, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned. It’s probably too late for their darling by the time they finally see the face of their admirer.
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Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post
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Text
Okaaay:
Eddie minding his business on the L. He's just off of work from the garage, still in his work boots and coveralls, a little grimy. He's able to grab one of the last seats in the crowded train car.
At the next stop more people squish in some in festive Halloween costumes with it being the Saturday before the holiday that Monday.
A very eye catching man stands in front of him and supports himself on the pole closest to Eddie.
The train starts up again as the bodies lurch and shuffle with the movement. The man's wearing a coat a little too heavy for the weather.
That's when Eddie sees it.
A tiny apple-shaped head pop out with big triangle ears and a tongue permanently peeking out. The micro dog has it's head stuck out from it's hot owners coat and is staring at Eddie.
He huffs out a laugh and wants to pet it.
The attractive man brings his free hand up to pet the animal who let's out a pleased grumble. His own eyes catch Eddie's as he grins, making him even more unattainably attractive while Eddie's still in his shop uniform.
He leans closer into Eddie's space as the train car sways, "Her name's Punk, wanna pet her?"
Eddie's own face lights up, "Punk? Is she all anarchy and chaos?" He asks as he lifts a hand to let her teeeeeny adorable nose sniff before he pets her.
The man chuckles, at the next stop the seat next to Eddie vacates and the man with the chihuahua in his coat, Punk, sits dow.
"She'd like you to think that, but it's actually short for-" He nudges closer to Eddie and lowers his voice to whisper, "Punkin, it was her name already from the rescue, a previous owner, I couldn't change it on her she'd already been through so much and responded to it already." He unzipped his coat and Punkin in a small orange knit Halloween sweater hopped out into Eddie's lap and started sniffing around his face and ears, tail wagging manically at making a new friend.
"Well isn't she just perfect?" Eddie cooed as he rubbed her ears.
"Uh, and I'm Steve, wanna grab a drink with us?" The man next to him asked.
Eddie knew he looked a bit worse for wear, who could pass up this opportunity?
"Yeah? I'd love to, I'm Eddie." He responded as the man gave him that same breath taking smile and Punkin licked his cheek.
He was a goner already.
-and that's how over six months Punkin became the unofficial mascot of the garage Eddie worked at and Steve became his boyfriend.
My PSA not all chihuahuas are demons and even the ones who are derserve all the loves.😅🥰💕
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reiderwriter · 6 months
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Elevator Pitch
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
WC: 2k!!
Warnings: Smut, fingering, semi-public sex/ foreplay, praise kink-ish, some pet names completely ignored Spencer's germophobia to make this work 18+ MINORS DNI
Summary: Getting trapped in an elevator is never fun, but at least the attractive you're sharing the metal box of death with has an interesting idea about how you can pass the time.
A/N: This is just a really quick drabble for @imagining-in-the-margins Meet Cute challenge for this month!! I have an idea for another one that I'll post closer to Halloween too, so look forward to that alongside all the kinktober fics 👀
Check out my masterlist here!
You weren't planning on running late on your very first day on your new team, but here you were. You were scheduled to meet Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner in his office at 9 a.m. sharp, and here you were at 8:57, trapped inside an elevator. At least you weren't alone, but alone with a stranger, and one who seemed to be talkative in the worst way wasn't exactly ideal either. 
"Hey, don't panic. There are about 6 elevator-related deaths per year and about 100,000 injuries. I'm pretty confident about those statistics." He said, taking a sip of his coffee as he stood calmly by the door, pressing buttons and waiting for something to happen. 
"Oh god, I'm gonna die in here." You whimpered a little bit, falling to your knees and screwing your eyes shut. 
"No, I said we're not gonna die. Or its at least very unlikely." 
"And I'm supposed to trust you?" 
"Yes, I'm very good with numbers. Elevator accidents account for 0.00024% of all elevators in service in the US. There you don't have to panic anymore." Almost punctuating his words, the elevator gave a low groan and fell an inch lower, pushing him off balance and toppling to the floor right next to you. 
"That was just unfortunate timing." He said, his breath hitting your face. Your eyes opened again finally, and you noticed that due to his topple, he was way closer than before, face merely inches from your own. Whoever this overconfident stranger was, he was attractive. Distractingly so, as you didn't respond to his sentence the entire time he was there in front of you, words suddenly escaping you as you stared into his dark, wide eyes. 
"Mechanical issues are the cause of about 15.3% of elevator incidents. Since we're in Quantico, we can probably rule out foul play, which means that they'll probably have us back up and running in around 27 minutes." Opening his mouth ruined the fantasy for a minute, waking you up to the reality of your situation. 
"Did you work an elevator case or something, why do you know so much about this?" You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, as he launched into another speech. 
"I read the statistical reports published by the CPSC and the OSHA. It’s really interesting stuff actually, there are-”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way but I need you to shut up. I don’t think I can take any more statistics about my inevitable death by elevator. Can we do something else instead?”
“Like what?” 
“I don’t know. Can you… Can you hold my hand?” You felt yourself flush red the second the words left your mouth, and suddenly it was your turn to talk too much. “My mom used to do it when I was scared as a kid, and obviously you’re not my mom, and you don’t even know me, but I thought it could help comfort both of us. Human contact and touch is supposedly comforting in times of distress so I just thought…” He cut you off by silently grabbing your hand and settling into a seated position beside you and you sent a little prayer up to god to spare both your soul and your heart. 
Because Jesus Christ it was beating hard now.
“Oxytocin,” he said and you looked up at him with a questioning look. “Oxytocin is released when you come into contact with other people, it’s the reason newborn babies benefit from skin-to-skin contact and why humans enjoy petting domestic animals so much. And the whole sex to destress thing.” He nodded and looked away, but you could have sworn the oxygen was completely sucked out of the room when he mentioned sex. 
“Sex?” He turned to you as you said the word, as if processing the conversation you were in the middle of it. 
“Yeah, never heard of it?” You rolled your eyes and squeezed his hand in your own for a second, but his body was leaning closer into yours now, his entire attention on you, as if he expected you to answer the question. 
“Of course I have.” 
“And what do you think? Can it help you de-stress?” 
Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Can we stop talking about this please, I’m already scared, I don’t need to be scared and horny.” You close your eyes and groan as his widen again, and suddenly you’re praying again, but this time you wouldn’t really mind if you became one of those six elevator malfunction deaths. 
“I don’t know, maybe it would help you. There are some studies that show that stress can have aphrodisiacal impacts in women, you know?” His voice was light, but your entire body stiffened as you looked into his eyes, trying to gauge what this stranger was offering. 
“So what, you’re suggesting I just get more and more turned on until I’m not worried about death?” 
“No, I’m suggesting I close the gap between us and distract you for a while.” You spared a glance down to his lips then, his tongue darting out to lick them and pulling you in closer. You nodded quickly, a small movement and he pushed his lips down into yours. 
He was soft at first, and you almost felt like pulling away and scalding yourself for engaging in risky behavior during a near-death experience. But just as you moved to pull away, his hand came up to your hair and you melted right back into him, the kiss deepening as you slanted your neck up to give up more of yourself to him. 
You barely feel his hands pulling you into his lap, but you’re suddenly there and so happy you are. Your free hand wanders up to his chest as he squeezes your connected digits again, sending your heart into a fit of palpitations. In a panic you pull away, groaning a little as you can feel his not stiff member poking between your legs. 
“Sorry, I don’t think we exchanged names. I’m Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N..” 
“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” His lips fall down to your neck as he whispers the words into your skin, and you let your head fall back as his hands untangle from you and fall to your hips, encouraging your movements as you begin grinding over him.
“And you said we had twenty-seven minutes before we’re free, right?” 
“Whose the one talking too much now?” He bit into your neck sharply then, and you moaned out, battling the urge to let him take you there on the elevator floor. From it’s perch on your hip, his hand slips down and pops the button in your pants, pushing inside and finally touching you through your panties.
“That’s it, good girl, just keep grinding down on me.” Unconsciously, you press your hips into his hands, the pressure leaving you letting out a whistful sigh of relief. 
“God,… Should we be doing this here?” Your words were unsure, but your movements weren’t as you pushed yourself into him again and again, desperate to feel more of him as he rubbed circles into your clit, driving you closer and closer to your peak. 
“Let’s assume for now that the elevator malfunction has wiped out the CCTV,” he says, lips pressing against your skin as you lose yourself in his touch again. “We absolutely should be doing this.” 
His words fell straight to your core, and you felt yourself grow more aroused as you pondered being caught in such an intimate position with a stranger.
“You think you can cum right here, baby? Think you can give me one soon?” His words almost sent you over the edge, his smile widening as your hips twitched over his. 
“Fuck, yes, yes, please, don’t stop.” 
“Not so scared about this elevator anymore are you? Or did you want to spend your last moments coming undone in my hands?” With his words, you lost the ability to speak, simply moaning out your agreement to his every word. 
“I think I can hear someone talking through the walls, baby, you’re going to have to cum now for me, can you do that?” You nodded to him as he increased his pace on your words, and within seconds, you were letting it all out, head falling against his shoulder as you twitched through your orgasm. He pulled his hands out of your pants quickly and pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling you up to a standing position and making you look presentable as the doors to the elevator were finally pried open from the other side. 
“Hey, how are you guys holding up in there?” The call came from the maintenance staff, and you were sudden;y thankful that he’d finished you off when he did because as horny as you’d been, actually getting caught like that was something entirely different than the fantasy of it. 
You’re almost sorry that you have to leave when you do, suddenly absolutely involved in helping him “destress” the same way he’d helped you out. But he removes his hands from you and strikes up a conversation with the maintenance staff working to get your elevator level with the floor doors. You gravitate to the back of the stall, gripping the railing while your brain catches up to the circumstances. 
In no time, the elevator is back in working order, and you and your stranger are stepping foot on steady ground again, and saying your goodbyes.  
“Aaron Hotchner’s office is through those doors. Up the stairs to the left.” He smiles and nods at you before turning down the corridor and leaving you there by yourself. A glance at your clock tells you you’re too late to question his words, and how he even knew where you were going. You take off down the hall, ready to profusely apologize to your new boss and pledge to take the stairs for the rest of your days. 
When Hotch finally greets you, he has already heard about the elevator malfunction, and all is thankfully forgiven. You have to bite your tongue before asking if everyone on this floor is psychic. But you’re still late, and you have a case, so your introductions have to take place in the briefing room and you half-run, half-walk behind the older man as he makes his way down the hall. 
“Everyone we have a new team member today, please help her out for this first one and show her the ropes.” He introduces you by name, and you’re suddenly doing your best to memorize the names of a Prentiss, a Rossi, a Morgan, a JJ, and one Penelope Garcia. They seem to be waiting for someone else, but with the clock ticking, Penelope begins debriefing you on the next case.  
“Sorry I’m late,” a voice calls from the door, and you feel the hairs on your neck stand up in shock as everyone slowly turns to greet the newcomer. 
“What time do you call this?” Morgan laughs as the familiar man approaches, and a quick glance around tells you that the only seat left at the table, which had been so obviously reserved by the pile of paper files in contrast to everyone else's digital alternatives, was right next to you. 
“Spencer, we have a new team member, this is Y/N. She’ll be joining us on cases from today onwards.” Hotch quickly says, and you lock eyes with the man just as he falls into his seat. 
“I think we’re acquainted. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Spencer Reid.” The room falls silent as he holds out his hand for you to shake, and you do your best to not show your shock and embarrassment on your face. You let your hand fall into his, the same one that you’d held earlier, the same one that had worked you up to the edge and then helped you pour over it, the same one that had pulled you together afterward. You said nothing after you’d finally pulled apart, waiting for him to make the next move once again. 
“I look forward to working with you.” 
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hairmetal666 · 11 months
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Closing shifts at Scoops Ahoy are always boring, but Robin took off early to study and nobody is coming in for ice cream at 8pm on a school night in mid-winter. Steve's alone and has been for the last forty-five minutes, with no end in sight.
He's doing tricks with his scooper, counting how many times he can twist it through his fingers without dropping it (57 so far), when the most beautiful man Steve has ever seen, walks in. He's got long dark hair that falls in perfect curls around his shoulders; wide eyes the same deep brown of fresh, dark coffee; and the most perfect plump mouth.
Steve can't move, his head going fuzzy. His eyes catch on the man's chest--visible through the black mesh tank top he's wearing-- revealing tantalizing swirls of black ink and the glint of silver bars through each nipple. The guy also has on leather pants that cling to the line of his legs like a second skin.
Jesus. Steve just realized he's bi and the physical embodiment of his wet dreams walks into the store like it's nothing. He's going to die.
The man rushes to the counter, his eyes finally falling on Steve, and it's like his feet get caught on each other for a second before he struts forward. His face melts into this heart-stopping smile, bringing out the cutest set of dimples Steve has ever seen. This is it, Steve is done for, time of death, 8:06pm.
"Ahoy, sailor," the man says with a mischievous glint in those dark eyes.
He returns the smile and somewhere, somehow, finds the words to reply, "I think that's my line."
Steve leans towards the counter, but in doing so, drops the scooper hanging from his fingers. The metallic clatter is harsh against the tile, and blood rushes to his cheek. "Whoops," he mumbles. He ducks down to retrieve it, mentally kicking himself for his clumsiness.
The man's smile only grows, and now there's a faint flush across his pale cheeks. And fuck if Steve can't help but smile right back, to let their eye contact linger.
"What can I get you?" He asks. His voice is way too low for regular customer service, and if he flutters his eyelashes too--well, that's between him and the USS Butterscotch.
"I know this is ridiculous. It's late and it's starting to snow," the man says. He leans over the counter. "But I need a strawberry shake to go."
"Strawberry shake, good choice," Steve nods. "Coming right up."
They don't stop looking at each other or smiling as he blends up the drink, and when he hands the cup over, their fingers brush, linger, both their faces staining red.
"How much do I owe you?" he asks.
Steve shakes his head. "On the house."
"You really know how to charm a guy, sailor-boy."
"Maybe I'm hoping to see you again."
"Depends," the man says. His smile widening, his dimples getting somehow deeper.
"On?"
"How good this shake is." He winks.
Steve thinks he might burst into flame before the man can taste the drink, but then the guy glances at his watch and curses. "Sorry, sweetheart, I gotta run. Been a pleasure, sailor."
And with that, he runs from the store, strawberry shake clutched in his long-fingered grasp.
Steve collapses against the counter, burying his face in his hands. He's not ever gonna recover from that.
---
Eddie's guitar is in his lap, his melted strawberry shake at his side. He can't get the guy from the ice cream shop out of his head.
Fuck, he had all that perfect hair under that silly little hat; his face dotted with cute little moles and freckles; eyes that flashed from honey to gold to green flecked hazel; and the poutiest, most perfect lips ever had Eddie seen. Not to mention how he looked bent over in those itty bitty shorts. Shit, if he isn't totally done for.
He can't stop smiling.
That is until a guitar pick hits him right in the forehead, dragging his attention back to his surroundings.
"Earth to Eddie," their manager, Chrissy, says. "You go on in ten minutes."
"Don't tell me you didn't get the stupid shake." Gareth shakes his head.
"No, I got it. Not to worry."
"Then what's up with you?" Jeff asks.
Eddie can't help the huge, stupid smile that illuminates his face.
"There was a guy," Eddie sighs.
Chrissy and his bandmates share a look. "Let me guess," Gareth says. "You walked in and he was like 'Oh, Mr. Munson. Let me get you ice cream, let me suck your dick. Oooh, you're so hot. Corroded Coffin is my favorite band.'"
"C'mon, no. I don't even think he knew who I was."
At one point, that would've bothered him. But now, after five years of hooking up with dudes who were only interested in famous Eddie Munson, he likes that the guy from the ice cream parlor seemed totally oblivious. That, when his eyes lit up with interest, it was for genuine attraction and not name recognition.
"Did you get his number?" Chrissy asks.
He slumps. "No."
His friends all groan. Another guitar pick flies at him, getting caught up in his curls.
"Well, you'll go back tomorrow. Now get your head in the game, Munson! You have a sold out stadium to play!"
---
"I'm not kidding you, Robs, he was the hottest guy I've ever seen. I didn't even know dudes could be that beautiful."
"Uh-huh," she says.
"You're not even listening." He jabs her in the ribs, making her squeak.
"Sorry, sorry," she bats his hands away. "Describe him again?"
And he does, leaving nothing out. Once he's done, Robin is gaping at him, gum about to fall out of her open mouth.
"What?"
She grabs his wrist, dragging him out of the store.
"Robin, what are you doing? We're supposed to be working!"
She doesn't answer, just hauls him to the record store down the hall.
"Was it this guy?" She asks. She's out of breath.
"What?"
"Steve! Was it him?" She gestures to a new release display and it's Steve's turn for speechlessness.
He's surrounded of images of the man from last night; on magazines, CDs, cassettes, on a couple posters hanging on display. He's with a couple of other guys, they're in a band called Corroded Coffin, but all Steve can see is deep brown eyes and plush lips, the bright dimples.
"Well?" Robin demands.
"Yeah," he nods. "That's him."
"Oh my god!" Robin screams. She grabs his arm and squeezes. "You flirted with Eddie Munson! Steve! You minx!"
"It was nothing," he blushes. "He's probably got someone already, anyway. I mean, look at him."
Robin makes a little face. "There are some rumors, but nothing serious."
"It was a nice dream," he says. He gives her a little smile. "Now, let's get back to work."
She loops her arm through his. "Whatever you say, dingus."
---
It's been a long day of slinging ice cream. Maybe Robin's revelation that the cute guy from the night before was an insanely famous rockstar is to blame, but Steve is exhausted.
"Hey, dingus!" Robin calls from the front.
"Yeah?" he mumbles.
"Some guy is here for you. He looks a lot like Eddie Munson."
She's not even finished with her sentence before Steve is vaulting back behind the counter, coming face-to-face with the man of his dreams.
Eddie's gorgeous, his face already flushed a faint pink. And just like the night before, Steve can't help but smile at the man before him, who dimples up immediately in return.
He forgets that Robin is there until she says, "Go get 'em, tiger," and snaps him in the chest with a towel.
With Robin gone, they still don't say anything for a second, both smiling and blushing and staring at each other.
"So, uh, I guess you're wondering why I'm back today."
"That's easy," Steve says. "It was the best strawberry milkshake you ever had."
Eddie laughs with his head back and Steve is stuck staring at the long lines of his throat.
"Well, it was the best, no question. Made me realize I was a fool not to ask for your number."
Somehow Steve's smile grows. He jots his name and number on a Scoops napkin, passing it to Eddie who does the same, before carefully ripping the paper in half.
"We're still on tour for the next three months, but I'll call you when I can?"
"I'm looking forward to it."
"Talk soon, sweetheart," Eddie leans into Steve's space, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
Steve still has a hand resting on the spot when Robin re-emerges.
"Oooh, you've got it sooo bad," she sing-songs.
He's so happy, he can't even bother to shush her.
---
Corroded Coffin has a new album out. It's a huge hit, number ones across the board, a fixture on MTV. It's full of heavy metal love songs, sales bolstered by the rumors that Eddie's been in a secret relationship for years.
They're at the Grammys, nominated for Best Metal Performance. The band has moved on down the red carpet, but Eddie's still answering questions, their assistant waiting with him. The interviewer asks Eddie, "There's a lot of speculation about your romantic life because of this album. There are rumors that the song 'Sailor Boy' is in reference to how you met your lover. Will you tell fans about the person you're dating, the one who inspired the album?"
"No," Eddie smiles for the camera. "But oh, do I love the way he moans," he sings a lyric of the song in question before giving the interviewer a lascivious wink, and continuing on down the carpet.
Years later, after Eddie and Steve are comfortably out and married and Corroded Coffin has cemented themselves in metal history, the video of that interview will be uploaded to YouTube.
It's obvious, now, the way Eddie and Steve, the "assistant", gravitate towards each other. How Steve flushes a pretty crimson that spreads below the collar of his shirt as Eddie sings. The way Eddie smirks at him with a raised eyebrow. The way his hand cradles the small of Steve's back as they walk away together.
It causes a frenzy online, fans compiling blog posts and videos of moments of Steve and Eddie being totally obvious about being in love before the world knew that they were.
Eventually, Steve posts a photo to the band's webpage. It's of him and Eddie at Scoops Ahoy. He's wearing his uniform, and Eddie is in a faded Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans. They stand at the counter with their arms around each other, smiling hard, eyes locked. He captions it with, "putting the sailor boy allegations to rest."
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steddielations · 1 year
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Eddie finally lets Jeff talk him into going on this blind date. It's not like he's against dating, he just doesn't expect fireworks from an hour of small talk over an overpriced dinner, y'know? Jeff swore by this guy, though, assuring Eddie that they would hit it off, but Eddie will never know because the guy doesn't show.
That's right, he gets stood up, Jeff texts him a string of apologies saying the guy chickened out. So Eddie’s just sitting there alone, trying not to sulk when the waitress asks if he's still waiting to order. Fuck it, he refuses to be the most miserable person in the restaurant, looking around to find someone equally as pathetic, and lo and behold:
Three tables away, there's a guy getting dumped.
Eddie eavesdrops because he has nothing better to do. It’s a pretty standard breakup. Sounds like they haven't been together long and things fizzled out. Neither of them seem to be invested enough to try and salvage it.
"Aren't you gonna say anything, Steve?"
No, Steve isn't. He just sits there while his former boyfriend leaves, doesn't try to stop him at all. Not in a hardened douchebag way, but in a dejected 'why do I even bother' way that Eddie knows all about.
And well, Eddie might be a cynic but his curiosity isn't dead. This Steve is far too pretty to be getting dumped in a seafood place and Eddie has to know what the deal is. It leads him right over to Steve's table. He looks up at Eddie, not quite dead behind the eyes yet, but maybe a little lonely. Just needs a spark.
"Alright well, something tells me that a stranger bugging you won't be the worst thing to happen to you tonight, so I'm just gonna take this empty seat and maybe we can help each other figure out why we're both alone on a Friday night. What do you say?"
Steve blinks, a little taken back at first, then he matches the nonchalance that Eddie's so good at faking with a smirk and a shrug, "Depends. Do you have all night?"
Turns out, Jeff was right about one thing, Eddie does hit it off with someone and it doesn't take all night. They leave the restaurant together, spend hours just walking the town and even breaking into a park after hours. It's the most fun Eddie's had in a while, and even though he doesn't get a goodnight kiss just yet, he gets a second date, which is even better.
He walks home with a skip in his step and a fire in his belly that he hasn't felt in years. He never thought he'd be so glad to get stood up before.
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