#says he'll help steve take down the set or something

[unclewaynemunson]

@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

#truly the ultimate idiot4idiot couple #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fruity ficlet

[graceloveswolves]

Attempting To Escape Yandere Bucky Barnes Would Include...

Honestly, he's probably one of the easier Yandere's to escape from.

You've escaped from him a few dozens of time.

But he's Bucky, a highly trained assassin, he finds you every.single.time.

The longest you've been away from him was a couple of hours.

He doesn't like fighting or any altercations, especially from a his love.

He is already pretty lenient on you to begin with, just trying to get you to like him so you feel better/safer with him.

And so he can stop worrying about the entire situation.

He doesn't try to intimidate you in any means, the last thing he wants is you to be terrified of him.

Although he doesn't let you push him around, he will put his foot down and let you know he is serious and that you will never be with anyone but him.

Most of the time he already knows when you plan on escaping.

The trick to escaping him would to be nice to him, act like you trust him and start warming up to him, then wait for him to let his guard down

The moment he lets you have the slightest bit of freedom, RUN.

He would be very hurt, but not surprised.

He'd obviously have no trouble finding you.

But when you put up a fight when he catches you is when he really struggles.

He'll let you hit, kick, punch, bite, spit on him all you want as he drags you away from public sight.

You can say the most vile things to him as he takes you back to your shared house, he will agree with you.

Will probably low key cry about it later when he's by himself.

No matter how much you act up, he won't punish you harshly.

Man-handling you and chaining you to a bedpost is as far as punishing goes with Bucky.

He will accept any apology, but to make sure to give you twice as much.

Still feeds you, and gives you anything you want aside from freedom.

Rinse. Repeat.

He keeps letting you try, hoping you'll eventually get tired and just accept your fate with him.

Let's you have your space and privacy, and lets you run your mouth as much as you want and vent your anger out.

It's pointless though, he never responds unless he has a valid answer.

But he notice that just makes you angrier so he keeps his comments to himself.

Sometimes he will chain you to the living room couch and make you watch movies with him.

Or when he knows he won't have any distractions, he will let you sit freely on the couch.

But obviously he sets some rules.

In order to stay unchained you have to be in the same room as him within his sight at all times or they go back on.

Pull down gates all over the house.

He'll lock the hallway gate at night and let you roam between your bedroom, his bedroom, and the bathroom.

But he secretly hopes one day you'll lay down in his with him.

If you want something sometimes you will.

Whatever it was, you'd have it the next morning.

He has no problem calling you out when he sees you snooping or trying to find ways to escape.

"You do know I'm not that stupid, right."

"You know I can see you from right here right?"

"Now why am I going to say no to that?"

"Give. It. Now."

"Now see that is exactly why you have to be chained."

"Nope. Chains going back on."

"Hey!"

Has alarms set everywhere.

Once Bucky accidentally set one off at night, disarming it instantly and went to bed, upset that he probably woke you.

He forgot to arm it again and you realized after he went to bed and got out that night.

He walked in your room with a plate of waffles the next morning and about passed out when he realized what he forgot to do.

In total denial at first.

Really thought he had lost you for good.

Had Steve and Sam help him look for you.

You had no idea what Steve looked like, so when he ran into you it didn't raise any alarms.

You just wanted to get as far away as fast as you could

so when this random guy offered you a ride out of town you were in his car in a heartbeat.

You didn't know where you were so you didn't even know he was driving you straight back to Bucky's.

Bucky's place looked a lot different at night in the pitch black.

The random dude offered you to stay at his house.

You rejected, wanting to keep moving until you were at least three states away.

He then pulled up into a driveway and roughly yanked you out of the car and into the house, nowhere as gentle as Bucky was with you.

Once he threw you in, you were actually relieved to see Bucky and have clarity that this stranger wasn't going to kill you.

"Oh thank god. Wait WHAT!"

The only time Bucky has ever yelled at you.

He felt really bad afterwards but didn't apologize.

Steve still never lets you live it down.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes and steve rogers #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes one shot #the winter soldier #bucky barns x y/n #yandere #yandere bucky barnes #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere bucky barnes x reader #yandere marvel #yandere bucky barnes preferences #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier fanfiction #the winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel yandere preferences #marvel preferences #marvel imagines #Steve rogers #james buchanan barnes

[luveline]

Hi Jade! I wanted to request something with Prince Steve and his soulmate. I feel like we’ve started to see them warm up to each other but maybe we could see reader start to meet Steve’s friends and see that she’s got more people standing behind her? Like maybe Robin and Eddie teasing Steve about something embarrassing in front of her or I know she hasn’t shown up yet but I could totally see Nancy as like a lady in waiting/tutor to teach her all about proper manners but in the process she spills all these stories about Steve growing up?

thank you for requesting ♡ prince steve au fem, 1k

A knock at the door, an impatient huff. "Are you ready yet?" 

"Come in, Steve." 

He wedges into your rooms, a basket in his hands. "Why are you on the floor?" 

"Can't tie my stupid shoes," you complain, dropping your hands down, knee pulled up, too warm for all the fuss. 

Steve nearly drops the basket, he's that enthusiastic to help you out. He kneels by your feet and takes the laces of your shoes into his hands, pulling them tight, his eyebrows pinched tighter. "That okay?" he asks, pausing his loop. 

"Yeah. Thank you." 

"They didn't teach you how to tie your shoes back home? We need outreach immediately." 

You laugh and lay back on the plush rug behind you. "It's the weird eyelets. You royals do everything weird. Like picnicking." 

"So many points. These aren't eyelets, they're lace hooks. You're pretty much as royal as I am, or you will be in a matter of days. And," —he finishes tying your boot, pulling the other toward him with a small laugh— "Robin wanted a picnic. She's not royal. None of your points make any sense." 

"You'll be a wretched husband." 

Steve takes your hands and pulls you up into a sitting position. He doesn't let them go, transferring both into one so he has a hand free to straighten up your cardigan. "And you'll be a cherished wife." 

Steve pulls you onto your feet. Together, you walk through the selenite halls of the palace to the prince's private gardens, where a gazebo the colour of the sky stands shading refreshments from the eager sun. Helping themselves to the hors d'oeuvres are a tall Eddie and a shorter partner in crime, Robin. Nancy lays out in the grass next to who you assume to be her boyfriend, a handsome guy with two books in his hands, still closed. He squints in the sun, waving as you and Steve approach. 

"Hey!" he greets. "You're late."

"Don't get up," Steve jokes, waving back at him and Nancy, who's barely lifted her head. "Not like I'm anyone important." 

"Very, very hard to find you important when you're wearing shorts," Eddie says. 

Steve shrugs. "She likes them." 

You realise belatedly and with horror that you're she. How does he know you like his nice shorts? Either way, his indifference so long as you like them makes you flush, leaving his side in search of a cold drink to drown yourself in.

"Did you bring the bat?" Steve asks Jonathan behind you. 

"Hey, babe," Eddie says, offering you a glass cup set with pressed flowers in the sides, "you okay?" 

"Is that lemonade?" you ask, pointing at one of the small water dispensers. Their glass shells shine with condensation, more ice cubes than liquid inside. It's a cloudy white with blood orange slices cut and garnishing the top, their juice seeping downward slowly. 

"Sure is. Prince Stevie's favourite, as always. Don't know where the sudden love for oranges came from, do you?" 

You've had a love for them since you got here and tried them for the first time. Oranges are expensive, and so the palace kitchen has them in abundance. Steve clearly noticed. "Wouldn't you know?" you ask. "Don't you choose his meals?" 

"As if. I'm a glorified cleaning boy," Eddie says. He scoops a bagel covered in cream cheese and fresh cut salmon from a silver tray and takes a big bite. "Just stick around for the food." 

"They won't let him back into the engineers workshop on account of his bad manners, he'll be a dishwasher forever," Robin says grandly, rounding the table to stand on your other side. 

"Says you, lady's maid." 

Robin was supposed to be a lady's maid. Sick gig, good pay, she had all the grades and none of the decorum, but Steve wouldn't let them get rid of her, and after an intense training program that taught her to wield a titanium blade longer than her arm as an extension of it, she was instated as his personal guard instead. They're all job hoppers —Nancy started as a lady's maid but now apprentices as a royal tutor, and her boyfriend worked for the palace's news room but now works under the sous chef. 

You did anything you could to stay alive, and now your full time job is princess, so. You're not judging. 

"What's Nancy's boyfriends name?" you whisper. "Jon?" 

"Jonathan. I don't think anybody calls him Jon," Robin whispers back. 

"She's lying. His name is Gordon." Eddie glares at Robin. "She's trying to trip you up." 

A smack erupts through the air, chased by Steve's pleased whoop. "Yes! Baby, did you see that?" 

"I'm not trying to trip you up," Robin says, "don't listen." 

"She totally is." 

"Baby?" Steve calls, yards away in the bluegrass, a bat held at his side. "Guys, stop harassing her. Jesus." 

"We're not harassing her, Stevie, slow your roll. This is a common social phenomenon called teasing, maybe you've heard of it? You do it with friends," Eddie says, nudging your arm. 

Friends, you think. Steve's looking at you, waiting for confirmation that you're alright. "I didn't see it, Steve. Do it again!" 

Steve immediately jogs backwards, goading Jonathan into pitching another ball. He has a good arm, the ball soaring just right for Steve to curl back and send it wide across the green grass of the garden. It hits a long banner across the way, smack dab on its painted target as he'd aimed for, falling practically on top of the first. 

It's an impressive arc. You clap your hands together and cheer, though the rules of this game escape you. You think it's supposed to be darts without sharp points, but you're more concerned with the lines of Steve's bicep as he rests the bat on his shoulder, his triumphant sun-kissed smile.

"Did you see that one, baby?" Robin asks. 

"He's so impressive, isn't he?" Eddie adds, grinning. 

Steve throws them the bird, his cheeks pink. 

"That's an example of what not to do in a formal setting," Nancy says, her skirt moving like water as she puts her face in her hand, her elbow on her knee. 

"You're getting good at this tutoring stuff," Jonathan says. 

Steve meanders your way to beg a consolation hug (he puts his arm across your shoulder, muttering about mean friends and their unjust jokes). "They're the worst," he mutters, his hair brushing your ear, goosebumps erupting down your arms. 

"I think they're nice," you say. 

He hums in your ear. "You would. Wretched wife." 

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[lis-likes-fics]

Bells, Bells, Bells

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader, Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson Word Count: 3k words Prompt: Double penetration Warnings: NSFW, swearing, threesome, double penetration, fingering, lots of lube, anal, use of anal plug, use of safe word, pnp, p in v, p in a, aftercare, they're all pathetic actually... A/N: I was working on a completely different fic and then got completely stuck so I started writing this instead and, well this got done a lot quicker so... Anyway, this is basically just porn with no plot bc plot would've taken a bit. Hope you enjoy. Also A/N: This is also my first time writing anal so...bear with me, guys.

You whimper when the bed dips next to you, your arms trembling as they hold you up underneath you. There are goosebumps all over your body plaguing your skin and making it hard to pretend like you're chill about all of this.

Steve, sitting in front of you, just raises a hand to your cheek and smiles reassuringly as his thumb grazes your skin. You lean into his hand and shut your eyes.

Behind you, Eddie chuckles lightly and inoffensively. “Relax, sweetheart. I haven't even touched you yet.” Then his hand sets gently on the bare skin of your ass and smooths there. “Get closer to Stevie. He'll help you.”

On hands and knees, you take a couple steps more toward him until your hands are planted on either side of his crossed legs. Your head rests momentarily on his shoulder before he pulls you back to lay a long kiss on your lips. You lean in some more, humming lightly against his lips.

“Good girl. There ya go,” Eddie whispers. “Just breathe for me, baby, and relax. Or it's not gonna be easy. Got me?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“You remember the safe words?” he asks, his tone still calming and guiding but holding just as much gravity.

You nod. “Bells means I'm good. Puppet means slow down. Whiskey to stop.”

“Good girl,” Steve says this time, petting your head and kissing your forehead.

Eddie sets his hands on your butt, smoothing his palms over the skin before spreading your cheeks apart. “‘Kay, just relax, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers.

You flinch when you feel him squeeze out some of the same cold, wet lube from before over the pretty blue plug still nestled between your cheeks.

You'd never done anything like this before. A couple hours before, you told Steve and Eddie that you wanted to try something new. They always had to take turns when you got intimate, one in front and one in back. But you wanted to see what it would be like to take them both at once.

So they pulled out their—thoroughly cleansed—plug and worked with you for a while to get you ready to put it in. It was a tight squeeze, but they were both so encouraging through the whole process of stretching you out enough to comfortably take it. It's been a couple hours since they put it in, to get you nice and ready for them, and now they had to take it out.

So here you are, hands and knees with Steve holding your face and Eddie spreading a generous amount of lube over the plug and your puckered hole.

“‘Kay, I'm gonna pull it out. Need you to push a little for me, sweets. Okay? It's gonna be kinda weird, but you'll be fine.” Eddie says.

You nod, “‘Kay.” Doing just as he says, you push a little as he grabs a hold of the handle of the plug and begins to, very slowly, pull it out.

Distracting you, Steve captures your lips with his own and muffles your stiff moan. As you stretch around the apex of the plug, you hold your breath as he manages to pull the rest of it out. All of you sigh as it finally comes out.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods, pulling away from your lips. “She's good. Just not used to it. Right, baby?” he asks gently. You hum in agreement.

“Where are you at?” Eddie asks.

“Bells.”

He sighs gently, reassured. “Okay, good. You look good. You'll be loose enough for me now.”

You all agreed that it would be better for Eddie to take the back: Steve was thicker than him, and it would have been too much of a stretch—especially for the first time. He didn't mind.

You nod, returning Steve's smile as he strokes your cheeks. Your legs tremble slightly, the anticipation eating away at you as you breathe gently.

Eddie's hands stroke your cheeks, bending over your body to kiss the back of your neck. “Like I said before,” he speaks gently, “it's gonna feel kinda weird and a little uncomfortable at first, but you'll get used to it. From there…it's heaven, baby.”

You chuckle lightly. “You'd know all about that, huh?” you tease, glancing at Steve mischievously. He laughs with you, looking at Eddie behind you with a smug look.

Eddie snorts. “Please, you know Steve's a bigger bottom than me.”

You laugh again. “You're both bottoms. Even with me sometimes.”

He shrugs, amused and happy that you're happy. Lightly smacking your ass, he shakes his head. “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

Breathing in, you let out a long sigh and nod. “I'm ready.”

Eddie spreads another generous amount of lube over his cock, pumping himself a couple times before lining up with you. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbles.

Steve takes your face and pulls you in for another kiss. You grunt against his lips as you feel the head of Eddie's cock pushing against your hole, then pushing past to go deeper and deeper, slowly seating inside of you bit by bit as his hands hold you tightly by your hips.

The feeling is foreign, pushing deeper into you as you distract yourself with the feeling of Steve's tongue smoothing over your bottom lip.

But then, Eddie's hips meet your behind and the tension snaps.

Your lips slip off of Steve’s as you melt against him, your eyes fluttering closed as you lean into his chest on a long sigh. Steve chuckles lightly. “There ya go,” he hums, glancing up at Eddie, whose face is just as blissfully fazed as your own.

Eddie starts pulling out, still slow as he allows you to get used to the feeling before he’s pushing back in again after his long thrust. Pushing all the way back in, another sigh breaches your lips as the tiniest moan slips from you. Your limbs feel like jelly, and it’s so strange to you as you lay there with no strength in your body to sit back up, perfectly content to just lay against Steve.

“How are we doing?” Eddie questions, his voice strained as his own pleasure begins to tickle at his throat.

It takes a moment as you take a choppy breath in. “Bells,” you whimper in a slurred tone.

“Good girl,” he nods. He does that for a while, keeping it steady as the both of you get used to each other. Steve watches, his hardening cock almost painful as the two of you enjoy the other. Your moans start to grow as Eddie continues steadily rocking in and out of you.

After a moment, still stroking your cheek, Steve whispers to you. “You think you’re ready for me yet?”

Glancing up at him, you nod. The word slips out in the middle of a moan, “Bells.”

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head as his hand eases underneath you and slips between your thighs, his fingers teasing your folds, “You’re such a good girl.”

Normally, you’d thank him, but your lips are so slack from the pleasure that it’s hard to form the words. His thick fingers sink into you, pushing your lower lips apart in order to massage your tight pussy.”Jesus,” he mumbles under your breath. You’re so wet for him already, your arousal mixed with the lube has made you slick and slippery and perfect for him.

Steve lays back so he’s underneath you, his hands on your waist and his cock laying against his belly. He strokes himself in his hand a couple times before lining up with you. “You ready?” he asks, his voice gentle against your ears.

You nod. “Bells.”

He licks his bottom lip as he chuckles lightly. Eddie slows to a stop behind you, nodding at Steve before he’s pushing inside of you. A long groan slips from both your chests as Steve sheaths himself inside. The stretch, although stinging at first, is delightful as you rest your head on his chest.

You nod quickly, “Bells, bells.”

Steve begins his own slow rhythm at your consent, Eddie joining along as the two of you start a steady pace. You squeeze your eyes shut as your jaw hangs wide open. A curse falls from your lips, and you can’t help but to clench your fists in the pillow behind Steve’s head.

It feels so good. Much better than you thought it would. While you lay there, blissed out, the boys just keep stroking in and out of you with the pleasure building within themselves.Their rhythm builds, picking up a bit as they begin to chase the pleasure. You’re so tight, even tighter now with both of them stuffed inside of you like this. And you feel so full. You wonder briefly how you could’ve gone this long without feeling so full.

The drags of their cocks thrusting in and out of you is addictive, and you can hardly think past the feeling of them as the air you keep gasping for dries out your throat.

It’s when Eddie’s steady rhythm starts to build a little more than you’re ready for that your moans start to become whinier. You grip the sheets tight, burying your face in Steve’s neck as you try to calm yourself down before you freak out at the rougher pace Eddie’s adopted. It’s warm now, and you can feel it getting hotter and hotter.

Eddie grips your waist tight, rocking your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. You’ve just been squeezing around him so well, he needed to feel more of you as he felt himself building up, up, up–

“Mm-fuck. Eddie, puppets—puppets!”

As soon as the word falls from your lips, he eases up on you until his quickened thrusts have become slower, tempered thrusts in and out of you, his loud breath adjusted to fit the pace as well. “Sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says quickly, bending down so his chest presses to your back, his lips caressing the back of your neck. “I’m sorry.”

Steve’s own eyes have shot open as he slows to a complete stop, his hand coming back to your cheek to ease you down. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispers to you as you lean into him some more. Then, looking at Eddie, he nods gently to reassure him, “You’re okay. She’s good. We’re good.”

You feel fuzzy, both their gentleness seeping into your bones and soothing your skin until your scorched nerves are merely little tingles throughout your body. You nod slowly, coming down from your slight panic as you focus on the gentler rock of Eddie’s hips.

“Are you good?” Eddie whispers into your ear, one of his hands stroking your sides to help soothe you some more. “Are you okay? Do you need me to stop? If you want me to stop, we’ll stop. Talk to me, sweetheart.” He kisses your shoulder.

You shake your head, sighing gently and leaning back up against him. “I’m okay,” you whisper back. “Don’t stop, I’m good.”

You all take a moment, with your eyes closed and your breath steadying, with both their eyes on you and their breaths still to listen to yours. The tension eases from your brow, and your lips part to let out a gentle puff of air as the heat transforms back into bliss.

Steve’s hand strokes the side of your neck. “D’you want me to move, baby?”

You nod. “Yes, please.”

So Steve begins again, easing into you. Slow and steady, steady and slow. You ease into the pleasure again, focusing on both of them and the shaking in your limbs from the euphoria venturing your system.

Another moment passes, and you nod again. “Bells,” you sigh. “Both of you.”

And they comply, bringing their paces back up to a quicker but just as gentle movement. And as the moment eases, you’ve all returned to heaven. You squeeze around them both, unable to help yourself as you let your body succumb to the pleasure.

You moan as you lave lazy kisses along Steve’s collarbone. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you securely around him so you have no choice but to lean all of your weight on top of him. He welcomes in, finding comfort in the feeling of it.

Eddie keeps rocking into you with the same pace as Steve, careful not to lose himself again and hurt you. He’d die before he ever hurt you on purpose. Your moans mix with their own, hot and heavy and full of the same lust for the others.

“Fuck,” you whimper. “Feels so good.”

Steve nods, tangling one of his hands in the hair at the back of your scalp as he holds you there, careful not to hurt you in any way. “Yeah? You like it?”

You nod lazily. “Mm-hm.”

He huffs at the way you flutter around him. “You wanna cum for us, babygirl?”

You nod again, quicker this time. “Please.”

One of Eddie’s hands lets you go in favor of finding your little clit, pulsing against his finger as he presses against it. You keen into his touch, your eyelids fluttering and your moan sigh turning into a whimpering moan. You curse again.

Steve’s eye clench shut and he leans his head back against the pillow. His pink lips part to let out a harsh sigh as he nods. “Just like that, Eddie. She’s fucking squeezin’ me.”

Eddie grunts, thrusting his hips forward and lingering deep within you for a moment. “Fuckin’ tell me about it.”

The pleasure sparks in your limbs, in your belly, behind your eyes as you moan into Steve’s neck. He leans his head forward to bury his face in the crook of your own neck, inhaling your scent and letting it cloud his brain.

A string of curses falls from your lips as the pleasure rises within you. It rises and rises and rises until you can’t hold it anymore. The tension snaps, crashing down on you like a tidal wave as you fall apart, closing your eyes and clenching every muscle in your body. You moan, loud, helpless, blinded by the euphoria that fills your body. Your thighs tremble and you flutter around them as you push them closer to their own releases.

Eddie’s the next to go, pulling out of you quickly as he takes his cock in his hands and pumps himself, fast and rough as his lips part. A loud moan spills from his lips as his cum spills on your back, groaning your name and a few “fuck, fuck, fuck”s. He throws his head back and announces his pleasure to the ceiling.

And, like clockwork, Steve follows, pulling all the way out and shouting his praise. “F-f-fuck, I love you.” His hips cant into you, seeking out the squeeze of your pussy when met with the cold of the air. He chokes when Eddie’s hand grips his cock and strokes, coating his palm in the rest of Steve’s cum.

As the pleasure wanes and the crashing waves become gentle laps on the shore, you fall limp atop Steve’s chest. You rest your head on him and let out a long sigh, your eyes lidded and your mind mush. You couldn’t be more satisfied.

Catching his breath, Eddie’s large hands smooth against your ass and up your sides, feeling you and kneading your flesh to work out any kinks you may have acquired.

And he’s the one to clean you up as he nearly limps to the tiny bathroom to get a wet cloth to clean the three of you up with. He takes extra care of wiping his sticky release from your back, bending down and kissing your shoulder as he does.

And, once you’re clean, he collapses on the bed next to you and Steve, throwing his arms lazily over your back and burying his face in his pillow. You don’t think he can breathe.

Steve’s hand strokes your back in slow, gentle circles as his other works through Eddie’s tangled hair. Both of you are jelly against him, weak and honestly pathetic.

“Fuck,” you manage to whisper, though your vocal chords fight you and your brain complains at the unnecessary sound.

Eddie hums, lifting his head to tilt to the side so he can finally breathe. Steve, still stroking you, smiles and says, “You think that’s something you wanna do again?”

“Are you kidding?” you huff, your words heavy and slurred in your mouth. “We can never do it any other way again.”

He chuckles, the sound echoing in his chest and rumbling against you. Eddie joins him, lifting an arm to lay his hand in your hair, massaging your scalp with the very tips of his fingers. Your eyes flutter closed, unable to fight the relaxation it pulls from you. You’re limp and pliant, and he’s content in watching the softness in your face.

Steve sighs before tapping your side lightly. “Okay. My turn,” he says, easing you off of him as he sits up. Your eyes follow him lazily, your brows pulled together in question. He can’t possibly think you have the energy for another go… He can’t possibly have the energy for another go.

Eddie turns onto his back, just as confused. “Your turn for what?” he asks, almost daring him to suggest another round.

Instead, Steve rounds the bed and pulls the covers from under both your bodies. He bends down quickly and kisses both your lips, even as you continue to give him your questioning looks. Getting back in, he lays down and rests his head on Eddie’s chest, letting out a loud and long sigh as he relaxes against him, closing his eyes.

You giggle, taking the other side as you nestle into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He laughs, trying to keep it light as he tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair and massages his scalp gently. You see him go limp, the tension leaving his body as he almost immediately falls asleep, as though Eddie had shut him off.

You stroke Steve’s cheek with your thumb, as he had done to you. Eddie’s hand strokes your side. Just like that, you feel the pull of sleep beginning to take you as well. You can barely hold your eyes open as you’re mumbling a tiny “love you” to Eddie and an unconscious Steve.

Eddie smiles, kissing your forehead. “Love you, too.”

Stranger Things taglist: @activebliss @life-on-needs @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen @emmalee-01 @sw34ter-w34ther @gublur @allofmaris @redwineandnicotine @the-cryptid @katsukis1wife @chaoticcancer @papichulo120627 @emistrash @jjmaybankswifes-blog Eddie the Banished taglist: @eddiiiieeee @hb8301 @lovemegood @munsaniac @digital-charlie @eiriancrow @littleblondesoprano @alexxavicry @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @akiratoro420 @mewchiili @mischieftom Steve the Babysitter taglist: @samz31 @sparkletash @fandomgirl17 @marjoriea13 @param8re @anotherblackreader @woahhajime Tag yourself here...

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie smut #steddie fanfic #steddie fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #10 days of smutmas

[strangersteddierthings]

February 1

rating: G cw: none prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you

It wasn't a lesson Eddie learned easily, or all that willingly. No one had cared for him after his Mama had died. Not for a long time after.

He dad likes to pretend he'd tried. When Eddie was feeling generous, he'd even say he agreed. His parents were so in love it was almost sickening. Losing her must have broken the part of his Dad that knew how to love fully. He didn't turn mean, not like some dads did, but he definitely cared more about his next scheme than he did about the kid that looked too much like his Mama.

Wayne taught him that people who care about you take care of you. They take care of you when you're barely nine and have burned yourself on the stove twice this week, even if you think you should have learned after the first time. They take care of you when you've been caught stealing candy from Melvald's, and skipping school, and flunking senior year (and then doing that again), and even when people accuse you of murder.

Wayne has taught him that people that really, really love you are there when you need them, care for you when you need them.

And Eddie's heart aches that no one seems to have taught Steve that.

Eddie's trying. He steps in to help with "babysitting" duties, especially when Steve looks particularly run down. He started inserting himself into the Platonic Soulmate thing Steve and Robin have going because he wants to be an established replacement Temporary Soulmate while Robin's at college. (Being fair, this was Robin's suggestion. She's worried about how he'll be when she's not around to look after him.)

He's started hanging out with Steve without Robin, too. They get along well, it turns out. Eddie loves to talk and Steve loves to listen. But, more importantly, Eddie's good at getting Steve to talk. As a rule in general, Eddie isn't a good listener, but he could listen to Steve read him the phone book and never be bored. He tries to take an interest in Steve's hobbies. He doesn't have the hand/eye coordination for basketball, or the lungs for swimming laps, but he does have the energy to keep going even when he's bad at those things.

Steve seems to appreciate it, if the soft smiles he gives Eddie is any indication.

And it's not all up hill. Steve's got hangups that seem to crop up when he thinks he's failed at something. He's got a quick temper but it's never physical anger. He's only ever yelled at Eddie twice, and being fair, that first was deserved. Eddie's pushed too far, in his desire to help, not knowing the limit yet.

Eddie gets pissy, too, he's no saint, either.

There's been no fight they haven't gotten through, though.

But the lesson, the thing Wayne was really trying to teach him, comes when Steve gets sick.

No one but Robin has ever seen him sick. She's off at college now and it's just Eddie, fumbling to make soup and not dribble water down Steve's front while he holds the glass Steve is too weak to and Eddie forgot to get some straws at the store.

Steve tried to get him to leave only once. It was the third day in a row Eddie was there.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Steve had whispered, throat still feeling like he ate glass.

Eddie just met his eye and gave a small smile, "I do know."

Steve looks surprised, which is ridiculous, because he had to of known the answer Eddie would give. But then that surprise softens to a new look. Sappier, eyes a bit wetter, and Steve must not want him to see because his whole face scrunches with how quickly he shuts his eyes.

Eddie sets the sleeve of saltines down on the night stand and reached for Steve's hand. Just to give it a squeeze.

He finds he can't take his hand back when Steve tangles their fingers together and drags their joined hands to his face, where Steve rests his feverish forehead against Eddie's hand.

Steve teaches him that, yes, love is caring for someone. But sometimes, it's also letting someone else take care of you.

-

@steddielovemonth @i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

#steddie #my fic #steddielovemonth

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Beautiful Boys

Prompt Day 23: Wayne Adopts Steve | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Lingering Injuries/Trauma | Tags: Post S4, Eddie Munson Lives, Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Wayne & Steve, Wayne POV

Wayne is in Hawkins Hardware, looking at the fence pickets. He definitely didn't expect them to have this many choices. He figured he'd come in and buy what he needed, from the only option available. In and out. Wallet a little lighter, but no choices to be made. 

But, no. There are options. Decisions. And he isn't sure which style Eddie would prefer. He just wants Eddie to have a place he feels safe outdoors, again.

Wayne reaches out to touch the samples, again, when he hears clattering and an "oh my god, I'm so sorry" that sounds an awful lot like Steve Harrington.

Wayne pokes his head around the corner of the aisle, and Steve is gathering up a bunch of swag hooks off the floor, swiping them back into his handbasket.

"What're you doin' with those, kid?" Wayne asks, crouching down to help him.

"Eddie's plants," Steve says, standing back up, pushing his hair back and up, out of his eyes. These boys and their hair they can't keep contained. Wayne smiles. He remembers how his (now long-gone) hair was in the sixties. Different styles, sure, but just as impractical, at times.

"Eddie's plants," Wayne repeats with a smile, then asks, "You're gonna hang them from the ceiling?" 

Steve nods, and Wayne grins, "That's a good idea, kid. He'll love that."

Eddie has gathered up a lot of houseplants recently, tending to them, taking care of them, babying them. The first ones were sent to the hospital by his friends, and Eddie latched onto them. And now, Steve drags a new one home every week or two as a gift. Eddie is still recovering, might always be recovering, but his plants make him smile and give him something to do.

Wayne doesn't quite understand it, not with the black thumb he has, but it's like everything else about Eddie. Wayne doesn't have to understand it, to support him. If Eddie wants plants, they can have a whole houseful of them.

Eddie survived something he still hasn't fully explained to Wayne, might never, so if he wants to fill the house with greenery, so be it. 

If he wants to fill the house with Steve Harrington, too, that's also just fine by Wayne.

Steve smiles shyly, "If you don't care that I put holes in the ceiling, that is."

Wayne doesn't care. "I'll help. I've got a stud finder, so we won't have them falling and cracking us on the noggin."

Steve laughs, and nods, "Thanks. What are you doing here?"

Wayne waves him over, getting Steve to follow him.

"Trying to pick fencing for the backyard. If Eddie's gonna keep dragging home strays, we'll need a place to put them," Wayne says, and Steve blushes, just a little. 

"I could make a tent work," Steve teases, and Wayne squeezes his shoulder. Steve is always, and will always, be welcome in the house.

"Good to know, but I was thinking more along the lines of dogs, cats, raccoons. You know how he is," Wayne drawls, and Steve smiles. It's wishful thinking, because they both know the real reason for the fence. Eddie doesn't want to leave the house these days.

"I just assumed I'd get dog-ears," Wayne says, pointing at the slightly-rounded piece of wood on display. "But there are choices."

Steve studies them all, finally saying "I think Eddie would like the pointed ones the most. Looks dangerous," Steve says.

Wayne nods. He was thinking the same thing.

"They're narrower, be more work to set," Wayne mutters.

Steve turns to look at him, "I'll help you, you know that."

Wayne nods. He knows Steve will. He's a good kid, who spends most of his time hanging out in their new little house, doting on Eddie in one way or another. Wayne isn't blind. He knows what this is, what these boys feel for each other, even if Eddie hasn't told him yet.

He will. Wayne just has to be patient.

"Sounds good, kid," Wayne says, and Steve grins, big and bright. Like he wasn't sure his help would be accepted. 

"I don't know much about building a fence, but I can learn. I can follow instructions," Steve assures, and Wayne pats him on the back.

"Let's double-check my math here," Wayne says, pulling a small notepad out of his pocket, rerunning his figures. 

Once he's got a good number, Wayne directs them towards the stain options. Steve picks one with a red tint, and Wayne nods. Looks good to him.

When they get to the counter, he takes Steve's basket and adds it to his.

"You don't have to do that," Steve says.

Wayne knows he doesn't, but it's for Eddie and it's just a few dollars worth of hooks and bolts. He's definitely gonna get his money back in fence-building help.

"I know, I want to," Wayne says, opening his wallet.

Outside, Steve helps the guys from the lumber department load up the trailer full of the pickets. 

"See you at home?" Wayne questions, and Steve nods and smiles.

"Yeah, at home," he answers, walking towards his car, with his small sack of hardware.

And they spend days hanging the over-abundance of plants in front of every window in the house, so many that it seems like they're living in a greenhouse, and then they work on the fence. Putting it up, picket by picket, together.

Sometimes, Eddie comes and sits on the patio and watches, but it still takes a lot out of him, even now, months later. Wayne's worried he might never fully recover. 

But, Steve works hard to entertain Eddie. Steve's funny, and he treats Eddie real good. That's all that will ever matter to Wayne. Eddie's his boy, and by extension, Steve's his boy now, too.

Eddie and Steve fight over the radio, a welcome sound, and Steve's won. 

So, John Lennon's singing about a beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy. 

Wayne knows that feeling well.

He's got two of those beautiful boys, now. 

close your eyes, have no fear, the monster's gone, he's on the run and your daddy's here, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy John Lennon, Beautiful Boy

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #wayne adopts steve #wayne munson fic #good uncle wayne munson #wayne munson is always the best #wayne munson & steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steddie ficlet #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #Spotify

[rogueddie]

Issues T | 608 words Prompt for steddielovemonth: Love is being able to say you're sorry and mean it

"No, that's enough!" Eddie yells, slamming his hands onto the table with a deafening thud. "I'm fucking sick of this!"

"You're sick of this?" Steve echoes, upper lip curling with disgust. "How the hell do you think I feel?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? It's not like you ever talk to me about anything!"

"Don't pretend you suddenly care now!"

"Jesus Christ, I've always cared! You're the one too fucking focused on your ego to notice what anyone else is going through!"

"That's a joke. You've never been there when Dustin needs you to sit with-"

"He doesn't need me! He's never asked for me! He needs you because you're the one that makes him feel safe!"

"He needs you too! We almost lost you and Dustin had to-"

"I know! We've already-"

"He still has nightmares about it!"

"Oh for- whatever. Dustin still needs support, got it. You do too!"

"This is stupid, you're stupid."

"That- what are you doing?"

"Leaving. I'm gonna stay with Robin for the night."

"Seriously?!"

Steve doesn't reply. He grabs the small bag that he's thrown a change of clothes into, grabbing his shoes and keys, and slamming the door shut behind him.

Eddie gawps at the empty doorway for a minute, only moving to follow when he hears the beemer roar to life.

"Steve!" He tries.

But Steve ignores him, barely sparing him a glance, pulling out and driving away.

"What the fuck," Eddie whispers to himself, reluctantly going back inside.

He knows too well how much worse an argument can get if he tries to follow Steve on the rare occasion that he needs to leave.

But he also expects Steve to be back in the morning, either with his tail between his legs or demanding an apology.

He does neither. He doesn't come back in the morning.

Or the afternoon.

Or the evening.

The sun has long since set by the time Eddie parks on the street outside the Buckley household.

"Eddie," Robins mom greets warmly.

"Hey, uh... is Steve here?"

"Yes, he stayed the night, they're just up in Robbie's room."

"Could, uh... could you tell them I'm here?"

"You can go up, dear, it's no worries."

"I know, it's... uh..."

"ah," she smiles knowingly, patting his shoulder. "Alright. I'll go let them know. He'll be down in a moment."

"Thank you."

Waiting in the cold, on the porch, is horrifying.

Thankfully, he doesn't have to wait long before the door opens again and Steve steps out, looking awkward and sheepish.

He shuts the door behind him, crossing his arms, looking anywhere except at him.

"I'm sorry," Eddie finally chokes out. "I didn't mean to push, I really am just... I'm worried about you. It scares me sometimes but I shouldn't have lashed out at you because of that."

Steve stares at him for a moment, face blank, before he frowns. Confused, he says, "what?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, I heard, it... you aren't the one who should be apologising."

"I pushed you when I should have-"

"No, Ed, you were trying to take care of me and I-"

"Steve, stop it. I wasn't listening to you. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, really. It's not like I was trying to have a conversation or something. I just got..."

"Scared?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'm sorry I made you feel like that. But, like... if you ever do need help with any of that, I'm right here. I want to help."

"When I'm ready."

"When you're ready."

"Ok. Thank you, Eds. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have started yelling at you like that."

"It's ok. We'll work through it."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #nav.slm #23

[libraryofgage]

A Hop, a Skip, and a TARDIS Jump

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One (you're here!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I know it says 10Rose up there, but this series starts with 9Rose, because 9 is also special blorbo in my heart hfjdks Christopher Eccleston didn't have to put his whole chest into the role but he did and I love that for him

Anyway, have fun with this one! We're getting time travel shenanigans coming up (and angst, def some angst, but it'll end sweet I promise), and a little meme at the end

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :)

Satellite Five 200,000

Running into the woman was an accident created by the chaos of something changing on Satellite Five. Steve doesn't know what that is, exactly, but he can feel it in the air, in the way the humans around him have started rushing, in how the food stands have suddenly ground to a halt. And he comes to a halt with them, his hearts speeding up in his chest as the frenzy reminds him of another time, another planet, another chaotic scene that ended with him being launched across time and space while his home died.

When he finally gathers his wits enough to move, he turns right into a woman's leg, bumping his nose hard against her and falling to the ground with a startled cry. He holds his nose, the bridge smarting and causing his eyes to water as he looks up at a pretty young blonde woman who immediately crouches in front of him.

"Sorry about that. You all right?" she asks, her hands hovering in the air like she wants to check him for injuries but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The funny thing is, Steve has seen this woman before. He saw her earlier in the day, getting into the elevator with a journalist and a man, and he assumed he'd never see her again. Nobody who got in the elevator came back. He's so overwhelmed by the shock of seeing her again that he almost misses the familiar aura around her, the lingering traces of golden space dust and passing time.

Almost.

He stares at her with wide eyes, his tears actually falling now, and then throws himself into her arms. "What took so long?!" he cries, clinging to her shirt like he'll be thrown across time and space one more time if he lets go.

"Woah, hey now, no need for crying," she says, utterly confused but gently smoothing down his hair anyway. "What's wrong?"

After taking a few moments to calm down, Steve starts to answer when he realizes something. The woman only has one heart. He can only hear one set of beats in her chest. He jerks away, his hands trembling as he stares at her. She's still covered in that familiar aura, practically swimming in it, but she's not like him.

It hurts. Steve can feel the bitter cold of disappointment replacing the hope that had started to grow between his hearts. He thought...he thought he'd get to be with someone like him again. Maybe not his original family---they're dead, long gone, and Steve is never getting them back---but a new one that wouldn't let him feel quite so alone anymore.

Maybe she was just injured. That would explain it well enough.

"Where....where's your second heart?" he asks, his voice small as he grips the hem of his shirt to steady himself. "Y-you...why do you--"

Before Steve can get the rest of the question, a man in a leather jacket, looking slightly annoyed as he checks his pockets, appears next to the woman. "Right then. C'mon, Rose, we got dead weight to drop off," he says, his tone hard.

The woman, Rose, looks up at him. "Hold on a minute, Doctor," she says, "we've got to help him find his parents first."

Steve opens his mouth, wanting to say that won't be possible, as he looks up at the man. Their eyes meet, and the words get stuck in his throat. If Rose carried lingering space dust and passing time, this man is made of it. Steve can see the gold around him, swirling and calling, singing in a way he'd forgotten about. Even the name is familiar---not that Steve knows this particular Time Lord, of course, but he knows the conventions and traditions.

"I'm afraid that'll be impossible, Rose," the Doctor says, his voice softer and full of disbelief as he crouches next to her on the ground.

"What? How do you know?"

The Doctor doesn't answer her. He just holds a hand out to Steve, waiting patiently. When Steve takes it, the world finally rights itself. He can feel the blood pumping through the Doctor's veins, fast and powerful in a way only two hearts can manage. He can practically taste time and space coating his tongue as he steps closer. When Steve places his hand on the left side of the man's chest, feeling the beating of one heart before sliding his hand over to feel the other, he cries even harder than before.

And the Doctor cries, too.

It's not a loud crying, but he pulls Steve into his arms and holds him with the same desperation and fear that he'll disappear if he loosens his grip that Steve felt when he hugged Rose. "I thought...I thought I was the only one left," the Doctor says, moving his hand to cradle the back of Steve's head.

"Doctor, what's going on here?" Rose asks.

Steve peeks out at her, and then he's lifted into the air, still held in the Doctor's arms. His jacket smells like the past and future, a soothing scent that gets Steve to relax like he hasn't in a long time. "Long story short," the Doctor says, his voice still rough from crying but recovering, "you somehow bumped into the only Time Lord child in existence." A few moments pass before he speaks again, the smile and awe clear in his voice as he says, "You're just fantastic, Rose. Fantastic."

Despite his best efforts, Steve can't keep his eyes open long enough to see how she reacts or what the Doctor does next. The exhaustion of fending for himself and pushing away the despair of losing everything sweeps over him. This could all be a dream, and the Doctor might be a figment of his imagination that disappears when he wakes up, but Steve lets himself dream for now.

--------

Hawkins, Indiana, 1971

"Okay, Steve, go ahead."

Steve glances up at his father, shifts his gaze to his mother, and then approaches the console. He reaches up and starts turning a dial, ignoring his mother's excited noise and his father's interested hum. Once he's turned it enough, he walks around the console and pulls a lever, flips a switch, and yanks another dial two notches to the right. Then, when he's sure his parents can't hear him, he leans in close and whispers, "Take me wherever you'd like me to be, TARDIS."

He feels something warm and happy surge under his fingers where he's holding the console. Not a second later, the familiar whooshing sound of the TARDIS fills the room, and Steve hang on for dear life as his father shouts, "Fantastic! Where do you think we'll land, Rose?"

"Somewhere child-friendly, hopefully," his mother replies, grabbing his father's arm and holding on for dear life.

Steve grins, his hearts beating fast and hard behind his ribs as the TARDIS slowly comes to a stop, its engine quieting to a gentle whirring as it parks. "Go on then," his father says, appearing behind Steve and nudging him to the doors. "See where you've brought us."

With his breath stuck in his throat, Steve slowly pulls the left door open. Sunlight streams into the TARDIS along with the delighted shrieks of other children and a warm wind that can only mean summer. Steve blinks, staring at the playground a few feet away.

"Oh," his father says, his tone duller than before, "seems boring."

This statement is followed by both the TARDIS making an offended noise and Steve's mother smacking his father in the chest. "Don't be rude! Boring is safe, which is good for Steve's first drive."

"Can...can I go play?" Steve asks, his voice soft as he feels a sudden longing sweeping through him. He hasn't played with people his age after leaving Gallifrey. In fact, he hasn't been around them. On Satellite Five, Steve didn't see other children. They were cared for on a different floor, and he never risked getting into the elevator.

Since leaving Satellite Five (since finding another Time Lord and basking in the TARDIS and crying together when Steve accidentally called the Doctor "Dad" and Rose "Mom"), Steve has been surrounded by Daleks and nanogenes and older humans and every alien under the sun, but he's never been around children.

The thought is exhilarating and terrifying and alluring all at once.

"Of course, Steve," his mother says, placing her hand on his head and brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "You go play, and we'll call you back in a few hours for some ice cream, yeah?"

Steve grins and nods eagerly, throwing a quick goodbye to his parents before running out of the TARDIS. He dashes across the street, coming to the edge of the playground before stopping. The grass turns into tiny rocks and pebbles beneath slides and swings and monkey bars and a merry-go-round. And kids. More kids than Steve really knows what to do with, which gives him an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety that makes him wipe his palms on his shirt.

"Hey, why are you just standing there?"

The question is asked by another boy Steve's age. His hair is a little frizzy and curls around his ears, and he's got band-aids covering his arms and stretching across the bridge of his nose. He's standing to Steve's left, holding a red rubber ball and ignoring the other kids around them.

"I've...never been here before," Steve says, meaning that he's never been in this situation.

The boy doesn't understand that, though. But when he says, "Oh, so you're new around here," Steve doesn't disagree. "Well, nice to meetcha. I'm Eddie."

He shifts to hold the ball against his chest with one arm and holds out his other hand. Taking it and shaking once, Steve introduces himself and asks, "Can we be friends?"

Eddie's eyes brighten, and he nods. "Yeah! Let's be bestest friends. Can I call you Stevie? Mom says you can give nicknames to friends."

"Sure! So, uh, what do we do now?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the playground with a slight frown. "We could play games," he says slowly.

"Oh! How about Weeping Angel?"

"What's that?"

Steve thinks for a moment. "Weeping Angels are these statues that move when you don't look at them. In the game, someone will face away, and the other person will start sneaking up on them. If the first person turns, the second has to freeze in place. If the first person sees them move, they lose. If the second person reaches the first and touches them, they win."

"It sounds like Rad Light, Green Light," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly. "But, sure! Let's play it."

Steve smiles brightly and follows Eddie to a clear patch of playground. "I'll be the Angel in this round," he offers, waiting for Eddie to agree before walking a few feet away. "Let me know when you're ready!"

Eddie turns around, still holding the rubber ball, and glances over his shoulder. He stares at Steve for a few seconds before looking away and saying, "Ready!"

As lightly as he can, Steve takes a few steps forward, doing his best to make no sounds like the Weeping Angels he's seen before. When he notices Eddie moving, he freezes, quickly placing his hands over his eyes but leaving enough room to peek between his fingers.

When Eddie turns, he's frozen in a classic Weeping Angel pose. Eddie studies him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed before slowly turning around again. Steve exhales softly, and the game continues.

Steve wins exactly three times, Eddie wins twice, and there's one round in which they both dissolve into laughter because of the position Steve freezes in, so they don't count it. When Eddie gets bored of playing, he introduces Steve to foursquare, which is why he has the rubber ball. When he gets bored of that he drags Steve around the playground, introducing him to each piece of equipment with pride.

By the time the sun has started to dip low on the horizon, Steve is sweaty and dirty and happier than he's ever felt as he hides under the slide with Eddie. They're pressed close together, sharing a popsicle Eddie's mother had given them, purple juice making their hands sticky.

"You're really cool, Stevie," Eddie suddenly says, his lips and tongue purple as he offers the last bit of popsicle to Steve.

After taking it and letting the cold ice melt on his tongue, Steve asks, "Hey, do bestest friends keep secrets that only they know?"

"Of course! Nothing is stronger than a bestest friend secret."

"But you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Not even your mom."

Eddie seems to realize this is serious now, and he straightens up a bit. "I won't," he promises, "cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

That seems a bit extreme to Steve, but what does he know of human customs? He leans in close, his mouth almost pressing against Eddie's ear, and whispers, "I'm an alien."

He pulls away in time to see Eddie's disbelieving look. "What? You look human. No way you're an alien."

"I am!" Steve says. "How many hearts have you got?"

"One. Duh."

"I've got two."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah. Right. Nobody has two hearts."

"Here, you can feel them," Steve says before grabbing Eddie's hand and placing it over the left side of his chest. He waits a few seconds, making sure Eddie can feel that heart, before sliding his hand to the right side. He watches Eddie's face turn bright red, and Steve figures it's from excitement or shock at realizing Steve is, in fact, an alien.

Before Eddie can say anything, Steve hears his mother calling, "Steve! It's time to go!"

He pouts, letting go of Eddie's hand. "Aw, man," he mumbles, crawling out from beneath the slide. Eddie scrambles after him, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes wide. "I gotta go now, but I'll see you again soon, Eddie."

"Yeah, soon," Eddie mumbles, seeming dazed until he shakes his head. "Your, um, secret is safe with me, Stevie."

Steve blinks and flashes a blinding smile. "Of course it is," he says, "You're my bestest friend."

With that, he hugs Eddie and then runs to his mother, brimming with excitement at getting to tell her all about the park and Eddie.

------

If you'd like to be tagged for this series, let me know!

And, finally, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #doctor who #doctor who crossover #steddie over time #that's the tag for this one bois #i'm very proud of the little pun there actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #ninth doctor #rose tyler #time lord steve harrington #ninerose #anyway thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed the meme hfdusjk

[livesindelusionland]

didn't know I was pregnant omegaverse AU

Steve and Eddie sleep together right before they go into the Upside Down, kind of a last hurrah fuck because they both think the other one is attractive and they smell amazing and fuck it why not? they might die so they sleep together and Steve thinks it was maybe the best sex of his life, which makes it feel just a little worse when Eddie nearly dies a few hours later but he doesn't actually die thankfully

they don't sleep together again after that because Eddie is recovering in the hospital but Steve visits and they hang out and neither of them mention it so a month goes by and they're becoming friends, which is nice, Steve doesn't have many friends his own age anymore so if friends is all he can get with Eddie he'll take it

between the first face off with Vecna and the second Steve's heat arrives, which explains why he's been so tired recently and also why he feels a little sick sometimes, must just have been his heat and if he feels tired and a little sick after then he's just recovering from it right? it passes though by the end of the month and he feels better when its time to go back into the Upside Down, he's still bone tired but who isn't in their little pack?

things go better this time, Vecna is gone, the gates are closed and Steve and Eddie are still dancing around each other, Eddie is almost fully better, he had a mild set back when he trooped back into the Upside Down but he's nearly there now, enough that his rut comes and he doesn't ask Steve to help him out and Steve tries not to take that personally, it's fine, they haven't even discussed the first time they slept together anyway

but weeks pass and its been nine months since that first go at taking on Vecna and Steve has felt bloated on top of being tired the last month or so, he shrugged it off though because sometimes you just have those weeks where you feel gross and bloated and your face doesn't look right but then one day you wake up and you feel like you look normal again so Steve doesn't think much of it other than he hopes he doesn't look ugly to Eddie

the Party invite themselves to Steve's for a movie night and Steve agrees despite the cramps he's felt in his back recently, they can't be to do with his heat because that's not due yet but maybe he slept funny and his back is punishing him? but the pain is getting worse and worse as he sits there so halfway through the movie he excuses himself to go to the bathroom except he doesn't even get his sweats down before something is soaking them and Steve knows he didn't just wet himself and there's still the pain and he doesn't know what's happening but he feels like he needs to squat down or something so he follows his instincts and does it

he must be gone for a while because Robin opens the bathroom door to find him panting and groaning as he feels an overwhelming urge to push, he cries out for her, for Eddie and then he spots the alpha stood frozen in the doorway, staring down at Steve like he's an alien because Steve is pretty sure he's about to push a baby out, their baby, he wants to reach for Eddie, wants the comfort but then Eddie is backing away and Steve starts to cry, Robin does her best to comfort him and she helps him get into a better position and takes his sweats off and Steve tries not to whimper but then Eddie is back

he has scissors in his hands that he says are sanitised and for cutting the cord or something and Nancy is calling an ambulance and he locks the door so no curious kids can stick their noses in and then he's kneeling down and taking hold of Steve's hand and Steve cries even harder, its all a blur but then Steve has a baby pressed into his chest that smells like him and Eddie and the alpha blinks down at them both until Robin shoves him forward and then he wraps Steve and their baby in his arms as they both stare down at their wailing kid

the ambulance comes and Steve and the baby are taken to the hospital and checked over and Eddie stays with them the whole time and eventually they're left alone after the pack has trooped in and out, including Wayne who also just stared at all three of them for a moment before he and Hopper started debating grandfather rights and Wayne held his grandkid for the first time but finally Steve and Eddie and their baby are alone and the two of them have to finally talk about what they did nine months ago and stop waiting for the other to make the first move

#brought to you by my worst nightmare #the fact you can just randomly having a baby one day haunts me #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #steddie #abo steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #steve x eddie #stranger things

[riality-check]

tw for mentions of substance abuse (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

ao3

Steve Harrington has been awake for fifty four hours. With luck, he'll be able to eke out another eighteen. Three days seems to be the sweet spot, even if he only makes it there half the time and, of that half, it only works half the time.

It's better than nothing.

Maybe four days is the sweet spot. Ninety six is close to one hundred, and that seems like a good omen.

Omens don't really matter though. What matters is staying awake.

So, Steve chugs his coffee and walks into the conference room. Coffee isn't enough, not nearly, but it'll do until he gets desperate enough to take something.

He really does try to only take them when he's desperate. It's easier that way, to just do it when he feels like he needs to rather than measuring dosages and remembering times. Hours start to blur around hour forty of being awake.

He walks in, sits down in the chair closest to the door, and is met with a withering glare from Eddie Munson.

Listen. Steve isn't happy about this either, but at least he doesn't look like he stepped in dog shit on the way here. Then again, Steve doesn't have the luxury of ever looking truly unhappy.

Eddie is a rock star. Mean is part of his brand, while mean is the antithesis to Steve's.

Whatever.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie says, still staring at him, but Steve knows he's not who he's asking.

"He's the best person for the job," Chrissy, Eddie's manager, says.

"We don't need him."

Someone taps Steve's left shoulder. He turns to see Jeff, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, give him a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Steve," he says, and Steve shakes his proffered hand.

"Happy to help," he says, and it's only half a lie.

The drummer and the bassist - Steve would probably be able to remember their names if he wasn't so exhausted - wave their hellos from a few seats away.

"Hi, Steve," Chrissy says.

He takes another swig of his coffee and gives her a little wave in response.

"We don't need a pop singer to write lyrics for us," Eddie says, still not letting this go.

"Yes, you do," Steve says. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and opens the folder he brought with him. "I read through the lyrics of every one of your songs."

"You didn't even listen to them?"

"Would have taken too much time."

That's a lie. Listening, even with the lengthy guitar solos, probably would have taken less time. But Steve needs something to fill the hours when he's supposed to be asleep, and reading, that slow process with its ample, awakening frustration, is the perfect thing.

"You became so much less interesting after your first album," he says. "Every one of your songs talks about the same thing. Conquering evil, killing demons, blah blah blah."

"That's what's in right now," Eddie snaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches the drummer and Chrissy make the same motion. They pinch the bridges of their noses, clearly frustrated.

Steve sees why Chrissy wanted to talk to him.

"It is," he concedes. "But I also read the lyrics of every song by the bands with top ten hits. They don't talk about it nearly as much. They sing about other stuff. And they don't use an F major chord in every one of their songs."

"We don't-"

"We kinda do, Eddie," the bassist pipes up. "I'm a little sick of playing F."

Eddie takes a breath. Steve takes the opportunity to take a pill.

He found a way to make it less obvious for people who have something to say about it. Steve will take one from his pocket, yawn, cover his mouth, and swallow it dry. Easy peasy. They don't notice, he doesn't have to deal with people who don't get it making comments.

Except when he does, this time, Eddie narrows his eyes. Like he knows what he's doing.

Steve doesn't like that look.

"Have you read my stuff?" He won't ask if Eddie has listened to any of it. He knows the answer is no, if he keeps bringing up genre like that really means anything.

Eddie doesn't respond. He keeps those narrowed eyes trained on Steve and stays silent.

"Didn't think so," he says, and he slides over the thick stack of papers Robin stapled together for him last night. "Here's everything. Read it. Tell me if you like it. I'm only helping you if you give a shit. This goes two ways, and I don't want to waste my time if you think I'm wasting yours."

Eddie doesn't take the stack, but the drummer, sitting next to him, tugs them closer. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jeff says, eyebrows raised.

Steve forgets that most people don't actually take advantage of their twenty four hours.

"End of the week," he says instead, and he relaxes when Jeff does.

The drummer starts flipping through the pages while the bassist looks over his shoulder.

"Need anything else from me?" Steve asks Chrissy.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'll call you back to set up a time for Saturday."

He's amazed by the fact that someone as sweet as her works with someone as pretentious as Eddie.

"Sounds good," he says, and he walks out, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him as he goes through the door.

It only halfway works.

The pill should kick in soon, within a half hour, maybe shorter because of the coffee. Maybe he'll write something. Maybe he'll work on the piano melody he's been tinkering with for the past week. Maybe he'll read the latest book Robin picked up from the library, something interesting enough to be worth the frustration of the moving letters, something that will still fill the time.

He'll make it to seventy two hours. Then he'll crash because his body is a worthless piece of shit, and he hopes this is the half of the time when he doesn't have any goddamn nightmares.

Maybe he should pop another pill, just in case.

#ria writes #tw drugs #tw substance abuse #steve harrington #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #corroded coffin #st #st ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie #steddie ficlet #can you tell i just finished daisy jones and the six? #anyway it gave me worms #so enjoy #pop star steve harrington #rock star eddie munson #dja au

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Baby, it's cold outside

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 27

Prompt: Coffee shop/bookstore/tattoo studio AU

Rated: M

CW: Alcohol; Implied sex

Tags: Coffee shop owner Steve; Tattoo studio owner Eddie; Christmas fluff; Flirting; Sexual tension; Getting together

Notes: Continued from my December microfic, but can also stand alone

Eddie swivels morosely in his desk chair, stretches until something in his lower back pops. He glances out the window and immediately regrets it. If anything, the snow has gotten worse, the dark street outside near invisible behind the curtain of flakes that's been falling for hours. 

The blizzard hit just in time for Christmas, grinding all air traffic and most of the roads to a standstill. Eddie called Wayne to break the news, groaning and grumbling all the way, only to be gruffly told off.

“Ain't nothing to be done about it, kiddo. You be safe and I'll see ya when it clears.” 

He was right, of course, the old shit. Eddie is a sensible adult who knows this. And so he holed up at the tattoo studio for some long overdue paperwork. A perfectly reasonable, adult thing to do on a lonely holiday.

Except it's boring as fuck and his back hurts and the cold is creeping in from outside and now he's feeling like a little boy who's had Christmas stolen by the fucking Grinch. 

To top things off, he isn't even sure he'll make it back to his apartment with how things are looking outside.

He's just resigning himself to a night on the foldout in his office when there's a sharp rap against the front door. Eddie almost falls out of his chair. 

“Jesus fuck-” he mutters, bridging the distance and fumbling to unlock the door. “What the hell are you doing?” 

Steve stomps inside, shaking off snow as he goes. Even though it isn't more than a few steps from his door to Eddie’s, he's positively covered in the stuff, hair weighed down and uncharacteristically droopy. Cradled against the chest of his cable-knit sweater is a tray. Eddie spots cookies and two mugs overflowing with copious amounts of whipped cream. 

He watches how Steve sets the tray down on the table in his waiting area and runs his hands through his hair to get the residue snowflakes out. It leaves him looking deliciously disheveled, all mussed-up strands, golden skin flushed pink from the cold. Eddie finds his mouth watering for reasons not exclusively related to the scents wafting off the tray.

Steve is looking at him, like he's waiting for an answer, and shit, he said something, didn't he?

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks. 

“I said,” Steve shakes his head, but there's no malice behind it. “Dig in, it's not getting any warmer.” 

Eddie crumples down onto the couch, hides his face behind one of the mugs … and blinks in surprise.

“Alcohol?” 

“Grand Marnier,” Steve says, settling down beside him and taking the other mug. Eddie has no idea what the fuck that means. Somehow though, the way the words tumble off Steve’s tongue, low and rumbly and distinctly French, really does it for him, so he doesn't complain. 

“Cheers,” he says and clanks their mugs together before taking a tentative sip. A firework of flavors bursts across his tongue - bitter coffee and thick, sweet cream and something heady and boozy and orange-flavored? 

“Good?”

“So fucking good, dude!” 

Behind his own mug, Steve's mouth tugs into a smile. Eddie isn’t quite sure if the heady rush that floods him is entirely due to the coffee. 

*

“Soooo,” Eddie slurs. The boozy coffee is long gone, as is the second helping Steve got from his shop. He's brought the entire bottle of the fancy French, orangey stuff though, pretty little genius that he is. Eddie giggles and takes another swig. “How c’me you're even here, huh? No family to visit, no girls to kiss under mistletoes?” 

“Have you looked outside?” Steve snorts, swaying into his space to snatch the bottle back. God he is pretty - cheeks flushed from the alcohol, cookie crumbs at the corners of his mouth. All Eddie would need to do is twist his fingers into that preppy sweater of his, yank him closer. Lick them off. 

“-not exactly on visiting terms with my folks,” Steve is saying and Eddie jerks back to attention. “Or speaking terms. My best friend was gonna visit, but I think she'd end me if I so much as brought a mistletoe near her. Anyhow, she can't come, what with the blizzard and all…” 

“So what?” Eddie grins, tongue loosened by alcohol and sugar and the way the light brings out the gold in Steve’s hair and eyes. “You decided to drop by out of the goodness of your heart and save my holiday like some perfect little Christmas angel?” 

Steve blinks. Averts his eyes. Flushes a whole new shade of pink. It blooms on top of the blush that has settled over his nose and cheekbones, like a fresh layer of color on a painting. Eddie thinks of all the other parts of Steve’s body he'd like to paint like this.

“Whatever,” Steve mumbles, “Just thought we'd both feel less alone, if- … It's getting late, I'd better-” 

“Go?” Eddie catches the sleeve of his sweater just as he's about to stand. Steve falls back into the couch. “Where? You're not gonna trudge home through that weather, are you?” 

Steve licks his lips, pink and glossy. Eddie wonders if they still taste like coffee and cream and oranges. His fingers find the soft skin of Steve's wrist under the hem of the sweater. 

“Just stay. You're right, I don't feel like being alone tonight.” 

“Stop it,” Steve's eyes are impossibly bright in the low light. “Please, I … I'll put up with your teasing any other day of the year, but not today.” 

“Steve …” Eddie rumbles. The heartbeat under his fingers flutters. “Stay … and I'll show you how serious I am.” 

He leans in, breathes his next words against the shell of a pink ear. “If you wanna, I'll even call you angel again.” 

They do end up using the foldout, the cold quickly forgotten.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

[griefabyss69]

Inside The Fall

Written for @steddiemicrofic!

[ AO3 ]

'FOOL' wc: 1987 | rated: T | cw: Mention of weed

(This is the April Fool's version of the prompt, it includes all of the words needed)

Steve's used to stepping up in life or death situations, but otherwise he's directionless. He isn't expecting Eddie to be so good at helping him figure out the other parts of his future.

(Continues after the readmore)

"Step into my office," Eddie says with a guiding sweep of his arm.

"You mean your bedroom?" Steve asks just to be annoying.

Eddie's smile doesn't dim but his eyes narrow, all sharp and shit.

"Yes, well, sometimes you have to mix business and pleasure when you're waiting around on the sweet cash that's supposed to be coming in any day now," he says, shutting the door behind them.

Eddie's bedroom isn't really like the last one, though Steve had only seen that in the height of insanity, when it'd been newly deserted and then torn through in search of anti-Vecna music.

This one is neater, though still pretty chaotic. Steve can't help but like it, even though he has to wait for Eddie to clear off his desk before he can conduct his business.

"Come, make yourself comfortable," he says, gesturing at his unmade bed.

Steve ignores the thrill in his gut as he carefully sits down at the edge of it. He doesn't make a joke about cum, or about making himself more comfortable, or about Eddie offering up his bed. He's on his best behavior because otherwise he's going to go too far and Eddie's going to think he's still just a stupid jock who has bad jokes, despite all of the shit they went through together; old habits and all of that.

Once Eddie's cleared his desk, he moves to the other end of it, leaning against the wall but resting his ass against the stack of milk crates he uses for shelving. He nods at the chair, his smile all menacing as if Steve was one of his players and he was going to give him a hard battle.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he says when Steve hesitates, pulling a box out of his pocket.

Steve has to laugh a little bit, and moves over to the chair, settling in with his elbows on the desk. He has to look up to meet Eddie's eyes, and that puts another thrill in him, this one is harder to ignore.

"Don't let me win," Steve says, smirking. He knows that's not how tarot cards work, but Eddie's laugh is worth it, like he gets the joke and doesn't think he’s actually stupid.

"I'd never do that," Eddie gasps, bending to spread the cards out on the desk. They're all face down, so Steve can only admire the cool design on the back, but maybe after Eddie's finished reading into his future or whatever he'll let him look through all of them.

He explains some of what he's doing, and it seems simple enough. He asks Eddie a question, Eddie gets him to shuffle the cards, then there’s some kind of sorting thing, then he pulls a few of them.

"What would you like to ask?"

He's tempted to ask something… easy. Something that doesn't matter, and doesn't show Eddie the inside of his head. But Eddie had offered this in the first place because Steve had admitted that his thoughts have been all fucked up, he's been pretty lost these days.

"What should I do with myself this summer?"

Eddie nods, considering that as he gestures to the cards.

Steve carefully shuffles them around in a big mess, as instructed. It's kind of fun, and he takes his time before sitting back, relaxing.

"Okay, that should be all mixed up," he says, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles. He's determined to try to be comfortable, even with Eddie looming over him, his arms crossed over his chest.

He looks really good from here.

"Good," Eddie says, bends to corral the cards back into order, tapping it into neatness before he sets it down. "Split the deck in half for me."

Steve leans forward, meaning to find the exact center, but he ends up going with his gut and splits it closer to the bottom. For whatever reason, he's more curious about what's buried deeper.

"Thank you."

Eddie chews on his lip as he thinks, eyes going from Steve to the cards and back against a few times before he smiles.

"Draw three cards from here," he says, tapping the shorter stack. "Place them face down in a row."

Steve follows his instructions.

While he doesn't really believe that the cards are magic or whatever, he does believe in Eddie's ability to create an atmosphere. He's not even being dramatic or loud or anything, but he's bringing such an earnest seriousness to it that makes Steve decide to take it seriously too.

"Okay. If this doesn't answer your question at all, we can do another run of it, with more cards," he says, leaning his palms on the table. "Though usually unless a question involves a lot of people or a lot of moving parts, three is perfectly fine to answer it."

Steve starts to feel nervous, so he just nods and watches Eddie’s hands, thinks about how clean Eddie's new rings look, wondering when they'll start to get worn in by life like the last ones.

Eddie turns over the first card.

"The Knight of Swords," he says, his dimples coming out even as he tries to suppress a smile. "Other cards in this suit can be a warning, but this one is generally good."

Steve swallows. He knows he doesn't want bad news, but Eddie told him this all wasn't like, his destiny anyway. It's more of a guidance thing, like he can choose to take it's message or not.

Eddie flips the next one.

"The Seven of Wands."

He doesn't say anything else about it yet, just thinks for a moment before moving on, flipping the last one.

"The Fool."

Steve's eyebrows raise, because that doesn't sound good.

"Okay," Eddie says, leaning back against the wall, playing with one of his shiny rings. "What I'm getting for this is that you're restless, and that instead of all of the freaky monster adventures you've had, you really need a good adventure. Something new, maybe something a little different than you're used to, but ultimately you need to relax and just do what you want."

Steve looks at The Fool, about to walk off a cliff, and feels skeptical.

"Won't I end up like that?" he asks, pointing at it.

"Don't take the pictures so literally," Eddie says, and Steve has to sigh at him. "Your energy is high, like a magnet for good things," he elaborates, pointing at the Knight of Swords.

Next he points at the Seven of Wands.

"You're probably doubting yourself, dealing with a lot of fear and uncertainty, but good things are in store if you just do what you're scared of anyway. You need to remember that you're in charge of your life now."

Steve gets a lump in his throat. He hasn't ever felt in charge of his life.

"And our Fool here, what he says is that you need to pick something and try it out, whether it works or not. Do it thoughtfully, but you don't have to think that hard about it."

"Oh," Steve says. He hadn't expected to feel so… encouraged. Taken care of. "That's nice of him."

Eddie laughs, his voice quieter when he leans back down against the desk.

"It sounds like it'll be a good summer for you," he says.

After Eddie had cleaned up the cards and Steve had successfully kept himself from crying, they went off on the first nice adventure of Steve's summer.

Eddie had put a couple joints in with his smokes, and then they wandered off on a late afternoon walk, right into the shady forest, where it's not too dark yet.

"You know," Eddie begins as they walk side by side even though the path is kinda narrow. "I think you'd make a good Knight."

Steve thinks it's so not fair how much that makes him blush. He has to duck his head and grin at the ground just so he doesn't like, tackle Eddie and kiss him on the mouth and plummet off of the cliff of his own foolish behavior.

"Yeah? Do you think there'd a Knight for a baseball bat with nails in it?" he asks, looking back up to keep up his eyes on the area. Mostly it’s tree branches and nothing tougher than a squirrel.

Eddie laughs, nudges up against him as he moves, and because it's like, June, it's warm enough that he's just in his new Hellfire t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up. That means the skin of their arms brush together and Steve's brain lights right up.

"A nailbat is kind of like a sword," Eddie muses, the warm look in his eye doing irreparable damage to Steve's self control. "I might be more interested in what kind of Fool you are, though."

Steve blushes harder, mourning how it'd started to go back down just a moment ago. There's no way Eddie could've known what he'd been thinking of doing, but he knows and so do the blood vessels in his face.

"Uh, I'm not sure," he lies, shrugging. "I guess we'll find out."

Eddie beams, slides an arm around his shoulders as he says something that gets totally lost – Steve's brain has honed in on Eddie's body and only that, his feet starting to trip over themselves as he takes in the solid way they fit together.

"Easy," Eddie murmurs as he makes sure he doesn't face plant. "Is it too hard to walk this way?"

It's a little awkward, but there's no way Steve's letting him go.

"Nah, just had two left feet for a second," he says, turning his face to smile at Eddie and – Christ – he's right there. He has to go cross eyed to get a good look at him.

His gut pulls hard but he breathes through it. If anything, he knows how to be a gentleman and not just do whatever the hell he wants. Maybe his instinct for self protection is pretty busted by now, but at least he's not about to go around kissing random men just because he wants to.

Eddie laughs, and his eyes must be going cross eyed too, because they dip down to stare at his mouth instead, his long eyelashes showing off their thick, sweet curve.

"Girls would kill to have your eyelashes," he says, pleased when Eddie opens his eyes wide, shocked.

"What?" he laughs, glancing at the path before looking back at Steve. He's glad that one of them is looking out for tree roots, because Steve can't bring himself to care about anything but the feeling of Eddie's breath on his face.

"Your eyelashes, they're really long and nice," he says, less afraid to compliment him than he'd thought. "Most girls wear mascara to get theirs to look like yours."

"Oh." Eddie grins, turning his head to duck it all bashfully, and Jesus, Steve recognizes himself in that. "Thank you."

Steve can see the stones crumble from the cliff under his foot, knocking their way down the side until they disappear. He's about to do something really stupid – foolish – but his composure falls away under the force of every side of Eddie he sees.

"Eddie?" he asks, waiting until their eyes meet. "Will you kiss me?"

Eddie stumbles, barely catches himself from landing flat on his face, pulling Steve half down with him.

"Uh," he says, a nervous laugh chilling the air. "Why?"

Steve swallows hard, planting his ass on the ground so he's not halfway between straddling him or getting up.

"Because even though I'm scared, I should ask about what I want, right?"

"Oh, okay," Eddie’s voice is thin and strangled. "Sure."

It's a yes despite how Eddie looks scared now, so Steve leans in and crushes their mouths together, falling freely among the stones of his trepidation. Eddie kisses him back like they’re standing on solid ground.

#griefabyss69 writing #steddiemicroficapril #steddiemicroficaprilfools #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic

[space-invading-pigeon]

Glad the fandom agrees that Gareth is to Eddie what Robin is to Steve.

When Steve and Eddie get together, Eddie is obviously accepted by Steve's friends. Immediately: they can't go through hell together and NOT want every single member of the party to find something good and healing like love. The Party loves Eddie, obviously; they know he'll look after Steve, they know Steve will look after Eddie, and despite his love for both of them, Dustin gives Eddie a shovel talk so detailed, so disturbing, and so terrifying that Eddie asks Dustin to DM their next one shot (that little shit has some skills in manipulating emotions when he wants to. He did bully Mike and Lucas into making up in season one, Steve into hunting demodogs in season two, Steve into trying to translate Russian correspondence in season three, and ERICA into helping them infiltrate the Russian bunker base in season three. Kid has skills, we're all lucky he leans more towards chaotic neutral than chaotic evil). Point is, Eddie does not experience any negative reactions to the news that he and Steve are dating.

But the Party does not include Eddie's oldest friends. Gareth, Jeff, and Nelson (I like that name better than "unnamed freak 1," saw it in a fanfic and adopted it into my headcanons) are very much AGAINST Steve and Eddie dating, not because they're two dudes, but because Steve was best friends with Tommy Hagan, arguably the largest douchebag in Hawkins history, and they don't want Eddie to get hurt. So every time Steve joins Eddie for band practice, if Eddie is out of the room or even out of EARSHOT, all three of them are a little extra rude to former King Steve. But no matter what they do, Steve won't lash out. He'll grit his jaw, sure, and say something about how they don't know anything through clenched teeth, but he never argues when they call him an asshole or a bully or a liar.

When Jeff says that Steve is full of bullshit, Steve goes totally rigid before he just shuts down. Gareth sees this and immediately tries to backtrack; a parallel to Steve in high school, he's said a few regrettable things but he mostly just allows it to happen in front of him. Eddie comes back in from his bathroom break, sees Steve, and is instantly on the defensive. He drags Steve out of the garage, shooting absolutely deadly looks to his band, and they don't see him for two weeks. When Eddie does return, all three apologize to him, then less genuinely to Steve, and Steve quickly forgives them. Again, Eddie ends up taking a bathroom break, but this time, Gareth sits gingerly on the couch beside Steve.

"Are you really dating Ed? Like, no ulterior motives?" He asks, and Steve nods.

"I can't say how, but he saved my life. I was wrong to think he was just some freak," Steve says, but then he hesitates. "I- I really love him. I'm sorry you don't- I know I was a shithead in high school, but really, I love him." Gareth believes him. There's an earnestness in his eyes, a desperation for someone to know, and he can see the anxious set to Steve's shoulders. Gareth never thought that he'd see this, the King admitting to loving another man with not a trace of ill intent, and now that he DOES see it, he can see the tremble in Steve's hands, the tension in his posture and bags under his eyes, he can see the exhaustion written in every line of Steve's posture. So Gareth decides then that, whatever horrors have made such a self assured, confident person this tired, nervous, fidgety man, Steve is a good person. So he asks Steve to be good to Eddie, and then he goes back to his drumset. Jeff and Nelson are kinder, too, seeing that Eddie's #1 best friend, Platonic Soulmate, has decided to trust the fallen King.

After that, to Eddie's shock and embarrassment, Steve and Gareth get along like a house on fire. First, it's just teasing Eddie, then it's sharing embarrassing stories (Gareth shares the time Eddie spent an hour crying over a ladybug he killed before they told him it was just an M&M, and Steve shares the time that Eddie shot off of the couch during movie night and face planted into the wall, because he was half-awake and convinced that he'd just seen Ronnie James Dio through the window). Finally, it's Gareth who puts the pieces together that Steve is dyslexic, and helps Eddie record tapes for each chapter of books that Dustin and Eddie have been trying to get Steve to read.

They're not as close as Eddie and Gareth or Steve and Robin, but Steve and Gareth become great friends. Eventually, Steve and Eddie convince the party to bring Gareth into the know (Gareth is suspicious, but El's abilities and their story combined fill every single hole in the official story. He's terrified but comforted to know that it's over now)

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things headcanons #eddie and steve #gareth stranger things

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Someone is eager to see Mafia Mamma and that someone is me. So anyway.

When a twenty-two year old Steve Harrington gets the call, he isn't in the best spot in his life. Sure, he survived all the Upside Down crap, but his parents finally had enough of his so-called trauma ("the earthquake was bad, Steven, but you can't let that influence your life forever! It's like you're not even trying!"). He didn't get to college and his love life is abysmal, but hey, at least he does something useful now - he's training to be a paramedic and he lives in a small, old flat, regularly calling Robin and his gaggle of kids and hanging out with Eddie whenever possible. So maybe it's not the best spot in life, but it's his.

Well, apparently his great-uncle that his mother never really talked about died and asked that Steve takes over the family business in his will. Family business that is in Italy. Cool.

Look, Steve likes first aid, saving lives and all that, but, after the second shared joint with Eddie, admits he's curious. No one said it has to be forever, but maybe it would help him to try something else for a change. Eddie absolutely approves, squeezes Steve's shoulder, but - a little sadly, it seems to Steve - admits he's going to miss the only person who went through all the shit and stuck around. He even jokes he'll hide in Steve's suitcase and will go to Italy with him. "You know, somewhere far away from the Satanist rep. Well, Vatican is there so that's not ideal, but maybe with no murders and levitation this time, I'd just pass as the weird American?" And without thinking, Steve blurts out: "Come with me."

They land in Italy with almost nothing, Eddie with a beat up backpack and his guitar ("not even death or other fucked up dimensions will us part, Steve!"), Steve with a sports bag full of clothes and graduation pics of his kids plus Robin and Nancy, and his trusted hair spray. He really, really wanted to take his spiked bat, but apparently that would be a hazard on the plane. Go figure.

And of course, the "family business" is full of black suits, guns, rapid Italian threats and on top of that, the other families know that the old head of the family is gone and they smell the blood in the water. Especially when the new leader is barely an adult who looks more like a model than a criminal. And his friend who looks like a criminal? That one looks more like a petty thief or vandal than an actual mafia member. Now is their time to strike.

Turns out, that wasn't the best idea. Not when the doe-eyed metalhead grabs the nearest chair and smashes it repeatedly over the assailant's head while yelling "I-DID-NOT-SURVIVE-BEING-CHEWED-ON-TO-DIE-TO-A-FUCKING-BULLET-YOU-MOTHERFUCKER!" while the new boss reaches for the nearest lamp and, like a bloody ninja, renders three assassins unconscious, then setting down the bloodied rod (goodbye, lamp shade and light bulb) and tells his advisor that he wants a baseball bat, a hammer and a bunch of nails. For...reasons.

They gradually settle in. Steve excels in keeping his family in line by adopting his best mom pose, hands on hips, while sternly uttering "What did we say about excessive violence, Francesco? Hm? If you start there, what do you do when you need to escalate? Why do you start with the worst? And they call me dumb." When his bodyguard cocks his gun and asks who called him dumb and where do they live, Eddie snorts into his coffee. (also Steve later apologizes to Francesco for calling him dumb, but also adds that rules are made to be followed, especially those that save a lot of blood and pain)

As for Eddie, without the academic pressure he becomes and unstoppable language student. He's like a sponge, being semi-fluent while Steve struggles with basic phrases. They study together and Eddie begins feeling more confident, takes up more languages and slowly starts functioning as Steve's interpreter and teacher in one. Also a bit more, when they have to evade another assassination attempt and Steve finds himself laying on top of Eddie, on the ground where he pulled him to save him from a nasty punch, and no one comments on it when they get up a few seconds too late, their lips and faces red.

Eventually Steve becomes fluent as well and that's when Eddie experiences the best time of his life - when they walk together in a market, bodyguards giving them just a little bit of privacy, and someone spits on the ground behind them - "stupid American." But before Eddie can react, Steve throws a bitchy look at the offender and says in perfect Italian: "and you look like a poorly shaved goat, yet I'm not judging."

Eddie howls in laughter and nudges Steve's side. "Careful, Stevie. I might think you don't need a teacher anymore."

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's waist. In here, surrounded by the bodyguards and his family, he can finally do that. "Maybe not. But I'll always need a boyfriend. Wanna apply?"

#steddie au #steddie drabble #steddie mafia au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things drabble #the movie is an action comedy so of course mafia is a serious and cruel organization #but we deserve some silly AUs and you have one right here

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 5461

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

9. Honey-mascarpone crêpes

A.N. : Disappeared by my staff troll without notice or reason other than that she abuses her privileges at the company. Complaint email sent, and it's back up now.

Bucky

Once Steve talks him off the cliff of domspace (not the good kind), Bucky's able to calm down and see things more rationally.

First off, he stops being mad at Mary. He has to remember that she's going through right now what he went through as a kid. She's dealing with the loss of her freedom, shifting self-perception, horribly unbalanced (probably) neurotransmitters, and the complete—if temporary—restructuring of her life. Sure, she's bratting, but subs brat as a coping mechanism, and Bucky knows he needs to be a good dom for her, not an overreacting hothead. He can do that. He can totally do that.

(Having Steve around certainly helps, though.)

Mary is clearly surprised when he gets home from work and doesn't immediately set in to scolding her. But Steve was right: they have to wait to get a discipline plan in place. Mary might have a good sense of what'll piss Bucky off, but they've never explicitly sat down and defined the rules, their roles, or the consequences for misbehavior.

So Bucky just acts neutrally that evening and they eat dinner together and relax in front of the tv until bedtime. Mary seems to expect him to do something, punish her somehow. The thing is, he should. It's what's good and healthy for her. Bucky knows submissives very well, is very attuned to them, so he's sure that Mary's actually aching for a little correction by the time he and Steve calmly bid her goodnight and head off to their own bedroom. Bucky wishes he could give her what she needs, but he consoles himself with the fact that soon he'll be able to.

The next morning, Steve and Mary are both quiet. Bucky doesn't think too much about it. When he gets out to the kitchen, Steve informs him that they have an appointment at the Center that evening, and Mary pushes a plate of crêpes at him without meeting his eyes and then turns away.

"What's this?" Bucky asks, picking up his fork and prodding at the—frankly, delicious-looking—pile of folded cakes. He takes a bite and his eyes slip closed momentarily as he forces himself not to moan. When he opens his eyes again, Mary's watching him from over by the sink, biting her lip.

"Stop biting your lip," he says.

She stops.

Bucky gets that nice, warmth-after-whiskey rush in his chest at the obedience. He gets to work in cutting off another bite of the crêpes. "Are these an apology?" he asks, eyebrow arched at her. "For your behavior yesterday?" He puts the bite of crêpe in his mouth and chews, smug about the fact that she's flushing in embarrassment.

"They're crêpes," she mumbles. "With mascarpone and honey."

"Hmm." Bucky nods along and chews, enjoying the flavors while he maintains solid eye contact with her. After he pauses to swallow, he says, "Apology crêpes, then. Good girl. Apology accepted."

She doesn't say anything back to that, just gets pink in the face at the 'good girl' and whirls around to face the sink and do dishes.

Bucky smirks in satisfaction, then meets Steve's eyes. His husband looks deep in thought, but when Bucky prompts him with a questioning look, Steve just shakes his head and smiles avoidantly. "I already ate mine," he says, then pushes off from the counter. "I'm gonna go grab a shower."

Shrugging, Bucky goes back to eating his apology crêpes. "These are really good, Mare," he says. Over by the sink, he sees her head bob in a little nod. "You okay, Honey?"

She nods again, using the sprayer to rinse a dish. "Do we really have to go?" she complains, almost shyly and in a way that makes Bucky think that maybe his apology crêpes are actually 'please don't take me to go get a blood test' crêpes. "I hate needles."

"Don't be a baby," Bucky chides. "It's one poke and you're done. It's for your own good."

"Ugh."

Steve

On the day after the blood test, Steve glances sideways at his husband to gauge his reaction to the news they’ve just been given. Bucky’s frowning lightly, almost looks like his feelings are hurt. “Babe ...” Steve says softly.

“I don’t understand,” Bucky says, addressing Linda, who’s sitting in the chair across from them, who’s got them alone in her office while Mary is off at some sort of class. This is Bucky and Steve’s time now, to discuss the care of their charge, and Linda’s just told them the results of Mary’s bloodwork. Bucky continues to frown as if insulted. “I’ve been bringing her down every night. Every night. How can that not have made a difference?”

Linda shakes her head. “It has made a difference, but her levels aren’t near what they should be at this point.”

“Levels?” Steve asks.

“Dopamine,”

“Serotonin,” 

Linda’s mouth quirks at her and Bucky having spoken over each other. “Both,” she says. “Along with oxytocin. They’re called the ‘happy hormones.’ When people like Bucky or Mary go without treatment, they have an imbalance of them. The further on the spectrum they are, the worse the imbalance tends to be.” She looks back down to her clipboard, which holds Mary’s test results. “She’s not in what I’d call the danger zone anymore, but we should definitely discuss options for how to help improve these levels.” Linda looks up, blinking expectantly at them through her glasses. “So? What all have you been doing during your scenes?”

Bucky tells her, laying out the general gist of what they do during the evenings in their apartment. But when he stops talking, Linda still looks expectant. “So ... there hasn’t been any sex play?”

Steve feels his cheeks heat at the term. He glances over at Bucky, who’s shaking his head. 

“She hasn’t initiated, and I haven't wanted to scare her off or make her feel like she has to. They’re always going on about subs’ sexual autonomy these days, you know?”

Linda sighs and uses a finger to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Bucky, that’s admirable, really. But you of all people should know it’s unrealistic.”

“Is it?” Steve asks. Bucky puts a hand on his knee in what feels like a patronizing, 'The adults are speaking, Honey,' and Linda says,

“Sexual domination or submission isn’t necessary for anyone on the spectrum, but it is the most efficient way to get the job done.” She looks at Bucky with a little bit of reproach in her gaze, if Steve is reading her right. “She’d probably have to be dropped three or more times a day, if sex play wasn’t involved.” She looks back and forth between the two of them. “Are you and Steve no longer comfortable with sex outside of your marriage? Because if that’s the case then I really do have to recommend that you allow Mary to attend our socials, so that she can find a partner. Either that or we can schedule her for visits with one of our ProDoms.”

“No,” Bucky says, wasp-quick. “I don’t want her with strangers.”

Steve nods, though he feels like a cad for agreeing.

Linda purses her lips. “Well obviously it’s not the best option, but if the two of you aren’t willing to—”

“We are!” Steve blurts, maybe a little too loudly. He winces and reigns himself in. “Sorry, I just mean …”

Bucky’s metal hand covers his on the couch cushion. “We’re willing to make it sexual,” he says. “But we just don’t know how to … approach it with her, I guess.” Then he adds, “I’ve kissed her. Once. And that went over well. She seems receptive to Steve too.”

Linda nods, writing something down on her clipboard. “That’s good, good. Okay. Well with that in mind, when Mary has her session with me this evening I’ll administer some tests to help her map out what might be most useful for her to go down during sex play.”

Steve fights back a wince. He really wishes Dr. Linda wouldn’t call it that. “Make sure she knows we’re not pressuring her, okay?” he says.

“Of course not,” Linda says. “We’re just presenting all the options.”

Mary

The Center for Designated People is housed in a building in Queens, and it’s made up of a lot of glazed brown brick from the 80’s. 

This is the first time Mary’s been anywhere other than Linda’s office or the waiting area immediately outside of it. Come to find, there’s a bit more to the CDP than just therapists’ offices. There are classrooms and conference rooms, and a big social area with game tables and couches and a carpeted amphitheater that reminds her of the student union building back in college.

She’s not entirely sure what she’s supposed to be doing with herself. Everybody else seems to be mingling, comfortable in a way that she herself isn’t. Today’s the second day in a row that she’s had to show up at the CDP, and yesterday kind of left a bad taste in her mouth about it.

Yesterday, they drew her blood to test for neurochemicals. To make sure that she’s getting better, whatever that means. Mary hates needles and she’d resented the hell out of Bucky and Steve when they basically bossed her all the way down to the lab for the draw. 

“It’s for your own good.” 

God, she's tired of hearing that phrase. Everybody, especially Bucky, seems to think that they know what is for her “own good.” Personally, she thinks that Bucky just gets a thrill out saying the words. She thinks he gets off on it.

(… Never mind that something deep in her belly clenches whenever she hears him say it.)

The results of her tests are back, and they’re “not great” according to Linda—Linda, who’s holed herself up in the office with Bucky and Steve, whilst banishing Mary to a rec room full of other submissives.

They’re having some sort of low key party. Linda had called it a “social.” Bucky didn’t want her to go at first, until he heard that there would only be submissives at the party, no dominants. He’s so possessive, jeez.

There are maybe thirty other people in the room, talking in small groups, looking like they all know each other and are friends. There’s a tv and a foosball table and a bunch of little couches in squared off areas. A couple of people are sitting in the amphitheater playing boardgames, and there’s a table set up with snack foods and a punch bowl. It could almost be any normal social gathering, the only giveaway being that more than a few of the people present are wearing collars.

Like: openly and obviously, as if the collars are just another accessory to their outfits. Mary’s got a feeling that the collars are worn to make a statement, though she can’t for the life of her understand why someone would want to advertise that they’re like this.

She avoids the other people and goes over to the food, picking out a few things to nibble on. She tries to make herself seem busy by focusing on some pamphlets she’d picked up in the lobby outside Linda’s office. There’s one that has a serene picture of three river rocks stacked in a reflective pool of water, and the title reads, “Embracing Submission.” Mary rolls her eyes and tosses it aside.

She pulls out the pocket copy of the DSM V that Linda had reluctantly handed over (“It’s very clinical language. Don’t read too much into it.”), and searches out the section on Submissive Personality Disorder.

Personality disorders (PD) are a class of mental disorders characterized by enduring maladaptive patterns of behavior, cognition, and inner experience, exhibited across many contexts and deviating from those accepted by the individual's culture. These patterns develop early, are inflexible, and are associated with significant distress or disability. Cluster C (anxious or fearful disorders): Avoidant Personality Disorder, Obsessive-compulsive Personality Disorder, Dominant Personality Disorder, Submissive Personality Disorder. Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD) is a personality disorder that is characterized by a pervasive psychological dependence on and deference towards other people; especially to those who are oriented towards a dominant personality, or “Dominant Personality Disorder” (DPD). SPD is a long-term condition[1] in which people depend on others to meet their emotional and physical needs, with only a minority achieving normal levels of independence. SPD is a Cluster C personality disorder[2], characterized by excessive fear and anxiety. Typically beginning in early adolescence, it is present in a variety of contexts and is associated with inadequate functioning. Symptoms can include anything from extreme passivity, devastation, or helplessness when relationships end, to avoidance of responsibilities and severe submission. Manifestations may include: Cognitive: a perception of oneself as powerless and ineffectual, coupled with the belief that other people are comparatively powerful and potent. Motivational: a desire to obtain and maintain relationships with protectors and caregivers. Behavioral: a pattern of relationship-facilitating behavior designed to strengthen interpersonal ties and minimize the possibility of abandonment and rejection. Emotional: fear of abandonment, fear of rejection, and anxiety regarding evaluation by figures of authority.[8] Diagnostic Criteria: A diagnosis of Submissive Personality Disorder is indicated when five or more of the following criteria are met:

🟣Has difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from a Dom. 🟣Needs a Dom to assume responsibility for most major areas of their life. 🟣Has difficulty expressing disagreement with others because of fear of loss of support or approval. 🟣Has difficulty initiating projects or doing things on their own (because of a lack of self confidence in judgment or abilities rather than a lack of motivation or energy). 🟣Goes to excessive lengths to obtain nurturance and support from Doms, to the point of volunteering to do things that are unpleasant. 🟣Feels uncomfortable or helpless when alone because of exaggerated fears of being unable to care for themselves. 🟣Urgently seeks another relationship as a source of care and support when a close relationship ends. 🟣Is unrealistically preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of themselves.[11] *As of December, 1998, the additional criteria of neurochemical imbalance has been added by the American Psychiatric Association.

Christ. 

Mary’s not stupid, she can see where she fits into some (maybe most) of those categories. And nearly every line makes her want to throw the book across the room. She doesn’t like the picture it paints of someone like her, not at all. For lack of a better word, it's pathetic. So she pulls out her phone and looks up the Wikipedia page instead.

The World Health Organization (WHO) has isolated nine defining emotional and social attributes of those suffering from Submissive Personality Disorder (SPD):

🟣Tends to become attached quickly and/or intensely, developing feelings and expectations that are not warranted by the history or context of the relationship. 🟣Due to a tendency to be ingratiating and submissive, is likely to enter into relationships in which they are emotionally or physically abused, or “dominated.” 🟣Tends to feel ashamed, inadequate, and depressed. Is highly suggestible. 🟣Reacts to force or dominance from others with periods of mild derealization, or “submissive fugue.” 🟣Engages in passive-aggressive reactions to social interaction. 🟣Has difficulty acknowledging and expressing anger, struggles to get their own needs and goals met. 🟣Has an inability to soothe or comfort themself when distressed, they require involvement of a Dom to help regulate their emotions.[10] 🟣Displays a marked positive reaction to physical touch and affection, especially to the neck and head.

Well. That’s not exactly an easy pill to swallow. Mary fits almost every one of those qualities, if she’s really being honest with herself. But reading about it all clinical like that leaves a sour feeling in her stomach. Dr. Linda was right: she shouldn’t have read up on it. She shoves her phone back in her bag and returns to the refreshments table. She’s just finished ladling out a cup of punch for herself when a wry voice says,

“Careful. Last few socials, that’s gotten spiked.”

Mary turns. The voice belongs to a young woman. Maybe Mary’s own age, or a bit younger. She’s got that Seattle hipster look, with long dark hair crammed under a beanie, wide rimmed glasses, and an overlarge sweater with holes in the sleeves. She’s giving Mary a friendly look, though. “You’re new.” She states it, doesn’t ask, then holds out her hand. “I’m Darcy.”

Mary shakes her hand, pulling back as soon as can be considered polite. “Hi. Mary.”

Darcy smiles. She looks over her shoulder at the room full of people, then turns back with an apologetic expression. “Don't worry. It can be weird when you’re new. But it’s pretty easy to make friends around here.”

Mary tries not to make a face at the way Darcy talks about it—like this is some sort of club that she’s expected to join. “This is, um … I’m just waiting here while my friends see a therapist.”

Darcy boldly takes the punch glass right out of Mary's hand and sips from it. She looks thoughtful for a second, then nods and hands the cup back. “Yep, it’s fine,” she says. “Usually Scott’s the culprit, I think. And he’s not here today, so.”

Mary blinks down at the cup, wondering who Scott is. “Um …”

“So what brought you in?” Darcy asks. “TDO, or just curious?”

“TD-what?”

“Oh, you know: cops, the psych ward, all that good stuff.” She waves her hand, like this is a common thing and not something to balk at, like half the room’s occupants have gone through cops and psych wards.

Mary’s eyes flick back around at a few of the people nearby. Maybe they have, she thinks. Hell, it’s not like Mary herself wasn’t handcuffed to a hospital bed less than a month ago. The only reason a visit to the psych ward didn’t happen to her was because Bucky and Steve stepped in to help. She frowns as she thinks about how differently it could’ve gone.

“Sorry,” Darcy says, looking sheepish. “That’s kinda heavy, I guess. I tend to just say things.”

“No, you’re okay.”

“I saw you over here making friends with the vegetables and thought I’d butt in,” she says. She leans over and grabs a celery stick, dips it liberally in what looks like ranch dressing, before stuffing it in her mouth.

Mary wonders if it’s her own way of shutting herself up. “Really, it’s fine. I didn’t have anybody to talk to. I don’t mind.” She tries to offer a smile that doesn’t come across as forced or strained, but isn’t sure she manages. Wasn’t there a time when she had friends? It feels like a lifetime ago. In a weak attempt to seem receptive, she lifts her punch glass and takes a big sip, smiling over the rim.

Darcy tips her head. “Come on. Let’s grab some of the good chairs before they’re all gone.” They settle into a pair of very worn but very comfortable chairs, and Mary resists the urge to tuck her legs up underneath herself. Darcy, however, leans back and props her feet on the coffee table like she’s right at home . “So I take it you’re a TDO, then,” she says.

“I don’t know what that stands for.”

“Temporary detainment order. When they haul you off and force treatment.”

“Oh.” Mary squirms, hating to remember that night and how embarrassing she’d been. In front of Bucky, Steve, even the cop. Ugh, it’s so cringe. “Erm, yeah,” she mutters. “Basically.”

Darcy nods along, unfazed. “Yeah I went through all that, too. Couple’a years ago. It was fucked. Trust me, I did not want to be here at first. The courts made me come. Sent me with a social worker to make sure I didn't skip out, the whole nine yards.” She makes a face that looks just like how Mary feels when thinking about her own night in the ER. “God, it was so cringe.”

Mary stiffens at hearing her own thoughts reflected almost word for word. “But now?” she asks, eyes flicking down to the collar Darcy’s got on. “You still come here?”

“Oh yeah! This place is the shit. I love it.” Darcy grins and thumbs over her shoulder at the area where the foosball table is. “Tall lanky guy, taking it way too seriously? That’s Ian. He’s my sister wife.”

Mary nearly chokes on her punch. “Your what?”

“He and I share the same Dom.”

Mary blinks, working that one out in her head. “So … you’re a throuple?” Is that a usual thing with these people? she wonders. (… Could she be in a throuple with Bucky and Steve?)

“No, Ian’s my boyfriend. But he’s a sub too, so we come here to get services from Thor.”

Mary’s eyebrows rise. “Thor?”

“Yeah I know. Weird name, right? He looks it, too. You should see him. He’s this huge blond guy, accent. I think he’s actually from Norway. Or something. Wherever the Vikings were from.”

“So you …” Mary tries to parse out what she wants to ask. “You pay to have sex with him?”

Darcy pauses and looks at her strangely. “No,” she says slowly. “Insurance covers it. He just Doms us. You know, like helps us with our weekly drops? There’s no sex.” She laughs. “Dude. Only, like, extreme cases need that.”

Mary knows she’s blushing now. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” She bites her lip and tentatively asks, “But you said you see him weekly?”

“Yeah. Once a week. Usually Fridays.”

“... But like, at home? You don’t have other stuff?”

Darcy frowns. “What other stuff?”

“Like … like dropping,” Mary whispers, like it’s a bad word. “You’re saying you only do that once a week?”

“Yeah, usually. I mean unless we’ve got some really stressful shit going on. Like, when it was my finals week? I booked Thor three times that week.” She huffs like that’s a preposterous amount of times. “But other than that, yeah, once usually tides us over. That’s pretty standard.”

Mary squirms uncomfortably as she thinks about the nightly ritual she has with Bucky and Steve. “Oh.” She says quietly, because what else is she supposed to say? She wishes she could leave to go process this, maybe ask Linda about it. Because what Darcy’s just said does not match up with her own experiences, and it’s kind of jarring—no, scratch that, it’s definitely jarring. Sure, theoretically Mary already knew that she’d been labeled as a “high needs” submissive, but she hadn’t realized how different it was. Other subs only need to get dropped once a week? And according to Darcy, there’s not ever sex involved? Dr. Linda keeps insisting that Mary needs a sexual dynamic.

‘Only extreme cases need that’—Darcy’s words ring in her ears, making her super self-conscious. She’s extreme. She must be. How embarrassing.

“Hey, you okay?” Darcy tilts her head in concern. “What’d I say?”

“N-nothing,” Mary hurries to compose herself. “I was just thinking, that’s all. I’m still so new to all of this.” She tries to think of something to say to change the topic. “Ahm, so … Thor. He’s like a therapist, then? Here at the center?”

“He’s a ProDom,” Darcy corrects. “Which is kinda like a therapist I guess, but not like the actual shrinks they have here. The Pros get paid to help us with our drops. And highs,” she adds belatedly. “The ProSubs do that, I mean.”

Mary blinks at the idea that there are also professional submissive services for dominants. Has Bucky ever …?

“And they teach classes here too. Ohmygosh!” Darcy’s face lights up and Mary instinctively shrinks back at the enthusiasm. “You should totally sign up for some.”

“Classes?” Mary says, sure that her tone is showing how much she doesn’t want to do that.

“Yeah! Oh my gosh it is the best way to meet people, and the classes are actually pretty fun. It’s how I met Ian. And they definitely saved my ass back when I was new. Hey, I’ll help you pick some out!”

Mary flounders, not wanting to be insulting but also really, really not into the idea of coming back to the CDP any more than Bucky forces her to. “Um I’m kinda busy with …”

“Mare.”

She inhales sharply at the sound of Bucky’s voice. She turns around in her seat and she sees him and Steve coming over. Her shoulders sag with relief. Saved by the bell. “Hey guys,” she chirps, sitting up straighter. Is it time to go?” She starts to get up from her seat and shoot an apology Darcy’s way. “Hey, it’s been nice meeting you but I guess I have to—”

“Are these your Doms?” Darcy asks, looking wide eyed at Steve and Bucky. “Wow.” The look on her face might as well read: hubba hubba. “Um. Well done, girl.”

Mary huffs. “I didn’t pick them.”

Before Darcy can respond to that, Bucky’s coming closer (and Steve by extension because—living in each other’s skin, and whatnot). Bucky looks pleased. “Making friends?” he asks Mary.

What is she supposed to say? ‘Not if I can help it’? She shrugs in answer. Darcy, unfortunately, presses the issue of the classes to Bucky.

“I told her she should sign up for some.”

“Really, I don’t think—”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Bucky says, cutting Mary off. He glances to Steve, who shrugs like a big dummy. “I don’t know what they offer these days,” Bucky says. “It’s been a hot minute since I took a class here. What do they have for subs?” He’s asking Darcy, who unfortunately is very helpful and replies,

“I’m coteaching one this winter! It’s a four week course on recognizing Drop. Knowing the signs of deprivation to look for, self care, that kind of thing.”

“Really,” Mary tries again. “I don’t need to—”

“Mary,” Bucky says, and his voice has changed to that calm, firm register that he uses when he’s being really serious about controlling her. His “Dom” voice. That’s what Steve calls it. Mary swallows at the way he's looking at her now. He puts his hand on her shoulder, and it’s not the metal one but the simple presence of it there still feels like a hundred pounds. “I want you to go to the class with Darcy. You’ll learn a lot.”

“I don’t want to,” she snaps quietly. “I have work.”

“Your boss knows about your condition,” he says, infuriatingly calm.

“Yeah, because you told him!” Talk about mortifying.

Bucky’s fingers squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Hush. If the classes interfere with work, you can get your shift changed for that day.”

“They’re evening classes. On Wednesdays,” Darcy supplies.

“Perfect! She never works evenings.” Bucky releases Mary’s shoulder and nods like this makes it final. “My email’s in the database,” he tells Darcy. “Barnes. B-A-R-N-E-S. Can you email me the info?”

“Sure!” Darcy looks thrilled. She shoots Mary a saucy wink. “Thor’s the co-teacher, so you’ll get to meet him. We use him as our practice Dom.”

“Huh?” Mary says, just as Bucky says,

“Thor?” and tenses up by her side. “The Pro?”

Darcy grins, oblivious to Bucky’s stiffening posture. “Yeah! He’s who we practice with. Kind of like in a self-defense class how there’s the big guy you practice kicking in the nuts and whatnot? Thor’s our guy. Except we don't, you know, kick him in the nuts or anything. He drops us. For practice.”

Bucky’s entire attitude has changed since the mention of Thor being involved. Mary watches his expression darken and she delights a little bit in the opportunity to rile him up. “… Yeah,” she says slowly, as if the idea is now coming around on her. “Yeah I think I will go to the classes.” She peeks up at Bucky and sees him pressing his lips into a tight line. Mary grins. “Thanks Darcy. Email Bucky the info and I’ll be there. Should be fun! Can’t wait to meet Thor.”

Darcy nods and smiles brilliantly and bids them all goodbye, and then Mary walks out of the room with Steve and Bucky by her side. She feels smug, and is just waiting for Bucky to start complaining.

“Babe …” Steve says quietly, speaking to Bucky. He takes Bucky’s hand in his as they walk, and Mary watches the two of them have one of their freaky weird silent conversations. It ends when Bucky gives an unhappy grunt, but whatever matter they’d discussed (herself, Mary assumes), seems settled. 

“You can take the class,” Bucky says, sounding none too happy about it.

Mary smirks haughtily. “I thought you wanted me to in the first place?”

Bucky says nothing. Mary remains smug.

She stops being smug when it’s her turn in Linda’s office, and she’s just been told the results of her bloodwork.

“So … I have to?” she says, voice tiny. “With them?”

“Bucky and Steve? No, not necessarily,” Linda says, sitting up straighter. “Who you have sex with is your choice, Mary. You have options.”

Mary glances back at the door, as if Bucky’s on the other side with his ear pressed up against the crack. She wouldn’t put it past him. “Can’t we just keep doing it the way we have been?” she asks. She thinks about how Darcy had made a weird face and said that 'only the extreme cases' needed sexual domination.

Linda looks almost pained as she admits, “I’d have to recommend you be admitted to an inpatient program then, if sex play was absolutely off the table. Multiple drops per day would be required to—”

“What?!” Mary groans, grabbing her hair and yanking it a little as she runs her fingers back through it. Multiple drops per day? What a joke. She’d be a drooling, submissive zombie! “No way! I can't do that!” She wouldn't be able to keep her job if she had to do that. She wouldn’t be able to bake, or work out. She’d have no life!

“We hardly ever institutionalize people like that anymore,” Linda assures her. “And I promise I won’t recommend it if you can find a drop partner with whom you’re comfortable.”

“To fuck,” Mary grumps, being crass on purpose.

“Mary ...” Linda looks sorrowfully at her. “Really, this isn’t the norm. People like you usually test into the system early and grow up with much better care plans in place. Like Bucky did. This is really an unfortunate convergence of circumstances. We only want what’s best for—”

“I want drugs,” Mary says, blurting it out because she’s feeling icy panic at the way Linda had thrown out the word 'institutionalization'. Jesus Christ. “That’ll make me better, right?”

Linda downright cringes. “The medications we have available for this still come with a lot of side effects. I’m not going to prescribe those for you yet.”

"Well what are the side effects?”

Linda sighs as if Mary is the biggest pest. “Let’s at least have you take the assessment I told you about, okay?”

“Ugh. Fine.” A test can’t hurt, at least, Mary thinks. Linda looks pleased.

“Good. The SSITA is the first step. We’ll get you evaluated and go from there, okay?” She pushes the clipboard of papers on the coffee table over to her.

When Mary looks down, she reads the title page: Submissive Sexual Interests and Tendencies Assessment. “That’s … that’s personal,” she whispers, feeling her whole body heat. She shakes her head, already hating the idea.

“The results will be completely confidential. I won’t ever see your answers and neither will Bucky or Steve,” Linda promises, knowing by now that such a thing would humiliate Mary. “So there’s no reason not to answer honestly. A panel of staff who don’t know you and will never meet you evaluate the answers and send recommendations. That’s all.”

Mary picks the clipboard up with shaking hands. It holds a packet of papers with a pen tucked in at the clip. She bites her lip and nods. “Okay.” She takes the pen out and gets started.

It takes her about forty minutes to complete the assessment. It’s formatted into a bunch of statements with “strongly agree” all the way to “strongly disagree.” Checking the circles honestly has her blushing a bit some of the time, but Mary reassures herself with what Linda had said about the test’s anonymity. There are short answer questions at the end that have her gritting her teeth, but she’s honest, God help her. “Okay,” she says when she’s finished, handing the packet back over.

Linda briskly slips it into a manilla envelope and seals it. That’s reassuring, too. Mary takes a deep breath. “So, I don’t know who I’ll … ya know,” she makes a face, “do it with. Darcy said there are Professionals here? ProDoms?”

“Oh you met Darcy? She’s a wonderful girl. Very involved here. Yes we have our staff of ProDoms of course. But um,” Linda tilts her head. “What about Bucky?”

Mary looks down at her lap, thinking about the kiss they’d had. It’d been … Mary’s not sure she’s ever felt so unmoored by just a kiss. “He’s married,” she says quietly. “To Steve.” She thinks about her midnight conversation with Steve.

Linda is silent for a moment, and then she says carefully, “Mary ... Bucky and Steve have talked to me about this. During their sessions with me.”

“They have?”

“They’ve both expressed positive feelings about the possibility of a sexual relationship with you.”

Mary just about swallows her own tongue at that one. “Positive feelings?” What the hell does that mean? Has Bucky told Dr. Linda about the kiss? Has he told Steve?

Should she tell Steve? She’d hate to be the reason to break up a good marriage. ... But then again, Dr. Linda just said 'positive feelings'. Maybe that means that Steve and Bucky do want more.

Linda smiles encouragingly and puts the sealed assessment on her desk. “Yep. I suggest you talk with them about it.”

Mary sighs. Easier said than done.

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[fizzing-imagines]

Anesthesia | Billy Hargrove x Plus Size! Reader

Notes: I watched too many videos of people waking up from Anesthesia lol. I'm also thinking of making one of these with Steve and Gareth.

Warnings: None

Words: 555

"Oh shit, who are you?", Billy slurred out as you sat down next to his hospital bed. He was high on anesthesia after spine surgery and, as it shows, forgot who you are. His doctor said that it'll wear off and he'll be back to normal, but his currently honesty was just too funny.

"I'm (Y/N).", you said to him with a smile on your face. "Hey (Y/N), I'm Billy.", he replied with a flirtatious smirk. "You're really beautiful." You wanted to laugh, but also didn't want to upset your boyfriend. "Thank you, Billy.", you replied with a stiffled laugh following. "I've always liked big girls more, but you can't tell my friends." Now you couldn't help but giggle. "Can I take you out?" The nurse that was setting up his IV let out a giggle as well. It made you laugh even more. "Aww, don't laugh at me pretty girl." Billy would look offended if he had any control over his facial expressions. "Billy, I'm about to blow your mind.", you said before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Now he gave you a shocked expression before looking at the nurse. "Did you see that? The pretty girl kissed me.", he said to her. She gave him an agreeing nod, and while he was still looking at her you kissed his cheek once again. Billy looked back at you with a child-like smile. "Do you wanna know something cool?", you asked him. He let out a low hum as a response while looking at you like a kid in a candy store. "I'm your girlfriend." His eyes went wide. "Really?" You nodded your head with a laugh. "How are you my girlfriend, I'm such a bitch." The nurse in the room laughed at his comment and so did you. "I don't know, Billy.", you said with laughter in your voice. "I just started loving you." Once again, he had child-like excitement on his face. "I'm the luckiest man in the world." He slurred, and especially the last word came out with a long O. After that, he stayed quiet for a while while you and the nurse exchanged a look of entertainment. "You're so pretty.", Billy slurred again after a while. You smiled at him while saying "Thank you." He rubbed his eyes, to "Need to take a better look at you.", then asked you to come a bit closer. You did scoot a bit closer to his bed, to which he grinned widely. "You know how much hotter big girls are.", he said once again. "I know, Billy.", you said with a small laugh in your voice. "You're pretty.", he added. This was the third time already. "Thank you, Billy." The nurse came over to his bed, checked his vitals and then said "You should take a nap, Billy." He gave her a disappointed look before saying "But I wanna look at my girlfriend for a bit longer." Your heart melted, although he won't remember any of this once the anesthesia wore off. If you had a camera, that would be fun. "You can look at me again when you wake up.", you said while pulling the blanket over him. "Oh shit, you're tucking me in.", he said while looking down at your hands fixing his blanket. "Good night, Billy.", you said while taking his hand. "Good night, girlfriend.", he said with a grin before closing his eyes.

He didn't remember a thing he said once he woke up.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fluff