#steve x dove

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 12

Summary: You and Bucky are in love, and Bucky has to talk to Steve.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of PTSD/panic attack, mentions of alcohol abuse, mentions of sexual harassment, mentions of drug abuse, soft!Bucky, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, mentions of street life, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.4K

Previous

Series Masterlist

A/N: this part does dive into Shy's past with her father, and we learn about Dove's sister. It can be a bit dark. Read ALL warnings, and if you feel it's too much for you, I don't apologize. This story was always going to be dark.

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*Bucky edits by @nixakimbo

There’s a comfort with living here with Bucky and Alpine. You’re able to relax, not fully, but you are getting there. Alpine definitely helps. Bucky. You want to let him in as easy as he let you in, but you just can’t. You could sit and listen to him talk, but don’t want to talk about your life just yet.

You want to, and then you don’t. You need to, but you just can’t. He is giving you so much of himself, including a place to live. Refusing to even take money from you. You weren’t poor, in fact you had done well with your books. That ugly piece of shit house had insurance, so yay for that.

But Bucky. He’s a mystery to you like all men. You know you shouldn’t, but you compare them all to your father. It’s why you wrote; you want to make stories of men that were good, honest, and didn’t have crippling and poor coping mechanisms. Bucky didn’t seem like that. In fact he gave you just enough distance, and you craved him more.

Was crave even the right word? You dream of him. Wished he would close the gap a bit more so you could count the colors of blue in his eyes. Had a desire to snoop in his room just so you knew what cologne he wore or if that scent was purely Bucky.

Why did he haunt your thoughts? Your newest male character was Bucky. Down to the cleft in his chin. The very dimple you longed to poke a finger in, hoping to bring a smile big enough to make the faint dimples appear on his cheeks. You liked when you could get that to happen.

Why couldn’t you be more comfortable with him? Why couldn’t you just speak more than a few words? Every evening he even asked if he was talking too much, and you’d respond by shaking your head no. You’d never been given much of a voice in your home, yet another reason you wrote. Your writing gave you that voice. Those moments to say what you wanted, even if it was fiction. There is always a bit of truth in the midst of fantasy.

If you could have made the perfect man, it would be Bucky. He is handsome without question, but his patience astounded you. He never once raised his voice. He saw you look in the fridge at the beer for too long, and the next day the beer was gone. You still haven’t found remnants of even beer garbage. He watched you curiously as you traced your finger along the walls, asking what you were doing. “They’re spotless.”

There aren't burns, dents, or ripped out wiring in his home. It is fascinating that there was a man that could no doubt live in a world of turmoil and danger, and yet his home is a safe haven for him, you, and even the cute little kitty that snuggled up to you every night.

Alpine is a godsend to you. She followed you around like a lost puppy, well cat. When Bucky came home, she would stand between the two of you, making sure there was a safe distance, but that you could hear her purring. You liked her purring. When she greeted her dad, Bucky would look at you but you kept your eyes trained on Alpine. Only random looks would move up to him. You were a puzzle that he couldn’t quite put together, but he knew once he did that you would be beautiful, even if there were missing pieces.

You kiss the top of Alpine’s head as you allow yourself to drift off to sleep. Sleep still scared you, and you found yourself panting and in a puddle of sweat almost every night, so far you’d been able to keep it within the four walls of your bedroom. “Goodnight, sweet girl. Keep us all safe.”

Sleep was always fraught with dreams that transformed into nightmares. Dreams of how you wished your life with your father was, but morphing into nightmares of how you viewed things with the eyes of you as a little girl. Parties that would get too loud, and your father would start cussing and pushing everyone around before they’d leave.

Parties where he would pass out early, and you’d have to hide in the closet as people would have sex in your bed. You’d sit in the corner of your closet with your fingers in your ears and tears running down your face as you try to block out the noises just a few feet away. You got smarter as you got older, but their gazes would follow you if you wanted food or to go to the bathroom.

Those slobs begged for the days that your father would pass out and they would beat on your door. They never made it in there with you, but their lingering eyes and words to each other was enough for you to swallow bile on more than one occasion.

Your nightmares held the fights that you had with your dad. When he’d drunkenly throw whatever he could get his hands on at you, or punch walls. Even ripping the phone off the wall because the sound of it annoyed him. How many fires had you put out because his disgusting self fell asleep with a cigarette.

This dream is your worst. His ghost is chasing you around the fire that you started on purpose. Letting you know that you would never get rid of him. His voice would be in your ear for the rest of your life, and would even haunt your children. You would never know peace because you were the reason his wife was dead. It’s what you deserved.

His voice repeats ‘It’s what you deserved’ over and over again. Marking itself in your very soul, until you believed that no good could come into your life because you didn’t deserve it. You deserved to live a miserable and loveless life like he did because it was your fault, and you deserved every bit of suffering that ever came in your life.

“No! Nonononono!”

“Hey,” Bucky whispers into your ear, giving your body a light shake. “Hey, come back to me.”

“You’re a liar!” You shoot up in the bed, and see his face trying to touch you. “Stop touching me! Don’t touch me. You’re wrong! You’re always wrong!” Your arms swing at him a few times and he starts to step back with his arms up in surrender, “I don’t want you to touch me!”

“It’s me, Bucky,” your body freezes, but your eyes blink a few times as he comes into clear view. Bucky isn’t your father, and your father isn’t Bucky. “I can leave.”

“No!” You should have let him. Why did you stop him? What is it that you want? “I don’t want to be alone. I’m always alone because he isolated me. I’ve never had a friend, and I don’t want to be him. I don’t want to blame everyone for my problems. I don’t want to be without…touch.”

You extend a shaky hand out to Bucky. Who are you? You didn’t want touch, you wanted to be left alone. Bucky’s head twists to the side as he looks at your trembling hand. His eyes move down to Alpine who is on your lap, and ready to pounce. She never took a defensive approach towards Bucky, “Can I hold your hand?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully for the first time. You wanted him to touch your hand, and you wanted him to go away. Conflicting emotions were complicated.

“How about I hold my hand here?” He holds his hand straight out to yours barely an inch between you, and you close the space and press yours against his. Your fingers look so small compared to his. You bet he could play the piano beautifully. He has long lithe fingers that you wanted to weave yours into his.

His rings are cold against your skin. They were menacing to so many people, but to you they just looked like Bucky. You look up at him and start laughing. Laughing so hard that tears spring to your eyes. This is what crazy is, you just know it. He was going to walk away from you, and you’d never see him again.

Your hand just looked so tiny against his. Holding up your other hand, Bucky meets it with his metal hand, and you can’t stop yourself from weaving all ten of your fingers with his, continuing to laugh. He doesn’t retreat, his mouth just turns up into a crooked grin before he laughs with you.

“Are you okay?”

“I gotta break the cycle,” you laugh even harder, and aren’t sure why. Was this the mental break you assumed would eventually find you? If this was a mental break, you’d take it. You had no desire for alcohol. Didn’t want to turn to drugs. The only thing you wanted was to know that Bucky is smiling, and you wanted to keep learning all about him.

“You are. You’re breaking the cycle,” he answers with so much certainty that it cuts the air off from your lungs. Your laughing stops as soon as it had started, and he smiles as he sits down beside you. “You got yourself a little guard cat. Alpine, I don’t want to hurt her. Are you okay with me here?”

“Actually, yes. I hate men,” his mouth tightens as he watches you. “They’re thoughts of defiling a woman are so evidently clear in the way that they ogle you, and…the things they say.”

“Has anyone ever…”

“No,” you cut him off. “I’m not just saying that to avoid a trauma talk. It wasn’t without trying, but no. Not like that. Not sexually,” Bucky takes the abrupt finish as you wanting to move on past this talk. And yet you’re still looking at him, and opening up.

“Your father?”

“He was a mean drunk, and can we leave it at that?” Bucky gives you a head nod in response. He wouldn’t dig, he never did. “Thank you. I just…I don’t want to be alone anymore. Not in my life, and not in here,” you point at your head as you study his eyes. How were there so many shades of blue? “I’ve never really lived before. Had friends, but as soon as we got close, I’d push them away, and they’d give up on me. Bucky, if I push…don’t give up on me?”

“I’ve devoted a lot of time to you. I don’t want to give up. I always see things through.”

“Thank you,” two words have never held so much power for you before. You could never thank Bucky enough for the things he’s done, but mostly for the things he just said. Everyone with their good intentions always gave up on you. You couldn’t blame them. There’s only so many times that you push someone away that they give up on trying.

You bump your hip into Bucky’s as you look up at him with a genuine smile. Dates. You have been on six of them now, and he is still as much of a gentleman as he was the night he brought you home with him. The man slept in the bed with you, and still wouldn’t initiate anything. And heaven forbid if the two of you kissed at home. It’s like he had a timer that went off, and he would pull back.

“Bucky!”

“What is it?” His silvery blue eyes look down at you. His lips pull up with a smirk. He knew. He knew exactly what you wanted, and you were trying to get his attention.

“You know!”

“Just tell me then. Use your words, and tell me explicitly what you want,” it sounded like a bigger invitation than what you were wanting at this moment. What you wanted when you got home was entirely different. “Shy?”

Your fingers tickle along his as you will him to grab ahold of your hand. “My sweet little Shy Violet, all you have to do is use those words that I know you have.”

“Well…aren’t you my,” you stop your words. Could you call him that? You lived together. You saw him everyday, and talked to him throughout the day, there was no other woman. But could you say boyfriend?

“I think we’ve earned the right to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend,” Bucky would say those words over and over again just to see your sweet smile, hear the little giggle that rose up your throat, and even feel the warmth that was circled your body. “Shy, you’re my girlfriend.”

“I want my boyfriend to hold my hand then,” you blurt out. Bucky chuckles, but he does entangle his fingers with yours, pulling you as close to him as he possibly can as you walk back home. Your steps match each other, and you’ve never felt safer than you do right now.

“Shy, what are you feeling right now?”

“Right now?” You look up at him with your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Explain your feelings towards me and us like you would in one of your books.”

“Oh…well,” Bucky winces as he looks at you, fearful that he overstepped his bounds, and pushed you too far, too fast. The two of you had been making great progress with this new step in your relationship, and he doesn’t want to offset it or have you regress.

”Never mind. Forget I asked.”

”No,” you strain out a giggle. Grabbing his arm with your free hand. “It’s not that simple, bubba. It…words don’t always flow, they just get caught in my throat, and don’t want to come out. And I usually close my eyes before I start writing, and imagine the scene. What are you doing?”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, removing your hands off him before he steps in front of you. Squatting down a bit as he peeks over his shoulder, “Hop on, and close your eyes. You can whisper it in my ear.”

Exhaling loudly, you jump onto Bucky’s back, resting your cheek on his shoulder as you close your eyes. Letting your body feel everything that you feel about Bucky. “It’s new.”

“But good?” He asks. You give a quick peck to his neck. “I take that as a yes.”

“It’s so good,” you hum, wanting to express everything that you’re feeling at this moment. “It’s like this warmth deep inside my soul. It rushes out into every part of me, and wants me to always be with you because I don’t want to miss any breath that you take, or any blink of your eyes. I want to hear every groan of pain that you have because I want to be the one to make you feel better. It’s this rumbling fluttering feeling in my stomach that makes me feel like I’m in knots. It scares me and excites me all at the same time.”

Giving him a few nips to his neck, you move to right your head. Placing your mouth right behind the shell of his ear as you continue to whisper all the things that Bucky makes you feel. “Every time you touch me I get goose pimples, and this flood of…heat throughout every part of me. All the way to my soul, and to places I’ve never felt before. And I want you to explore those parts of me. And it’s like I’m home.”

“Hmm?” His voice is a whispered groan. You can feel his body tense under you, and you know why. He’d been starving his body of sexual gratification just to make sure that you were comfortable. He could also feel just how heated you are, right at your core. You meant more to him than a good lay, but each part of the past few minutes has his body on edge. Hyper alert of how your body is craving him as much as he craves you.

Your heated core presses into his back, making his aching cock twitch with a fervent need for your warmth. He is just about in a state of not seeing things clearly because of your pulse. The pulse that is in sync with his, and he felt it in your entire body. Throbbing harder than even he is. He’s tried to deny his animalistic needs because he felt like it was what you needed. But maybe you needed him in the same ways he needed you.

“Because my home is wherever you and our daughter are. Bucky, you can start calling me her mommy if you want to.”

“Please,” he strains out. Not even realizing himself how much he wanted Alpine to belong to both of you. Hearing you call him her daddy just felt so right, and he wanted you to feel the same way he did. That…yeah, the warmth.

“James, I love you,” he stops his walking right before you get to the complex. His body freezes as his eyes well up with tears. “I love you,” you whisper right behind his ear, and softly press a kiss before you wiggle out of his grasp.

Going to stand in front of him, your arms wrap around his waist. And you rest your chin on his chest as you stare up at him. “And I’m never going to get tired of saying that. I love you, James Buchannan Barnes.”

“I love you,” two broken people that had created a weird codependent relationship had no business falling in love. He needed you. Needed you every day and in every way. You are his best friend. The best thing that had ever happened to him, and he wanted to learn you all the more because of it. “I LOVE HER!”

Bucky throws his head back, yelling up at the sky before he looks back down at your scrunched up nose, and your eyes shining with the tears you weren’t allowing to spill over your lash line. “I love you.”

“And I want you to have all of me,” you slide out of his embrace, and pull him towards the door. “Tonight. I want us to rush into the apartment, and struggle to get each other's clothes off. But once we are completely bare in front of each other, I want our hands and lips to discover our bodies. Trace each line and curve with our fingertips. Intertwining every limb with the other until we’re too close to avoid your cock going into my cunt, and…”

His mouth crashes into yours as the two of you stumble into the building. A mad dash of hands roughly roaming over each other. Undoing buttons in the elevator until the two of you hit the door of the apartment and it’s a struggle to get in with the way you’re pulling off jackets and pulling apart shirts.

Crossing the threshold and the clothes fly at an alarming rate. Some in pieces others being tugged off at awkward angles because you need your mouth back on his. Thirsty for the taste of his mouth and you revel in it every time you get that tiny sip.

And just like you promised when you’re both naked, and pressed up against each other in a heated embrace the kissing stops, and his eyes peer so desperately into yours. He gulps, squeaking as he tries to talk. You can feel his pulse through his heavy cock that is pressing up against your stomach, “We can…we can stop whenever you want.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper as you start kissing down his chest. His hands caress your back as he watches you discover the hills and valleys on his chest. Dipping lower to kiss over every hard line that makes up his abs. Gazing up at him through your lashes. He isn’t sure if you knew how crazy you are making him feel, but he hopes you did.

No woman has ever shown him the care that you are. Making sure you kiss every scar with the most tender press of your lips. All this time he was spending hoping you were okay, he didn’t realize he wanted someone to do the same. And you had been. Not with words, but with how you took care of him. How you would jump up and run to the door with a smile just to greet him. Jumping into his arms, you would rub on his shoulders asking how his day was.

You felt real because you were. You didn’t want the amazing sex he could give you; you wanted him. His heart, body, and soul, and you had it. You had every part of him wrapped tightly around your little pinky finger, and he didn’t want it to ever unravel. He craved you like an addict to their next hit. He wanted to experience every part of life with you, including growing old.

Bucky never thought he was going to have a long life, and now he didn’t want to die before he was five hundred years old, and that still wouldn’t be enough time with you. Eternity was just the start of enough time with you.

His hands grip the underside of your ass before he picks you up. Letting your legs wrap around him as he takes the two of you to the bedroom. You are drenched and ready for him now, but you were right, he wanted his fingers and mouth to discover you first. He didn’t want this moment to end.

Sitting you on the edge of the bed, he yanks you back down the mattress when you try to scoot up the bed. Sinking to his knees, he starts at your toes, and kisses all the way up your leg. Stopping at the top of your thigh, he steals a glance at your glistening folds, kissing across your thigh before he makes his decent back down.

Moving to your right leg, he does the same motion. Finishing at your feet before he sits up a bit more. His eyes bore into yours before he leans forward, kissing over your mound. Right above the split, and you tremble. He is everywhere but where your body needs him. But you needed him more than your body.

His lips trail all over your soft pliable skin, and your fingers ghost over his arms and shoulders at the same speed. The tips of your fingers paint every inch of his flesh before he hovers over your body, and you take a haggard breath, giving your head a nod, “I can’t stand it anymore.”

”Good,” his legs move between your own, and he pushes you further apart. His digits slide down your arms, before he weaves his hands within yours, and pulls them above your head. “I can’t wait either,” slipping one hand free, he lines himself up with your entrance, “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he grunts.

”Okay,” your voice croaks out before he slowly descends inside of you. Moving at such an achingly slow pace, and making sure that your body memorizes the vein that runs over his cock. He makes sure that your velvety skin feels every inch of his head as it spears through your walls.

Biting on your lip, you are overcome with so much…just so much, but he shakes his head, “Do not withhold any sound from me, Shy. I need every part of this. If you wince, I want to know that it’s because of the stretch you feel as your body adjusts to me.”

“Okay,” he couldn’t fault you for becoming breathless, and unable to form words. He knew you’d been out of commission for a few years, and he could tell. Just like the proverbial walls around your heart, he would break, well stretch, these walls, too. He’d make sure that you learned how to take every inch of him. “Why did you stop?”

“Baby, I’m too deep.”

”No,” you want to cry. He wasn’t close enough, “I need to feel you on me. I belong to you, Bucky. Because you belong to me. I just,” Bucky slides completely home, and your words stop. Balls deep, and his weight is on every part of you. He is the most perfect feeling on you. Covered in Bucky. It’s what you wanted to be for the rest of your life.

Letting out the sweetest whimper when Bucky starts to slowly and steadily rut into you. Your body sounds vulgar with how wet you are, but your voice is the most angelic noise. Mewling, and calling out his name because nothing else mattered in the world. Only Bucky and you. The two of you had created a bubble of safety and care, and you had no desire to leave. Just wanted him. Always him.

“You’re my home,” you whisper as the constant fluttering knot in your stomach tightens. This is happening way too fast. No way is this going to last all night. You didn’t want to stop this feeling ever. “It’s…”

“It was always you,” Bucky pants out as his thrusts quicken. Normally he could last longer, but not this time. This time is overwhelming and feels too good. Nothing was better than this, and he was going to spend the rest of the weekend inside of you. Learning all the secrets to your body.

Even though you are struggling to hold on, he could feel your walls fluttering around him. Keeping your intense gaze just on him just like he asked you. “Thank you, Shy,” he coos, changing his angle he starts to drive into your warmth, and you gasp. The build up of the most beautiful high is becoming unbearable, but you weren’t finished just yet.

“Shy, let go for me, and we’ll do it again. And again. And again.”

“Promise?” your voice is hoarse as you choke down the need to come again.

“I’m never going to stop making love to you,” you let go as euphoria surges through every inch of your body. Racing through your blood, and making you all dizzy in the brain. Not even getting a chance to come back down when your walls grip around Bucky’s length so hungrily that his balls tighten and he shoots sticky warmth into the depths of your body, and you release again at the feeling of him in your belly.

”I love you,” you whimper, trying to ground yourself so you don’t lose sight of the face Bucky makes as he releases in a woman for the first time. Letting your body milk every drop of his thick cum as it blooms in your tummy like the best warmth.

“I love you, forever, Shy.”

”Forever.”

“Shy,” Bucky gives you a lingering kiss on your cheek as his left hand presses on the swell of your belly. He claims he could feel the baby better that way. His left hand is much more sensitive, and he wanted to feel the two of you growing and ‘swimming’. “Sweetheart, why don’t you ladies go whip up some lunch?”

“Of course, come on,” you grab Dove’s hand, pulling her into the kitchen. That was code for Bucky and Steve needed alone time. But his spoiled brat didn’t even want to leave him. She turns her head to look back at Steve giving you a clear view of her mark. She is completely stuck on him. Guess he finally sealed the deal.

You clear your throat, looking at her with your eyes wide, “They need a moment.”

“But…”

Ugh. You snap your fingers, and point into the kitchen, but she still looks back at Steve, “Dovey, follow Shy into the kitchen, and make me something real tasty, and we can share, okay?”

“Okay,” her body swishes back and forth, and she stands up a bit straighter, dropping your hand, and following you willingly. He tamed the brat. You were sure she still would stub up on him, and become a bit too childish for your liking, but even Bucky is watching Steve in an odd way.

“So how was it?” You ask with a smirk, as you pull out a few things from the fridge. The least you could do was talk to the girl. Maybe she wasn’t that bad.

“How was what?”

“Weren’t you a virgin?” Bashfully she looks down at the counter, finding her a seat in one of the stools. You’d have to hand her some things to chop, and hope she knew how to handle a knife. Her eyes never move back up to meet you, and you worry you made her shut down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I just don’t even know how to begin to explain it,” you smile, sliding over a cutting board, knife and veggies. Without hesitation she starts slicing things up, and thinks? “It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt, and I can’t even begin to describe it. He loves me.”

“Steve told you that?” She shakes her head no, but her smile never fades. It’s the one thing Bucky said Steve claimed he’d never do again. Love. Of course he wouldn’t tell her, but sometimes a woman just knows.

“He pretty much told me without saying the words. We’re going to get married, and have babies like you,” sweet summer child. You and Bucky have built a relationship for years. Strangers to saviors to friends to lovers. She wouldn't understand your dynamic. “Every love story is different, but I do love mine and Steve’s.”

“Because he stalked you?”

“No,” she giggles, clearly forgetting the way that they met. “Because he had a goal, and he achieved it,” by breaking her down. “I’m not the person I was before. I feel like I have power, and a voice, and I’m desirable. I’d never felt like that before. My parents somewhat sheltered me. I don’t talk about Steve to them. They both want different things for me, and I just have spent so much time being the perfect girl for both of them. Dad wanted me to teach at a university, mom wanted me to be a pediatric nurse, so I went into early childhood education.”

“Do you have anyone you do talk to about Steve?”

She shrugs her shoulders as she bites into a carrot stick. “Just my sister. They don’t even know I talk to her. She’s my mom’s daughter, not my dad’s. She stopped trying to be perfect a long time ago,” there’s a sadness laced in her eyes as she stares at the cut veggies. “I don’t think they’d much approve.”

“Fuck ‘em,” she looks up at you with her brows furrowed, and a smile tingling to spread on her lips. You could see why Steve melted in her presence. You didn’t like seeing her sad because her smile is radiant. “How do you feel about Steve?”

“I love him,” no hesitation and with so much conviction.

“If they can’t see that you love him then why have them in your life? So what is it that your sister does?”

“Currently? Uh…changing her phone number again,” there is more to that story, and you’re not sure what.

“Their job — you’re around the business a lot. Are you using?” Her head shakes rapidly, taking a moment to look back where Steve and Bucky were, and her body goes frigid. “They’re just in the study with the door closed.”

“Steve doesn’t allow me to. He only lets me shotgun with him, or drink if he’s around. I’m a cheap drunk. And I get too flirty,” her giggle is awkward, and she avoids your eyes.

“IsYyur sister a junkie?”

“Not that bad. Steve says he doesn’t sell to her. I showed him her picture, and he told everyone while I was there not to sell to her. Told her that he would pay for her to go to rehab, and pay her phone bill so we knew where she was, and she disappeared for a while. She…she’s going to be okay. Steve will help.”

Walking over to her side of the counter, you open your arms wide. You understood addiction in people you love better than most. “Or you can just hold the baby?” With a sweet smile, she meets your hug, pulling back only to feel around your belly.

Steve shuffles in his seat as he stares at the monitors. Bucky doesn’t say anything as he watches his friend. “Shy and I like knowing where each other are in the house. She works here a lot and it’s a way for her to just see where I am.”

“I wasn’t questioning your need for cameras in your house. I’m just observing Dovey.”

“You’re looking awfully hard,” Steve straightens up only when you step away from Dove. Turning to look at his friend, but his eyes still wander over to the monitors. “So, why did you want to come here?”

“I want to apologize for what I did, but also the things I said about Shy.”

“Why?” Bucky cocks up an eyebrow at him. He’d love to have Steve graveling on his knees for the things he said about you.

“What do you mean why? I’m just apologizing and there’s no other fucking reason.”

“Don’t smoke in here,” he points a finger at his friend who started to touch his pocket. “We can walk outside, but this is a smoke free house. I’m asking why you’re apologizing because if it’s to ask me back, I’m not ready for that.”

“Why not?” Steve’s question shocks Bucky as he’s the one that turns to the monitor, pointing one of his fingers at the screens where you are. “I get it.”

“I don’t think you fully do, but you’re getting there.”

“So you’re just going to sit around and be a house husband for the rest of your life?”

“I could,” Bucky smiles, leaning back in his chair. “I could do that. Shy has had another successful book, and I made good investments. Just like you. My priority is my family now, Steve. And I can’t jeopardize her or our…you haven’t even asked me what we’re having.”

“This is a new thing for me,” he sighs. He’d been a horrible friend. Dove had told him as such. The more he talked to her, the more he realized how he had good people in his corner that wanted what was best for him. “What are you having?”

“He’s a boy. He’s all boy. Ember. Shy is insisting that Buchanan Barnes stays as well. She’s a bit of a romantic like that. I wanted a girl, but I hope he’s as in love with his mom as I am. She deserves another good man in her life. Speaking of family; I haven’t heard anything about Dove’s sister, Larkin. I still have our underground crew that stake out the trap houses,” he shakes his head, knowing it's the one thing that Steve couldn’t protect Dove from. That ugly world.

“Two weeks, Buck. That’s a long time out on the streets.”

“Look at me right now, and promise me that you haven’t done anything or sold to her,” Steve’s eyes roll up to look at Bucky. His face is somber and full of anger at the audacity in the question. “You love her,” Steve shakes his head no, confusion laced in every one of his features. The dramatic tonal shift in the conversation gives him whiplash. “I didn’t ask, you do.”

“I can’t love anymore.”

“Oh, bullshit, Steve. You can walk around acting like your heart is impenetrable because fucking Peggy left you for Rumlow, but you can’t fool me. You love her, and you need to tell her. Sam the other day was saying how different you are, and how you were already making preparations on a wedding, and future children, and where the fuck does that come from if it isn’t love?”

“Loyalty,” Bucky rolls his eyes as he looks at Steve. “It’s close enough to love, and it’s all that she’s going to get.”

“You’re a fucking dumbass, you know that? You have got Dove sitting on your cock asleep while people who can switch on you any minute see it. Yeah, information gets out, and it’s not just fucking Sam telling me this shit, Steve. You’re in love and you’ve gotten goddamn sloppy because of it. You show her the same fucking love that you gave Peggy, or you let her go. This life already consumed her sister, is that how you want to see Dove? Strung out? Selling her body for a hit, and too ashamed to seek help somewhere? You give her the same life you would have given Peggy. You tell her what she means to you, and you keep her away from that fucking life. Since when did you get so stupid?”

Steve sits in silence, letting his friend berate him. The only person besides Dove that can talk to Steve like this, and get away with it. “You got stupid when you let that little brat into your heart. You smile now. You’re looking for her fucking sister on the regular so Dove knows she’s okay. You have her lips burned into your skin just like she’s burned herself into your heart. Eventually if you don’t let the fire die down Steve, it burns away.”

“And only ashes and embers remain,” he smiles at his friend, almost laughing at the name Bucky and you chose for your son. Ember. The last remnants of a fire. The tiniest bit of spark that burns bright amongst the ashes. The light in the darknes.

“Do you want to lose Dove?”

“No,” his voice is ragged as his eyes move back to the monitor. Watching as her hands slide over your belly. Dove on her knees, whispering something to your son that Steve couldn’t hear, but he is addicted to seeing her so soft. Longing for the day where she was you.

“Steve, you’re going to. Whether it’s because you’re too fucking stubborn, or because of your stupidity. Do right by her when she’s with you, or let her go. She deserves someone who can give her this. When is enough, enough? Why are you still in this game? We’re getting too old, this is a young man’s game. You have more money than you could have ever possibly need.”

When was enough, enough?

“Steve, I love you, brother,” Steve meets Bucky’s eyes, and Bucky knows there’s still a human still left in his cold soul. “You see how easy that is? And I love you enough to tell you, I can’t go back into that life. I won’t leave my wife and son behind because of jail or death. Let’s go eat.”

When is enough, enough?

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @lyndys @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @theinheriteddutchess @honeyhoneylovelylove

#your mark on me #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x dove #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan #sebastian stan character #dark!fic #dark

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

stevie is so soft for his dove. so gentle and mature for her. she just makes him feel like he has something to care for and love. he finds when his dove pampers and loves on him it just makes him so much more fulfilled in life, and he finds himself emotionally maturing a lot faster than he was before because of his dove.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve x reader #dove and steve #steve x dove #steve harrington x y/n #steve fluff #steve x female reader

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

King of Hearts - a Mafia!Steve AU coming May 1st! (Featuring Mafia!Eddie)

Your father, head of one of the major crime ring families living in Chicago. Your husband, a marriage for alliance. You, an heiress to the proverbial throne caught in the middle. Time and distance never quell your feelings, only solidifying them once more when Steve Harrington makes his way back into town. Seemingly destined to be separated from the one man who has always held your heart, but Steve has his own agenda as he begins to set his plans into motion.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #king of hearts #mafia!steve harrington #eddie munson #mafia!eddie munson #KOH #KOH moodboard #steve x dove #little dove #mafia!steve #mafia!eddie

[cthulhu-calling]

New Perspective

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?

Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits

Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.

Word Count: 2,216

ao3 link

Steve Rogers Masterlsit

“You’re not coming back, are you?” 

He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him. 

You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.

 In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies. 

Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights. 

To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life,  Peggy Carter. 

Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest. 

He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more. 

“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile. 

Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him. 

One last time, or so you thought.

Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love. 

What started out as a simple arrangement  of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.

You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too. 

But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself. 

It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly. 

But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.  

So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what. 

He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it. 

But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him. 

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him? 

He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands. 

That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you? 

You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him. 

“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face. 

You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge. 

“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy. 

“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips. 

Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and  boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time. 

Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes. 

“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in. 

“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body. 

“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade. 

“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.

“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.

“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed. 

He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest. 

“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.

“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp. 

His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it. 

“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance. 

He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine. 

“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more. 

The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour. 

Smack!

“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp. 

Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips. 

“Suck.” he ordered. 

When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you. 

“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel. 

Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on. 

“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl. 

You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes. 

Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.” 

Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give . 

You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him. 

Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago. 

“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop. 

Oh, whatever were you going to do now? 

#dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dead dove do not eat #smut #love bombing #stalking #cnc kidnapping

[steve-faglan]

Breaking and Entering

Reader x Steve Raglan/ William Afton

TW: NON CON, NON CON, NON CON!!!

Summary: You and your best friend, Mike decide to break into the old Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Restaurant to get high and explore the relics of your youth. It's all well and good until you realize you're not the only ones in the building.

PART TWO: HERE❤️

William Afton was widely known to be involved in the disappearance of several children during the years that Freddy Fazbear's Pizza was open. Because of this, he's renamed himself Steve Raglan and taken on the role of career counselor to ensure a security guard for his life's work.

Not only smart but extremely well coordinated, William navigates the halls and secret passageways of Freddy's today just as swiftly as he did in the 80's.

You'd been to Freddy's back in its glory days. You've seen the animatronics in their prime and even witnessed the tall yellow rabbit mascot that used to walk around, though he creeped you out, so you always steered clear.

Lately, college has been taking a toll on your mental state, so you decide to indulge in some good old-fashioned nostalgia in the form of "innocently" breaking and entering at Freddy's. Mostly you're just looking for a place to smoke a joint and think about anything other than your major you wish you'd switched a year ago.

"Come on, you said you'd go with me. No one's ever there, it's been closed since the fucking 80s, man," you plead with your friend Mike to join you.

"The temp agency just tried to get me to work there!"

"So then there's no security, right?!" You drive a hard bargain or maybe Mike's extremely obvious feelings for you influence all his decisions.

"Alright. I'll be over in 10. I'm putting Abby to bed." He caves and you giggle in victory before hanging up. While waiting for Mike, you roll a few joints, grab your CD player, and slide a lighter into your front pocket. The minutes drag by until you hear Mike's piece of shit car pull into your driveway. You bolt out the door and climb into the vacant passenger seat.

Mike can't help but stare at you for a minute. You're easily the most beautiful person in this town as far as he's concerned, but he can't bring himself to make a move considering his ever-complicated home life.

"Thanks for doing this, dude. School is kicking my ass." You smile at your friend, and he quickly turns away, hoping the night is concealing the blush on his cheeks.

The drive to Freddy's is short and exciting. It's been years since you've seen this place. Mike pulls into the furthest, darkest corner of the parking lot and the two of you devise a plan of entry. At the very back of the building, there are two large loading dock doors. With both you and Mike using all your strength, you get it open just enough to crawl through.

"Jesus Christ, what did I let you talk me into?" Mike coughs away the dust.

"Come on, this way!" You drag him by the arm, the blood in his face rising just from your touch. Anyone with two eyes could see how Mike felt about you, except you.

You and Mike sit on the floor, right in front of the main stage. The four, old robotic humanoid animals still occupy their spots, holding their respective instruments or props. Time has been unkind to them.

You spark up one of the joints and pass it back and forth to Mike. You each share a headphone as you stare into the tall, decrepit ceiling of the restaurant.

"You think the bathrooms here still work?" Mike asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

"Surely they do if they wanted you to work here, right?" You ponder the question further. "Maybe check the ones in the office area." You point to a door that you recall from childhood that leads to the "boring" part of Freddy's. You ended up there by accident and swore you heard screaming, so you never went back.

Mike disappears in pursuit of a restroom, leaving you by yourself on the large, open party floor. You light another joint and stare quizzically at the robots. You become lost in thought thinking about how lonely it must be here, after all this time.

"You've been waiting for an audience, haven't you?" You tilt your head. Mike's taking longer than you anticipated, so you grab the other headphone and place it in your vacant ear. The volume is loud enough for you to imagine the animatronic band playing it. For a moment, everything around you melts away. You close your eyes, reliving a carefree time in your youth.

"Y/N!!!" Mike barrels down the hall. He's sprinting around every corner, tripping and stumbling the whole way in fear and adrenaline. "GET OUT!! GET OUTSIDE!!" He screams, but you can't hear him. You can't hear a thing. Just as he's about to make physical contact with you, he's yanked backward. The large, yellow rabbit that used to freak you out drags Mike behind the kitchen doors before bludgeoning him over the head, knocking him unconscious.

"I thought you couldn't do nights, Micheal?" The rabbit man binds Mike's wrists together and drags him through the same doors as before. He securely fastens his restraints to a support beam and stands. Already a tall man, he towers in the suit. William Afton.

William slowly turns his head, looking right at you. You sit with your back to him, on the far side of the room, closest to the stage. He takes two steps before you glance behind you, wondering where your friend is. Your breath hitches in your chest when you're met with a giant bowtied rabbit. You glance behind him to see Mike's motionless body on the floor. Time's moving too fast to tell if he's alive or not, and you scream again before taking off toward the door.

The rabbit man gestures to the stage and begins to slowly stalk toward you.

"Stay the fuck away from me! What did you do to Mike?"

"I'll do a lot worse if you don't stop fucking screaming!" William's voice is robotic and warped through the automated helmet of the suit. He's inhuman to you. Your mind can't wrap your head around the fact that anyone is in the suit, let alone William Afton himself. You try to silence your wails, but you can't do anything to stop the terrified sobs. All you can do is think about Mike.

"I-Is he dead?" You whimper, in a state of shock.

"Not yet," is all the rabbit says before he advances on you, grabbing you with unnatural strength. Your arms are pinned by your sides and he lifts you off the ground with ease. Kicking and fighting does nothing but bruise you up, but you try regardless. You manage to free one arm, and in your hysteria, you knock the mascot's helmet off his head. The helmet falls with a heavy thud, but it's as if it's muted in the background as you stare at William. He stares back, unfazed by his revealed identity. It almost looks like he's smiling.

"W-W-W-"

"William," he growls before placing his steel-covered hands around your throat while you were too distracted to notice he'd sat you back down. You claw at the lifeless metal and cloth, but slowly, your vision becomes blurry, and then... Nothing.

Mike wakes before you. He recovers quickly as he realizes where he is. He searches for you frantically, but you're nowhere to be found.

"Y/N!" Mike screams, but there's no reply. He's alone in silence for a few minutes before the unmasked rabbit man appears carrying your wilted body. Mike begins to panic. "What did you do to her?!"

"Calm down, Micheal. She's just tired. She's gonna need her energy." William grins, sending a wave of nausea through Mike's stomach. "You should feel lucky, you get to watch." He steps out of the robotic suit revealing clothes similar to the ones he wore when he first met Mike, not long ago.

"Watch what?" Mike raises a brow. William doesn't reply, he just starts cutting the clothes off of your body. "What are you doing?! Don't fucking touch her!"

William laughs at him, licking the entire length of his middle finger and sliding it inside you while he stares at Mike. He continues to play with you, rendering Mike into a livid mess. William shakes his head, amused, continuing with whatever dark plan he's already hatched for the evening.

You have no idea how much time has passed, but eventually, you wake up. You groan as you try to sit up, only to find that you're bound to a tabletop in an X formation with your legs hanging off the side where your knees bend. There's a raggedy drape of cloth over your body and the dry, musty smell is enough to make you sick. You scan the room in a quiet panic, unable to move and truly study your surroundings. Quickly you spot Mike. His left eye is swollen and will surely be blacked by the time you get out of here... If you get out of here.

"Mike!" You try to yell, but it comes out as a strained wheeze after the damage William did to your throat. Mike locks eyes with you and that's when you notice how scared he looks, but not for himself. You furrow your brow and look in the other direction. There stands William. He's out of the suit now, standing over you with a devilish grin.

"Breaking and entering isn't a good look for either of you," William chuckles. "But especially you, sweetheart." William places a soft hand on your cheek. You recoil in fear.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Mike thrashes in his restraints. It's clear to you that Mike knows what's about to happen before you do.

"Please, we're sorry. We won't say anything to anyone, just let us-"

"Don't be cliche. You knew what you were doing and you did it anyway. This is someone's stuff, you know? Someone's livelihood."

"I'm sorry," you sob.

"You're gonna be," William hits the joint he commandeered from you, and after a long drag, he flicks it to the side and begins to unfasten his belt.

"No! No, no!" You plead, arching and bucking your hips in hopes of loosening the cables that secure you to the tabletop. Mike causes his wrists to bleed, but he still can't get free. William strokes his erection as he watches your helpless body writhe under the sheet. You accept your fate, horrified and humiliated, you look away, facing the stage. You quickly notice it's empty and your heart begins to race.

"They won't be joining us. This is for my- our eyes only." William releases a deep, taunting laugh and starts pumping his middle finger in and out of you again.

"M-Mike..." You try to ask for help, unsure of what he could do for you at this point, but desperate to be free. He won't even look at you now. He's slouched over, looking at the floor, trying to drown out the sensual wet sounds coming from William's fingers scissoring inside you.

"He doesn't want to save you, sweetheart. He wants to see you get fucked against your will." With his last word, he heaves the entire table closer to him, giving Mike a front-row seat to the show. Panic consumes you. Before you have the chance to beg for mercy again, William tears the unkempt sheet from your body, leaving you entirely exposed.

"No! Wait, please!" Your fight or flight response kicks in, but you're helpless to do either. The cables strain against the table, but you're unable to move an inch. You look back at Mike. He meets your gaze and the two of you share a knowing look before you feel William slide the head of his cock up and down your clit, soaking it in the arousal your body had no choice but to pool between your legs after the ways he touched you.

"You make it hard to believe you don't want it when you're dripping like this, sweetheart," William taunts. You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed and afraid, unable to watch the blood rise in Mike's face as he watches you get defiled. Just as you're sure William is about to slam into you with no mercy, he pulls away. You open your eyes and glance at him in confusion, hoping he's realizing he can just let you both go and that would be the end of it. But that's not the case.

William bends to knees, placing your soaked entrance right at the perfect height for him to consume you.

"Let's see how difficult I can make this for you." William buries his tongue in your wet folds, flicking the muscle delicately over your violated clit. You try as hard as you can to fight back any kind of reaction, but you fail. A soft, breathy moan slips from your lips like a note from a music box. William laughs against your sensitive skin.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry." Mike hangs his head in defeat, listening to the sounds of you succumbing to William's sensual touch.

"What are you sorry for? She loves it," William smirks before curling a finger inside you, eliciting another explicit moan from you. He regains his standing position and replaces the head of his erection at your pulsating entrance, waiting. "I've needed this. You have no idea how stressful it is to keep a place like this under wraps."

All you can think about is how stress got you here. All you wanted was a smoke session with your best friend in a cool venue, and now, here you are. You're jarred from your thoughts when William's massive erection drives into you. It's abrupt and painful, but your body gushes with arousal to make up for the stinging, pleasurable friction.

"No!" You scream. Mike fights against his restraints one more time, thrashing and sliding his body in any direction he can, but he's stuck. William throws his head back in ecstasy as he plows into you. He's fucking you like he's eating his last meal. Breathless grunts of focused pleasure fall from his chest. His rough, calculated hands find your breasts, toying delicately with your nipples.

You close your eyes and try so hard to escape the reality of the situation, but William lands a hard, heavy smack across your face, shaking you back into the moment. With a stern hand, he grabs your face and forces you to look at Mike. He's red-faced, enraged, and tired. You can't decide if you want him to look at you or not.

Mike mouths an "I'm sorry" to you, but all you can do is stare at him while William picks up his pace. Your vision is unsteady as he jostles you around.

"You've gone quiet. I think I need to fix that." He draws his hips back and in a split second, your eyes widen in fear before he slams into you at full force. A loud, moaning wail emits from you and the humiliation finally tears your gaze away from your best friend. "There she is," William smirks, steadying his thrusts yet again.

"Please... Stop..." You moan between gasps. Your orgasm is building at break-neck speed. The last thing you want is to climax around William's invasive erection, but it seems as if you have no other choice. The hitching breaths in your chest become loud, sultry moans. Your mind is too frazzled to focus on withholding any signs of enjoying him. Tears stream down your face, but you admit to yourself that you don't want him to stop.

Mike looks away for a moment, but can't help but stare at you. Your eyes flutter shut and your back arches so intensely. He watches the 'O' shape your mouth takes and imagines those same lips wrapped around him. He has to shift uncomfortably, hoping to conceal his already obvious bulge. After you've ridden out your high on William's cock, he slowly slips out of you. Taunting you.

William knowingly reaches under the table and unfastens whatever link was holding each of your extremities. Your hands instinctively find your most delicate, used areas.

"Don't touch yourself unless I say so," he snaps, taking your wrist in one of his strong, demanding hands. His riddance of contact allows your mind to clear from the climax and you're suddenly afraid again. A notorious serial killer is making you his toy.

"Let her go, you've had your..." Mike searches for the words, but he's unsure how to describe the vulgar scene before him. "Just let her go, man." He looks exhausted.

"Don't talk yourself out of a good thing, Micheal," William chuckles before shoving you to the ground in front of Mike. You land with a thud, releasing an involuntary whine of pain when you hit the hard surface. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"No! I-" Mike attempts to protest, but William cuts him off.

"Oh, please. You're not fucking her. Probably never will. Now you get to get off on the idea that it's being taken from her."

"You're a fucking monster!" Mike thrashes against his binds, protectively snapping at William like a guard dog.

"You want me to let her go?" William squats beside the two of you. You lie fucked-out and terrified, curling up next to Mike for some sort of dignity. William grabs your hair and sharply yanks you toward him. You release a high-pitched squeal and allow him to guide your head to Mike's pants zipper.

"What are you doing?" Mike shuffles uncomfortably.

"Don't make me wait," Afton snaps at you and you quickly reach a shaking hand for Mike's pants button.

"What are you doing?! Stop, let her go!" He tries to shake your hands away, noticing the waves of tears falling down your face as you already piece together what William might make you do.

"Mike, I-" you're cut off by William shoving your face into Mike's newly exposed crotch. He diligently bobs your head for you, fist still wrapped in your hair. The second you make contact with Mike's cock, he releases a deep, sensual sigh. Small moans fall out of him left and right, nothing he can do to stop them.

"Tell her to stop, Mike." William waits, but Mike is silent. You squeeze your eyes shut as more tears well up. "Tell her to stop, and I'll let you both leave right now." Silence.

"Mike?" You beg, relieving yourself from the forced fellatio. Mike doesn't look at you, he can't. William smirks and shoves your face back to work. He makes good use of your throat as you take Mike as deep as his shaft can possibly go, ignoring any protest from you.

Mike begins to pant heavily. Little whimpers escape his mouth as his orgasm builds.

"F-Fuck," he huffs before finishing down your throat. When William finally pulls you away, you're a choking, sobbing mess. Betrayal doesn't properly describe what you're feeling right now.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry, I- I don't-" Mike fumbled over his words, red-faced and breathless.

"Shut up, now. You had your turn." William lifts you from the ground with ease and throws you against the same table as before. This time, you're bent over it, presenting your ass to him like a trophy to be won. To be taken.

"Please let me go home. I want to go home..." You sob with your face pressed to the large party table. Mike's eyebrows upturn as he watches you cry. Guilt consumes him, and the helplessness of your cries only amplifies that. He's not sure why he didn't tell you to stop, he knew it was the right thing to do. But he was so enveloped in the feeling of your lips bobbing up and down his erection, how could he ever ask for it to end?

"Shhh, you're doing fine, sweetheart." Afton coos in your ear as he leans over you. He's so tall, it's nothing to him. He plays with your pussy for a moment, slipping a long, nimble finger inside you. His eyes roll back in his head as he tests how tight you are in this position. "Perfect."

William slips inside you, fucking you as if he didn't just screw you senseless not long ago. His large, calloused hand comes down hard on your right ass cheek, and a loud slap echoes through the empty restaurant. You release a cry of pain every time he lands a blow, and he does it a lot. You're fucked out, beaten, bruised, abused- everything.

"Plea-" you beg, but another HARD smack to the ass shuts you up.

"Shut up! I'm so... Fucking..." William slams into you one final time before you feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you up. "Close..."

"No!" You try to kick and fight and do anything in your power to stop him from cumming inside you, but it's entirely too late. You sob loudly as Mike watches in horror. William removes himself from you and his handiwork spills from your swollen entrance. Your weak knees wobble under your weight.

Afton looks at Mike and grins deviously before flipping you over and clasping his powerful hands around your neck. The sound of Mike pleading for your life becomes a dull mumble in the background as you slowly lose consciousness. Once you're out, William readjusts his rolled-up sleeves and lands a hard, knock-out punch on the side of Mike's skull.

He dumps you both in the back alley, unsure if you're both alive or dead. He doesn't care, he just doesn't need you here anymore.

Mike wakes up first, placing a gentle hand on his face and wincing at the pain.

"Y/N? Y/N!" He scrambles over to you and takes you in his lap. You're still naked and you're covered in bruises and scrapes, a testament to how hard you fought and how strong William is. "Please wake up. Please wake up, dude. This isn't funny."

You don't move.

"Please wake up! Wake up, Y/N! Wake up!" He repeats over and over, shaking you and lightly tapping your face with his open hand. Finally, you suck in a big breath. The sound of you inhaling causes Mike to jump, but he quickly pulls you into his embrace, relieved to see you alive.

"Mike..." You groan. He quickly sheds his jacket and wraps it around your crumpled form, hoping to give you some sort of cover. The two of you get into Mike's car and head back to your house. The ride back is mostly silent until he finally speaks.

"Y/N, I- back there, I..." He doesn't know what to say.

"I don't think he would've let us go anyway." You stare out the window in a state of shock, secretly reliving the way William made you feel.

"No- that's not the point. I mean-" Mike struggled with his words yet again.

"Do you think he let us live for a reason?" You finally glance at Mike. It's the first time you've looked at him since he filled your throat with an entire friendship's worth of pent-up feelings.

"I don't know, but it doesn't matter. We're never going back there, I promise." He's attempting to comfort you, but something depraved and demented inside you is already thinking about what he'd do if he got his hands on you again.

#tw non con #tw dark fic #non con #fnaf dark fic #steve raglan smut #steve raglan #william afton #dead dove do not eat #dub con #william afton smut #fnaf movie #fnaf smut #steve raglan non con #william afton non con #steve raglan x reader #matthew lillard smut #five nights at freddy's

[bettyfrommars]

Season of the Witch

by @allthingsjoeq & @bettyfrommars

steddie x reader

Blair Witch Project au

Warnings: 18+ONLY, found footage horror, hurt/no comfort, fem!reader who is just a friend, no Vecna, angst, lost in the woods, mentions of witchcraft, paranormal happenings, things that go bump in the night, fear of being stalked, allusions to gore and MCD.  Dead dove do not eat. wc: 13k

If you are familiar with the film The Blair Witch Project, you know some of what to expect. This is a horror fic; it will be scary and unsettling at times, so please take caution if the genre makes you uncomfortable. 

Summary: Three friends find themselves in a small town in Maryland, the home of the Blair Witch, in order for Steve Harrington to film a documentary for his semester project.  In tow are his boyfriend, Eddie Munson, and you, a friend he invited along to be his trusty cameraperson.  Once you are too deep in the woods to find your way back, the myths surrounding the lore of the land begin to take shape, and you realize you might never make it out of there alive.

Much love to @allthingsjoeq for all of the blood, sweat, and tears that went into this, and also for calling it "a Marmite fic". We hope you enjoy this contribution to the October festivities! Much love.

Burkittsville Cemetery, Maryland

“Here we are,” Steve Harrington can’t contain the glimmer of wonder in his eyes, behind wire-rimmed spectacles, as he parks near the overgrown site of the cemetery.  

You look up from fiddling with the camera in the back seat as the tires crunch to a halt, already thinking of where the best spot to get a shot of Steve would be for the documentary he’s working on.  You aren’t as familiar with filming as you should be for being his main cameraperson, but you and Steve had become close friends very quickly, and he practically insisted you be a part of it. 

He was especially fascinated with the town you grew up in called Burkittsville in Maryland.  You knew about Steve’s obsession with the paranormal, and the legends that surrounded certain locations, so you told him about your hometown legend—the Blair Witch. You hadn’t been back since you were a kid, but you watched his face light up when you talked about the lore, and all of the possibilities for filming. 

Although Steve had his camera crew of one sorted, he would and could never travel without his partner in crime and in love, Eddie Munson. The metalhead stands now looking out over the cemetery with his black and white flannel over a Bark at the Moon Ozzy Osbourne concert tee, and his hair tied back in a bandana, being the supportive boyfriend. He clamps a hand on Steve’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. “You got this, big boy. Let’s rock ‘n roll.”

Tall grass yields underfoot as you all make your way around the space, bending down to try and read the crumbling grave markers.  

There is a staggering amount of tiny, decaying gravestones, each dedicated to a child who lost their life to unknown, yet presumably horrifying circumstances.

“Shit,” Steve mutters under his breath.  “There’s a lot of kids here.” You film his profile as he says it, shifting the focus back to get Eddie in the frame, and he shoots his tongue out, putting his forefinger and pinky up to make devil horns. 

Steve does a monologue for the camera.  He’s standing on the hill near one of the taller headstones, and the wind makes his hair unruly.  “Here we are in the town of Burkittsville, formerly Blair. As legend has it, around 1785, a Blair resident named Elly Kedward was accused of practicing witchcraft by several children. The children said that she had dragged them from their homes with the intention of drinking their blood. As you can see, there is an unusually large number of children buried on this hill.”

You film different headstones, making sure to capture the stone angel, and a few of the other statues, to splice into the film while Steve is talking for the final cut.  

Interviews with some of the long-time residents in town are next, and in the car ride down the hill, Eddie holds the camera and turns it on you in the back seat.  You cover your face at first, not wanting to be recorded, but he eases you out of it with some of his playful banter.  “Since we’re interviewing people who grew up here, we should start with you, right? What is your experience with the Blair Witch?”

You’d talked about the stories you’d heard so often with Steve, but being in the spotlight made you nervous, and it took a second to find your words.  “No personal experiences, really, but I’ve heard a lot of lore.  Ghost stories, mostly. Stuff to scare us kids so we’d go to bed early.” You shift in your seat and look out the window, but Eddie is waiting for more.  “I, um, well…”

“Leave her alone, Eddie,” Steve responds absently, flipping the blinker to turn into town. The song Season of the Witch by Donovan is on the radio and Steve’s mumbling the lyrics.

“No, it’s okay,” you flex a quick smile.  “If it helps, I mean, I was 8 years old when we left, I don’t know a lot other than what I’ve researched.”

“Your audience is waiting,” Eddie zooms the focus in way too much so that your eyes take up the whole frame.  

“Okay,” you start. “So I guess there were these two guys who were hunting once, up by the cabin Blair Witch is supposed to haunt, and they just disappeared off the face of the earth. Search parties combed the woods for weeks and couldn’t find a trace of them.”

“Maybe they realized they were in love and ran away together,” Eddie chuckles, pushing the heel of his hand into Steve’s shoulder.  

You smile down at your lap. “Could be.”

“One more thing,” Eddie looks at you over the top of the camera and then puts his eye back down to focus.  “Is there a chance we could all end up victims of the Blair Witch?”

You can’t tell if it’s a serious question, but it gives you chills.  Your eyes flick from the camera to the back of Steve’s head and his messy flop of hair.  

“I personally don’t believe in ghosts or witches,” you smile as you say it, and catch Steve’s quick glance at you in the rearview mirror.  “But don’t tell Steve.”

Eddie snorts and puts the camera in his lap but forgets to turn it off. 

“I’m really looking forward to proving you wrong,” Steve’s muffled voice says to you as Eddie rustles the camera down between his legs.  “There’s some spooky shit going on in those woods, and I’m going to get it on film.”

First night, The Motel 

The map of the forest is spread out across the thin, floral spread of the motel bed. Eddie and you stare down at it, identically flicking your eyes across the inked locations, each mirroring the same dazed look of cluelessness. 

“I think, if we start here and then make our way north we’ll get to here,” Steve then circles the center vigorously before saying, “by midday.” 

On the map it's easy to believe the forest only stretches a few miles and Steve’s plan so far seems simple enough, promising this hike to be quick. With the action plan sorted, a large pizza shared, and your survival packs spilling out with textbook necessities, it gives the three of you the rest of the evening to chill. This downtime allows you to mess about a bit and accidentally fill some of the tape space with personal footage. 

You’ve decided to sprawl out on one of the two double beds, propping yourself up on your elbow to film Steve and Eddie’s tiny little tickle fight that started over Steve being adamant that he wasn’t and would never be ticklish. Eddie knows just the right areas on his ribs to challenge with his deft fingers, making Steve squirm and beg for him to stop, while Eddie chuckles and pounces on top of him, making the cheap bed springs squeak.

“Hey, put the camera away,” Steve spots you, and then attempts to lunge off the bed and grab the camera. But you lift it out of his reach with a mischievous giggle.  

Eddie smiles along with you, his gaze falling with admiration on the way Steve’s cheeks turn a rosy pink at the exhilaration.  He throws a wink your way and pokes his tongue at Steve’s back, grabbing his ankle to keep him from leaving the bed. 

“Stevie, have you seen my lighter?” A few minutes later, you start filming again as Eddie is wandering the room in nothing but a pair of boxers and an unzipped hoodie.

“Are you going to smoke now?” Steve asks, checking the batteries in his flashlight.

“What’s wrong with now?”

“Well, you know,” Steve unsubtly tips his head in your direction, worried that you may not be comfortable.

“Oh, no I don’t mind”, you say, not wanting your inexperience to ruin the mood. It makes Eddie raise an eyebrow, your choice of words being music to his ears. 

“See Steve, if anything she’s probably curious,” he extends both hands to you as if you were a prize at the fair.

Eddie bounces on the balls of his feet and begins to dig through his pack's front pocket before retrieving a baggy of rolled joints. He pats around in his vest and produces a green plastic lighter with a triumphant, “a-ha!”

It’s been a while since you’d smoked weed, and you weren’t even sure you liked it, but Eddie’s contagious energy made you want to be a part of whatever he was doing.  He squints as he inhales, holds it, and then passes the joint to you between pinched fingers before releasing a generous plume of smoke. 

You took what you thought was a tiny drag, but it tickles the back of your throat and sends you into a coughing spasm, making you bat your chest with the palm of your hand after handing the joint back. 

“Can’t handle it sweetheart?” Eddie snickers, but then he wiggles his eyebrows at you and takes another drag for himself, passing you a bottle of water from the bedside table. The cap is off and some of it sloshes onto his hand.

“Oh, wait, I have something better,” Eddie says, jumping off the bed to snatch a fifth of whiskey out of his bag.  “Shots?”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Steve adjusts his glasses and pulls back the comforter on his side of the bed to get cozy.  “Just one. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You shrug and nod, eyes bloodshot and watering, while Eddie puts the bottle to his lips and chugs a shot first before handing it to you.  You swallow a big gulp, and Eddie howls at the way your face screws up like you’d just sucked on a lemon.

“Here’s to the Blair Witch,” Steve holds the bottle up before he takes his drink.  “May she grace us with her presence tomorrow.”

Black Hills Forest, Day one, 9am

“Are we filming?” Eddie chimes in, practically vibrating with excitement.  

“The green light is on,” you mumble to yourself, frowning down at the screen on the camera that shows nothing but black.  

“Hey, Indiana Jones,” you call over to Steve who is checking the direction of the wind with a licked finger as he squints into the sun filtering through the dead leaves.  “What am I doing wrong?”

Steve adjusts the strap of his hiking pack and strolls over to you with a tight clench between his eyebrows.  “Give it here,” he sighs, taking it from you. “I just tested it this morning, I know it’s—”

He finally sees the problem and halts.  He makes somber eye contact with you, takes the cover off the lens and holds it up.

“Oh,” you bite the inside of your cheek, stifling a self-conscious laugh. 

“Steve Angelica Harrington,” Eddie grins, throwing his arm around Steve aggressively, almost knocking him over.  “Our hero.”

You lift the camera up to your eye and get both of them in the frame, leaning back to smile at the pair.  Steve shrugs away from Eddie’s attention as if he doesn’t like it, but then there is a moment when he turns and the two almost kiss.  Eddie gives a few exaggerated, puckered smooches and leans in. 

Steve realizes you’re filming and pushes his boyfriend off for real this time, running a hand through his hair to fix himself.  Restless as ever, Eddie comes around to take the camera from you, asks you where certain buttons are, and then points it in your direction.  You shrug him away playfully and shield your face from the nose down with the crook of your arm as if you are Dracula holding your cape.

Steve pops his knee out and tilts his head. “Would you two dorks stop messing around and take this witch hunt seriously? I want this documentary to be a success.”

“So remind me, King Steve,” Eddie turns the camera on his boyfriend, and he does not look amused.  “We’re trying to find the ghost of some child murdering witch from the 1700’s? Should I be trying to spot a gingerbread house too?”

Off camera, you snort and say, “idiot,” under your breath.  

“Eddie,” Steve keeps his profile to the camera, refusing to make eye contact. “Let’s get some footage first and then I’ll let you mess around with the camera.”  He doesn’t want a bunch of adolescent jibber jabber on film. .  

“What, I’m just trying to be helpful,” Eddie shrugs with puppy dog eyes, lowering the device.

He forgets to turn off video again, and as it angles at the ground. Audio catches a distinct sound, like a soft moan, from somewhere in the woods.

Steve holds his hand up for everyone to halt, freezing in place, and a small twig snaps under his foot.  

You open your mouth to speak, something about how it would be better to get a shot of Steve in the clearing, but you are swiftly shushed.

You motion to take the camera from Eddie, and then you point it at Steve, and he turns to you, right in the camera’s eye. His tone is dire:  “Can you hear that humming?” 

“I can’t—” Eddie blurts, but then Steve puts the palm of his hand tight over Eddie’s mouth, wrapping his fingers over his chin, knowing that it was impossible for him to stay quiet under pressure.

Your heart is racing as you concentrate, ears straining.  There is the dry shuffle of the breeze rustling the branches, but otherwise, the silence is eerie and vast. 

“Cut it out, Steve, it’s not funny,” you bristle, locking one arm protectively over your chest while the other attempts to hold the camera in place. Steve is darting his attention around the woods, trying to locate the origin of the sound.

Eddie steps back, moving his mouth away from Steve’s muzzle. “It’s just the wind, baby, it’s making you paranoid,” he offers, noticing the way Steve’s face is drained of its color. Bending down to retrieve the map that fell when Steve got manhandled, one of Eddie’s legs flew out behind him dramatically.  A part of you wonders if Eddie and the map are a good combination, however you keep your thoughts to yourself. 

You’re almost positive you heard a voice in the woods as well, but you decide to keep that close to your chest.

The lingering tension finally subsides, and Eddie reaches back for Steve’s hand to keep him moving in the same direction; to coax him out of his racing thoughts.  Not wanting to waste battery life, you turn the camera off and stumble behind them, actively fighting off the urge to glance over your shoulder at whatever might be following in your wake. 

The next few hours consist of hiking through unused paths and trampling muddy footprints, waiting for Steve to find his perfect backdrop to open his documentary. With the car far behind you and your full 360 view being nothing but trees, Steve finally breaks from his determined stroll.  

“Can we do this now?” You lightly prod. For the last half hour, Steve has been trying to find the right spot to stand, and you felt like his perfectionism will be the death of you.  

Steve has that look, the professional one, when he means business. However, for Steve to enter his little documentary presenter zone he wants to stand alone, the trees being his only sidekick. 

“You can go over there now,” Steve gives Eddie a playful nudge. 

His boyfriend has been on his heels this entire time, but now the metalhead jogs over to grab the camera off of you to keep himself busy, while Steve concentrates, pushing his glasses up on his nose, finding his performance space before he begins.

“The town of Blair has been cursed since the 1700’s,” he starts.

Eddie and you share an encouraging nod, adding a dash of support for Steve to continue.  

“They all warn of the Blair witch, the one known to lure children to her home and sacrifice their souls and use their blood as an offering.” Steve starts to find his rhythm, naturally taking small steps backwards, like a guide, forcing the camera to follow.

“Elly Kedward was eventually found and blamed for the towns disappearances and without trial was banished into these woods in the depth of winter to freeze and perish a worser fate than her victims.” 

There’s a climatic wind gust that passes through the trees, almost like the ghost of a victim's warning, sent to bring the hairs on your arms to rise. It makes Eddie grin, Steve’s eyes widen with interest, and you try to contain a violent shiver; the theatrics of nature perfecting the shot. 

Steve pauses to take in his surroundings for dramatic effect before continuing.

“Her twisted end didn’t sit right, the town of Blair began to notice odd occurrences, noises and symbols from the forest. Locals believe she left a curse. They say she is still roaming in these woods to this day, seaking her revenge and enticing lost souls into her portal to show the devil her true power.” 

Steve takes a breath, pausing before opening his mouth to speak again, but Eddie’s attention span has other ideas. 

“Oh wait,  Steve can you do that again, I didn’t press record,” Eddie says as cool as he can muster, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Steve shoves his hand roughly through his hair and holds it there, tempted to rip the hair from his scalp. “For fuck sake Munson.” 

Quickly breaking into a wild grin Eddie says a quick, “joking babe,” fully accepting the harsh shove Steve jabs to his shoulder, but then Eddie decides to up the antics.  He falls to the ground dramatically and starts to wiggle like a worm.

“Help, Help, it’s got me, the witch,” faking a struggle, to which Steve tuts, lodging a twig in his direction and adding a casual, “get over yourself, Munson.”  You dive down to take the camera from Eddie’s extended arms as he rolls to his side, and bite back a grin before giving Steve the signal that he’s on again.

Steve advises Eddie to roam around while he delivers the next part of the story. 

“This legend sits on the border of fiction and fact. It’s chilling, yes, but the stories and facts just don’t add up. A truth needs to be found and today, the legend of the witch will either remain its legendary hoax or a fatal truth may be… Wait, cut.”

“What, why?” You frown, enjoying Steve’s witch hunter mode, but clearly his self doubt has arrived.

“Was it a bit much? I felt like I was entering Eddie’s DND campaign.”

“Hey,” Eddie protests, opening his mouth and eyes wide at the camera and prompting you to snort a laugh at his theatrics. 

The day wages on, the forest becoming your only view for miles as Steve drags his feet, unsatisfied at his findings so far. The consistent checking of his watch is a hint alone that it’s time to set up camp soon.  

By nightfall, the strange noises from earlier were all but forgotten, and you sit with a full belly in front of the crackling fire opposite Eddie.  You film him as he tells one of his wild stories, complete with active hand gestures and cartoonish sounds.  Eddie gets a detail wrong in the tale he is retelling, and so Steve corrects him with a bit of a bored look on his face, as if he’s heard the story told wrong a million times.  You focus the zoom in on Steve’s face as he turns to rest his chin on his shoulder and regard his partner.  There was a deep fondness there in his eyes, even though it is masked for the moment with irritability.  

Eddie decides to get in close, his mouth inches from Steve’s. You watch as he murmurs something that makes Steve crack a smile, and then the two share a kiss, noses rubbing, and you feel like you were intruding on a private moment.  You then decided it was time to give the juice in the camera a rest for the night while you all slept.  Much like the camera you follow in its footsteps and shut off, exaggerating a yawn to catch the pair’s attention. 

Your little hint is not lost on Steve, and it prompts him to pass you a flashlight so you can avoid tripping over the tent's zip on your way to bed. 

Nestled undercover in your downy sleeping bag, you drift in and out of sleep, only faintly hearing the footsteps of the boys before they go into their tent. In the middle of the night, you swear you hear voices, like a distant conversation, but you assume it must be the boys. There’s an ominous but faint cackling that follows it, but by then, you’re already too deep to notice. 

And then suddenly, there’s nothing, just stillness and the dark of the woodland air. 

Day Two, No sight of the road. 

The next day brings more of the same.  Hopeful banter in the morning, which then easily leads into some playful teasing throughout the afternoon. The on and off tones of professionalism to mockery becomes apparent. At one point while filming, Steve in one of his monologues, tense and suspenseful, until the scene was hijacked by Eddie flying through the air to tackle him.  

The light mood progressively gets shadowed, though, as the day wears on and there seems to be little to no chance of getting back to the car before dark.  Steve halts to check the map several times, flustered and angry with himself, while Eddie has a smoke break and you film around, even catching sight of a doll made of sticks hanging from a tree.  

“Steve?” You hum his name over your shoulder, wanting him to see what you see.  

He ignores you at first, biting the side of his thumbnail, and spinning on his heel as he stares down at the compass. When he finally lifts his head, he frowns, confused, but then the doll made of sticks comes into focus and his eyes narrow behind the smudged lenses of his glasses.

“What the hell is that?” Eddie is already on his way over.  He decides to smoke the other joint in his pack instead of one of his Camels, and it is doing wonders for his anxiety.  

Eddie reaches up to touch the doll, but Steve stops him. “Wait!” He notices that his voice is a bit harsh, so he starts again in a calmer tone.  “Listen, we don’t know what it is or who put it there.  I think we should respect the woods and leave it be.”

“Respect the woods?” Eddie barks a laugh, continuing to touch the legs of the doll and turn it around to see how it was made and you watched through the camera lens. 

“I bet some kid made it when their family was out here camping,” Eddie mused, exhaling smoke. “It’s creepy, I like it.”

Steve decides to interfere with his high boyfriends fascination, batting his hand away and in the process accidentally knocking the wooden doll to the floor.

 “Hey, Steve you’ve killed him!” Eddie taunts; mouth agape, eyes accusatory.

Steve really didn’t want to do that and you sense the growing paranoia that he’s experiencing from the way he’s frozen, staring at the little figure now laying twisted on the floor. Eddie pouts and goes to retrieve it once again. 

“Eddie, leave it.” Steve can’t hide his increasing stress, his words strained in between his clenched teeth. He grabs onto Eddie’s pack using it to encourage Eddie to walk in the other direction.

Steve prays this is the right way. He sends you a weak smile, and you know him well enough to deduce that he is feeling embarrassed that he doesn’t have you out of the woods yet.  

 As the sunlight dwindles, a bitter sense of reality begins to creep up on you. The branches above lose their subtle shadows and the once benign tree clusters begin to morph into something otherworldly. 

When it is finally time to make camp again, it is all any of you could do not to think about the stories you’d recorded from the townspeople the other day.  In particular the one about the killer who would take kids down into his basement two at a time, and make one wait in the corner while he killed one, and then would kill the one in the corner.  He didn’t like their eyes on him, apparently, that’s why he made them stare at the wall.

The darkness is crowding in, giving tiny nudges to everyone's paranoia that you are not alone in that forest.  There was a presence that tickled in barely audible whispers as the night claimed its position and every howl of the wind was a possible threat.  

Not a lot of filming took place during the down time by the fire. It was as if the courage to speak the stories had vanished and the myths began to seep into their reality. Less words exchanged and a few uncertain glances shared with Steve, but Eddie remained stoic and chilled, maintaining his energy. 

The plan of action is the last conversation you share, Steve taking control and promising that you’ll all be back in town by tomorrow afternoon. 

The sound of the boys getting situated in their tent was comforting, and you giggled when Eddie farted and tried to blame it on a passing wildebeest.  But, things got quiet quickly—too quiet—and soon you could hear the faint hiss of Steve’s snore and you realized that having your own tent was not all it was cracked up to be.

An owl hooted, but along with its natural call there was something else out there making sounds.  Was that the humming Steve had mentioned the day before?  Straining to listen, the noise was followed by an unmistakable cackle that made you grab the flashlight and a pillow and scurry out of  your tent like it was on fire.  

“Um-guys,” you were pulling open the flap to their tent before either of them could answer. “Is there any possibility i could squeeze in your tent tonight, i was a-a bit cold on my own.” 

Eddie sits up, groggily, from where he had his head on Steve’s chest, as if he’d fallen asleep the second he closed his eyes, and scoots away to make room for you in the middle.

Feeling safer nestled between your two friends, you are finally able to let yourself drift off into a dreamless sleep that offers no reprieve from the shadows in your mind.

Later that night, scattered and confused, another bizarre noise caught your attention, jarring you awake. 

A blanket of dark coats the inside of the tent, but after a few fuzzy blinks you easily make out that  Steve is sitting up with the flap of the tent open. He’s crouched over, the faint shake of his hands holding the camera a dead giveaway to his unease.

Sensing that you are awake, he tilts his head to the side to acknowledge you, and then signals for you to listen. 

“Did you hear that?” You whisper, not wanting to wake Eddie who is offering soft snores next to you.  

Steve puts a finger to his lips, and then turns back around with the camera pointed out into the night.

Somehow he manages to convince himself that the noise is from a deer or squirrel. Due to your delirious state, this information settles your tired worry and allows you to snuggle down, eager for the morning light. 

Day Three, Walking in Circles

With no idea how long Steve remained awake last night, there’s a part of you that feels he’s hiding something to protect you. The next morning his raw, uplifting nature dwindled, his inner doubts coming to the surface to pinch the skin between his eyebrows. 

“I’m sorry I dragged you all out here,” Steve announces with a heavy sigh, staring down at the remnants from the fire. Eddie angles the camera up at him while you zip a few things into your knapsack. “We’ll be having lunch back in town in a few hours, but let’s keep adding to the footage as we go.”

Steve shows you on the map where you were all headed, tapping his finger in the spot where you’d parked the car.  “Two hours, tops,” he promises.  

Eddie gets to his feet and adjusts the focus so that Steve goes from blurry to clear to blurry again. “Battery life on this thing is low and I can’t find the portable charger.”

Steve turned on him, jaw muscles tensing, ready to let an angry word slip.

“The charger is right here,” you corrected, lifting it out of the bag it was in to show Steve and calm his nerves. Once Steve steps away to check the compass again, Eddie makes a face at you, tongue darting out from the side of his mouth, letting you know that he knew it was there, he just wanted to give Steve a hard time.  

“I have a question for you, sir,” Eddie rushes up behind Steve and taps his shoulder, making him turn away from the lens, bringing a hand up to block his face. “How do you feel about this Blair Witch hunt so far?”

Steve smooths the sides of his hair back and squares his shoulders, determined to look unbothered.  “I feel good,” he lied. “I feel like I know exactly where we are and we just need to head east for another couple miles.  Everything's going as planned, we’re just a little behind schedule, that’s all.”

You open the canteen around your neck and gulp down a few swigs of water, musing that there wasn’t much left, and you needed to find a fresh stream somewhere soon, just in case.

But, it was only a passing worry, because Steve’s confidence that you’d be back at the car in a few hours gave you an unhealthy helping of blind hope. 

When you finally find the water line, there is a fallen tree across the creek, and it happens to be the only way across.  You have the worst balance, and being suspended over moving water makes you nervous in a way that has your hands trembling.  Eddie carries the camera for you, strapping around his neck as he makes his way across like an acrobat, and then Steve follows behind you, whispering words of encouragement.  

Hours later, it’s high noon when Steve makes you all stop for a rest to take your packs off so that he can check the map again.  You happen to be filming him as a flex of panic flashes across his face.  

“Why does this spot feel so familiar?” He asks it under his breath, but the audio catches it.  

It was the same spot you’d started from earlier in the day; same stump, same bundle of dead branches next to a large boulder. Steve turns on his heel and you can see in his face the way his heart stops when he sees the impressions from the previous night’s tent pegs.

“How is this possible?” He whispers. “We’ve been going straight all day, following the compass.”

“Give me that,” Eddie storms by, yanking the map from Steve to sit down on the big stump to look at it while he has a smoke.  “This shit is Greek to me,” he admits, hollowing out his cheeks to take in all of the nicotine his lungs would allow. “Are you telling me we’ve been going in circles?”

You squat next to Eddie, filming him while he glowers at the lines on the paper, hair tied back in a messy ponytail.  This was the crankiest you’d ever seen him, and you’d known him for at least a year at that point. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that there were only 3 cigarettes left, and his pack a day habit was at risk of being tested without nicotine patches or comfort.  

He realizes you are recording and flinches away, blowing smoke out his nostrils.  “Put that thing away please.  I’m not in the mood.”

Steve split the last half of a squished peanut butter sandwich into 3 parts and passed one to each of you, but Eddie refuses his.  You stare up at Steve, waiting for his word that you should stop, but he shakes his head.  “She’s doing exactly what I told her to do, Eddie. We’re filming a documentary.”

“Oh, we’re filming a documentary about being lost now? Is that what this is? Because we are, we’re fucking lost.”

 Eddie grumbles, exhaling an agitated breath.

“We’re not.” Steve’s voice is gruff as he pushes the food into his cheek with his tongue.  “I know exactly where we are.  The car is right over that way, through the trees, I’m positive.”

“Yeah, well, you said that yesterday morning and last night and four fucking hours ago,” Eddie shot to his feet with a huff, keeping the butt of his smoke clenched between his lips to button up the front of his black and red flannel. 

“Shouldn’t you know where we are?” Eddie’s penetrating gaze falls on you, and for some reason, it makes you nervous.  “I know you said you were just a kid, but you grew up here right? So, you must have some idea?”

You glance nervously over at Steve, as if to ask for support, and then focus the camera back on Eddie as you stammer.  “I–I don’t ever remember coming out here. Once maybe, but—”

“Really Eddie?” Steve turns to his boyfriend. “You expect her to have a Magellan sense of direction in these woods because she lived nearby when she was a child? You get lost in Hawkins and you’ve lived there your whole life.”

Eddie mumbles something as he straps the last part of his pack on and starts walking, without a word, heading in the direction Steve suggested, kicking at the dirt as he goes.  

“I’m sorry about this,” Steve mutters to you as he offers his hand and helps you stand. “I should’ve had you home safe by now.”

“It’s okay, I trust you. I promise I really don’t know these woods that well,” your voice is small.  Your eyes are softly pleading when they find his, as if to beg for absolute reassurances.

But, Steve has nothing verbal to give.  His throat is dry, he hates fighting with Eddie, and his pride was taking quite a catastrophic blow—on film, no less. He squeezes your arm, and continues at a fast trot to catch up with his salty partner, pulling you along with him.  

A few hours later, the sky opened up and it started to rain, and as you ducked to follow the boys into the clearing to reluctantly set up camp, you trip over a pile of rocks and almost drop the camera.

“What the hell is this?” You mused aloud, adjusting the focus, establishing that it was, indeed, just a pile of rocks, but there was something…odd about them.  They’d been stacked up by hand in the shape of a mound. 

Steve and Eddie were up ahead, standing in close proximity, having a conversation in tense whispers while Eddie found the driest patch of ground under the canopy of trees to shake the tent out.  It was only drizzling now, and he was eager to set up some type of shelter in case the downpour started again.

Steve moves the hood of his yellow rain slicker back to check where you were, and then comes over to see what you’d found.  

“There’s a couple of them,” you point out, stepping back so he could view the others, “What was it that one woman in town said about stacks of rocks? Something to do with a signal, or warning maybe.” 

Turning, you see Steve frantically dig through his bag, only letting out a satisfied hum when he retrieves his notebook. Its spiral-bound pages hold all of the key points from interviews of people back in town. You can tell he’s proud of you for having the intuition to know that these stacks might be important.  

“Remember that woman we spoke to at the trailer park?” Steve asks, biting his lip in thought.

“The weird one? Mary?” You wonder aloud. 

Steve snaps his fingers in excitement, flicking to the right page in his notes. 

“Yes! Crazy Mary.  I wasn’t paying much attention to her because I thought she was insane, but I’m sure she mentioned something to do with rock piles?”

“What’s your notes say?” You lean in to see what the camera can catch on the paper.

“Not a lot. I’ve just written ‘Bible Story about rocks’”.

You try your hardest to remember, whispering to yourself and attempting to remember what the eccentric woman had said. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you begin. “But, didn't she say something like, they symbolize a promise, like if you promise not to cross the rocks nothing can harm you and vice versa from the one who put them there. Ancient truce type agreement?”

“I mean it sounds right, but why are there three?”

“I'm not sure?”

Steve waves Eddie over, but he isn’t interested.  He’d gone into full-on “if I don’t keep busy I’m going to lose my shit” mode, dropping to his knees in the mud to hammer in the tent pegs.

Steve sighs, feeling like Eddie probably needs a bit of attention and comfort before his mood swing completely erupts. In his process of turning away from the rocks his booted foot catches a pebble, sending the pile toppling over, but he doesn’t think to give it any attention.

Panicking in his wake, you shield the camera from the rain and re-pile the pebbles back in a formation that you hope they resembled. 

You eat the last of the canned vienna sausages by the fire and no one is in the mood for jokes, but Steve does reassure everyone, especially with an arm around his boyfriend’s stiff shoulders, that you all would be out of the forest by the next afternoon.  You film it, catching the way Eddie pulls away at first but then leans in to rest his head on top of Steve’s and they both stare into the fire with glossy eyes.  

You didn’t even bother setting your tent up that evening, and you snuggle on the outside of the boys this time, curling up next to Steve while he spoons Eddie.  

For the first hour or two, everything is peaceful, and the three of you sink into shallow sleep, only to be jared awake by Steve stumbling out of his sleeping bag, stepping on both of his companions in the process.  

“Holy fuck, did you hear that?” He hisses, moving to unzip the tent.  “I need to get out there, hand me the camera.”

“Steve!” You bark a harsh whisper.

“Goddamn it,” Eddie starts putting his boots on, half asleep, not wanting Steve to go out alone. “It’s just a bunch of fucking deer or something, baby, will you just—”

But then, you all hear it.

As loud and as clear as if there were people standing right outside your tent: a cackle of laughter, heavy steps crunching in the leaves, snapping twigs, echoing from the forest floor.  And then there is the distinct cry of a little kid—maybe two, three different little kids. It all echoed back into the woods as if it’s in your ears and far away all at once. 

With the tent flap half open and one foot out, Steve shoots a look back at the two of you, nostrils flaring as he stills for more noise.  “Did you hear those kids?” He huffs, snatching the camera and ducking down to bolt out of the tent. 

“Baby, there are no kids in these woods!” Eddie lunges after him, catching Steve’s calf to pull him back in.  He stumbles back under cover into a crouch, only to “shush” everyone again, certain that he heard something else.

It’s then that the tent begins to shake and jostle, and the cackling continues, but it’s right on top of you now, circling the enclosure.

“Holy shit, holy fuck,” Eddie wails, pushing Steve out of the tent this time, and reaching back for your hand as he exits.

“Go go go!” You demand, encouraging them both to run as far and fast as they could from the campsite. 

Everyone is stumbling and cursing, running in the dark, with the light of the camera Steve’s holding being the only illumination.  He trips over something with a curse, and Eddie helps him up while you take the camera, not caring where the lens points as you run along with the boys, as fast as your feet can carry you.  

Not a sound follows you, not a single footstep or snicker.  Eventually, you all collapse breathless in a huddle, hunkering down near a tree.

Eddie looks into the camera you hold. “Turn that light off,” he’s panting, pupils pinned. “Shut it all off, stay the fuck down.”

“Keep the audio on,” Steve whispers, to which he gets a shove in the shoulder from Eddie.

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to film your movie, dude,” Eddie hushes curtly.

“Shutup!” You scold them both, turning the camera off.

You all sit frozen in place, holding onto each other in a football huddle for—god knows how long? Two hours maybe.  Daylight finally begins to break, prompting Steve to motion you to get the camera rolling again. 

Day Four, No Way Home

The three of you stay close, too frightened to be even a meter apart as you make your way back in the direction of camp. You’re cold, wet and done; so over this witch hunt and ready to put it behind you. 

After a while of weary steps and nervous glances around, Eddie’s tongue clicks, breaking the silence. “There are some hillbillies in these woods trying to fuck with us, and I don’t want to fuck with that.”

Steve looks up at him.  “But what if it’s something…not human?”

“Well, I don’t want to fuck with that either,” Eddie runs both hands through his hair, intertwining his fingers on top of his head as he walks.

You decide to chime in. “Something definitely does not want us here.”

“No kidding, Sherlock.” Eddie blows a raspberry and turns his back on the two of you.

“Something?” Steve cocks his head at you. “But I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts or witches?”

“I don’t,” you swallow hard, averting your eyes.  “But that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“Okay, we’re going,” Steve answers, meeting Eddie’s hard stare over your shoulder with defiance.  “We got what we came for, let’s get our shit and keep heading north.”

“Are you sure north is the direction we need to go in?” You ask, cringing through the beginning stages of a headache.  “Because we were headed north all day yesterday and it didn’t get us anywhere.”

When the campsite finally comes into view again, everyone stops short, each jaw going slack in disbelief.

“uhhh, what the fuck is this?” Eddie mumbles, stomping over to look at the way the tent has been squashed, and how everyone’s things have been thrown around.  Whoever or whatever had been taunting you all a few hours ago had made a mess of all of your things; there was clothing and gear tossed in every direction.

You ran across the campsite, eyes searching. “Where is my pack?” The question caught in your throat, as if you might cry.  

“Your pack is right there,” Eddie points.  “More importantly, Where is my pack?”

Everyone starts collecting what they can find of their personal items while Eddie lifts up his open canteen from the ground.  “They dumped all the fucking water out.”

He realizes that the canteen is also coated in something and he drops it with a curse. “Is that fucking slime? It is, there is some kind of slime all over it,” he raises his hand up to look at the viscous liquid and then rubs it off on his pant leg as best as he could.

“Im not fucking about anymore Steve, okay I believe it all, you happy? This shit, whatever it is, whoever it is, doesn’t want us here.”

Eddie’s right, this is a clear warning, an intentional attack, and for once Steve’s not looking excited at the product of evidence before you all. Steve turns towards you, your kneeling figure scooping up your pack—it had been thrown to the other side of the campsite, but nothing seemed to be missing.

Before he could question it, the whining sound of Eddie pricks his ears. Swiftly turning to face whatever tantrum the curly haired boy is throwing now, Steve is faced with Eddie frantically picking up scattered pieces of clothing. 

“Woah, babe, is that all your clothes?” Steve asks in a rush, moving closer.

“Yep”. Eddie doesn’t even want to converse. 

“Just yours though Eddie? No one else's?”

“This is bullshit!” Eddie throws the canteen down and it bounces further away.

Steve moves to reach out and touch Eddie’s arm, but his hand gets slapped away.  “Leave me alone, dude. I need a second.”

You turn the camera off while everyone collects their things and tries to catch their breath.  You were all officially out of food now, with the exception of some peanuts, and a detour needed to be made to get water from the creek.  Eddie refused to use his after it was slimed, but thankfully Steve had an extra one.

When the camera comes back on, it is a couple hours later, and Steve is holding it this time to film Eddie enjoying his last smoke, while you sit with your head against a tree and your eyes closed.  No one is in the mood for talking, and it is wise to conserve energy with very few resources at your disposal.

“A hamburger and fries sounds nice,” you said to break the silence with your eyes still closed.

“Mmmhmm,” Eddie concurred. “A big can of Spaghetti-O’s would hit the spot right now.”

Steve points the camera at his hiking boots as he steps closer, indulging in the fantasy. “I’ve been craving one of those clam chowder bread bowls like we had on the wharf in San Francisco.” 

“That was some good shit,” Eddie mumbles, sucking his smoke all the way down to the filter. 

The camera turns off again, and when it comes back on, you have it.  Eddie is charging ahead, waving his arms, shouting something about how you all need to follow the creek and you’ll end up somewhere eventually.

“Hey,” Steve is walking in front of you, but he turns around.  “Can you pass me the map? I want to check something.”

“Yeah, hold on,” you say, but then you reach back and realize you can’t feel the well-worn edges, and sudden, prickling dread takes over. Panicked, you reach around to check the other pocket, coming to realize the map is gone. 

“Are you sure you gave it to me Steve?” you lighty question, knowing that right now is no time for jokes. 

Steve gives you an exasperated look, as if you are goofing with him like Eddie might.  “Yes, you have the map, you always have the map.  I gave it to you after a map-check before we made camp yesterday.”

You kneel on the ground and put the camera down to do a proper search, your heart racing.  “Eddie,” you shout, making him stop abruptly in his tracks.  “Do you have the map?”

“Me?” Eddie turns around but stays yelling from a distance.  “Why the hell would I have it? It was fucking useless anyway.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve pats the air with his hands, trying to calm the meltdown he can feel building. His attention returns to you as you stand without a map in your hand and a worried look on your face.  “I know I gave it to you,” Steve reiterates. “It has to be somewhere in your stuff.”

You don't want to say what you are thinking, as you stand, pointing the camera at Steve again, but it comes out anyway.  “What if whoever attacked the tent took it?”

Steve grimaces.  “What would they want with…our map?”

“To make sure we have no chance of finding our way out of here,” you say it under your breath, and through the lens, you watch Steve’s jaw go slack as he takes on that possibility.  

When realization dawns that you were about to lose light and need to make camp again, a thick blanket of anxiety and agitation falls over all of you.  You are dragging your feet, camera angle pointed at the ground while the boys get the tent out.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this again,” Eddie mumbles curtly, brow furrowing, and back teeth grinding as the nicotine withdrawal nips at him.  

You mention that you’ll go and gather some branches to make a fire, but Steve puts his hand out to stop you.  “Let’s not make a fire tonight.  We don’t need to draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Good idea,” Eddie grunts. “I’d rather freeze to death in a few hours than spend one more day fumbling around this hellscape.” He is digging through his things in Steve’s pack to see if there happens to be a stray cigarette or joint anywhere.  The frustrated anger rising in him is palpable.

“It’ll be a while before I ever go camping again, that’s for sure,” you muse to the group, and both the boys respond with enthusiastic nods of agreement. 

“I’m gonna burn this tent when we get home,” Eddie bites out.

When you turn to Steve, he is rubbing his forehead and staring down at the ground, pensively, and you ask if you should stop filming for a bit.  

Steve glosses over your question and asks another: “You promise you don’t have the map? Because if you have it, and you were just saying you lost it to be funny, I won’t be mad.”

You lower the camera so that it’s focused on his chest and the army green utility jacket he’s wearing.  “I’ve checked my pack three times,” you offer, earnestly. “I promise, I don’t have it.  I wish I did, Steve.”

In the background, Eddie curses at the top of his lungs and one of the tent pegs he’d been fumbling with goes flying through the air. “I’m so fucking done with this! Holy shit, what the hell are we still doing out here? This is fucking insane.” 

Steve motions for you to keep filming.  He’d tease Eddie about all of this later, he knew he would.  He’d also use it as fodder for the argument of why he should quit smoking altogether.

Steve turns toward his boyfriend with his hands on his hips. “I know you blame me for all of this, and I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? We’re all tired and hungry and miserable.”

Eddie snaps around, eyes dark and his body rigid.  “You bet your fucking ass I blame you! You’re the reason we’re about to get flayed by a bunch of inbred mountain people or die of starvation out here in this shitty-ass excuse for a forest.”

“You begged me to let you come on this trip, Eddie,” Steve is doing his best to keep his voice low, because matching Eddie’s tone when he gets upset never helps the situation. “Like you said, if we follow the creek, we’re bound to end up somewhere. It’s impossible to get lost for too long in America these days.”

Eddie’s nostrils flare.  “I begged you? I practically agreed under false pretenses one night when you had my dick in your mouth, I didn’t beg for shit.  I wanted to spend time with my boyfriend and watch him work, but that was back when I thought you were talented.  Now I realize you’re just a hack who can’t even read a fucking map.”

He regrets it the second it leaves his lips, and you can see it in the way the corners of his mouth turn down. “I didn’t mean that,” Eddie whispers.

You step back from the two, not sure what type of conflict is about to ensue.

You can tell it hurts Steve by the way his eyes water, and he pushes his glasses up to rub his face.  “No, you’re right,” Steve sighs, “It is my fault.  But maybe if you weren’t such a big, needy baby all the fucking time, I might have been able to think clearly on this trip.”

“I’m the needy baby? Seriously?  So what, little miss perfect over there gets let off the hook because she’s your perfect little puppet?”

“Hey, no need to bring her into this.”

“Guys!” You shout, waiting until they both look at you.  “This isn’t helping, okay? I for one am scared shitless about what else might be out here in these woods, and if we don’t stick together, we don’t have a chance.”

There is a minute long silence while everyone tries  to shake the anxiety out of their shoulders. Steve comes over to let you know you can turn the camera off, but then the sound of Eddie’s laughter makes you both turn.  

He’s bent over, hands on his knees, laughing so hard he is sucking in dry air.

You and Steve share an amused look, 

“What’s so funny, baby?” Steve asks, cracking a bit of a smile.

Eddie stands, face red from exertion. “You and that fucking map. I got rid of it yesterday! What do you think about that?” Eddie then convulses into giggles again, walking off into the other direction.

“You did what?” Both you and Steve say in unison.

Surely, you’d both misheard him.

“Yeah,” Eddie continues. “I kicked that fucker into the creek, it was useless!”

“You son of a bitch,” Steve spat, lunging at him. “How could you do that to me? To us?”

You catch Steve’s arm, trying to hold the camera and him all at once. The last thing you need is for these two to get into a physical fight.

Eddie starts to walk further away, but then he stops to turn on his heel and face the two of you, deciding to fight his case a little more. “We just kept going in circles, it wasn’t helping us!”

“You knew I was going crazy looking for it! Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve yells after him. 

In the distance, you see Eddie shrug, before matter of factly stating, “I need to go for a walk.”

“But it will be dark in a half hour,” panic bubbling in your chest. “Eddie…wait!” 

Eddie waves his arm in the air and keeps going.  

“Let him go,” Steve touches your shoulder, “he gets like this sometimes. Let him walk it off, we’ll finish setting up.”

Steve has an overwhelming desire to run after his partner, to say, “hey, stop, I love you,” but none of that ever happened.  He knew when it was best to let Eddie cool off.

He knows Eddie won’t go far, he’ll be back in a few minutes.

When you turn the camera back on, an hour later, Eddie is still not back.

There is a soft, orange glow from the sunset through the trees, but other than that, it’s pitch black out. Locking arms with Steve, he dances the beam of his flashlight around the forest while you film with the camera light on, trying to remain within visual distance from camp.

Steve had already screamed Eddie’s name so many times, his voice was becoming hoarse.

 “If you’re fucking with us, Eddie, I swear to Christ I will never ever forgive you!” He starts to imagine Eddie is crouched down by a tree somewhere, covering his mouth to hold back the hilarity of watching his boyfriend almost shit his pants looking for him.

Steve tries to break free from your linked arms, attempting to charge deeper into the woods.

“Steve, no!” You squeak, desperation present in your tone. You shift the camera to the crook of your arm, so it angles up at his horrified face. You really don't want anything bad to happen to Eddie, but you also can’t let anything bad happen to Steve. 

Steve suddenly turns to face you, eyes wild.  “But what if he’s hurt somewhere, what if he’s…damn it Eddie!...what if…”

He doesn’t have to finish the sentence, you already know what he is thinking. What if the myths of the forest were true? What if there was an entity in the woods that fed on fear and needed a sacrifice every so often? What if there were hillbillies in pig masks carrying chainsaws and they often resorted to cannibalism? You’d watched too many horror movies in your life and so had Steve, and it wasn’t helping either one of you at that moment.

But, to be fair, it wasn’t all just in your head.  There is definitely something or someone else out there with all of you, and maybe it was just biding its time until all of you are broken.   

Eddie’s missing.  An hour later, it’s official.  

He wasn’t hiding or playing a game; he had somehow vanished into thin air. The guilt begins to creep and crawl, festering inside Steve’s chest, the buzzing of night insects heightening his sense of dread. 

You’d manage to coax Steve back to the tent. “We’ll go back and build a fire, so that he can see the light of it if he’s lost.”

“I’m not going to stop looking for him,” Steve mutters, screaming Eddie’s name again as he walks, his voice echoing off the emptiness as the cold air burns his lungs. He was too pumped full of fear and adrenaline to cry, but the tears were building behind his eyes. “It’s freezing out here and he’s only got that flannel on.”

“Listen to me,” you yank Steve around to look at you, being rougher than you ever have with him, but your eyes are kept soft.  “It would be very easy for us to get lost in these woods ourselves.  What if Eddie makes it back to camp and we’re gone?”

You let that sink in, hoping you can reason with him.  You notice that his shoulders relax.

“I bet he went a little too far and he can’t find his way back in the dark,” you continue.

  “He probably found some shelter to wait it out for the night.  He’ll be cold, but it’s not going to freeze, he’ll survive. We can go out and look for him at first light.”

Steve starts nodding to himself as he pans the flashlight beam over the forest again.  “A fire is a good idea, so he knows where we are.”

The active denial grips the both of becoming a makeshift coping mechanism, a way to hold onto hope when there seems to be none left.  You have a bad feeling that you may never see Eddie alive again, but you plan on keeping up pretenses for Steve for as long as you could.

 “We’ll find him, Steve,” you don’t want to lie to him, but you felt like it was something he needed to hear.

Steve struggles to meet your eyes, but you can make out a stray tear that’s making tracks across his stubbled cheek and it breaks your heart for him. 

“I didn’t go after him, didn’t even try to convince him to stay. How fucking stupid could I be?”

“No, Steve, you can’t blame yourself, okay, it was an in the moment thing, it’s going to be okay.”

“What part of this whole thing has EVER been okay?”

He turns his back on you and it sends a stinging pang through your chest.  A part of you can’t help but wonder if he’s wishing it were you that went missing. Maybe he’s wishing he never brought you along at all.

With a heavy heart and a signature rake through his hair, Steve shuts his eyes, takes a shaken breath and turns around, inviting you to step into his arms and you hook an arm around his waist. This embrace is welcomed, as you soak up the heavy warmth wrapped around you, making it hard to let go. Seemingly feeling the same, Steve leans in further, soaking up what he presumes is the last moments of peace, a crumb of tranquility. Feeding on the sliver of hope you’ve provided him.

A stuttered sigh slips from Steve’s dry lips.  His next words are nothing but a whisper, but it’s meaningful, and becomes tattooed amongst the trees.

“I can’t lose him,” his voice cracks.

Then, as if on cue, there’s a cry—a whimper of agony erupts from deep in the nothingness.

Steve snaps a look at you and a fist tightens over your heart.  You hold very still, making sure you heard what you thought you did, both wondering if you’d imagined it.

But then another scream follows, this one more drawn out than the first, and it sounds just like Eddie.

Steve braces himself, senses sharp, trying to find the direction the scream is coming from.  “Holy shit, that was him!”

There’s a scuffle as Steve bumps into you in his haste to move.  You almost drop the camera as he bounces off of you, losing his mind over the sound of Eddie's voice, you then scramble to catch the device before it falls to the ground. There’s only muffled noises for a bit as your arm is blocking the microphone and the lens catches the back of Steve’s legs, bolting into the pitch black forest.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop filming!” He shouts over his shoulder.

And then your heart is pounding, jackhammering in your chest as you take after him. Steve’s running, pumping his arms, and then there’s another scream and he catches himself for a full stop, freezing in place.  

The video takes in the side of his face, tears wetting his cheek under his glasses, his head turning in the direction of the scream.  “It’s this way…Eddie!...it’s coming from over there!” He points in that direction, and then his feet follow to a place where the trees get denser.

You glance over your shoulder in the direction of the campsite, wondering if the two of you will be able to find your way back, but then keeping up with Steve becomes a priority.  Breathlessly, you struggle to keep up the pace, you trip and try to avoid falling over tree stumps that are dotted along the path.

“Steve”, you manage to stutter in between sharp breaths, “How do we know, what if- what if it’s a trick. What if it’s not Eddie?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course it's…”

Another scream. 

Steve’s words die on his tongue, as all he can manage is a wide eyed frantic glare into the trees, before attempting once again to scream his boyfriend’s name in vain, begging to catch a glimpse of his frizzed up hair between the branches. 

You both speed up, using all the remaining energy left inside your weak bodies, ignoring the burning in your lungs and metallic taste coating your tongues. 

The woodland flooring begins to create almost a disheveled looking path, a trail appearing out of nowhere. Horrifying possibilities begin to bleed into Steve’s imagination, the memories of the past few days twisting in his mind as he tries to predict what state his boyfriend could be in. 

Steve stops to get his bearings, gulping in breaths.  His stomach clenches like he might puke, but he swallows down bile, hoping for another scream to pierce the night and guide his way.

You catch a glint of something silver nestled in the leaves of the forest floor, and you shine the light down there to get a look.  You swear it’s Eddie’s wallet chain, the one he had on the last time you saw him, but then Steve starts moving again, on the trail of a sound only he could hear.

Running full boar, dodging through the trees, something smacks Steve in the face, and he swats it away, thinking it’s a branch.  But then he takes a step back and looks up. You almost smash straight into the back of him, not realizing he’d stopped so abruptly.  Your camera light brings attention to what Steve is seeing.

Unsettling deja vu is shared between you both as you realize that a cluster of handcrafted stick dolls, like the one you found the other day, are dangling before you. 

Steve’s hand trembles, reaching out to touch the frayed twine from which they hang. 

"Steve, stop," you hiss, your voice is a harsh whisper, eyes darting over the dolls as they sway in the breeze. You can't shake the feeling that you are being watched; that something sinister is lurking just beyond your peripheral vision.

Ignoring you, Steve begins to count the dolls, pointing with his finger, his movements manic, his words a rapid, breathless murmur.

"One, two, three... they're leading somewhere!”

"Steve!" you call out to him desperately, your voice echoing through the forest, falling on blind ears. He starts to follow the primitive stick dolls, and you know you have no choice but to go with him into the unknown, the dread of what lies ahead producing blooms of sweat on your scalp. 

Finally, you emerge into a small clearing. There stands an old, weathered cabin.

 It appears abandoned and worn, its wooden walls covered in moss and ivy, and its windows cracked and shattered. The cabin looms like a forgotten relic of the past, isolated in the dense forest.

“Steve, I-I don’t think this is a good idea”. The air is heavy, and your teeth are chattering.

“Whatever happens,” Steve clicks his tongue and swallows hard, wetting his dry mouth. “Promise me you won’t stop filming.”

“Steve, are you insane?”

He turns to you with wide, earnest eyes, his voice dead calm under the circumstances, “Promise me?” 

You feel like you’ve officially lost him, whatever you attempt to say to change his mind would be useless. “I-I promise.”

Another blood-curdling yelp of agony pierces through the air.

“Eddie, I’m coming!” Steve huffs, motioning for you with a swing of his arm.

You both scramble cautiously onto the cabin’s creaking porch. You decide to zoom the lens in on Steve’s hand, reaching for the rusted doorknob, trying your hardest to focus. 

Dread seizes you, and you attempt to get through to him. “Steve, please, I think I do remember a way out of these woods, actually. What if we go back to the tent, wait till morning and try again?”

You manage to worm your way in between Steve and the door, blocking him now. Steve remains unyielding, shrugging you out of his way, twisting the door knob, and then pushing in the unlocked door. 

“Steve—” Your voice cracks. You want to find Eddie too but there’s something…wrong with this cabin, and you can’t find the words to tell Steve in a way that would make him give up the search.

But then he’s already through the open door, and you stay on his heels. The light from your camera dances over his flashlight beam into the broken floorboards and chipped paint of the interior of the cabin.  

The screaming has stopped, but now the dead silence invades your senses.  There’s no furniture, and the walls are bare. There is a smell lingering that hints to wood rot and black mold and rodent feces. You scan the camera around to show there’s a wide, empty room, and a hallway to the right.

“I-I can’t lose him,” Steve whispers, and your eyes are wet, heart hurting for what this trip has become. You can't let him go in there alone, no matter how much your instincts are telling you to grab him and run in the other direction. 

With each step you take, the cabin seems to expand into a labyrinth of winding corridors, narrow staircases, and hidden rooms. The walls are lined with faded, peeling wallpaper, and the air grows colder and more oppressive with each passing moment. 

But then Steve darts down the dark hallway and up a stairway and you try to follow, tripping on the first step in your hurry.

“He’s in here, I know it,” Steve gasps, and you can only catch his boots before he is already on the next floor.

Eddie’s cry sounds again, and this time there is no mistake— it’s coming from inside the house. 

Two floors up, there are empty rooms, but still no sign of Eddie.  Steve makes a point to direct your attention to the same type of child handprints you’d seen earlier.  “Did you catch these?” He asks pointing to make sure you got the shot.  

It looks like a dozen tiny children had dipped their hands in black paint and made palm impressions all over the wall over the ripped and stained wallpaper.

And then another scream, muffled this time, breaks the silence of your twin haggard breaths, but it is coming from somewhere deep in the cabin now—somewhere below.  You can almost feel the screams vibrate inside the soles of your feet.

The shout is followed by a heavy bang that shakes the walls. It makes you both jump, locking eyes with mirrored expressions of fear.

Without a word, Steve disappears back down the stairs and into the shadows of the second floor. There are no sounds picked up by audio other than Steve calling for Eddie, and you follow, taking two reluctant steps at a time. The weight of uncertainty makes your feet feel like lead, while the lightheadedness of your hunger makes your skull feel like a balloon, and you have to catch yourself on the wall to find your balance, stars crossing in your vision.  

The only sounds now are the heavy thuds of footfalls on the old stairs, and the drumbeat of your heart in your ears. There appear to be looming shapes all around you as you run after Steve, and the camera catches glimpses of things that are unidentifiable sliding along the walls.  

You hear Steve shout, “down here!” and then he is throwing another door open and it sounds like he’s bolting further down in the house, down into what must be a basement.

You think you catch a glimpse of a figure standing in the corner, but when you stumble back and point the camera light there, you realize it’s nothing.

“Steve?” You can’t get a visual on where he is now, but then you finally catch the open door and the glow from his flashlight beam. 

“I don’t feel good about this, Steve! Don’t go down there!”

But it’s too late.

You reach the top of the stairs.  “Steve, wait!”

“He’s down here somewhere, I know it!” Steve persists.

You take another look at him through the lens; he’s dropping down to the dirt floor and darting to the left, disappearing into the inky blackness.  The sound of Eddie’s voice has not been heard for a while, but Steve continues to call out for him, the tremor in his voice now catching with a sob. 

 Abruptly, you see Steve halt. 

He shouts up over his shoulder to you, “Did you hear that?”

The air is suddenly ice cold; freezing even.  You shrink against the doorframe and pan the camera to capture the front door behind you, noting that it is closed, and then quickly back to Steve.

Something in the basement startles him, and Steve drops his flashlight to the ground, smashing the light's glass in the process, making him curse before rushing back up to you, banking on the illumination from the camera light to help him find his way. 

Sprinting up the rickety steps, Steve is relieved to find that you are still intact, dutifully holding his camera and waiting for him. 

Your presence serves as his motivation to attempt to sprint up the stairs a little faster. However, something stops him in his tracks a few steps up.

Your heart is in your throat as you wait, but Steve pauses to look over his shoulder.  “I feel like there is something else down here.”

Your teeth are chattering, your words come out stuttered. “Hurry, Steve.  Let’s go!”

“Not without Eddie,” he says with a vigorous shake of his head, taking one more searching look into the seemingly empty basement.

The chill you feel is much more than skin deep as you pan the camera around the main room again to find it empty, all but for the shadows that appear to be crowding in. 

You can hear Steve make his way up two more steps, but before you can shine the light back down on him, there’s a loud THUD from somewhere below. The noise manages to sliver into the walls, sending an unnatural quake throughout the entire house.

 “Holy shit, what the fuck was that?” Steve jumps.

 His feet are moving before his brain can fully register what is happening. 

Steve never looks back again. 

He takes the next few steps and trips over himself in his haste, his glasses falling in the process.  He doesn’t even bother to bend over to retrieve them, he hears the glass crunch under his boot but can’t bring himself to care as the high volume of fear unravels him.

Adrenaline ignites his flight mode, and he’s practically crawling up the stairs with his hands now, scampering to get away from whatever or whoever did not want him down in the basement.

You stayed where you were, watching—filming. 

The sound of footsteps pricked your ears from the empty room behind you, prompting you to turn around to pan the camera again, shakily, but you were met with nothing but the decaying cabin walls. 

Your mind chooses not to register that the front door to the cabin is wide open now, the forest having its own personal view into the cabin, the branches silently watching.   

Steve has climbed closer now, stilling halfway up, with his face drained of color, bracing his hand on the wall for balance.  He meets your eyes for some much-needed reassurance. The documentarian in him wants to look back, to see what might be glaring up at him from the bottom of the stairs, but his fear won’t let him.

Four steps, one hand holds the camera, your other one on the doorknob. 

Three steps, you begin to shift to the side, ready. He’s so close, he’s ready to leave, make it out, you can see the relief in his eyes to be free of that hole. 

You’re both quaking like brittle autumn leaves now, it feels like the blood in your veins might turn solid and crack, and the air from your lungs is coming out like smoke.  

You feel the need to pan the camera once more just in case, but Steve is so, so close, you decide to wait. 

Two steps and he is about to reach out for your hand. 

One step. 

You slam and seal the door shut, holding your weight against it, twisting it a certain way so that it locks. 

Steve’s breathless, you can hear it, he’s panting. 

However, he’s not standing beside you. 

The camera catches the ornate, brass doorknob as it twists and turns, capturing the sound of his heavy fist banging against the wood, and it’s vibrating into your palm as you press it there, feeding on your guilt. 

“Hey, open the door,” he tries the knob again, with more force this time. “What the fuck are you doing? I’m fucking locked in here!” He pounds his fist, desperation mounting.

“I’m begging you, open the door.” He tries to ram his shoulder through the frame, and it's a pointless move, but it does make the regret bloom fresh within your chest. 

"Let me out! Get me the fuck out of here! Don’t leave without me, please!” He sobs, his voice turning shrill.

You press your forehead against the door, angling the camera down so that it's filming the floor. The camera angle exposes a flicker of something, just a tiny glimpse of some type of black markings.

Steve stops his banging, he goes silent.

Summoning the last of your courage, you say once more, "Sorry, I'm—I..."

Another forceful kick lands on the wood, he’s had enough, the forceful boot punctuating Steve’s plea. "Open the goddamn door!"

You start to back up then, camera almost forgotten as it records the floor.  Through labored breaths, you are issuing your apologies so softly, but loud enough for the audio to capture.  

There’s another loud thud, and the camera vibrates from the impact.

It’s followed shortly by the sound of a sickening crack from beyond the basement door.  Steve’s cry is cut short by another blunt thud, and you wince away, squeezing your eyes shut.  

You flipped the light from the camera off, thinking you’d shut down the entire device. Out of the darkness, the audio picks up what sounds like a hundred hissing whispers, speaking of unintelligible things, muddled amongst feet shuffling all around you.  

In the background, the next set of ears to listen to the tape will be able to make out the hollow thuds of a body being dragged down the stairs.  

To you, in the present, the sound prompts you to turn away from the closed door, your cheeks wet with tears. Your heart is heavy, lips dry and cracked, but you know that there must be sacrifices.

It’s all in order to maintain the balance. 

You really did the best you could for Steve: you got it all on film, you kept your promise.

“I’m sorry,” you say, one last time, and you mean it.

 There’s a rustling, another thud, and then the camera spins around as if it were thrown.

And then, nothing but static.  

Epilogue 

The bodies of Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, and their companion were never recovered from the forest near Burkittsville.  Most of the things from their campsite were recovered, along with a video camera and film that was handed over to authorities.  Contrary to what was found on the tape, there was no physical evidence of foul play anywhere on the property.  

Some experts speculate that you had something to do with their disappearances, others believe you met the same fate as your two companions.  When authorities went to question your friends and family, they found out that your life was a blank slate before you met Steve on the college campus, and your only living relative was a grandmother who lived in a nursing home not far from Burkittsville.

The police went to question her, but unfortunately, she was in the grips of late-stage Alzheimer's. There were two photos of you in your grandmother’s room: one was from when you were a toddler.  In the other, you were maybe 7 or 8 years old, surrounded by trees in a forest, holding up some sort of stick doll made of twigs. If one were to have a closer look, they would spot an odd, isolated cabin amongst the woodland background.   

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thank you for reading!

reblogs are deeply cherished, and so are your thoughtful words, but please, please try not to share any spoilers in the comments or the Blair Witch will get cha🧡

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#horror fic #steddie horror #Blair Witch Project au #Season of the Witch #Steddie angst #spooky season #Steve Harringon fic #Eddie Munson fic #steddie x reader #hurt/no comfort #MARMITE FIC #MCD #dead dove do not eat

[moosereblogsfics]

No Motive

pairing: serial killer! steve x serial killer!bucky x reader 

warnings: DUBCON, kind of non con, serial killer au, horror, slight dacryphilia, violence, smut, p in v, manipulation/coercion, facial, creampie, mentions of virginity loss, masturbation, MINORS DNI, dead dove do not eat. read at your own risk

summary:  “Surprise, Sidney!” 

a/n: this is a Scream / Grease inspired entry for @boxofbonesfic​ Friday The 13th challenge for Serial Killer! this is my first time writing anything dark but I had a lot of fun (i love horror/horror movies so this was a fun exercise). thank you so much bones for hosting this super fun challenge and i hope everyone had an absolutely spooktacular Friday the 13th!

word count: 1287 (cutting it close whew)

“Doors locked. Windows and blinds shut. No trips to anywhere but the grocery store or work, during daylight hours. No one is permitted to be outside of their homes after dark.”

That was what the police said. So why the hell were you outside right now? You snuck a quick glance at your boyfriend, who was driving carefree with the windows down.

“You cold, babe?” He shouted over the wind, looking over at you to flash you a cocky smirk. He looked beautiful, and that’s why you were here.

“No,” you mustered, but it was a lie. The anxiety caused by your forbidden outing induced a tremor in your hands as you pressed down your skirt. Steve would be so disappointed if he knew how you were feeling. Wasn’t this romantic? In the very least, it was what all the other couples did at school. 

It was what Steve’s ex-girlfriends did with him. 

You fought the urge to flip down the little vanity mirror and check your lipstick, make sure you looked pretty enough for him. Instead, you looked over at him with a smile and reached over to squeeze his thigh suggestively. That’s how you were supposed to do it, right? 

The crunching of gravel under Steve’s tires drew your attention to the little road that you’ve pulled off onto. You’ve never been here, but you recognized it from its infamy— Lover’s Lake, where all the couples used to come to get a little… privacy. Nobody came here anymore, though.

Not since the killings started. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your dry lips nervously, and you felt your heart pounding in fear. 

“Steve, is this a good idea?” you eked out, taking your bottom lip between your teeth and nibbling at the flesh nervously. Without even looking at you, Steve grasped your chin in his forefinger and eased your lip out from your teeth before running over it with his thumb. 

He’s so good to you. He knew you so well. So why didn’t you feel safe right now? 

But your stomach roiled when he sighed, clearly disappointed in you as he spared an irritated look before pulling the car to stop facing the lake. “Babe, I told you this already, remember? We can’t let the killer win. When we let them control us, let them make us afraid, they win.” 

“But Steve, what if the killer shows up?”

“Hey,” he said, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck and letting his fingers press on your spine. “I’m here, baby. Now go get your cute ass in the backseat.” Steve laughed when you squeaked at the pat on your butt as you made your way to the backseat. 

As you sat down, you couldn’t get over how… wrong it felt. Like the ghosts of the three girls that died here were watching you, telling you to get out of here. It was disrespectful at best, dangerous for a fact. But you didn’t have it in you to say no to Steve. 

He settled next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders as the two of you looked out to the lake. Your heart beat faster when his fingers toyed with the straps of your dress and bra, before he inched them off your shoulder. 

“Oops,” he laughed. It sounded harsher than you were used to, and you couldn’t hold back your discomfort anymore. You turned to him, ready to voice your objections when he captured your lips with his own. 

“Steve-” 

“Shh, baby,” he interrupted you, pulling down your top entirely to expose your tits to him. He kneaded the flesh between his palms, groaning and watching your nipples peak in response to his ministrations. “God, you’re so pretty. So innocent. Knew you’d be the best girlfriend a fella could ever have.” The pride that swelled within you at his words squashed the discomfort within you, and you leaned in to kiss him with a smile. 

You shut your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in his kisses as his hands wandered up and down your body. You didn’t object when he pulled your dress and bra off, pulled your panties off and laid you down on the leather seats of his car. 

“You see how hard I am for you, baby?” Steve groans, grabbing your hand and putting it on his bulge as he rocked his clothed thigh against your bare core. Steve Rogers, the one guy that everyone wanted, the captain of the football team, the all-American golden boy wanted you. 

Steve slid his jeans off, sitting in one of the seats as he pumped his shaft twice and pulled your hips between his legs, aligning your slick cunt with his tip and driving his hips up to inch into you. You stifled your discomfort, trying to hide your winces and the tears that sprung in your eyes as he eased into your tight hole. You couldn’t let him know that you were a virgin, what would he think? 

But you knew when you met Steve’s wolfish gaze, it wasn’t something you could hide from him. 

“Are you a virgin, baby?” He cooed at you, condescension lacing his tone. You nodded and shut your eyes, when the sound of the door opening forced your eyes open.

Bucky, Steve’s best friend, slid into the seat next to yours. “Getting started without me, huh, pal?” Steve laughed harshly at that, exposing your body for Bucky to see. Mortification sent blood rushing through your body but Steve didn’t seem to care as he squeezed and flicked your tits, continuing to fuck into you. “You gonna let me join in, Stevie?” 

“Not this time,” Steve grunted, turning to Bucky as he used your body. “This one’s a virgin.” 

“Lucky,” Bucky asserted, unbuckling and sliding his already-hard cock out from his jeans. “Spit,” he instructed you, putting his hand in front of your mouth then using it as lubrication to stroke himself as he watched Steve fuck you. “You wanna cry, baby?” he asked you as he watched you, noting the stiffness of your body. “Yeah, I bet it hurts. C’mon, then, cry.” 

You let the tears flow freely from you as Steve picked up the pace, uncaring about your pain as he drove further into you. But it didn’t take long for the pain to shift to pleasure, the fullness from Steve making your head loll against his shoulder. 

Bucky pulled you down to face his cock, surprising you as he sprayed his release on your face, almost making you cry again as his cum mixed with your lipstick. Inexplicably, though, it triggered that blissful feeling that you’ve only felt on your own, clenching tighter on Steve’s cock as your vision whited out. 

“Shit, you like that?” Steve snickered, cumming into you as your body slacked. He pulled you off unceremoniously, swinging you into his arms only to dump your nude body in the passenger seat. “I gotta go piss,” he called out, slamming the door as Bucky trailed behind him. 

Bored, you opened the glovebox in search of napkins to clean your face, but when your fingers brushed against dainty metal, your heart stuttered. 

Inside Steve’s glovebox lay three bloodstained necklaces, ones that you knew belonged to the dead girls because you recognized each little pendant— Darla’s pink rhinestone, Charlotte’s teddy bear, Jeanie’s heart locket. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that, sweetheart,” Steve said from behind you. You saw the blood from your neck spray onto the windshield before you got the chance to scream.  

“That’s gonna be a pain to get out,” Bucky commented, before the darkness swallowed you whole.

#dark fic #dark!steve #dark!bucky #serial killer!steve #serial killer!bucky #scream inspired dark fic #boxofbonesfic friday the 13th challenge #horror au #moosereblogsfics' writings #dead dove do not eat #dark!stucky x reader

[mochiroreo]

Welcome to: Mochiro’s Halloween fiesta!

Dropping in (redacted), A mix of dark, kinky, and tooth-rotting smut one-shots + a halloween special for my fic “Oh Goodie!” will be posted throughout October (edit: due to personal reasons, this got pushed back throughout November onwards. Please don’t be shy to send in requests just to let me make up for it💖)

Curious to see what I have in store for you and your beloved darling? Prompts under the cut~ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

P.S. all of these would be Dark/Dead dove: do not eat. Halloween themed request would be open for the characters that did not won the poll (refer to my character sheet to look at the other characters that I can write💖) might open requests for these 4 when everything is posted.

Steddie - Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson (Stranger Things)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ Just when you thought you were the one luring them in, you were the one caught in their trap. Don’t you look pretty, all tied up? (Siren!reader x Pirate Captains! Steddie)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ “Quick! Whoever and whatever must have hurt you might still be here!” You said,grabbing their hands before dragging along two strangers towards your house in panic. (Non-human, urban legend beings!Steddie x human!reader)

Rafe Cameron & JJ Maybank (OBX)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ You can’t run. You cannot hide either. After all, you belong to them. (Werewolves Alpha!Rafe Cameron & Alpha!JJ Maybank x Omega!reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ Rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair. Let the prince come and pay a visit, let him hear you sing your captor’s name. (Dame Gothel!Rafe Cameron & Prince!JJ Maybank x Princess!Reader)

Eddie Munson

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ You just want to have a taste. Its been centuries since you had something delicious and sickeningly sweet. He is soft, luscious, and everything you’ve craved. (Modern!Eddie Munson x Vampire!reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ “You were mine before. What makes you think you are not going to be mine again?” He breathed out against your skin, wearing his signature smirk that you loathe but also used to love. (Mean demon!Eddie Munson x Crybaby Angel!reader

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ They said he was the definition of danger. That their is something odd about him, that you should’ve quit and not even take a step towards him nor his house. But of course, you didn’t listen. After all, you’re his favourite. And he never showed you any “bad” sides of him. Till now. (Vampire!Eddie Munson x Maid!reader)

Steve Harrington

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ”Look— I—“ you stuttered, eyes bulging out of its sockets when your eyes went downward through the dark curls where a humongous appendage rests,making you cover your eyes with a shriek, making the handsome and very much naked “incubus” (what he said when he appeared in your room) chuckle. “No, you look at me.” He stated. “My name is Steve, and you followed that tutorial and here am I, at your service. Now, what fun things do you have in mind?” (Incubus!Steve Harrington x curious human!reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ “Steve. Steve. Steven.” You tried to shook him out of it, mouth agape while his eyes slowly blink. “Nope— nope! Halloween is like— in a week! Why— why do you have wings?! Wings?! Where— what shop did you even get them?! A-and and why are they moving?! Oh god. Yeah I must’ve been dreaming— dreaming!” (Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Angel!reader)

Rafe Cameron

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ”Now, Rafe, what’s your favourite horror movie?” “If I find out whoever the fuck you are, I’m gonna kill you.” “Aww, wrong answer. Try again before I come in and make you.” (Rafe Cameron x Ghostface!Reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ “There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.” Finding his hands wrapped around your neck, you closed your eyes and accepted that this is where his hands belong. (Priest!Rafe Cameron x Nun!reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ You don’t know what you were thinking to even tell your friends that you’ll distract the killer on the loose while they escape. You always peg yourself as the “final girl.” I guess not. You just hope that the psychopath hesitates to kill you. (Serial killer!Rafe Cameron x reader)

JJ Maybank

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ”You— you!” JJ pointed his finger at you, making everyone look at you confused while you giggle. With a sultry smile, you sat down on his lap. You tilt your head in mock confusion with a dramatic gasp, your hands gripping his shoulder blades. “Me? What about me?” (JJ Maybank x Succubus!reader)

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ When you told JJ that you’re a witch, he didn’t believe you. Mocking you for having a wild imagination. So you drank one of your potions and a set of cat ears popped up on top of your head. Standing there in shock and awe, he suddenly grabbed a bottle and drank all of its contents thinking that he’ll have the same thing, not knowing its a VERY potent potion meant for something else. (JJ Maybank x Witch!reader)

#eddie munson #steve harrington #rafe cameron #jj maybank #eddie munson smut #steve harrington smut #rafe cameron smut #jj maybank smut #stranger things #outer banks #obx #stranger things fic #dark!eddie munson #dark!steve harrington #dark!rafe cameron #dark!jj maybank #dead dove: do not eat #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx fic #halloween #halloween smut #mochiro’s halloween fiesta 💖

[medusapelagia]

Put me together again

Working on my lovely Dead Dove that I hope to update tomorrow

Here a little snippet

TW: blood, mention of murder

“Sorry did you just say chemical fire?” Hopper asks and Dustin nods, while Hopper and Eddie share a look. “How… how did you say your father was called again?” Eddie murmurs while looking at the white piece of paper that the police found on the crime scene, the one that Nancy was holding in her hand and that Eddie stole from evidence. “Harrington. Thomas Jordan Harrington” Eddie turns the computer toward Hopper, on that crumpled piece of paper, stained with blood, there are a few letters: T Ha. For years Eddie has thought that the name that Nancy was trying to write with her last strengths was the name of her murderer, Tommy Hagan. Now he knows that it wasn’t; it was the name of her informant: Thomas Jordan Harrington.

#put me together again #dead dove #tw: blood #steddie #medusapelagia #my fanfic #steve and eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steve x Eddie #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Steddie Fic #medusapelagia fanfic

[hg-deranged-edition]

My contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race! @akichania YOU ARE NEXT.

(WARNING FOR SUICIDAL IDEATION)

———

He lay across from him, fast asleep at night. Eyes fluttering gently in his sleep, off in a dream Steve would never hear about. Chest rising steadily, breaths deep and even, with the lightest hint of a snore accompanying him. Steve couldn’t help himself, he extended his hand and lightly cupped his cheek, to feel it’s warmth. Hot, as Billy usually was during his slumber.

Ever the light sleeper, Billy’s eyes instantly snapped open, mind lagging behind. When recognition flashed across his face, his eyes softened and his lips curled into the slightest smile. Steve’s heart swelled at the love he found inside them, the vulnerability he found within both assuring and terrifying. Steve knew he couldn’t really help when Billy was in trouble.

Billy murmured a sound that was probably meant to be questioning, and Steve just hushed him, trying to coax him back to sleep. Maybe curl him up into his arms so that Billy couldn’t leave. Billy just grasped his hand and held onto it, terribly, terribly gentle. Affection Steve didn’t quite deserve or earn.

With great effort, Billy’s tired mind managed to collect enough coherence to ask “’Was wrong?” and Steve cursed himself for not being able to get himself together enough to save face in front of Billy.

He hadn’t been sleeping.

Couldn’t, really.

“I’m just,” he began, “I don’t. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m just kinda upset.” Billy’s hand tightened ever so slightly, brow twitching together in worry. He was quiet for a moment before muttering “You’re not ‘just upset.’ You never are.” he paused, looking deeply into his eyes, and Steve found it horrible that Billy knew him so intimately when he didn’t deserve someone so… well, whatever Steven is.

Incapable. Is probably the word he’s looking for.

“You don’t gotta tell me,” Billy began anew, “but you have to know I care, right? So like, I can listen to you, even if it doesn’t make sense, and only you know what you’re talkin’ about. Gotta repay the favor and everything, right?” Steve nodded, not quite trusting himself to talk. He found the way Billy looked at him unbearable; so imploring and kind. Defenceless. It’s a beauty that suited his face, really. Billy laid their hands betwixt them on the mattress, and Steve felt a lump form in his throat.

He wanted to get closer so bad. He wasn’t quite sure he could do that without crumbling.

Despite himself, Steve felt himself speak.

“I. I’m just, I’m so sorry, fuck, Billy. I’m fuckin- dumb as shit, slow and I can’t even see what’s right in front of me, and I can’t even take care of myself.”

Billy’s face saddened, and he crawled closer to Steve. “Steven. Steve no, don’t say that, baby. You know you’re not stupid, we’ve talked about this before.” Steve hiccuped at that, and his first tear fell. “No, no I’m just. I can’t help but feel it. Dad’s right, I’m fuckin stupid as shit, I can’t do shit and I can’t even get college. I don’t understand things even if they’re repeated to me a thousand times and I- I can’t even-” at that, Billy just smushed Steve’s face into his chest, and held onto him tightly. “I don’t know what you’re on about. Your dads the dumbass, not you. It’s not your fault the man can’t explain things right and then gets mad at you for his own mistakes.” Billy pressed a kiss atop his head.

Steve just weeped at that, because Billy didn’t understand. Steve’s failure was Billy.

He completely, and utterly, failed him. Didn’t recognize that Billy needed help until it was far too late- his body having received permanent damage already and only awaiting it’s final blow. He should have noticed- should have realized that something was wrong, not clutched on so tightly to his and Nancy’s joke of a relationship. Should have gotten his head out of his ass and seen the reality in front him instead of being so damn hung up.

Because Billy was dead now. And Steve would never get him back, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he turned the past over in his mind.

Billy was still shushing him, arms crushing him as he only wailed harder. Couldn’t seem to be able to stop himself from crying, either, judging by the wetness seeping into Steve’s hair.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, “baby, why are you acting this way?” His hand was petting through Steve’s hair, a thousand gentle, repeated kisses gifted like they could ease the hurt away. Steve’s head hurt from crying, the sheer force of his sobs giving him vertigo. The last time he cried that hard was a week into the future, and for this past body, it was when he was 9 years old and begging his parents to stay back home.

Eventually, Steve managed to calm back down. Belatedly he noticed that Billy had been patting his back and murmuring a lullaby. One he realized was probably among the last few remnants of his mother’s love. “Thank you,” he muttered, “for everything.” His throat was hoarse. Billy just kept singing with a slightly pained look on his face. He closed his eyes and feigned sleep.

---

When Billy’s breaths evened out and his arms loosened, Steve opened his eyes again listlessly. And did nothing. For hours.

He was tired. So fucking tired. From crying, from watching but too afraid to really touch. He was promised an eternity with his love. He couldn’t wait for it to be over.

---

He felt himself begin to slip away, eyes unfocusing through their drought. He’d probably wake up again in a moment, beholding a sleeping Billy from the start all over again. Maybe he’d be too exhausted to keep up any facade of humanity, maybe Billy would curl into him and he’d shatter all over again. Maybe he’d just observe. Silent.

In the beginning, he’d really thought he only wanted this, this last moment with Billy, for all eternity. Now he understands that this stagnant memory was never what he truly wanted from Billy. Sure, he’d wanted one last embrace with the love of his life, not for closure, though. No, never for closure. The mere thought of it repulsed him.

No, he wanted to continue on with Billy. He’d only made a pathetic display of humility, a request born from fallacy. He wanted to wake up together, light streaming from the curtains, feel the warmth of morning. Wanted to get up and bake and make coffee and crack shitty jokes with the guy. Wanted to tangle his hand in his hair and feel disgust when it came back greasy. Wanted to live a life with the fucker.

This wasn’t a life shared together. It was anything but. It was a mockery of their love, the epitome of their shared fatal flaw. It was Billy desparate for Steve to open up, to tell him what’s wrong, and Steve’s throat closing up, locking down. It was Steve getting exhausted from asking where Billy got all his bruises from, only to be met with aggression. It was Billy being on the verge of crying when Steve still held onto the agony from his last relationship and couldn’t focus on Billy’s love.

And, a few days into the future, it would be Steve not recognizing that Billy was acting wrong. That his cold demeanor was caused by more than just a petty argument.

This, this situation, was sleeping with a cooling corpse. Getting lulled back into sleep every time panic ripped through his central nervous system. Being mocked with the face of his lover caring for him, when his own care wasn’t sufficient enough. By god, he should have picked Billy up long ago, thrown him onto the backseat and driven far, far away from here. To hell with everyone else.

But it was too late now, sin rooted too deep into his foundations. This was all he had left.

He sunk his fingers deeper into Billy’s, lashes fluttering lethargically. He should be grateful. Death doesn’t feel so permanent when the star of the funeral was right next to him. Most people yearned for this moment right here, no matter how grotesque.

Still, he couldn’t wait to be dead.

Feeling Billy’s pulse thudding against his skin, Steve sunk back into sleep, hoping to dream of tomorrow before he woke up again.

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #stranger things #billy x steve #drabble #harringrove relay race #once more imagine they are t4t and I simply did not elaborate #this was originally supposed to be part of a larger fic btw describing Steve looping through waking up at least 2 times before this and #slowly revealing the true circumstances he was in #and he was supposed to be super lovey doves in the first part start showing cracks in the second and break in the third #but in the end I lost the internal mapping I had for that version. now we have this one #this wasn’t what I was originally gonna post btw I was gonna post art but that one struggled with me too hard. ok bye!!! #suicidal thoughts tw

[steddieunderdogfics]

Hii, I'm nominating Worlds Apart by Catybug007 for the soulmate theme fic 🥺 its genuinely one of my favorites, and I think about it all the time ❤

worlds apart (hearts broken in two) by Catybug007

Rating: Explicit

60,592 words, 19/? chapters

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Steve Harrington is Not Okay, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Coming Untouched, Scenting, Dom/sub Undertones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Past Child Abuse, please be mindful of the archive warning, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, POV Steve Harrington, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Explicit Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Biting, Marking, another Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Sexual Assault, please take the dead dove warnings seriously!

Summary:

Steve's just trying to get by and survive his last year at Hawkins High, navigating his life as a newly presented omega. He's not counting on Eddie Munson showing up, flipping his world upside down with kind words and a gentle smile. He's certainly not counting on falling in love.

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Theme Weekend. The theme this weekend is Soulmate AUs.

Know a fic that deserves extra love? Submit through our asks or the submission box!

#steddie #steddie fic recs #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #theme weekend #rated e #soulmate au #omegaverse #modern au #dead dove do not eat

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 10

Summary: it is time

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit sexual content, explicit language, face riding, pinching, anal play, exhibition, branding, pussy worship, loss of innocence, dirty talk, dumbifiction, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.3K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit by @randomagnes0210

*Divider created by @firefly-graphics

“Steve,” a giggle mixed with a whimper calls out. Lifting up your skirt you smile down at the menace underneath you. Steve is devouring the honey between your legs with his hands firmly wrapped around your thighs. “Captain, can you breathe?”

His crystal blue eyes look up at you annoyed, giving your bundle of nerves a nibble. When your body quivers, and you bite at your lip, he laughs over your core. His tongue laves up your essence. He needed to be calmed down before he was marked. And this was his method of choice. Drowning in you.

“There’s no way you’re getting…oxygen,” your words come out laborious, and he pulls you down tighter against him. Sliding his hands up to your tits, he pinches your pebbled peaks. Chuckling when your body starts to grind over him.

Closing your eyes you look up at the ceiling. Steve is a big boy, and if he needs air, he’ll figure it out. This feels amazing. He is obsessed with giving you pleasure. Making sure that you are fully satiated, and still you held out on what he wanted the most. It made him more loyal, and somehow more dangerously protective of you.

Bringing his right hand up to your mouth, he pushes two fingers past your swollen lips. Letting you suck on his digits. Muffled moans fill his office, and you want, no you need more. Mumbling over his beefy fingers, he pulls them out of your mouth, “Captain!” But the descent doesn’t stop. The wet appendages travel to your backside, playing around with your puckered hole.

Steve studies your face as he adds pressure, “Captain, I want to feel you,” it’s all it takes before he breaks through the muscled entrance, and you strangle out his name. Legs trembling, and your body turns to mush. “Steve! Steve!”

He doesn’t stop when your body succumbs to the pleasure. He pushes you well past your orgasm. Pulling out another high so quickly you start to buck on top of him. Thighs tightening around his face as you scream out again. Every muscle quivering and leading you deeper into your pleasure.

“Steve,” Sam stands in the doorway. Cursing out loud when he realizes he wasn’t actually hurting you. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Steve’s head pokes out from between your thighs, smiling over at Sam. Pulling his fingers out of your bum, he gives your ass a few taps. “She did so good. Little bird, do you think you need a nap before you burn my skin?”

“How about you cover her tits up. You would want a fantasy of a plaid skirt on top of your face. Dove, honey, cover yourself up.”

“Hey, Sammy,” you dopily smile, as you roll off Steve, joining him on the floor. Cuddling up tight to his body and hiding your bare chest. “My Captain is going to look so pretty with my lips right here,” reaching up, you give him a kiss to his neck, and then pull his face over to look at you before he crashes his mouth into yours.

Tasting his stout beer mixed with you. The flavors that Steve’s mouth wanted the most. “A bunch of damn kids. That’s what you two are. At least get her dressed,” Steve’s body rolls over on top of yours, and he rolls his pelvis into your swollen cunt. His favorite sound is your little shocked whimper. You need him as much as he needs you. You had waited long enough and now ached for him.

“Steve! You have a meeting with Loki!”

“That’s right,” he pops up, looking over at Sam. “Do I have time for her to suck my cock?”

“You’ve got three minutes,” he says, closing the door.

“You want to sit with my cock in your mouth while I conduct the meeting?” You shake your head no, a glint of something in your eyes, “No?”

“I don’t like him. He hurt me.”

“Under my orders.”

“And he didn’t even hesitate.”

“None of them do. Hesitation gets you killed. Dovey, come on, keep my cock warm with your mouth.”

“No. I want you hurting when I finally let you have my pussy,” you giggle when he playfully smacks your face. “Let me up. I’m going to go in the back and shower. I’ve got a sexy little dress I want to wear for you.”

“No. I don’t want you to change too much for this, Dovey. You’re sexy with your little skirts already. I want you as you. Now go on, get out of here before Loki sees you. I need to mention how he went too deep on your tattoo though,” your head shakes back in forth in protest, and he twists his head to look at you.

“No. Don’t mention me at all. I’ll see you in a bit, Captain,” fuck. Steve mutters as you walk away. Getting right to the door, you pull up your skirt to flash him your ass. Little tease. He wouldn’t mention you to Loki this time, since he gave you his word. But he did want to talk about the extra pain he caused you. And tonight, he would be the one in the relationship carrying the pain.

It’s how he wanted it. He always wanted to carry the pain. You should never suffer. And he would make sure that he would hold the burden of your pain. Because you were his. Finally.

“You want me to what?” Your eyes shine up at Steve, and you look over to Sam. They were both insane. You didn’t want to do that. Rubbing your finger over the spot you had chosen for Steve’s brand, you shake your head no. “I don’t want to.”

“You will,” Steve answers with as much authority as he can. “You wanted this.”

“No, you made me make that decision. I don’t…why does it have to be me that causes you pain?” The back of his knuckles slowly caresses your cheek as your bottom lip puckers out. Your sweet face all pitiful and scared is his favorite drug. He wanted more, even if it gave him pain. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re the only one that can, and not die.”

“Steve! That’s not even funny. Why does it have to be me? You didn’t tattoo me, you held me down. So I think it’s only fair that I hold you down. And…Steve, I don’t want to hurt you. Please, don’t make me do this,” burying your face in his neck, he holds you tightly. Clinging to you.

You and that word ‘please’. It made him melt every time. He’d bend down to his knees just to hear you utter that word. But coupled with your pitiful voice makes it so much harder for him to resist. “Fine. Sam can brand me. You sit in my lap, and don’t let move.”

“Promise?” You sniffle on him, refusing to lean back and let him see you. He could make you change your mind if he really wanted to, and you didn’t want him to do that. You had to stand your ground when it came to him. You need a voice in this relationship, too.

“Promise. Come on, get in my lap, Dovey,” his voice is like honey as he walks the two of you back to a chair. Looking over at Sam who rolls his eyes. “I won’t kill you, Sam. I just thought someone prettier was going to brand me, but if she needs to just sit in my lap and give me something to stare at that will be fine.”

“Dovey, you’re going to have to look at me, darling,” he’s about to be branded, and he’s the one talking you down. You have never heard him speak so gently. Like everything he is doing in this moment is to make you comfortable while a searing piece of metal was on his skin.

You finally lift off the confines of his neck, staring up at him while he situates you in his lap. Making you straddle him. Your arms drape over his shoulders for a moment while you look over his face. Starting to count every freckle that sprays over his nose. Leaning to kiss over the spot. His neck is as inky as the rest of his body. Soon a raised and scarred brand will sit there. Your lips will be permanently embedded on his skin.

Say what he wants, he loves you. Makes special allowances with you. Didn’t even think twice about them. While with others he’s harsh and all business. Even the way his thick hands are softly rubbing up your thighs and cupping each ass cheek starts to relax you. You were different for him. You know it. Could feel it, despite his claims. He was yours in every sense of the word, and one day, you would hear his voice tell you that.

He leans forward, pressing a soft peck to your lips. “I didn’t want ot make you cry this way, little bird. I wanted…”

“Shh, don’t ruin this moment. Are you ready, Captain?” His fingers dig into the globes of your rear end. Giving you a nod as he captures your sight. “Sam, we’re ready,” he clenches his teeth as Sam presses the scalding metal to his skin.

You put on a brave face, refusing to react to the stench of his burning skin. Not flinching when his fingers add bruises to your supple skin. You hold his sight, softly saying his name. Time is frozen. Feeling as if it lasts forever that the iron is on his skin. And Sam removes the tool, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Don’t look at his neck. Keep staring at him. His eyes are glossy, but he doesn’t cry. Doesn’t react. Never says a word, just keeps looking only at you. “That hurt like hell,” he chokes out. Loosening his grip as his hands slide up to your waist. “But nothing will hurt as much as losing you, Dovey.”

“I hear what you’re saying, Steve.”

“What am I saying?” His mouth turns up into a devilish grin.

You turn back to look at Sam, nodding your head, and turning back to Steve, “I think we’ll be okay, Sam. Steve may be busy for the next couple of days.”

“Yeah, I will,” he smarts back, and it earns him a swat to his chest. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to come back to the real world. You’re in charge, Samuel,” Sam leaves with a nod, and smiling more at you than Steve. “Dove, we need a bath.”

“What?” He pushes your legs off him, walking towards the bathroom, leaving you standing in the living room confused. You look towards the door to make sure it was locked, and the alarm had been set before you run through the events of the evening.

After he was branded you said you would give yourself to him, and after all this time he just wants to take a bath. That was it. No picking you up and throwing you on the bed. It was his time. And he just walked away. He…he is being extremely un-Steve like.

“Dovey!” His head peeks out of the master bedroom, giving you a dark look. “I said, let’s take a bath. I need you to tend to my wounds.”

“But…I thought.”

“Now, Dove,” standing in the doorway, he lets his pants and boxer briefs drop to the floor, and your mouth falls open. He isn’t even hard. “I have a burn on my neck. It needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”

Mind games. It was always mind games with Steve. He always makes you question things. Your feet start moving on their own accord, following your naked boyfriend into the bathroom. He turns to stare at you with a glint of…something in his eyes. He is unreadable most of the time, but right now he is frustrating.

“You gotta clean the area first. It’s going to scar, that’s the purpose. But I don’t want an infection. Mmm,” he hisses through his teeth as you start cleaning the skin. “That hurts worse than I expected. Dove is something wrong?”

“I just thought we would — you know?”

“Can’t even say the word, and you think I’m going to do something about it,” he clicks his tongue at you. Starting to shake his head, but winces instead. “I’m disappointed in you, Dovey. Where’s this fearless woman that demanded her lips be burnt on my neck?”

“But I told you that after you were branded that you could have me.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just smiles at you, while your mind is making up stupid scenarios of what is actually going on right now. When you finish bandaging him up, he turns the water on, pouring in oils and dried flowers into the bath before he stands behind you. His fingers roaming over your body. Soothing over your curves and kissing over your skin before pulling off your clothes.

His mouth peppers the sweetest kisses over your shoulders, and places a kiss right behind your ear, “I’ve always had you, Dovey,” once undressed he places you in the tub, and crawls into the opposite side, so he can face you.

“The moment you walked into my club looking all sweet and tender, needing just a few pills to keep you awake while you studied, I had you. I had you riding my thigh as Bucky watched you get off properly for the first time. Had you leaking all down my leg. All those times I watched you in class, while you slept, chased you through the woods by my playground, I had you. Dovey, you and I are completely bound together forever. Each of us marked with the other. But if you’re wanting something else, use your words like a big girl. What is it that you want?”

“I want you to have all of me.”

“Go on, explain yourself,” he settles back into the water, caging you in between his legs while his hands rub up and down your calves. The hands that you know have murdered countless people. Had sold drugs to even more. But on you, there’s a care that he can’t deny. He can command you, but his hands and his eyes say what his mouth refuses.

“I want you inside of me. Making love to me all night long.”

“Love, huh?” It’s cruel for him to say that word in such a snarky tone. He knows how much that word means to you.

His eyes coast down to the water, and you push your foot underneath his chin, making him look up at you. “Making love is something you’ve never done. We’ll both be each other’s first,” his mouth turns up into a genuine smile. Nothing hidden underneath. Just him. “I don’t need to hear it, Steve. I’m tired of asking. Even though I deserve to hear it, you’re telling me all I need to know.”

“Dovey, how are you feeling, little bird?”

“Like I want to feel my boyfriend’s entire weight on top of me,” pushing your legs out wide, he maneuvers himself to hover over you. Smiling and laughing when his nose presses up against yours. “That’s a start. Now kiss me,” his mouth slams into yours, giving no time before his greedy tongue slides over your lips.

The best part about Steve is he has no filter. He tells you exactly what he expects and what he’s thinking. But there is a tenderness to him tonight. Scraping your nails down his back, and settling at his round rump, you pull him closer to you. You don’t want any space between you. You want him inside of you. Over you. His skin to meld onto yours.

His hardened cock rubs up against your center. Releasing a whimper, Steve pulls off your lips to nip down the column of your neck. Blowing air over you damp skin, and you mewl, clinging onto his ass, needing him in ways you haven’t ever before. Desperation settles in, and you can’t even think straight.

“Easy, little bird,” he whispers on your body as his mouth moves to your shoulder. Open mouth kisses drift over your supple skin, leaving tiny bruises along the way. “You need to quit trying to force me into your cunt.”

“But Steve,” his head pops up to look at you, not in a menacing way, but to watch your sweet little pout. Noticing how your pupils are blown wide with lust, becoming glossy with your tears. “I need you.”

“Oh, my sweet little needy slut,” brushing the pads of his fingers over your cheek, your lip puckers out, and he leans over to bite it. “You’re such a brat.”

“But I’m your brat.”

Steve lets go of your lip. Rolling his hips, he makes you feel the weight of his giant cock floating just over where you need it. “You are my brat, my sweet little Dovey. Honey, what…” his word squeaks out, and you don’t notice it, only the feeling of his weight starting to settle over you. The spread of your legs to make sure he was fully over your body. “What…what do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me,” he sighs, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “Steve, I’m ready.”

“As long as you realize you mean more to me than the flesh between your legs.”

“I know,” Steve plants one peck to your nose, looking at you with the sweetest smile. “Steve, I know.”

“And I’m not fucking you in the tub. I’m going to make love to you for the first time. In our bed,” he pulls the two of you up in the tub before lifting you out. Grabbing a towel to dry off your skin. Kneeling down to fully dry off your legs, and he kisses over your mound as he looks up at you. “I’m going to ruin you for other men.”

“I don’t want other men.”

“I know,” he answers softly. Sticking out his tongue he licks as much between your lips that he can. His lips leave a trail of kisses as he starts to stand. “I’m going to ruin you, and in doing that,” he pauses to grab both sides of your cheeks, and forcing you to look deep into his eyes, “You’ve already ruined me, Dovey.”

His hands move quickly to your sides. And he lifts you up, wrapping both your legs around him, and you whine feeling his throbbing cock. Carrying you into the bedroom, your legs hold him tighter as he crawls the two of you into the center of the bed, placing you down softly before he kisses over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

With each press of his lips you tremble more. Anticipation and a slight twinge of fear rumbles out of you, “Shh, Dovey, breathe, baby. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” his mouth hovers over your cunt, and he breathes in your scent. The most delectable taste. If he has to die, he hopes he dies with the taste of your cunt on his tongue.

Grazing his lips over your glistening folds, he chuckles, “Your dripping, Dovey,” reacting, your legs try to close, but he tsks you, moving them further apart. Bending your knees, he pushes your legs down on the bed. “Honey, quit biting your lip.”

“Why are you calling me, honey?” You feel the weight of his silky and heavy steel on you. Lifting up you look down at your body, chirping at how large he seems laying on your stomach. Viewing exactly how deep he’s going to be inside of you. “Steve,” he gives you a soft smile. Pushing back your baby hairs.

“Dovey, breathe. We don’t have to have sex.”

“Stop being so nice,” you squeak, feeling his piercing right over your clit when he shifts back. Torture. “I want you to destroy me.”

“I will. I need to know you’re ready.”

“What?” You look back up at him, and into his eyes. He is so close you can count every different color of blue and green that make up his irises. Sincerity. Nobody is around to see him being kind or soft. It is just you and him. “I’m ready,” you look back down your body when he grips the base of his meaty cock. Running his length through your folds, and coating Clarence in your juices.

“You going to watch, darling?”

“No, I just want to watch you,” he pushes his mushroom tip to your entrance. Letting the soft skin breach through, smiling when you moan. “Watch me, Captain.”

“I don’t want to watch anything else.”

“Don’t stop until you’re fully in.”

“Dove.”

“Don’t. Stop,” taking a deep breath, you hold his sight as his hips drive forward. Your walls grip him so tight when he plunges in. Eyes filling up with tears as your body stretches to accommodate him. Whining. Whimpering. Lip trembling.

“Dovey, tell me you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Oh god,” the first tear releases past your lashes, and Steve kisses it away. “Captain, I’m okay. Don’t stop. Don’t. Oh!” You breathe in deep, choosing to focus on the way he felt, instead of you. How even in the pain, your body could fit him. It craved him as much as you do. Taking a breath, your fingers relax the grip they have on his arm. And you smile up at him through your tears when he finally slides home.

Adjusting his weight to his forearms, he gives you a reassuring grin, “Dove, it’s a perfect fit,” you snort. It didn’t feel perfect just yet. But every second of him just being inside of you feels better. The pain starts to ebb away, and you know that he was in fact made just for your body. The thought of knowing that he will always be your first. And you are determined that he’s your only.

He grunts, and you feel the rumble all through your body. Seeping into your blood, and you need him. All of him. All over your body, and all in it. Lifting your arms you run your fingers through his hair. Needing him to kiss you, needing to look at him. Needing to see his face as he pulls out of you and sinks back in. Watching how he reacts to claiming you.

“What are you doing, Dovey?”

“Watching you, Captain. You’re mine. I own you.”

“I know you do, Dovey,” He pulls completely out of you, chuckling when you whine up at him. “I gotta look.”

“At what?”

“I have studied the face of God so many times since meeting you. I need to see how gaping you are.”

“Steve!” You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as he leans back on his heels. Looking down, his thumb and forefinger spread you out, and you slap your hands over your face. “Why are you like this?”

He flattens his hand over your core, and creates circles over your clit, “Because this is mine. And I like playing with it. Get used to it, Dovey. When I come inside of you, I’m going to watch as every bit of my cum seeps out of this gaping hole. You should see her spread all wide like this. My god, I was in that tiny little thing. And now I’m going to spend every day stretching her out. I never want you to get used to me.”

Moving to settle back over you, he uses his hips to push through your tight little hole. Your back lifts up off the bed as he burrows balls deep into you. His tip whispers over your cervix, and your eyes water again. “I own all your tears,” he draws himself out of you, and stabs back in.

“I own all those squeaks and whimpers that come off your lips,” he sets in at a slow pace. Drawing his length out before burying himself back into your wet heat. “Every moan, every pant of your breaths, every pillowy wet piece of skin inside of you, every grip of your cunt…my god, Dovey, you’re killing me here, baby.”

The most lewd and salacious moan drips from your lips, and your head tilts back, “Don't’ you dare, I gave you this orgasm. You keep your pretty eyes on me,” you look back into his eyes, furrowing your brow as the most deep and powerful euphoria washes over your body. “There’s my girl. Tell your Captain when you feel it all the way in your toes. Don’t you hold back. I know this is a lot, darling, but you’re doing so good. Go on, let go, my beautiful Dovey.”

Your fingers dig into his back as the most overwhelming rush to your core locks you into place. Your walls cinch around his member, and he holds steady. Letting your body succumb to a most beautiful surrender of Steve. Feeling every inch of his glorious cock. Every vein carves inside of you as you remember your first time. Your first love. Your first restart to life.

“So beautiful, Dovey.”

“You own that, Captain.”

“Do I?”

“Mhmm. Claim me. Don’t stop. Ruin me,” Steve’s mouth turns into a devilish smirk, and he slams both hands above your head. Waiting on your final word. “I’m yours to do what you want with. Just remember, you’re also mine. Earn your tears.”

He doesn’t hesitate to barrel in and out of your warmth. Pushing and pulling so deep into you that you see stars. “Don’t you stop,” you beg as tears stream down your face. Choking on air with every pound into you.

“Fuuuuckk!” If you could see, you’d see Steve proudly looking at you. He is inside of you, and now can allow you to say whatever you want. “Fuck me!”

“You fuck me,” holding onto you, Steve rolls you both over, without ever leaving you. His hands gripping onto your thighs while you count your breaths. “What’s the matter, Dovey? Am I too deep?”

You squeak. Unable to speak, and instead shake your head no. “You’re okay though, little bird?”

“Yeah,” tucking your head down, you take a heaving breath before rolling your hips. His piercing still cool on your insides, such a juxtaposition to his heated steel rod. His toned pelvis rubs over your clit, and you see stars, “Oh my god.”

“You stop whining. Fuck me! You fuck your big cock, Dovey. Make me feel so good. Got your sweet little snatch stretched out so wide. Your tiny little cunt is so full of me. Where do you feel me, darling?”

“In my belly,” you aren’t sure how you fit him. The entire length of him is fully in you. All the way to the depths of your soul. You understood Steve. Your new religion was on your knees and praying at the altar of Steve. “My god!” Head back on your shoulders you scream out your prayer, and Steve grabs your hips, holding you still while he fucks into you.

Your juices spew out over his skin as he stuffs you full. There is no way that anything else could fit it. So wide. So deep. So full. Steve is everywhere. All over you. Every part of you fully belonged to him.

He races for his finish as he watches you travel to another plane of existence. Your head heavy and rolling around on your neck. Getting high off Steve’s pleasure is the most fulfilling moment.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” he rolls the two of you back over. Slamming his hands on the bed, his hips jackhammers so hard and so deep into your body. Insides becoming rearranged, and Steve becomes addicted to your dumb blissed out face. His cock soaked in your honey, and your belly pushing up with every drive into you he makes.

“So perfect for me, my sweet, beautiful, Dovey,” one more hard cram into your body, and your cunt blooms with warmth as he blows his load straight into your belly. “Holy fuck,” he whispers. Trembling as your pussy milks him dry. Fluttering and pulsing over him. Perfect fit, “That was beautiful.”

He stills himself so he can watch your dopey smile. “You okay, Dove?”

“Uh huh. Yes, Captain.”

“Look at the mess you made,” he lifts you up. Letting you stare at where the two of you connect. “So wet. So creamy.”

“Blood,” you yip, looking back up at him. You knew he was stretching you out, but this is awful. He probably hates you for making such a mess. Showing just how inexperienced you are. He didn’t spend enough time on fingering you and making you fit him better too.

“I own that blood, too. Mmm,” he groans as he pulls completely out of you, and you stare horrified at the mess on his cock. All of yours and his juices mixed with your blood. “Only I get to make you bleed,” he tilts his head to look at your twat. Leaning down to kiss on your swollen pussy. “Only I get to feel her, and look at how wide your hole is spread. Now, push me out.”

“No,” your hands cover your mound, and your lip quivers up at him. This moment isn’t lasting as long as you’d like. You wish you could prolong it in any way, “I like the way it feels when you’re inside me.”

“You’re making me weak, Dovey.”

“You’re only weak for me, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. But I’m going to fill you back up in just a little bit. Do your Captain a favor, and let me see that pretty pussy leak of me.”

“You promise to do it again,” if he could stay inside you all day, he would. There is no high like feeling you squeezing him.

“I promise to never stop filling you up. One day I’ll fill you up so much that your belly swells, and I grow right here. Aww,” he coos down at you when you whimper. His hand splays over your belly, and he imagines you with a tiny little bump. One day. “You like that, huh? What me to grow in your belly?”

“Mhmm,” sighing, you envision that distant future when Steve will breed you. But for now you use both hands to spread yourself out wide. Mewling at how tender your puffy folds are. His eyes cast down on your body before staring at your beautiful hole.

“And there it is,” he could come again just watching his spend ooze out of you. “I’m ruined, Dovey,” there would never and could never be another you. He could spend everyday just staring at you. “I’m so ruined.”

“And I’m in love.”

“Don’t say that,” he gathers up his cum, and presses two fingers into your abused cunt. His thumb rubs gently over your clit, and you grab his arm with both hands. “Don’t you ever say that in front of people.”

“But in front of you?”

“I love the way it sounds,” it wasn’t what you wanted, but also wasn’t what you expected. “Shhh, I’m going to get a warm rag and water, and clean you up.”

“But…”

“And then you’re going to take a nap, and wake up with my cock all the way in your belly.”

“You’re going to fuck me when I’m asleep?” If it wasn't for your smile, Steve would say no. But the little giggle you give confirms to him you just how perfect for him. The sweetest version of nasty. His girl. His everything. And he loves to hear you say you love him.

“Alright, lay back. Get whatever sleep I allow you. You’re going to emerge from this cabin wobbling. And one day, I’ll claim your other hole, too.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloki @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @lyndy @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @honeyhoneylovleylove

#your mark on me #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #Steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #chris evans #Chris Evans character #Steve x Dove

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

steve accidentally spills a drink over his cute soft shy little angel gf’s shirt and has flashbacks of tina’s halloween party where he spilled punch on nancy and she subsequently broke his heart— so he panics. but his precious girl only giggles until she notices how panicked her stevie really is and she’s all understanding and reassuring and gives him a bunch of smooches and tells him she loves him so so much 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

this is so not proofread but this prompt is so cute.

youre at a party and its loud and obnoxious. not something you’d usually go to. hes fumbling with both of your drinks and youre reaching out to him to help him but hes already had one beer and hes a little tipsy. he subsequently spills both drinks all over both of you. he doesnt really remember why this is so scary to him because his head is a little foggy. he just remembers the sinking feeling thats associated with it.

and you think its hilarious, your shirt is stained red and hes frantically apologizing and trying to fix it. he doesnt notice your giggles because hes so worried about losing you right now. if he was completely sober right now, it would only be a little scare at first, and then immediately calming back down. but hes acting on impulse at this point and hes so scared youre going to hurt him. your smile drops when you see how frantic he is.

“stevie, stevie, hey. hey, look at me. look at me, baby. whats wrong?”

and he finally does meet your eyes and immediately tears up.

“m’sorry, didnt mean to.” hes frantically wiping his tears away while he stands in front of you. its at this point that you recall what nancy had told him a few years ago. “m’sorry”

You lean forward to give him a sweet kiss on both of his cheeks, which calms him down. You decide it would be best if you got him out now, starting to lead him back to the car. Whispering “m not mad at you stevie. youre okay.”You end up helping him into the back seat, so you can be closer to him for a moment before you drive home.

“Look at me, no big deal, okay? It’s just a shirt honey, you didn’t mean to. Here, watch.” You pick up one of Steves old sweatshirts that he keeps for when you’re cold off the seat behind you. Quickly removing your shirt and becoming slightly more worried when his eyes don’t flicker down once. You pull the sweater on swiftly and look back at him. “See, all better! I like this shirt more anyways.”

He giggles a little bit, which you mirror back at him before noticing his own stained shirt. You reach behind the seats into his old Hawkins High Basketball bag, pulling out the old sweatshirt that was a little short on him now.

“Here, put this on.” You turn away while he takes off the white t shirt he had been wearing and replaces it with the soft fabric.

You’re brought back by his arms around your waist and his face in the crook of your neck. Feeling perfect now.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve stranger things #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve x you #steve x reader #st smut #dove and steve

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Excitable Boy

Prompt Day 19: Enemies to Lovers | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: E | CW: 18+ Only, Horror Genre, Violence, Murder, Assault (not Steddie), Mental Disorders, Biting, Choking | Tags: Murder Boyfriends, Dark AU, Outdated Terms, Rough Sex, Unsafe Sex, Dub-Con (Consensual, But Not Negotiated), Steve POV, Obviously Out of Character, Unhealthy...Everything, Happy Ending? (I mean, they're both happy. The world at large? Maybe not.)

This is dark. Dead dove, do not eat. Meaning, it's exactly what's written in the tags. What if Steve had an antisocial personality disorder, and the only thing his parents did was throw money at it to clean up his messes? Maybe this.

Listen to the song Excitable Boy by Warren Zevon if you're unfamiliar. Don’t let the jaunty tune fool you, but you'll get an idea of what this is. It was in inspiration for this ficlet:

Don't like the idea of that? Definitely don't read this. Thanks!

Steve can get away with anything. He knows it. They know it. 

Excitable boy, they all said.

He sits alone in his car, watching, waiting. A shadow, a ghost drifting in and out. Flickering in the dark. He strikes his lighter. Once, twice, watching the flame burn and extinguish itself. Over and over again. He sees everything in the dark. He's good at it now. He's graduated to this, escalated.

From biting to fire to small animals. Now, ready for more. 

He's ready. 

She runs from him, and he catches up and wraps his hands around her throat. He squeezes and squeezes and squeezes. She struggles. Clawing at his arms, trying to make him let go. He won't. He won't. 

Eventually, she goes slack. 

And then he lets go. She drops like a stone at his feet. 

But later, she stirs. He didn't squeeze long enough. 

He'll do better next time. 

He runs. 

He lures another girl away from a college party. It's easy. Girls will follow him anywhere. He knows what to do, what to say. His well-practiced Harrington Charm.

She's willing to go with him. Willing to get undressed in the backseat of his car. They always are. But he doesn't want willing, so he wraps his hands around her neck. She's confused, thinks he's playing.

He's not. 

He doesn't know how. 

When he takes her home, he dumps her body on the porch.

 

It doesn't take long to come for him, he didn't hide what he'd done, and they find him unfit to stand trial. Shipping him off to a home for the mentally disturbed.

They hand him a stack of bedding. Scratchy wool blanket, one top sheet, no pillowcase. It's fine. He doesn't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing does. He wanders around the common room. He won't make friends, he never does. He can pretend, if he needs to, but he can't imagine needing that song and dance here. 

Someone does catch his eye, though. 

There's a long-haired boy at the table in the common room playing cards by himself. 

Flip, slap. 

Steve hates him, hates the sound.

This boy is death, Steve's sure of it. Like sees like. He's the flame, and Steve's the moth. He circles the room slowly, stalking him, eyes unblinking. 

Watching. Studying. 

Fantasizing about what he could do to him. How he could make him hurt. Make him scream. 

They put him in an asylum. No prison time. His parents' money bought that. If you have money, you can do whatever you want. Anything at all.

And here he is, with others, just like him. He hates it. Hates the boy. Wonders if he is better at it, or worse. Maybe worse. He was caught first, after all. 

Steve waits. Stalks him and watches.

And when the time is finally right, Steve corners him in a dark hallway in the middle of the night. Neither should be out of bed. It's against the rules. Steve's never much cared for rules. They don't apply to him. He learned that at a young age.

He's just an excitable boy, they all said.

"I could kill you," Steve says, low. A threat. Cornering the boy, pinning him so he can't run. There'll be no running, not today. Staring into his big, dark eyes. 

"Well, you could try," the boy says lazily, leaning closer, unafraid, showing all his teeth. Steve hates him. He wants to be feared. Now that he's not hiding what he is, down deep. 

He's been caught. Caged. 

And this boy is, too. But he isn't afraid of Steve, so Steve will have to fix that. 

"What's your name?" Steve asks.

"Eddie.”

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

He hates Eddie. He closes his hand around Eddie's throat and squeezes. Eddie doesn't struggle. Steve hates him more. Steve likes the struggle. 

Eddie isn't giving him anything he likes. No fair. He'll kill him for it. 

Steve bites him on the shoulder and Eddie doesn't even flinch. Steve bites harder, through the cotton shirt Eddie's wearing and Eddie just laughs. 

Steve doesn't like to be laughed at. He lets go.

Eddie manhandles him into his bedroom. His cell. And pushes Steve onto the bare mattress. Nobody pushes Steve around. Except Eddie, now. 

Steve lifts his hips off the stained mattress and Eddie pulls down his cotton pants. The ones assigned to him. To all of them. With no drawstring, no shoelaces. No way to hang yourself. 

Eddie has a tub of Vaseline, and he scoops out two fingers full and Steve waits. Watches. Studies this foreign action. 

And then Eddie presses them into Steve, and it hurts. Steve likes it. It's new. Eddie tries to roll him onto his stomach, but Steve knows better than to turn his back on this boy. 

Eddie relents, slicks up his hard dick and presses inside. Rough, hard, fast. 

Steve loves it. Loves the burn, the friction. He's never felt anything during sex before. Nothing like this. He pushes back, giving, not just taking. 

Eddie pulls his hair, so Steve bites him. Again. And again. Everywhere he can reach. Drawing blood, while Eddie fucks him. Coming inside him with a groan. Then Eddie fists Steve’s dick, with only the grease from earlier lingering behind on his hand. It's rough. It hurts. Steve loves it. 

This is sex. He finally understands. 

The next day, Eddie is playing cards at the table again. 

Flip, slap. Flip, slap. Flip, slap. 

Steve likes the sound he's making now. It's obscene. It's sex. It's death.

He loves it. 

He loves Eddie. 

Like sees like. 

Eddie deals him in, and Steve sits. 

Steve develops a plan, will turn on the Harrington Charm with the staff. He knows how. Always has. He can pass as normal, as charming. They'll let their guard down, and once they trust him, he'll escape. 

He'll take Eddie, and they'll run. 

And his dad will send lawyers, guns and money. Will enable him, them, to do what they're meant to do, together. 

Notes: I shouldn't have started writing for a holiday challenge in October. The vibes are all wrong, lol, I'm on the wrong holiday.

Lawyers, Guns & Money is also a song on this Warren Zevon album. (Werewolves of London is also on it.) It's a 45 year old album these days!

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 #enemies to lovers #dark fic #murder boyfriends #dead dove do not eat #read the tags #excitable boy they all said #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #Spotify

[granatkoroleva]

𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fandom ⊳ Marvel, Captain America

Rating ⊳ Explicit

Warning ⊳ Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Pairing ⊳ Hitman!Steve Rogers x Recovering!Bucky Barnes

Word Count ⊳ 6.3k +

Summary ⊳ Steve, a hitman on an assignment during the festivities of Christmas, catches sight of the most beautiful man in the world — hidden away in his target’s gang trophy collection.

On the other hand, Bucky is a survivor of a traumatic incident from five years ago. He is focused on rebuilding his life through therapy and living a sheltered existence to avoid drawing attention. It is ironic when fate intervenes the day he meets a man who is kind-hearted and generous; offering the battered, bruised, and retired vet a sense of solace and stability.

Their connection is something neither of them can understand, but the comfort it offers leaves neither of them willing to question it. Over time, Bucky develops an admiration for the man, but a shocking discovery throws him into a panic and sets off a series of events straight out of a harrowing psychological thriller, only, with a romantic twist.

Tags ⊳ Modern AU, Non-Linear Narrative, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Hitman Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Minor Character Death, Mentioned Past HTP, Blood and Torture, Mild Gore, Improper use of Christmas Decorations, Penectomy, Stalking, Steve's Dog Is A Matchmaker, Unhealthy Relationships, Dark Steve Rogers, Kidnapping, Flashbacks, Violence

Chapter One ⊳ Scarlet Stocking - Prompt ⊳ Stocking

Chapter Two ⊳ Heart Strings - Prompt ⊳ Heartwarming

Chapter Three ⊳ Where The Heart Is - Prompt ⊳ Home

Chapter Four ⊳ Frozen Nightmares - Prompt ⊳ Jugular

Chapter Five ⊳ Baby, It's Cold Outside - Prompt ⊳ Blood In The Snow

Chapter Six ⊳ Tis The Season - Prompt ⊳ Giving Back

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | Masterlist | AO3 | @deaddovedec

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #smutconnoisseur #deaddovedecember2023 #cw: dead dove do not eat #dead dove december #steve x bucky

[steve-faglan]

Breaking and Entering pt. 2

Reader x William Afton/ Steve Raglan

TW: NON CON!! DUB CON!! NON CON!! NON CON!!

Summary: You can't stop thinking about that place. About him. You make one more foolish visit and end up in a new predicament.

PART ONE: HERE❤️

It's been weeks since you and Mike narrowly escaped the infamous William Afton. Mike doesn't talk about it, though he does find himself masturbating to the feeling of your mouth around his cock. The two of you hang out pretty regularly still, despite the horrors inflicted upon you.

You and Mike get together at a local park. It's usually empty, and today is no different. There's a small nook behind the trees on the far side of the park and that's where the two of you go to smoke. As the weather gets colder, the foliage around the woods dies down, revealing a perfect view of Freddy's. You swallow the lump in your throat when you see it and Mike quickly catches on.

"Hey, don't look at it. Let's just go back to my house." Mike tried to redirect your attention, but you continued to stare. A strange yearning builds in you that you're certain can't be what you truly want. Why would you want to go back there? You don't know, but the longing remains. You attempt to fill that craving in other ways.

"Let's go to your place." The two of you head to Mike's and he tries to softly reassure you that you're safe. Something he's had to do for you these past few weeks after the attack. He doesn't know that something in you has changed.

When you get inside, the second the door closes, you press your lips to Mike's, both hands gently holding his face.

"Is this okay?" You ask, breathlessly breaking the kiss.

"Y/N, are you sure you want this?" Mike looks shocked and concerned.

"Is this okay?" You ask again, more sternly. Mike looks into both of your eyes and finally nods before desperately reconnecting his lips to yours. In minutes the two of you are naked and fucking all over the living room. Mike is rough and desperate like he's only ever dreamt of this moment and won't let it go to waste. But it's not enough.

Mike pulls out and finishes on your ass and the two of you collapse next to each other on his couch. The room is silent aside from the unsteady, deep breaths.

"Holy shit..." Mike sighs in disbelief. You nearly fall asleep next to each other. You're not sure how to ask this, but you need to know if it's just you who can't stop thinking about that night.

"Mike."

"What?"

"Do you ever... Think about going back?" Your question confuses him so much, he doesn't even realize what you're talking about.

"Back there? No, I don't. I-I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I don't- I never think about that day. I try not to, for you." He rambles on, but you tune it out, disappointed in his answer. "Why?"

"No reason. I've just been having a lot of dreams."

"Nightmares?" Mike attempts to clarify.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Nightmares." You shrug it off. Hoping the subject gets dropped seeing as you aren't on the same page.

"Oh shit, Abby will be home soon." That's your cue to leave. Mike drives you home and it's clear he's developing feelings at a rapid rate. He bids you goodbye with a beaming smile and you do the same. Once he's gone, you go inside your house and beeline right for your bedroom.

No amount of fucking Mike or touching yourself to the memory would satiate the urge you have to let Afton has his way with you again. Your only drawback is... Would you get to live a second time? The nighttime air is crisp and chilly as winter rolls in. You stand on your porch for an entire hour before you finally get in your car and make the drive.

At first, you just sit in the parking lot. You look for another car, maybe you missed it last time. You don't see one. You begin to wonder if he's even here tonight. What a waste of this manic, dangerous behavior that would be. You eventually step out of your car and shakily approach the doors you snuck through last time.

"What the fuck am I doing?" You whisper to yourself. Something like a wave of common sense washes over you and you take a few steps away from the building. You're torn between using logic and getting the fuck out of there and the curiosity of him even still being inside. You didn't see a car, after all. You hold your breath and carefully enter the building.

Last time you were here you were careless and loud, this time your steps are as delicate as falling leaves. You hold your breath at every turn. The place is entirely silent and you don't disrupt it any further. You're carefully treading across the main area when you come across the table. You become tense as warmth pools between your legs.

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly realize you don't want to be here. This was a mistake. You keep your eyes on the crime scene as you run away, not looking where you're going. You run into a tall, broad frame and it leaves you flat on your ass, looking up at him. William Afton. The man you came looking for and hoped you wouldn't find.

"Back already? You're filthy." He chuckles as he stands over you, basking in his power over you.

"N-No! Please I'm sorry. I- I was confused. I don't know- I don't-" You struggle endlessly with your words, raising a hand to shield yourself as you remain on the ground.

"Stand up." His demand confuses you. He's calm and quiet, it's unsettling.

"W-What?"

"Stand. Up." He speaks sternly. Impatient. You do as you're told and scramble to your feet. William places a controlling hand at the nape of your neck, guiding you like a dog on a leash. You're too scared to speak, protest, or even cry. This is it, you think.

"I- I'm sorry," you sob, but he only rolls his eyes.

"Why'd you come here?" He asks, coldly.

"I don't know! I couldn't-" he cuts you off.

"I meant the first time. Why'd you come here?" William seems to lean into your ear when he speaks, sending chills down your spine.

"I- we came here as kids," you say, hoping your nostalgic ties could earn you mercy.

"You and Micheal?"

"Yes. I just wanted to relive it for a while. I'm sorry," your story dissolves to pleas.

"That's adorable." His voice is cold and evil and the two of you disappear into a dark corridor.

Back at his house, Mike calls your landline several times. A little tied up at the moment, you're unable to answer. He recalls your troublesome questioning earlier and decides you need to be checked on. After all, in his mind, you're already his now. Mike pokes his head into Abby's room and sees she's sound asleep so he makes the drive to your house.

"Y/N?" He calls, careful not to be too loud outside your home at night. He knocks for a little while longer and even looks through your bedroom window. Nothing. He climbs back into his car to return home, not wanting to leave Abby alone for too long.

On the way he passed that damned restaurant and at the last second spots your car in the furthest corner of the lot. His stomach drops. He doesn't know how, but he's certain William lured you back there to finish the job. He squeals the tires as he whips the car into the lot and haphazardly parks before clamoring inside through the shifty entrance.

"Have a seat." William gestures to a chair similar to a dentist's chair. It has restraints and looks like it's meant to take different positions. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"P-Please. I know coming back was stupid." You shake your head and try to back away from the threatening furniture, but his hand holds you in place. His grip grows tighter and he pushes you toward the chair. Fight-or-flight takes over and you begin to fight back. You swing at him and scream for help as loud as your lungs will let you. The sound rips through your throat and burns as you pray someone hears you.

"Y/N?!" Mike calls out, having heard your screams echo through the building. "Where are you?! I'm here!" He runs up and down the many passages and doorways of Freddy's, feeling more hopeless by the second.

William successfully fastens you into the chair and steps back to admire your helpless form. He's breathless from the struggle. Pushing his hair back into its coiffed position, he licks the blood off his lip from your resistance.

"You're unbelievable. Coming back for more and acting so ungrateful. Don't think it's not perfectly obvious why you've come back," William taunts. He circles you like a shark in dark waters. He reclines the mechanism and begins to carefully remove your clothes. He's oddly gentle compared to the way he cut your clothes off last time. He unfastens each restraint one at a time until you're exposed before him in nothing but your panties.

William starts to gingerly massage your breasts, his mouth hangs slightly open in an expression that asks "What's next?" Your face becomes red and you can't help but look away from him, squeezing your eyes shut and begging your body to stop rewarding him. Your nipples harden for him and your lace panties become soaked with your arousal.

"You must've worn there for me," William gushes as his hand finally travels down to your waist. Goosebumps ignite on your skin and it's everything you can do to stop yourself from moaning. He's teasing you. He slips his fingers inside you and you lose the battle, releasing a loud, desperate moan as he curls his knuckles inside you. He's older, and more experienced. It's as if he knows your body better than you do.

He fingers you until you've given up on holding back and you're just a writhing, moaning mess in front of him.

"Shh, shh..." He whispers as he knowingly guides you to your climax.

"William-" you start to protest, but it just comes out as you moaning his name. Just as he brings you to your limit, he removes his hand entirely. Something he seems to love to do. "No!"

"Filthy little thing. Look at you," he ridicules you as he licks your arousal off his fingers. He adjusts the chair again and you're left with your legs spread for him. He takes his position, waist high to your aching entrance. "You knew what you wanted when you came back. I'm going to give it to you." William unfastens his belt and releases his throbbing cock. It seems even bigger this time. Likes he's been teasing himself this whole time. His breath shudders as he slips the tip up and down in the wetness of your clit.

"I-" you stutter.

"What is it, puppet?" He roughly runs his hands up and down your thighs, awaiting your next line of resistance. The pet name makes you feel disgusting and your face reddens.

"I don't know if-"

"You don't know if you can take it?" He asks but gives you no time to respond before he's slammed completely inside of you. He releases a loud guttural moan as your cries cause you to flex around his erection. "You're gonna fucking take it."

He thrusts into you repeatedly, stretching you out and stimulating you beyond pleasure. Your screams and moans carry throughout the hallways and Mike follows the sound.

"Looks like we have a visitor," William laughs, continuing to fuck you as he watches Mike scramble around through the security monitors. "He's getting warmer."

"Let her go!" Mike finally reaches the security office door and watches in horror as he bangs on the window. His screams are muffled, but William can still hear enough to laugh at him.

"Come take a turn, Micheal. Listen to her," he begins to toy with your clit while he's thrusting in and out of you. You want to hold back so badly, but it's not an option. You release screams of pleasure. Mike didn't even know you could make sounds like that. So degenerate and needy. It's almost distracting. Finally, he busts through the door, sustaining some damage from using his body as a battering ram.

"Let her go. Now." Mike is a new kind of angry. Protective. William tilts his head as he slowly slips out of you and fastens his slacks. You're left whimpering and exhausted.

"Here, Micheal. Have a go. Tell me how tight she is." He holds out a hand to you like he's offering a friend a tray of cigars. "Don't tell me, you two already fucked, right?" William laughs. "Was it anything like what she needed from me? Are you capable of that?" William's words set off a rage inside of Mike. He charges at the tall, broad, older man, but he's quickly and easily tossed aside. William grabs Mike by the shirt and pins him against the wall.

"Don't be stupid. She's alive because I'm using her. I don't have that much reason to keep you around." He drops the short, protective man and turns to face you where you lie half-conscious on the table.

"Just leave us alone. What more could you want?" Mike sighs, defeated.

"Oh, plenty. Unfortunately for you, it's not enough just to fuck your friend. I want the suffering." He unfastens your restraints. "I want the shame." William wraps a hand in your hair and all but throws you onto the floor. You collapse on the floor with a cry of pain and Mike runs to your aid.

"Hey, hey. I'm here, okay? I'm here," Mike frantically tries to comfort you.

"Micheal, you're really disappointing. You have to know the only reason she gave it up was to relive what I did to her," William laughs. Truly amused to be so powerful over the two of you.

"Shut your fucking mouth. Don't talk about what you did to her!" Mike holds you to him protectively, but he seems to freeze up when William comes to collect you. He stands you up on all fours, holding your head by your hair, forcing his length down your sore throat right in front of where Mike remains on the ground behind you. He's frozen as he watches you put up no fight. Your swollen hole is perfectly presented to him and he can see it becoming wetter by the second.

"Y/N..." Mike mumbles your name as he watches. He's unsure if he's heartbroken, scared, or aroused.

"I'm not always going to share her, Micheal." William's manipulative words wrap around Mike like strings on a puppet. Like it's the last time he'll ever feel your skin again, he digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you against him, grinding against your throbbing cunt. Finally, no holds barred, he shuffles his pants down and roughly slams into you. It's as if William's influence was inescapable inside the walls of the restaurant, and Mike couldn't stop his darkest urges.

You moan against William's dick as he manually bobs your head with his fist full of your hair.

"All you're good for is getting fucked. Even your 'best friend' thinks so." William laughs as tears streak down your face. You're jostled back and forth as each man shoves themselves deeper and deeper inside of you. Afton finishes first, filling your mouth and throat with warmth as Mike takes over. He plows into you, quickening his off-beat thrusts as he reaches his peak.

"M-M-" Mike assumes you're trying to say his name. Ask him to stop. Lust has completely taken him over and he gently shushes you between hard thrusts. To his, and William's surprise, you finish your sentence. "More."

With a devilish smirk, William shoves Mike out of the way. He pulls out just as he finishes, covering you in his cum as he sits back, reeling from the orgasm. William takes over, effortlessly spinning you around to take advantage of your battered pussy. He lies you on your back and lifts your pelvis to meet his. He hesitates for a moment to look at you. Your demeanor has been completely shifted. The fear and struggle were replaced with an out-of-character neediness.

"Please!" You wail, arching your back and begging to be fucked. He chuckles as he uses one hand to guide himself inside you. You gasp as he slips past your lips. He has more girth than Mike, and seems to hit something inside you Mike just can't. You release a continuous stream of degenerate moans as he drills you. He laughs over your wails as he picks up his pace, chasing his second climax. Mike can only stare at the two of you. The way you unfold for him and how rough he is with you. He's jealous but frozen watching you cum harder than he thought possible.

William finishes inside you just as he did last time, claiming you. Mike doesn't get that power. You scream as you flood William and his well-pressed slacks and he fucks you through your high. Once he's finally done, he leaves you on the floor, too weak to move. He's so swift with fastening his pants and belt, that Mike barely realizes what's happening until Afton lands a devastating blow to his temple, knocking him unconscious.

You weakly lift your head, slowly coming to and the orgasm and lust clear from your mind.

"Mike!" You exclaim, but it's nearly silent as your throat has been used so roughly.

"Shh..." He whispers and he kneels over you next. His two strong, calculated hands reach your neck and begin to squeeze. Your eyes widen. This is it, you're certain. Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into his eyes, watching as he turns blurry and eventually fades to black.

Hours pass, days, who knows how long? Mike wakes up in the same dark alley as before. He searches for you frantically, but you're nowhere to be found.

"No, no, no, no..." Mike bangs on the doors, screaming your name to no reply. He quickly notices your car is missing and he hopes that you just left him there and went home. He deserves it and worse, after all. He stumbles to his car and drives to your place.

"Y/N," William tauntingly calls your name as he watches you come to. You realize it's the first time you've heard him say your name and you hate the way it makes your clit throb. You squeeze your eyes shut and open them again to see him standing in front of you. "I think I like you. You may feel like a prisoner for a while. But let's see what freedoms you can earn, okay?" You rise from your spot and notice you're in a room that looks almost like an incredibly tiny apartment. Like a pet cage for a human.

"Wait, what? What are-" he cuts you off as he steps out the door.

"You'll be here for a while." The door closes and you're left alone in the plain, beige room. To be used, whenever.

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