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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?" He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

Text

whole wide world

rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!Eddie, teacher! Steve, gooey-clingy-heart-eyes Eddie needs his Stevie ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, amateur musicals, steve needs to stop using a ladder unsupervised because nothing bad happened this time but eddie is concerned that is the love of his life, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day thirteen: Love is showing up when someone doesn’t ask ❤️ (@steddieas-shegoes)

look who's back, just like every other day, it's the rockstar husbands from je ne regrette rien being their codependent, desperately-in-love selves again! ♥️

“Goddamnit,” Steve curses the staple gun, the dry-rotted wood he’s trying to use it on, the acrylic-covered tarp masquerading as a backdrop leaving little crackle-dust everywhere every single time it fucking falls because the wood’s shit, the staples are shit, his co-advisor’s kid’s sick with the flu, the kids are in the band room rehearsing the opening number and Steve really cannot fucking believe he got roped into this to begin with, actually, like, how the fuck did the middle school guidance-counselor-slash-study-hall-monitor get conned into helping with the high school drama club, just because one of his JV soccer players landed the lead and bemoaned loudly enough during laps how they didn’t know if they’d be able to make the performance even work, because the choir teacher’s on maternity leave and the band director’s kind of a dick, and the needed more help—

Steve only is even in the high school for the goddamn athletics office. For, y’know, the equipments for the athletes.

Yet: here he is. Standing on a rusty fucking ladder that probably needs a spotter, to be honest, and if Steve’s admitting that then yeah, it definitely needs someone holding the goddamn thing, but here he is, already two hours after the final bell, trying to stick a painting of mattressesin a stack that only vaguely looks like mattresses so thank god that’s in the show title—

The ladder wobbles a little when he tries to catch the tarp-thing again but he can’t reach far enough without risking a long way down to a very hard stage floor, so the backdrop’s sacrificed back to the ground—a-fucking-gain—as he shifts his weight to steady the steps and it’s a close thing, he’s about ninety-seven percent sure he’s aimed the teetering feet of it back to solid ground okay but he glances around quick just in case, tries to figure if there’s anything he can grab for and let the ladder go on its own if need-be, and—

“That’s fucking dangerous, big boy,” a deep, and deeply unexpected, voice trails up from the floor, clipped with stress, with fear because Steve fucking knows that voice, and the ladder’s suddenly fully steady so he can turn and look and—

“Gonna give me a goddamn stroke or something, finding you up on one of these all by your lonesome,” Eddie’s staring up at him, and the words could be teasing, and Steve thinks maybe they intend to be, but: those eyes are too big. There’s a pulse Steve can count in that throat, even from seven-feet-up.

So he does what any man in love with his husband would do in the face of said-husband in fear, and for him: Steve climbs down careful, but quick, with Eddie’s hands scrambling to make sure of the ‘careful’ part as soon as he can reach, and then he turns, and then he lands on solid ground again to pull Eddie in and thank every colleague of his he’d been cursing in his mind for leaving him alone to do all this shit, because alone is the reason he gets to kiss his lover hard, and full; wrap around him and let him squeeze Steve to the point where it aches, where it creaks in his bones, like proof.

Lets Eddie attach his lips to suck a bruise, possessive and needy and protective all at once along his throat, and yeah:

Exactly like proof.

“What are you doing here?” Steve asks when they pull apart just the slightest bit, because he wasn’t expecting Eddie to be home until probably close-on to midnight, let alone at the school well before five.

“Thought you could maybe use an extra set of hands,” Eddie shrugs like it’s a casual thing, showing up just to help out when he’s on a press cycle, and it’s evident even in his attire that that’s the case, if you know what to look for: more chains from his jeans, thicker soles on his boots just flirting with being platforms, at least two rings on every finger—save just one.

One has a ring, and a carefully-preserved and repeatedly-reinforced bread-bag tie: both serving the same purpose in very different points in their lives.

Point being: Eddie was wading through photoshoots and magazine spreads and radio spots and every fucking thing, and no matter how high he’s raising his eyebrow in a clear calling out of how he found Steve atop a shaky ladder as being obvious evidence of having use of an extra set of hands, the fact remains:

“But you’ve got the interview—“ the big ass interview with that shock-jock guy Steve kinda hates, but that’s a big fucking deal, and was the precise reason Steve wasn’t lamenting giving up his afternoon and evening to the at-least-halfway-to-lost-cause of the not-even-an-actual-full-fledged-theatre department: he wasn’t going to have Eddie home before bed anyway.

And yet: here stands the man.

“The boys have got it,” Eddie shrugs, like he actually doesn’t give a shit, and that’s…he does give a shit, he had sounded excited about it last night when they’d talked about their plans for the week over dinner, when Steve had bemoaned the travesty of this fucking production of Once Upon A Boxspring or whatever, and Eddie’d told him he was pretty sure he was going to be able to say fuck on the show even if they’d edit it, like he wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d looked like a kid in a goddamn candy shop about it so yeah: Steve thinks he kinda did give a shit.

But he’s…not there.

“Gareth’s been itching to take the reins after he won out the final track list,” Eddie offers as explanation; “cocky bastard.”

And they collaborate on all the writing, music and lyrics, they’re not even the slightest bit competitive about it which would be hard to believe if all you saw of the members of Corroded Coffin were their goddamn shenanigans during a campaign; but the one think in their music that they docompete over?

Whose title-idea gets the opener on a given album. And Gareth did end up scooping them all when the execs came back with a shuffle. Steve had watched it unfold in real time; he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a grown man crow like Gareth had, and he is married to Edward fucking Munson.

So that’s saying something.

“Eds,” Steve tries to prod a little at the point of it all though, because Eddie’s got press, and this is a high school, and probably Eddie could get to the studio in time to catch the end of whatever, it’s prerecorded, he knows that much, they could squeeze a live interview in so they could probably do Eddie at the end and just shuffle it around, right, it’s easy, and that’s so much more important than this because this:

“Eds, it’s just a—“

“It’s the spring musical, baby,” Eddie says like he’s announcing the arrival of the president, of the Queen of England, then his eyes soften a little as he flicks at one of the real mattresses that will, presumably, be props for the actors if the show’s title isn’t a fucking lie: “you know that’s where my DM throne had its humble origins, before I elevated it to greatness?”

Steve did know that, not least because they’d smuggled Eddie in to DM a few special sessions before the gremlins graduated, and he’d taken his seat with regal aplomb every time, and Steve had learned that yeah, they used the random storage room that was mostly drama shit for Hellfire.

And the way he’d learned that was by sucking Eddie off hidden by some very ratty but very conveniently poofy ballgowns from a production of Cinderella.

“I missed you.”

Steve turns to him and blinks; Eddie’s eyes are on the mattress, his stance almost a little shy.

“You saw me this morning,” Steve doesn’t ask, exactly, but he…he’s not sure he’s following, is the thing.

“I was,” Eddie sighs, and flops to sit down on the mattress which, thankfully, is a mattress and gives a little, bounces under him.

“I was just feeling, I dunno,” he gives a shrug that fades into something like a shiver, and then Eddie’s arms come around too hug around his middle as he ducks his chin and, oh no.

None of that.

“I thought about you being, you know, you,” and Eddie gets to gesture at the mess of the stage only halfway before Steve’s catching his hand, lacing their fingers and pulling Eddie back up to standing, then back into Steve’s arms here he leans heavy, sighs deeper this time; relief instead of something shallow.

“Just you doing all this when you don’t even have a horse in the race, y’know?” Eddie muffles into the side of Steve’s neck, burrowed in tight. “And I was supposed to be in the zone about press and shit, and it just,” he shakes his head, which is more like the brush of his lips back and forth against Steve’s skin; “it wasn’t clicking at all, like I posed and did the looks and whatever,” and oh, Steve knows the looks, Steve has about half those looks printed out and framed in various parts of their home or tucked safe inside his wallet, whereas the other half he takes great joy in recreating at random to the chagrin of his darling husband, love of his whole goddamn life.

“Then Jeff asked if I wanted to duck out,” and Eddie smiles up at him, a little sheepish; they both know the boys can see right through Eddie feeling needy, or lovelorn; Steve’s grateful as shit for Eddie’s bandmates, their friends, for knowing when Eddie just needs Steve.

“I didn’t even think twice, just,” Eddie swallows hard, a little, peeking up through lashes and bangs as he exhales:

“Just wanted to see you before the middle of the fucking night.”

And what can Steve do in the face of that, really? He can’t argue it. Wouldn’t ever fucking want to.

“I love you,” he frames Eddie’s face and kiss the bridge of his nose, then soft between his brows as he breathes out with his whole heart: “so goddamn much.”

“Can you promise me you won’t do the,” Eddie tips his head behind them; “the ladder thing, at least not by yourself?” And Eddie’s eyes are so, so big again. “Like, pretty please, don’t do that again?”

“I won’t,” Steve swears it, and kisses him firm to seal the promise: “thanks for coming to the rescue.” Because there was a three percent chance Steve was going to wipe the fuck out from very very high, and he’s have survived it, but he’s not twenty anymore, and it would have fucking sucked, probably for a while.

“Always, baby,” Eddie murmurs, still tight against Steve lips before he straightens a little, and this time he’s framing Steve’s face, but more holding him still in place, emphatic:

“Actually, amendment,” he says seriously, eyes darting between Steve’s a tiny-touch frantic: “next time you need to be on a ladder, you call me first,” he damn-well declares it, rather than asks; “so I can hold it steady.”

“My hero,” Steve breathes against him with a smile, and there’s not even a hint of teasing in it.

“I don’t trust any other hands to catch you, baby,” Eddie tells him, a little too raw; full sincerity bleeding from him all the sudden as he caresses down the cheeks he’s still cupping: “no one else in the whole wide world appreciates what you’re worth.”

“And what’s that, exactly,” Steve scoffs a little, playful where he’s held in Eddie’s arms but Eddie: Eddie’s holding him tight, now, and his heartbeat’s heavy where he’s moving to crush Steve to his chest, and there’s a little wavering pitch of something in his voice when he whispers:

“The whole wide world,” and oh.

That’s the answer.

It’s Steve’s answer, too, to the same exact question, but hearing it said so plain never stops feeling like the ending and remaking of the whole wide world, every time.

So yeah, Steve has to take a minute to swallow through the tightness in his throat, and maybe he does that with his forehead bowed against his husbands so they breathe each other in as a rule just in the course of living in the moment, together—and when the straighten up Steve steals a kiss first, quick but hard, with feeling, before he cracks his neck and sighs, taking in the scene that’s settled around them.

“Help me try and figure this out to hang?” Steve kicks at the tarp-tapestry, and Eddie walks its perimeter critically before frowning up at Steve.

“Think it needs some touch ups,” he pronounces solemnly, and fuck, yeah, all the color-dust from the useless staple-holes and the falling. But his husband’s actually really good with details, and matching colors, and using a brush, and fantasy settings—

“Paint’s in the back,” he says with a lilt of suggestion and Eddie lights up and grabs Steve’s hand to drag him toward the promise of painting, like maybe all he needed really was just…this.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

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iiconicxpersona · 9 months

Text

Whatever It Takes.

Javier Peña x f!Reader

Warnings: this fic features a scene from s02e03 Our Man in Madrid and that episode is a trigger warning in its own, but if you need specifics then this fic includes ANGST, mvrder, su!c!d3 attempt, depression, alcoholism. MINORS DNI & READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (I cannot stress that enough)

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: You and Javier get tagged along in a manhunt gone wrong with the return of Colonel Carrillo. After the tragedy that occurs, you look to Javier for comfort only to get heartbroken when he seeks comfort from another woman.

From the moment you were assigned the Escobar case in Bogotá, you prepared yourself for the best and the worst. You knew that once this case was finally over, and God only knew how long that would take, you would not return to Texas like the woman you were when you left. However, it didn’t seem to matter exactly how much you prepared yourself ahead of time in all aspects; nothing was ever going to prepare you for all the horrors you had witnessed and the ones still yet to come.

“We’re all in. Whatever it takes.”

Words you, Agent Javier Peña, and Agent Steve Murphy repeated to each other almost frequently to remind yourselves and each other that this is what you signed up for when you agreed to do whatever it took to catch Escobar and every single person whoever took a single dollar from him. Of course, Messina and the entire force did everything they could to keep your missions restricted, but to catch a bad guy; you must be willing to break some rules.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Colonel Carrillo was the King of playing by his own rules. His methods were cruel and relentless, but they were effective in one way or another. But those same methods ultimately led him to be transferred to Spain. When he was brought back on the team by the Colombian government, it shook you to the core, and the only problem was that you could no longer tell if that was good or bad.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The first mission at hand with Colonel Carrillo is to track down every spotter Escobar had hiding in the area. It seems simple enough, considering the spotters were mainly children under eighteen.

“Peña, Y/L/N, you come with me.” Carrillo orders.

You and Javier exchange looks of concern to each other and then to Steve, who's disappointed when Carrillo tells him to stay behind for radio contact.

“You be careful out there,” Steve adds as you and Javier follow Carrillo to one of the unmarked cars.

“You got your vest on?” Javier asks without looking at you.

You nod and pat your stomach hard enough to make the bulletproof padding audible. “I never leave without it.”

“Good. This could get ugly, so I want you to always stay beside me. Understand?” He finally looks at you while still walking forward.

“Jesus, Javi, this isn’t my first rodeo.” You scoff.

He rolls his eyes, clearly not amused by your comment. “Cariño, I’m fucking serious. These kids are dangerous, and the last thing I want is for you to underestimate one, and he holds you at gunpoint or worse.”

Just then, you remembered what Javi had told you the day Steve’s adopted baby girl, Oliva, was rescued, and you instantly regretted trying to be sarcastic. He never told Steve, but while they were chasing down the two men responsible for murdering Olivia’s biological family and you were in the house guarding her, Javier came close to catching one of the men until a little boy caught him off guard from behind and held him at gunpoint. Javier was sure that at any moment, the kid would pull the trigger and kill him, or worse, he would miss his shot, and Javier would have to kill the kid instead. Thankfully, once the guy he was chasing got away, so did the kid, and ever since then, Javier knew that with the right amount of money and power, Escobar could make anyone do anything.

“Always stay beside me. Understand?” Javier demandingly repeated.

You nod. “I understand.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

One by one, each kid that Escobar hired as a spotter was taken into custody. However, Carrillo had other plans instead of taking them straight to the station for interrogation like you and Javier thought.

Given Carrillo's extreme methods in the past, you should’ve known that this wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped. Though you figured that because they were just kids, what could go wrong?

Everything.

One right next to the other, at least seven boys are lined up in the middle of a dark alley with their hands behind their heads and sitting upright on their knees. You stand next to Javier off in the distance while Carrillo paces slowly in front of them. As you examine their faces, it breaks your heart to see how young they are. Some look at least sixteen, but the youngest looks six or seven.

They try to keep stone-cold faces on while Carrillo attempts to scare them straight. A couple of the boys laugh at him and make insults in Spanish.

“Shut up, kid.” Javier mumbles.

You do your best to look as emotionless as possible, but mentally, you are frightened to know what is going through Carrillo’s mind, especially when he pulls out his gun and begins loading it in front of them.

One of the older boys laughs and asks Carrillo if he should be scared.

“No,” Carrillo replies.

BANG.

You stood there and watched the now young lifeless body slowly fall to the ground. Aside from the streetlights, the alleyway is pitch dark due to the summer evening, but you’d swear you could see everywhere the boy’s blood had splattered as if it happened in daylight.

It took every fiber in your being not to lose your cool or vomit at the scene. You were even too afraid to reach for Javier, who was only a couple of inches away from you, for some comfort. Although judging from how his body tensed up and the look on his face, he was just as distraught inside as you were.

What was Carrillo thinking? Even if the kid tried to be a fearless macho man about it, he was still just a kid. There were plenty of other ways Carrillo could’ve tried to prove a point to them about the dangers of working with someone like Escobar. Regardless of whether you liked it, he gave them a harsh reality check.

Carrillo then takes one bullet from his gun and hands it to the youngest boy, telling him to give it to Escobar and let him know who it is from. You watch helplessly as the boy takes the bullet with tears running down his face and stuffs it in his pocket. Then Carrillo finally sets the remaining boys free. You immediately cling to Javier once they are out of sight.

He hesitates for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around you, still in shock from what just happened as you tried your best to hold back your sobs.

“Cariño…” Javier struggles to find the right words. How could he comfort you when he couldn’t convince himself that everything was fine? “We have to go.” He finally said.

Whatever it takes.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

This is one of those nights you wish Javier wouldn’t depend on a cheap hooker to help him forget.

About six months ago, after almost losing you during a shootout mission, Javier suggested that you move in with him “for your safety,” which you hesitantly accepted two months later. Murphy always teased how Javier always had a soft spot for you, and although you couldn’t deny you also had a soft spot for Javier, you tried to keep your crush precisely that: just a crush. Even if it nearly killed you inside when he would come home late smelling of sex, cheap perfume, and cigarettes.

While staring blankly at a pile of paperwork, your mind couldn’t stop replaying what happened less than an hour ago. Steve tried talking to you about how frustrated he was about Carrillo not trusting him to tag along with the mission, but his words only went in one ear and out of the other.

“You should be grateful.” You finally spoke up, still not taking your eyes off the paperwork.

At that moment, Steve gave up on his argument. As much as he hated feeling like an outsider because of his looks, nationality, or poor Spanish, he knew his troubles were nothing compared to what you and Javier were going through at this very moment.

You could hear Javier mumbling under his breath on the phone at his desk, which generally meant he was talking to one of his hookers. At that point, you were already two shots deep in tequila and resting your head on your arms to hide your face like the game you used to play at school as a kid.

You hated the jealous feeling that crept up inside you as he talked to her about meeting with her in the next half an hour.

Why tonight of all nights? Or if he needed a good fuck to help him forget, then why couldn’t it be with you? You were there. You saw everything happen just as he did. Did it ever occur to him that maybe you needed a night of meaningless sex to help you forget everything too? In all the years you had known Peña, he had no shame in screwing every woman in sight, but he never once offered to put his hands on you. Sure, you flirt with each other almost every day, but would there ever be more? Were you not pretty enough? Or not skinny enough? Or because you didn’t open your legs to every man in sight?

“Cariño, you all right?” Javier’s low voice startles you out of your thoughts. He places his hands on your shoulders and begins to massage you once you sit up and lean back into your chair, feeling your body relax under his touch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You lie. Your voice is now hoarse from choking back all the tears and emotions.

Javier leans down and wraps his arms around your upper body with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Don’t you disappear on me, okay?”

You nod, and he kisses your cheek and gives you one last squeeze.

“I gotta run a few errands, but I’ll be home late.”

Desperation kicks into high gear, and you cling to his arms for dear life. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s just for a few hours. I need to clear my head. You understand, right?” He pulls away from you once your grip loosens, but you still reach for him.

“Well yeah, but…”

“But what!” He snaps at you in frustration.

Then it hits you in that very second like a ton of bricks: you and Javier Peña will never be more than just friends.

You let go of his hand when the tears build up again. “You know what? Just go. I won’t wait up.”

Realizing what he had just done, a wave of guilt washes over Javier, and he slowly steps towards you. “Shit, cariño I’m sor…”

“I said go!”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

By the night's end, you had already downed most of the tequila. Murphy knew Javier would kill him if he had let you go home by yourself, so being the southern gentleman he is, he gave you a ride home.

On the inside, you were trying to fight off too many emotions. You didn’t dare to let Steve see you cry, especially after witnessing your little moment with Javier. For what? So that he can tell Javi, and they can laugh at how pathetic you are behind your back? Though you knew they would never do that, it was still a fear that helped keep your emotions in check.

“Thanks for the ride, Murphy.” You half smiled at him.

“Of course.” He could hear the pain in your voice, but he tried his best to keep cool. You’re already going through enough as it is. “Hey, just know I’m right next door if you need anything.”

“You’re a good man, Steve. Connie’s a lucky girl.” You lean in to give him a small peck on the cheek before letting yourself out of the car.

You dread every single step toward your shared apartment with Javi. You dread it so much that if you were stable enough, you’d walk to your old apartment two buildings over. Most of your stuff is still there, considering you had just moved in with Javier four months ago. You had only brought essential things like clothes, makeup, bathroom stuff, and a few sentimental values. But the fact that you were barely making it on your own to Javi’s front door was enough to make you rethink.

Once you stumble inside, the first thing you noticed was how quiet it is. Too quiet. Not that you and Javi were noisy people when he didn’t have women over, which thankfully wasn’t often ever since you moved in. But even then, the apartment is never this quiet. You hate the silence. It only made the events of tonight replay louder and louder in your brain.

Throwing off your coat and shoes, you let them land wherever as you make your way to the radio and turn it on to a local rock station with the volume on full blast. You swerve over to Javier’s liquor cabinet and mindlessly scan around at each of his selections. The one bottle of bourbon he saved for special occasions had caught your eye. Judging from how rich the bottle looks, it must be one of his most expensive liquors. Your conscious told you to stop, but the music and your drunk state of mind were enough to tune it out. You grab the bottle from the glass shelf and gnaw the cap off before downing the liquor like water.

You never smoked a cigarette, but once you found Javier’s carton in the cabinet, you pulled out a fresh pack and ripped off the plastic wrap. Javier was already a heavy smoker as it was, but he seemed to smoke a lot more when he was stressed out, and you wanted to know what it was like. If it helps Javi calm down, why wouldn’t it help you?

You flick the first white stick out of the small paper box as if you were already a natural to smoking. Not that you would admit it out loud, but after seeing Javi do it a few times, you were tempted and tried it for shits and giggles.

Lighting the stick between your lips, you inhaled deeply only to choke out the nicotine and smoke immediately. “I can’t believe Javi likes this shit.” You gag.

The first few puffs were disgusting, and if it weren’t for the bourbon making it easier to wash down the horrid taste, you would’ve thrown up after the first puff. But soon enough, you were already on your second and third cigarette. Each smoke is smoother than the last.

Dancing around in the living room in a tank top and panties, with a cigarette in your mouth and another bottle of whiskey in your hands, you were on cloud nine, and for the first time that night, nothing else mattered. You weren’t aware of how much you had already drunk or how you were already almost finished with the first pack of cigarettes. You even forgot you were in Javier’s apartment until the clock caught your attention. It’s 2:30 am, and Javier still isn’t home. If you were sober, you probably would’ve been worried sick about him, but his delay made you angry. He didn’t have to spend the night with another cheap hooker, and if he did feel the need to, he could’ve at least called you to let you know he wasn’t coming home.

How dare he? After everything you two had been through tonight, how dare he leave you alone? How dare he not be here so you two can try to comfort each other? How dare he yell at you in front of Murphy, embarrassing you when you only wanted him to stay? How dare he be a typical douchebag and leave you just to get his dick wet by some random bitch he barely knows? How dare he not see that you care about him so damn much? How fucking dare Javier Peña!?

At that moment, you refused to reason anymore and instead let your anger-fueled adrenaline take complete control of your body.

His precious liquor cabinet is the first item to fall victim to your rage. You push it off the wall with full force and watch it slowly crash to the ground, just like the little boy did in the alley. Then you grab every bottle that didn’t break in the fall and throw them in random areas of the living room. Only the shattering noise, your cries, and the loud music fill the void that is Javier’s apartment.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You don’t remember how you wound up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet with more bourbon in one hand and your pistol in the other. Your adrenaline was still pumping through your veins uncontrollably, and you couldn’t feel any of the cuts that formed all over your body from the broken glass. Miraculously, none of which were too deep to leave a permanent scar.

There’s no telling how long ago your rampage began, but suddenly the radio that was once blaring rock music had gone silent. You didn’t care. You sat there hugging your knees with the hand holding the pistol while continuing to drink.

You could hear heavy footsteps slowly inching closer to the bathroom, and then he turned the corner with his pistol pointing directly at you.

“C—Cariño…” Javier mumbled in shock.

He was about to rush to you, but then he froze in place the second you extended your arm and aimed your pistol at him. “Don’t. Come. Any. Closer.” You demand.

Suddenly, every ounce of color was flushed from Javi’s face. He slowly put his gun down on the sink and raised his hands in surrender. The image made you chuckle as he slowly dropped to his knees before you.

“Baby, plea—”

“SHUT UP!” You scream, and it catches you both off guard. “All I wanted was for you to stay with me. To help me forget. But no! Typical Javier Peña; you had to think with your dick! You didn’t even care enough to call me to let me know when you’ll be home or to see if I was all right. Do you realize that I probably would’ve never made it home if it wasn't for Murphy? Thank God he’s a fucking decent human being, unlike you!” At this point, you couldn’t hold back the tears as you cock the gun, making Javier tense up in fear for the second time.

“Cariño, I’m sorry. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I should’ve been here for you, and I know that now. But please don’t do this.” Javier pleaded.

“It’s too late.” You choke out.

Javier felt his heart stop when you pointed the gun barrel at your temple. In his mind, he had already snatched the gun from your hand, but physically he couldn’t move.

However, once you pulled the trigger, the only sound filling the apartment was a click.

You gasp at the reality of what you were about to do and drop everything in your hands. Only then did Javier find the strength to stumble over and embrace you tightly in his arms.

You hyperventilate and bawl into his shirt as Javi tries to calm you down. Once again, your hands cling to him for dear life. “I’m so sorry, Javi!” You cry.

“Shh. Shh. It’s all right, baby. It’s all right. I’m here now.” He strokes your hair and slowly rocks you back and forth in his arms until you finally fall asleep.

Javier gently picks you up bridal style and carries you to his room, where he could grab a wet towel and some hydrogen peroxide to clean some of your cuts off before tucking you into bed. He took a second to sit there and stare at you as you slept peacefully. If he didn’t feel guilty before, he does now.

Javier sometimes liked to think of himself as a sharp man, but he was blind when it came to you. Murphy often told him that anyone could see you two were head over heels for each other, but he never accepted it as the truth. He never thought you cared about him as more than a friend. And he blew it when he finally had his chance to prove to you that he was worthy of your heart.

There was no telling how long it would take you to forgive him, but he was willing to do whatever it took to regain your trust. He’s all in now, and this time, he wouldn’t make this mistake again.

#narcos #narcos fic #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

Note

Hi! I hope you're doing well🥰

Can I be greedy? I NEED me something from the kiss prompt lust if you're willing, of just about any of them, for Autumn (Rosie) and Steve? I genuinely cannot pick, there are at least 10 kinds I'd die to read about🥲 I miss them.

(No pressure!)

eeeeee, I miss them too! I choose --a kiss after a small rejection-- because we all know I love me a bit of angst before the fluff with 🍁 Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader 🍁 [one of my Valentine's Fics for 2024]

Warnings for not much (super mild cursing) except please remember that this reader chose the name Autumn Rose Barnes after rescued from Hydra. Steve calls you 'Rosie,' zero other physical or personal descriptors. It's not an OC! Sorry to lecture, but I've gotten complaints and needed to explain this multiple times...Also, you and Steve adopted a German Shepard mix named Maple. WC 1370

Your Team, an Autumn Is Healing tale

With the fastest, most forceful, super soldier movements you can manage, you shred the single page of paper in your hands.

Those cowards delivered it while you were in your garden. They put it under your door, far back in the building, and they ran away with their tails between their legs.

“‘Not able to authorize you at this time’ MY ASS,” you screech.

“I’m sure the Council didn’t make the decision lightly.” Steve diligently picks up tiny pieces off the carpet as you toss them everywhere.

It’s all you can do not to burst straight through the walls.

“How dare they? Have I not done enough?! What more do they want??”

You aren’t an Avenger, not now, maybe not ever, and the future just looks blank when before it seemed so clear.

You can fight—you should fight,—so why not put you to work? Why not let you on the damn Team?

“They don’t trust me,” you think aloud. “All this power, and no one wants me.”

He stops at the trash and puts his hands on his hips, dejected. “That’s not—Sit down, okay? This isn’t about any of that. You are wanted and trusted here.”

“I can pull my weight, Steve. I can give back what you all have given me. I can be a team player, I promise, please. PLEASE. Tell them. Please tell them I’m ready.”

“Rosie, no one doubts you are ready or capable or any of that, and you are part of the team. More importantly, I am on your team. We all are. Only thing that happened today is some bureaucrats covered their asses—“

You and maple cock your heads in shock, but the language changes nothing.

“Then why can’t I be of use?!”

“Here,” he specifies. “In here, in the compound, of course, we trust you. You know this place. You know all of us. But sweetheart, there is so much out there.”

He changes tactics. “We don’t need—I mean, the Council doesn’t see—you were trained as a soldier, yes, but that’s not who you are. That was so you’d obey their commands. The rest of us, we’re grunts. And frankly, I’m glad you won’t be in harm’s way.”

After thinking for a few seconds, something obvious occurs to you. Steve always fights for what you want, and he’s…not now.

You rush toward him with an accusatory finger up. “You did this.”

“What? No,” Steve balks.

“You did this, didn’t you? That’s what you told them to get them to say ‘no.’ You told them I wasn’t up to it, not a real soldier. You told them I’m not cut out for the Team because you didn’t want me fighting beside you.”

“I said I wanted you safe,” he tries softly.

It’s not a wall you’re about to burst through. “You took my chance!”

“Rosie, that’s ridiculous. I never—“

His phone makes a noise like a foghorn—the call to the jets. Danger. The Team needs him.

You both look up from his hip at the same time, eyes locked between fury and compliance.

“Better go.” You scowl. “Wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

His face falls, and he stands there, listening to the alarm sound again, then again.

Without another word, Steve gives up and leaves.

You lock the door and remove his entrance privileges. It won’t keep him out, but it will slow him down and make a point when he returns.

If he wants to keep the battlefield personal, then this can be your domain. He can apply to participate. He can go through a crucible of grueling interviews and tests and then last-minute, made-up tests because they just wanted to find one reason…

And Steve handed it to them on a silver platter.

When he comes back he tries the door. You can hear the mechanical lock beep in rejection of his hand print. He tries again. He knocks, he calls out with a louder knock, and then, finally, he uses the override command, the one that they technically all have because you can’t be trusted. Not really. Not fully.

He enters the dark rooms quietly.

You’re on the bed, laying with your hands wedged between your thighs, Maple’s belly warming your feet, the window blinds all the way up, moonlight and stars visible as a small comfort.

He doesn’t know if you’re asleep or awake until you speak.

“What was the point—why put me through all this if I can’t help? Am I just a thing to breed?”

“Rosie, honey, that is not and never has been true.” Clearly cautious from your argument, Steve stays a short distance away.

“Then why did no one look for me? I was right there, strapped down for years, because that was my purpose, that’s what I was created fo—”

“So was I,” he exclaims gruffly. “I was made to do one thing, and one thing only, and I still sat in the Arctic for seventy years! It doesn’t prove shit—“ he kneels down beside the bed, holding your hands and whispering pleas into you skin “—and no one but you can define your purpose.”

Maple whines and bows her head over the edge.

”I want you,” he continues. “I trust you. If it makes me selfish to…fine, I’m selfish. So be it. I don’t want you out there with me, I’m sorry. I don’t. See, I lost people when they got sick, when they went to war, when I went to war, when I came back, when I didn’t come back.”

He pauses, tracing small patterns over your thumb while he squeezes your hands.

“Please. Please, sweetheart. Just give me this one thing because even though you have a serum, I can’t…I can’t imagine…if anything ever…

“We are super. We are not indestructible,” he admits. “Losing you would destroy me.”

Steve looks fragile, his features shadowed by more than the night.

“You don’t need to become an Avenger. We are already on your team. We are your team. You have nothing to earn. You have nothing to fight for. We lo—I love you. I’m in awe of you because you became so much more than they tried to make you be.”

The dog howls gently in agreement.

“Me and Maple are your biggest fans, too.”

Said ‘fan’ harrumphs on cue, making Steve burst into a smile.

“There’s a whole fan club. We have a slogan—‘Go Autumn’—there’s gonna be t-shirts and scarves.” He drops your hand to spring up. “We’re your cheerleaders, right, girl? See?”

He hurdles over you to his side of the bed and starts hopping up and down with his fists in the air. Maple goes ballistic barking.

“RAH, RAH, ROSIE! RAH, RAH, ROSIE!”

Steven Grant Rogers, born the fourth of July, one-hundred plus years ago, jumps on the bed, bouncing till you reluctantly roll off and stand.

Maple gets down with Steve, panting, and watches intently, thinking her dad has really lost the plot in a super fun way. Maybe she’ll get a treat even.

He steps in front of you, running his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“Wha’d’ya say, Miss, can I be on your team? Do you want me? You trust me?”

If you weren’t so close to tears, you would have answered him immediately. Instead, you hum.

He scoffs. “You Barneses are so picky.”

Steve pulls you into a hug, lifts your chin and says softly against your lips, “go, Autumn, go,” before capturing you in his zeal.

The truth of it is you know he wants you, and you know he trusts you. Knowing that Steve feared for your safety makes you more anxious to have him out there.

You hold him tighter.

He's right, of course, that risk is everywhere and nothing is promised. How could he say 'no' to peace of mind? You'll never be lost. He will never lose this one thing.

Though you will not be joining the Avengers, one of the many things you are a part of is this: a slow dance in the dark with a good man.

A slow, slow dance between his tongue and yours, that is.

After what feels like hours of him kissing you so sweetly, Maple is bored and stretching into a ready stance.

She yips indignantly.

You pull away from Steve. “I know, girl. I always want him to come home, too.”

He rests his forehead to yours. “She’s right. I should respect her mom’s independence.”

Maple squeals and flicks her head (and ears) to the side. Where’s her treat, you crazies? She put up with your tension all night, and she deserves a reward.

Ransom Drysdale and a kiss as a 'yes' ⬅️ ➡️ Lloyd Hansen and a kiss on a place of insecurity

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #autumn is healing #super soldier!reader #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve x reader #valentine's day fanfic #valentine's day prompts

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familyvideostevie · 7 months

Text

october seventh

day seven: steve harrington you run into your ex and he’s wearing your scarf | mostly angst, maybe some fluff! hopeful ending! | 1.2k

You run into him in the last place you ever thought you’d see Steve Harrington: your local coffee shop.

It’s entirely possibly you’re hallucinating. Your ex-boyfriend? Here? In your coffee shop? This isn’t Hawkins. You left that place six months ago to come here. You left everything behind. Including Steve.

It’s crowded in the shop, typical for a fall day, and he looks like he’s alone. You watch him from over the top of your book and sink into your chair a little bit. Maybe he’s meeting someone? Or he’s lost and is going to ask for directions. There is a part of you that wants him to see you and say hello and another party that desperately wants him to leave.

He looks…okay. His hair is a little longer than you remember, curling at the ends. His coat looks new. But around his neck is — oh god. Is that the scarf you looked for this morning? The one you decided had been lost in the move? Did you leave it at his house? Or does he just…have the same one?

Steve reaches the front of the line and is all smiles with the barista as he orders something. When he’s finished he moves to the side and runs a hand through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. A nervous gesture he hasn’t gotten rid of, it seems. It hurts to look at him, which really cannot be a good sign. He checks his watch, a sure indication that he’s got somewhere to be and will be leaving soon.

But then the barista calls his name and he gets his drink and it’s in a cup with a saucer and not to go and all you can think is fuck.

Steve looks around for a seat and you realize that your table is the only one with a spare chair. What if he comes over here? What if he asks to sit down? What if he doesn’t know you? Would that be worse than him saying hello? Than him catching a glimpse of you and storming out, coffee forgotten?

You look down at your book without seeing the words on the page and count to ten.

Someone clears their throat. “Hey, can I sit here?”

You consider not looking up, but manners get the best of you. He’s still wearing your scarf but his coat is unbuttoned. You watch as his eyes rake over your face and then go wide, mouth forming an “o” before he actually takes a step back. Did he not recognize you? You dated for a year.

“Oh,” he says. “Uh, nevermind, I’ll just —”

“Steve,” you say. “You can sit down.” You haven’t said his name out loud in a while. He blinks at you.

“Are you sure?”

“Just sit. You’re in the way.” It’s not true but it gets him to fall into the chair and set his coffee gingerly on the table. He peels off his coat and your scarf and hangs them off the back.

“You come here often?” he asks. Seriously? He backtracks, frowning as soon as he’s said it. “Sorry, that was dumb.” Maybe you’re making him nervous. As it is, your heart is beating so fast you’re worried he can hear it. That’s just what happens when your ex who you’re still in love with wanders into your local coffee shop, it seems. Maybe he’s upset. Maybe he remembers every single thing you said to each other that last night months ago.

You used to think he could read your mind until he couldn’t. Until all you wanted him to do was ask you to stay and he didn’t, so you left. And he never called.

What is he doing here? How is he? Is Robin enjoying college? Are the kids excited to finish high school? You have so many questions for him, things you would know already had you stayed in Hawkins. “Is that my scarf?” you ask instead. You want to shove the words back into your mouth immedietly.

Steve blanches. “Uh,” he says.

“Looks like mine,” you continue, closing your book and folding your hands on the table. Looks like you’re doing this.

“Um,” he says again. “Yeah, I think it is.”

The worst part of all of this is that you never stopped loving him. You dream about him and think of something you want to tell him almost every day. He is one of the best people you know and life without him has been bearable, sure, but you wish he was with you. You feel safest, most comfortable, most loved with him. But he let you leave.

“What are you reading?” he asks.

No, not this time. You will not let him avoid this. What is there to lose, right?

“Steve,” you manage. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a deep breath. He hasn’t taken one sip of his drink. “I swear I didn’t know you would be here,” he says quickly. “I know you live here but I’m on a work errand for my dad and I thought wow, this is a big enough place that I won’t see her and —”

“Well here I am,” you say.

He sighs. “Yeah.”

Your throat feels tight. “You never called.” You feel alarmingly close to tears, all your righteous anger evaporated at his earnest expression and his stupid hair and his stupid face.

“I didn’t,” he agrees.

“Why not?”

“You know why.” Yes, you do. Steve never thought he was good enough for you. He always thought you deserved more than him and Hawkins and all the rest, but he never listened to you when you told him it was enough. It was what you wanted. You wanted him because he made you happy and you thought you made him happy, too.

“Stupid excuse,” you say. “I stand by that. You should have called.”

He looks at you without saying anything. Really looks at you, long and hard enough that you want to squirm under his gaze. “And what if I had?”

You rub your eyes with the heels of your hands. “I don’t know, Steve. We probably wouldn’t be here at this stupid table.”

In an ideal world, none of this would have happened. You like your life here but you miss what you had. In an ideal world he would tell you that he was wrong, that he still thinks about you, that he misses you. He’s wearing your scarf.

Instead, he looks at his watch. “Are you, uh, busy?” You hold up your book. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

Do you? You could tell him to fuck off, tell him to leave you alone and never speak to you again. And he would do as you asked. But you still love him and that’s just the stupid, messy, inconvenient truth. You love him enough to want any time with him that you can get, to see if maybe there’s anything left.

“Sure.” Steve stands immedietly, fully abandoning his untouched drink. You follow him to the door with your stuff.

“It’s kind of cold,” he says, holding out your scarf.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You keep it.”

He smiles a little and you walk out ahead of him into the cool air. You never wanted to be over Steve Harrington and now is your chance to see if he feels the same about you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington y/n #steve harrington angst

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seek--rest · 8 months

Text

Final Thoughts on The Dumb Teen Show

I'm too old for this media, this media is not written or meant for me.

Alas, we move:

It's the finale and I must finally speak my truth. I have not nor will I ever give a shit about Taylor and Steven. Taylor was a terrible friend to Belly and I'm sorry, I never forgave her for that. Cheating is despicable and I know that's rich coming from a show that's highlighting a love triangle between brothers but that's just how it is. Taylor is boring and annoying, Steven is grating as a person and as a brother and all the chatter of how "this show is bad but at least we have Steve and Taylor" I simply cannot relate to any of you!! They're bad people and not even in an interesting can't wait to root for them kind of way they're just Bad and more offensively, Boring.

JEREMIAH GET BEHIND ME. The way you deserve so much better in this show and in this universe. I've long been Team Jeremiah in the sense that everyone needs some fucking therapy (himself included) and that he needs to be in a better universe, with a better show and better writers. This is a boy that is consistently pulled around, has to fake a smile because that's all that is expected of him and the (1) time he actually shares his frustrations in a way that isn't absolutely perfect, he's mistreated by damn near everyone including the fandom. Everything about him in the last episode is a person that has so much maturity in a way that just doesn't make sense considering the hell he's been through. He's the better person.

Which was no help to fucking Susannah!!!!!!!! I've long since lamented that the show dropped the ball on exploring the real, tangible grief of Laurel in losing her Susannah and the more the season went on, the more frustrated I was because SUSANNAH IS A TERRIBLE MOTHER. She's arguably a shit sister. She is, within the narrative itself without looking for subtext, someone who is really fucked up! And what do we have to show for it! Nothing! The show did absolutely NOTHING with what they set up for her and never once interrogates how fucking demented she is to tell a fucking sixteen year old on her death bed to watch out for Conrad. poor Conrad. You love Conrad. He loves you. This isn't even because I think Jeremiah is the better person/brother (I do) but on any level you swing it, that is seriously fucked up to ask that of a teenager. As a grown ass woman!! What is wrong with you! Why are you asking her to watch out for your grown ass son AND ONLY the one son? When Jeremiah walked into the room after that?? It's like fuck did you forget you're a mother to TWO people here?

Removing Jeremiah entirely, that would still be so supremely fucked up and that is just one thing of the many things that have shown cracks in Susannah's life and experiences that now? We'll never get to explore. Laurel, hold my hand. Go to therapy with me. You will see the truth in time.

Conrad is a fucking terror of a human being. I'm sorry, I cannot understand how or why he has so many fucking defenders especially from anyone with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. "He's mourning his mother" "he doesn't know how to express his feelings" "love it when he's petty! king!" like what is wrong with all of you. This isn't to say "omg your ship is soooo bad because it's unhealthy" because whatever, do what you want. But for so many to argue with their whole chests that Conrad is like an angel sent from heaven that is tortured and misunderstood and to mean that with utter sincerity has me convinced 1) every single one of you is also 16, never been in love before and/or in love with the toxicity of an emo bad boy or 2) loves the toxic drama. Which if it's the second, that's fine! But it's rare (if ever) that it's someone acknowledging that Conrad is a big fucking red flag.

I know the drill. I know what the endgame is. I haven't read the books but I don't have to. I understand Narratives. Conrad is going to "grow" and "develop" and the narrative will "prove" that fuck whatever Belly chooses, fuck the objectively more mature and more insightful and person who actively communicates with Belly even as a teenager that is Jeremiah, the show will contrive some way to bring Belly and Conrad together because they're Meant to Be or some shit.

Fuck fate. Fuck having to be emotionally manipulated and twisted around. Fuck having to being told that you're not mature enough and grow up from the same person throwing constant temper tantrums. Fuck the age difference honestly. Fuck the fact that this person always saw her as a little kid until she flirted with someone else.

I don't condone violence but Laurel's slap? Idk I think Belly needed that reality check. She needs to leave both of these boys alone. She needs to be in therapy, she needs to be single, and needs to let go of this idea that the world revolves around her.

I hate this dumb show so fucking much.

Can't wait for the next season.

#seek streams #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty spoilers #tsitp #tsitp spoilers

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stobinesque · 9 months

Text

intro & masterlist

read • 29 • ze/zir/zirs

I follow and interact from @amusingdisplacement.

Mostly Stobin, Steddie, and Lucas Sinclair content here, but I am, broadly speaking, a multishipper! (There is the occasional canon-Stancy-critical reblog here and there, tagged anti-stancy for filtering purposes.)

No DNI criteria, but minors take note that there's fairly frequent 18+ content here. And B*lly Hargr*ve fans who don't think he's canonically racist: we will not get along.

links & nav guide

[ ao3 account ] • [ spotify ]

tags:

#read.txt : original homegrown ramblings. sometimes there are even coherent headcanons here.

#read writes : general-purpose writing tag

#read microfic : where all of my microfic drabbles for my 250 follower celebration can be found!

things i currently ramble about a lot:

#jeff is steve's bi awakening au | #wayfinder tag [s4 lucas pov fix-it] | #first light tag [rockie apocalyptic first date fic] | #wigwag tag [steve's gay slut-discovery era: the fic]

fic list

highlights:

currently posting: Follow Celebration Microfics!

newest: held frozen like an angel to me • E • steddie • [read on ao3]

biggest hit: lay your cuts and bruises over my skin • unrated • Steve-centric • [ao3 only]

writer's higlight: the firmament in you • T • stobin • [read on ao3]

SERIES

semiotics 'verse

[series masterpost tk]

/ˌsemēˈädiks/ plural 1. the study of signs and symbols and their use or interpretation. "Queer identities, and the everyday practices and performances associated with them, cannot be dissociated from the ways in which they are expressed by language—in all its subtleties and implicit associations as well as explicit self-reports—as situated in dynamic contexts of social norms and values, politics, power, ideology and various media" (source)

lay your cuts and bruises over my skin

3/3 | wc: 22k | Unrated | Gen / Steve-centric | ao3 only

People like to say that Steve can’t take a punch. But that’s not strictly true. The other accusation—that he’s no good at throwing a punch—is closer to the truth. But really the issue can be neatly summarized by the fact that he’s a little too good at taking a punch. OR A history of Steve Harrington’s bruises.

plinth

One-Shot | wc: 1k | G | Gen / Robin & Max | read on ao3

There are monsters in Hawkins, Billy Hargrove is dead, and Robin is sitting next to his kid sister while her summer job burns in front of her.

phryctoria

7/7 | T | Gen / Stobin & Steve-centric

Sometimes your gay awakening is just having someone to show you it’s possible. After Starcourt, Steve realizes he's gay, comes out to his best friend, and starts figure out how to navigate his new reality with her. Sometimes your gay awakening is just having someone to show you it’s possible. After Starcourt, Steve realizes he's gay, comes out to his best friend, and starts figure out how to navigate his new reality with her.

A Cure for All That Ails You

One-Shot | wc: 6k | T | Gen / Stobin | read on ao3

Steve gives her a despairing look. “Please don’t tell me your only experience of grilled cheeses have been ones made with Kraft singles.” “Okay, I won’t tell you!” She says brightly. Steve looks to be on the brink of tears. “Hey…it’s okay, Steve. I promise you can pop my good-grilled-cheese cherry!” Steve’s expression, if anything, grows even more pained. “Please, for the love of God, do not put it like that.” For Lex's Spicy Six Summer Fanworks Challenge prompt: “How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?”

perfect creature rarely scene

held frozen like an angel to me

One-Shot | wc: 10.3k | E | Steddie | read on ao3

There's a figure in the doorway, silhouetted by the chandeliers he keeps faintly lit in the receiving hall. Eddie sees the outline of wings. Of horns. A flowered crown. No sooner has he had the thought to reach out than the figure is stalking towards him. Eddie still can't move, and the beat of his heart picks up its pace. Not yet pounding in terror, but racing like he's just started a chase. He wants to speak. Wants to cry out, wants to— "Hello, my pet."

ONE SHOTS

the shape of things lost; the shape of things to come

T | wc: 1k | Gen / Stobin | cw: Major (Canonical) Character Death, Post-Season 4 Vol. 2, Grief & Mourning, fatalistic thinking

hitch, loop, hand & heart [ READ ON AO3 ]

E | wc: 2k | cw/tags: Bondage, Shibari, Hand Kink, Praise Kink, Anal Fingering, Soft Dom Steve, Good Boy Eddie, ‘puppy’ used as a term of endearment

the mouth that feeds you [ READ ON AO3 ]

E | wc: 4k | cw/tags: Office Sex, Desk Sex,Lingerie, thigh biting, Stone Top Robin, Sassy Pillow Princess Nancy (kinda), ‘sir’ used as an honorific, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Dacryphilia (just a dash), Edging, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting [there’s…a lot going on here]

CHALLENGES & PROMPT FILLS

Steddie Week fics:

Day Two: Fluff [T+]

Day Three: First Kiss [T]

Day Four: Familiar / “let me be the void you fill” [T+]

Days 6: Misunderstanding & 7: “Freedom!” by Wham / “talking could, if we’d just dare (you know that i’ll forgive you)” [part 1][part 2]

Steddie Microfic Challenge fics:

July

prompt: 'pool' original wc goal: 442 bonus round goal: 273 title: center stage • rating: E / M • cws: Kink, D/s dynamics, Public Sex, Bondage, Chastity Device (briefly implied), Boot Kink, Light Degradation/Humiliation

August

prompt: cake wc goal: 311 fill 1: gilding the lily • rating: E • cws: cockwarming, facials, group sex, “puppy” used as term of endearment

fill 2: avarice for pearls • rating: E • cws/tags: D/s dynamics, free use, sloppy seconds, Daddy Kink (no age play)

Spicy Six Summer Challenge fics

A Cure for All That Ails You One-Shot | wc: 6k | T | Gen / Stobin | read on ao3 prompt: “How did you go through life so far without knowing how to make a grilled cheese sandwich?”

TK: the firmament in you [prompt: Dancing under the stars. - stobin] TK: first light on the horizon (at the end of the world) [prompt: First date - rockie]

prompt fills

prompt: “Just pretend to be my date.” [stobin] rating: T (for language) | wc: 771

prompt: things you said but didn’t mean [stobin] rating: T (for language) | wc: 616 | cw: hurt/comfort, arguments & misunderstandings

prompt: things you said through a closed door [steddie] rating: M (for frank discussions of sex) | wc: 679 | cw: hurt/comfort, erectile dysfunction, internalized ableism

prompt: things you didn’t say at all [stobin] rating: G | wc: 276 | cw: angst, hurt/comfort, ambiguous loss

Playlists!

fic related mixes

World's #1 Babysitter Mixtape [rel: lay your cuts and bruises]

Steve & Robin's Scoops Tracks [rel: lay your cuts and bruises]

Steve's Heartbreak Playlist [rel: Steddie Week Day 7 fic]

Stobin Car Tracks #1 [Summer '85] [rel: phryctoria]

Jeff Taste Profie ['84] [rel: 'Jeff is Steve's Bi Awakening AU']

Wayfinder playlist

first light on the horizon [a Vickie mixtape]

(at the end of the world) first light vibes playlist]

the firmament in you playlist

perfect creature rarely seen series playlist

get to know the author mixes

Stobinesque's Ten Song Recs

STOBINESQUE [username playlist]

STOBINESQUE [vol. 2]

AMUSINGDISPLACEMENT [username playlist – main]

#about me #ok to rb

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bedlamsbard · 1 year

Note

This is actually 3 things because ongoing breakup situation fried my brain so I kept forgetting. 1. That Peggy meta was a thing of beauty and I love that you managed to make her imperfect without ever falling into "this British aristocrat is a Relatable Underdog." 2. I kinda want to write my "alt!Loki hitting both his own and Thor's avengers beats" theory, but I don't want to make you feel like I'm trying to get you to go back to morning when I like Home a lot, your call? 3. Talk about Howard?

Aww, I'm sorry to hear you're not having a good time. <33333

I CANNOT get over the fact that the MCU tried to (a) make Peggy's and Whitney Frost's situations equivalent to each other in AC S2 when the flashbacks themselves made it clear that Peggy had every advantage Whitney didn't and (b) make Peggy's and Steve's situations equivalent to each other in CATFA and What If. I can actually see Peggy assuming growing up privileged but expected to fit into a certain role is equivalent to growing up poor, second gen, sickly, and with a single parent, but the narrative itself seemed to feel like those were identical, which is seriously uncomfortable.

I would be delighted to hear your alt!Loki theory! I don't get bothered about Morning the way I do with my Star Wars fic; I know exactly what's going to happen and how this story is going to end, I just haven't felt like working on it lately. So I would love to hear your theory!

Howard is a freak, which I say quite often and with affection. I don't think the MCU in any way intended him to be; it's a consequence of Howard mostly appearing in other people's memories, more as a plot device than a character, which is what he is in Tony's narrative. (And Tony says as much in his first scene in CACW.) We only see Howard as a non-constructed character on very few occasions and the only really extended occasion is CATFA, which is a much younger Howard than we see in Ant-Man or Endgame, or even his very brief flashback appearance in CACW. (I count IM2 as a constructed Howard because he's on camera and he knows he's on camera, he's just constructing himself here rather than being created by other people's memories/needs/etc.) Because Howard plays this wide variety of roles -- distant father, industrialist, inspirational father, casus belli, domineering boss, etc. -- it's easy to overlook what we see of Howard which isn't filtered through other people. I mean, literally, our introduction to Howard in IM1 is in newspaper articles about him. In IM2, it's Tony's memory of him, it's Fury using him to manipulate Tony, it's recorded videos -- and then CATFA we actually meet Howard, who is already at this point living the double life that Fury tells Tony about in IM2. Nobody knows he's involved with the SSR, just like for seventy years no one knew he was a member of SHIELD -- twenty years after his death! -- no one outside of SHIELD knew he was a member of SHIELD, including his own family. And the fact that Howard is the kind of person who not only could keep that secret, but actually did is such a major characterization note that should be the first thing anyone thinks of when it comes to him. Because everything else he does should be filtered through "this man is keeping a huge chunk of his life a secret." (and, I mean, one could definitely look at that as a metaphor for "Howard Stark was in love with a man for fifty years," but also it's...not a metaphor, he literally did that.)

#I could talk about howard a lot but it helps if I know which way to go!#thinking recently about the cartwheels I turn to take the best possible interpretation of not great stuff howard was involved with #I'm honestly surprised I don't get called on it more often (i.e. vibranium the manhattan project the cacw super soldier serum)#thelurkinglark #bedlam replies

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blankinsidecards · 2 years

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Steddie fic rec list

Absolutely nobody asked for this but here we go! These are my top 5 favorites, meaning they live in my brain 24/7 and I want them tattooed on my eyelids. Edit: this has been updated!

oh, happy dagger on sunshine bones by inallthingsgoodorbad

Rating: M • Edit: Complete!

Eddie Munson is stuck in the Upside Down. Barely alive. Steve Harrington is trying to sleep and failing at it, miserably. What a strange thing it is, to save the world alongside friends and come away from it with nightmares and loneliness.

A fix-it fic to a heart wrenching degree. Deals with the trauma and ptsd of each character in really careful detail, and plots out a bright future for them in the same breath. Lots of gorgeous, if messy, original poetry that fit with Eddie’s emotions throughout the fic in really beautiful ways. This fic is criminally underappreciated, but it’s an absolute masterpiece. Highlights include: the nickname of ‘Angel’, bedsharing, a fluffy lumax subplot that made me sob with joy, a wonderful appreciation for our dear Uncle Wayne Munson, and food as a love language. Slooowww burn with so much pining.

the most remarkable thing about you standing in the doorway is that it’s you by @greatunironic

Rating: E • Complete

Sixteen years after the world didn't end for the last time, Max Mayfield showed up on Steve’s doorstep and said, “You gonna walk me down the aisle in May or what?”

Or, it’s 2002 and Steve Harrington attends a wedding, a funeral, and a birth.

As the writer says in the notes of the first chapter, it’s a love letter to “Steve Harrington, father figures, + metalheads everywhere” which I think says more about the feel of it than I can convey here. The way that everyone is written, specifically Joyce and Hopper’s relationships with Steve, as so firmly family is something I didn’t know I needed so bad. I don’t reread fics very often, but I’ve read this one all the way through three times, and have listened to the podfic twice as well. (I’ve never been able to get into podfics but @itty-bitty-blondie did such a beautiful job with it) It will have you ugly crying through every chapter, I guarantee. And as fucking sad as it will make you, it also the softest, most comforting thing I’ve ever read in my life.

You’re Divine by OonionChiver

Rating: E • Edit: Complete!

‘Blood?’ Eddie says again.

Eyes black but for the slice of iridescent white in the centre. His teeth are sharp, his hands are weapons and Steve thinks maybe he’s made a mistake doing this without telling Eddie first. Eddie’s focus lowers, it moves to his left hand which is…

Oh fuck.

It’s dripping blood onto the floor.

‘Shit,’ Steve says, takes a single step back, swallows. ‘Eddie, I’m so sorry, fuck.’

Eddie can’t seem to look away, can’t bring his ethereal gaze back up where it belongs. Steve thinks he should run, he should flee. A tiny part of him knows Eddie will chase him. Eddie will catch him, outrun him easily.

It's more than a little fucked up how that thrills him.

So far, this is definitely my favorite Vampire!Eddie fic I’ve read so far. I’m going to come right out and say it: I’ve read my fair share of toe-curling smut in my time, and this is the only fic that while I was reading it, I felt like I got a ‘New Kink Discovered’ alert. If you like your ships to be co-dependent in the most fucked up ways possible, this is for you. I cannot stress enough how absolutely drunk on this fic I was at the end of the first chapter. Good lord, PLEASE check the tags yourself before reading, it is A Lot. Apart from how hot it is, the author has put a huge amount of detail into the technicalities of Eddie’s vampirism and, I’m not sure if this is accurate due to my own lack of knowledge, but it seems like a lot of it is directly drawn from D&D mechanics and Kas lore. I may be wrong here, but it’s impressive either way. Another big highlight is that they take a sledgehammer to the Mr. & Mrs. Harrington’s shit in a beautifully cathartic way. Don’t be put off by the fact that there’s so few chapters, each chapter is really long and covers several days. It took my two an half hours to read the latest chapter (and I only had to put my phone down to scream into my pillow like, six or seven times)

the lathe by @palmviolet

Rating: M • Complete

"This time, do it right. This time Eddie won’t bleed out in his arms, in anyone’s arms. This time, Steve will do it right."

— or, Steve relives the day they try to kill Vecna over and over, and Eddie just can't seem to stop dying. Steve finds this totally unacceptable.

It’s a time loop fic. It’s a Steve-centric time loop fic. It has more themes and symbolism than Chekhov could shoot a gun at. It peels Eddie’s character apart like an onion. It’s the ultimate put-your-blorbo-in-a-glass-jar-and-study-him-like-a-bug for EITHER of them. It had me waiting like a war widow for each update. I was more anxious over the ending of this fic than I was of the actual s4 vol2. Again, check the tags and individual chapter warnings for yourself because, as the author warns, it really does get so much worse before it gets better- but it gets better. I think this may be one of my favorite fanfics of all time, of any fandom, and that’s really saying something.

a bottle of rouge (just me and you) by @anniebibananie and @galmance

Rating: E • Edit: Complete! • AU

Eddie was sure 1988 was going to be his fucking year. Harringley had finally made it big enough for their first national tour, and, sure, they might all get sick of each other on the bus and kill their livers over the course of several months, but this was his fucking dream. None of that other shit could wreck it.

But Eddie Munson’s life has always been a dumpster fire of massive proportions, so really he should have expected it: Steve Harrington ruining his fucking life.

[Over the course of Harringley’s first national tour, band rules are made, broken, and might just cause feelings that leave them on the precipice of destroying everything they’ve built.]

Eddie-centric band fic where the Fruity Four is a band and everyone is too fucking hot for their own good. Classic friends-with-benefits setup with delightfully fast realizations of Actual Feelings. I’m talking a -‘no fucking bandmates’ rule at the beginning of chapter one, and a blowjob by the end of chapter one- kind of pace. I haven’t seen a lot of bi/pan Eddie fics yet, and this one does a good job describing how he feels attraction. (I’m NOT saying it’s ‘good bi/pan rep’. The man is a SLUT and it’s FUN) I also love how they’ve written Nancy as this hardcore drummer while somehow keeping her completely in character. Highlights include Jonathan Byers being Steve’s ex-boyfriend, Argyle being the band’s beloved bus driver, and several absolutely electric concert scenes. There’s also not a SHRED of ‘period-typical homophobia’ if that’s something you, like me, have a hard time reading.

Edit: the sequel come right inside (welcome to my new life) just began and it’s from Steve’s pov five years later. Where Side A was the epitome of Sex, Drugs, and Rock & Roll; Side B is already addressing the recovery the characters have needed from that destructive lifestyle, and I’m so down for it. Edit: also now complete and with a very sweet happy ending!

#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things fic rec #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic rec #stranger things fanfiction #fic rec list #steve x eddie #steddie #fanfiction #top five favorites #top five Steddie fics #steve harrington/eddie munson #free to reblog

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crimeronan · 30 minutes

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sorry to keep turning your horror into comedy but like. please join me in picturing Hunter, staggering from his sickbed through the palace halls down to the portal. which is guarded. hunter tries to order the guard to let him through and Steve is like, okay. no. you are literally bleeding on the floor right now. please go lie down before i call Lilith.

hunter tries this three more times in the next week and a half. eventually steve says he’ll let hunter through as soon as he can make it across the room without leaning on his staff. this is why it takes hunter so long to find luz in the human realm.

(it would have taken even longer but amity told him to find a human library first thing. and also that if he didn’t send word after a week she was coming after him.)

i haven't thought a whole lot about Exactly what goes down after belos and luz leave, but i love this. i feel like there's probably some brief debate about whether hunter or lilith is next in the succession, but obviously hunter is Indisposed & when asked about it, is like, "I Do Not Give A Single Fuck About The Throne Right Now. I Would Sell You All To Satan For One Corn Chip" so everyone is like. okay!! lilith it is!!

meanwhile lilith is having a Complete Fucking Crisis over being suddenly in charge of the whole empire, AND is trying to pretend to have everything under control, AND is recontextualizing everything she knows about hunter. and she feels.... uh.... Kind Of Terrible. About.... The Everything

lilith who's like "i absolutely cannot let him put himself back in harm's way until he's healed, that would be unconscionable, he has been through Enough" and hunter, completely misinterpreting her motivations, being like "waow. i knew lilith hated my fucking guts but i didn't think she'd do THIS to me. amity what if you were the best friend in the whole world and killed that guy for me"

amity is concerned about hunter on her own merit, but most of her advice to him is because lilith has been transparently neurotic about the whole thing, & so amity is like Okay. Listen. I Will Talk To Him. Relax . Holy Shit

amity voice: you Have to look for human records and human news stories instead of knocking on random doors. you're gonna find answers a lot faster that way and you don't want to rouse other humans' suspicion.

hunter voice, still So Irritated: wow. there goes my plan to try to scent them like a bloodhound and aimlessly wander the streets yelling luz's name. blight. do you think i'm an idiot.

#replies #toh #princess luz au #princess luz au worst timeline #horrible mindscape trauma pals #and who is that other witch #shitty idiot repression gang #lilith clawthorne #hunter toh #steve toh

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munsonfire · 10 months

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Stockholm Syndrome [ p.1] — Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary — This is a Steddie version of a Larry fic I read years ago called Blase.

Pairing — Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Word Count — 1k

ANGST — Yes.

Warnings — pervert!eddie, killer!eddie, kidnapping, abduction, madness!eddie, inappropriate language, stockholm syndrome

Requested — Open

If you want Part 2 to come, you can rb and/or comment. Let me know if you want to be tagged in Part 2.

19.01.2014

I dropped my camera on the street while walking to work.

Seeing a sweet seraphim, with icy eyes and sharp, chiseled cheek-bones. He was sculpted by Greek gods.

‘‘Steve Harrington’‘ it said on the cover of a magazine, towards the bottom in fine print.

He looks so unhappy.

Just like Sara did.

Just like John did.

They were happy when they were with me.

I want to make Steve Harrington happy.

20.01.2014

I met Steve Harrington. And went on a walk with him.

But he didn’t know I was with him.

Hw thought he was alone.

People do strange things when they are alone.

21.01.2014

Steve Harrington undressed in front of me today.

I saw him through

his window

In the opposite building through

my binoculars

He looked out of the window.

But he seemed to stare into space, not outside the window

But at his reflection in the glass

22.01.2014

He told me he loves me

Although the words didn’t leave his mouth

Or make their way to his brain

But he told me he loves me.

23.01.2014

Steve Harrington saw me

He said he didn’t like me taking pictures of him

Because it made him uncomfortable

I told him I wasn’t taking pictures of him

He (told) me he loves (me) so much; enough (to) kiss me repeatedly and to (get) me the best of things, so that I may become (lost) in his love as well.

24.01.2014

He caught me

Red-handed

Grabbing my camera, he scrolled through

His own face, none of which, stared back at him.

He said that I (should)n’t (stop) taking pictures of him. I didn’t plan to; he was so beautiful.

A moment with him

That isn’t recorded

In some form or

Another

Is a moment wasted.

25.01.2014

Steve Harrington didn’t leave his apartment

That day

He told his managers that he felt ill

I heard him whisper through his phone that a man had been

Following him around

I’ll find this man

Steve Harrington is mine

And only mine.

He loves me and I, l o v e him.

26.01.2014

‘Steve Harrington’ is too long, he said that I that I should call him Stevie

In an interview on the television

He was speaking to me

In that interview; it may have been before we met but I knew he was talking to me. Steve did like to play coy and shy away from me.

27.01.14 — 11 PM

I waited inside the kitchen for

Steve to reach his apartment

He threw his keys into their

Bowl, and walked up to his floor-to-ceiling window

He looked outside it

But not at his reflection

This time, he looked outside

His window, and picked up his phone

And spoke on his phone

‘I don’t see the man, but he’s here somewhere; I can feel it.’

28.01.2014 — 2AM

Steve took off

His thin white silk

Shirt and his jeans that clung to his beautiful body in the way that I wanted to touch

Him in every single place

But I had to wait

For Steve was shy

And might run away like

Sara

And John

28.01.2014 — 3AM

Steve is sleeping, holding his dove

White sheets over his chest, leaving his back

Without covering, it looked so cold and he

Looked so unhappy as he pulled his sheets closer to his body.

He was imagining a person in his arms

That person was me and who am I to deny my love what

He desires to hold as he sleeps

29.01.2014 — 3AM

My Steve is so pretty while he sleeps

But his eyes are rolling through the closed eyelids, meaning that

He was having a nightmare and I wanted to make whoever made him whisper

‘leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone’

Pay but I cannot kill

Nightmares I could kiss them away but

That wouldn’t kill them, I could always kill

Steve and that would make his nightmares vanish and he would

Be so happy, just like Anna

and Laura were happy that I made their nightmares

vanish.

30.01.2014 — 3AM

But if I took the knife in Steve’s kitchen and cut out

His beating heart then that would mean

That Steve would leave me and

I don’t want Steve to leave

Me but my mother told me that if

You love someone enough you

Have to be willing to let them

31.01.2014 — 3AM

Steve knows (not) that I live in his apartment at night, and he is

Happy that I am there to save him from the

Nightmares when they try to attack my Steve,

I want to be his forever but

one day we would

age and then we would fall one by one

and then we wouldn’t be together, I need

to be with my Steve because he loves me so much that he

want to (fuck) with me until I fall (off) of his sweat gleaming seraphim body and (leave) him breathless. He wants (me) to kiss him passionately as my fingers pleasure his body and my tongue licks his neck. To never let him be (alone) with the nightmares of the man he was scared of.

1.2.14 — 3AM

Steve returned from his

modeling at 3AM today and I was not happy that

He spent most of the night in the presence of other men taking his pictures.

My pictures because he was mine.

And only mine and to

Keep him mine I will need to make him stay

With me under the floorboards of my house just

Like Anna and Laura are

Mine he will get along with

Them since they don’t speak

Much and neither will he

2.1.14 — 3:30 AM

Steve found me staring into

His eyes and screamed

Joyfully at my presence and I

Knew that he was so happy

To be with me that I hugged

Him tighter than his jeans had and kissed

His cheek while my legs wrapped around his

And he pulled away shyly and I was touched that

He was so happy to

Be with me that I could taste his

Tears while I kissed him and told him just

How much I loved him

He told me that cared about me so much that heh wanted to (please) me in every way that he could and he wanted to (let) his emotions run wild, so that when he was with (me) he could be himself; someone wasn’t

around anyone

Else. I wanted to (go) anywhere with Steve, I wanted to live in his

Nightmares.

3.2.14 — 6AM

Today Steve was in my arms

as we woke up to the

sound of his alarm clock he

was up before me he

stayed awake the whole night

staring at me

Lovingly I know because I

Did the same

4.2.14

Steve and I decided to take our

Relationship to the

Next levet as I asked him

To move in with me and he said

Yes (please) and that he’d been

Waiting for me his whole life the

Problem would be the other

People outside I would

Have to get him to my

House without them seeing my

Steve because he was mine and thet

Would take him away from me by making

Him (stop) loving me

I held his wrist he watched it turn to snow and I kissed

Him as he continued to look into

My eyes below me

‘(You’re) so beautiful, Steve Harrington I could never

Imagine (hurting) you I love you Stevie, so much that I can’t bear the ache of you not being with

(Me)’

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lavender-annd-lilac · 1 year

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Fic Recs - 💕Sharing is Caring 💕

Have you ever wanted to share without having to give away any of your own possessions? Have you ever wanted to feel generous and charitable but fear that the world will take advantage of your kindness?

There’s a solution for that!

What if you could share something more valuable than money, more meaningful than love and more thoughtful than wisdom? That would be incredible right?

Well, let us know when you figure out how to make it happen. In the meantime, here are some fics you can share, along with suggested audiences to share them with. Enjoy! 🥰

Fic: In the Pines - by @the-iceni-bitch

Pairing: Curtis Everett x fem!Reader, past Bryce Langley x fem!reader

Who to share with: Church goers (or other attendees of a spiritual/religious congregation)

Throw a deadbolt on those doors, swallow the key, and start reading this fic. Let your audience truly experience god (or other spiritual/religious being) for the first time in their lives. 😵

Fic: His New Obsession - by @luxeavenger

Pairing: Dark!Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x reader

Who to share with: Your job interviewer

Not only is this a sneaky share they will never expect, it’s also one that helps you! Why? Because now, you can finally give an honest answer when they ask “what is your biggest weakness?”. Look them dead in the eyes, whisper “This fic is my Achilles heel, I would die for this fic”, and then start reading. You might not get the job, but at least you shared. 🙃

Fic: The Things You Do - by @traitorjoelite

Pairing: fwb!steve rogers x fem!reader

Who to share with: Millions of listeners on Spotify

So you’re In the studio, and Selena Gomez has invited you to be the guest rapper on her new single. You want to bring your A-game right? Once she finishes her verse, go ahead and start reading this aloud. It doesn’t rhyme, and will definitely make the song way too long to be radio friendly, but no one will care when you and Selena sweep all the awards for this years Grammys. 🥳

Fic: Just Like Love (ongoing series) - by @fortheloveoffanfic

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Who to share with: Your fellow commuters

Are you a people person? Do you think that sharing requires a certain amount of physical intimacy? Have you ever wanted to have a literal captive audience without actually taking hostages? If any of these apply to you, the packed subway car is the perfect setting to share this fic with others! Please let the passengers know ahead of time that you will not be responsible for any missed stops. 😬

Fic: Breach (completed series) by - @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Pairing: dark!Winter Soldier x Reader

Who to share with: A select group of people who want to read but either can’t read, dislike the physical sensation of reading, or don’t have the time to sit down and read

You’re back in the studio! Except this time you’ve been hired as an Audiobook narrator. I don’t have any advice on how to get this job, but once you have it, read this right into the mic because I guarantee you it’s better than the material you were given. 🤭

Fic: What I Hate About You - by @sidepartskinnyjeans

Pairing: Steve x Reader/OC - but from Bucky’s POV

Who to share with: Your therapist

Do you have trouble articulating your feelings? Do you struggle when talking about your experiences because it’s one of those things where “you had to be there”? Is it hard to describe your emotions because language is a construct that cannot convey our deepest personal thoughts? Your solution is right here! Share this fic with your therapist and maybe, just maybe they will understand your rollercoaster of emotions. 🥲

Fic: Scream (and pt 2 here) - by @st3rgirl

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader (with steve rogers, natasha romanoff, johnny storm, jake jensen, and brief mentions of andy barber & robert pronge)

Who to share with: The armed intruder who has just entered your home

Do you hate the panic and anxiety you feel when someone breaks into your home? Are you sick of hiding in the closet from violent criminals? Why don’t you give them a taste of their own medicine and let THEM feel the fear for once. The hunter becomes the hunted. 👹

Fic: Shame On You (Blame On Me) - by @lilbabycee

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Who to share with: Everyone within earshot at karaoke night

Are you tired of Melissa always stealing the spotlight with her Ariana Grande vocals? Do people keep “forgetting” to queue up your songs and skip over your turn? Just say you’re going to perform an original piece and then start reading this sucker. Everyone will have their lighters out for encores. 🤩

Fic: Karma (2 pt series) - by @onsunnyside

Pairings: ghostface!boyfriends!: Ari Levinson, Steve Rogers, Curtis Everett, Ransom Drysdale x cheater!reader

Who to share with: The angels at the pearly gates of heaven (or whatever supernatural being that guards the entrance to your preferred afterlife)

Was your lifestyle not rock ‘n roll enough to gain admittance to the sizzling hot party downstairs? Did all work and no play make you a dull, boring person? Don’t worry, just read this sinful fic and the angels will escort you straight to the eternal damnation you crave. 😈

Fic: Of Honey and Broken Glass (ongoing series) - by @vivianandherlily

Pairing: Mafia!Lloyd Hansen x Housekeeper F!Reader

Who to share with: Your thesis defense committee

Do you just want to get your masters degree? Are you tired of being outnumbered and overpowered by so called “intellectuals”? Hospital bills piling up because you lack the speed, strength and stamina to mount a proper offense? Can’t afford to lose another hand after your last one was very ceremoniously chopped off by an especially aggressive professor? Prepare yourself PROPERLY next time with the ultimate weapon - this fic. Because 1) let’s be real, it’s probably better than your thesis and 2) this bad boy will take out so many academics that you just might find urself the new dean of your university. 😏

Fic: Redemption (ongoing series) - by @syntheticavenger

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader / Steve Rogers x Female Reader / Andy Barber x Female Reader

Who to share with: Your fellow mourners

You have been chosen to read the funeral eulogy, and the crowd looks pretty tough. There may even be some hecklers out there. It doesn’t matter though, because this fic is guaranteed to get those tears flowing. If it’s still not enough, then unfortunately you will have to do something more extreme. Like leave them on a cliffhanger. 😵‍💫

And as a bonus share, this Bucky headcannon by @adrinktostopyourthirst

Who to share with: A jury of your peers

Save money by being your own lawyer and reading this fic as your defense. Boom. Guaranteed acquittal. Then use the money you saved to help us build our adoption clinic! What adoption clinic? Read to find out! 😉

💕 That’s all folks!! 💕

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #ransom drysdale #lloyd hansen #jake jensen #personally curated fic recs #fic recs

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