#i just love my robin shirt okay?

[hauntingblue]

Skypiea time

Robin saying that because I know she only got on a ship to then leave it...

Nami sees Conis and gets sanji out of there so SHE can talk to her akdhksajka not a single second lost

Hello my favourite panel of nami maybe ever

Sillies...

CHOPPER YOU ARE THE CUTEST

Robin throws this guy off a cliff and to make just to make sure she breaks his neck too akdjsksk who is doing it like her???

OMG ACE!!!! IT IS TIME!!!!

[robobbin]

Oh my god, oh my GODD!!!

This is so perfect, I love it so much!!! 😍😍

Thank you somuch @robobbin for being patient with me, they commissioned this a few days before I got violently ill. It was a blast to write, though, and I hope it wasn’t too much of a pain to wait!! 

—

“SANS! HURRY THE FUCK UP, YOU’RE TAKING FOREVER! YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME LATE FOR TANGO CLASS!”

“shut up, boss, i’m comin! i was just gettin cufflinks!”

Sans opened the car door, getting heavily into the passenger seat and slamming it with a little more force than was necessary. Papyrus looked at him as he wound up the window he’d just yelled out of, a grimace of confusion on his sharp scarred face.

“CUFFLINKS? I DIDN’T KNOW YOU EVEN KNEW THOSE EXISTED.”

Sans sneered, fiddling with the little gold buttons on his sleeves. His white shirt was ironed and new, black pants pressed and shoes noticeably absent of scuff marks. His usual gold rings adorned his phalanges. “weren’t you just complainin’ about bein late? shut up and drive.”

Papyrus rolled his eyelights, but started the ignition nonetheless, pulling the car out of the driveway.

Keep reading

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

For the first time since they saved the world, since Steve carried Eddie out of hell, and their bat bites had healed, Eddie was finally hanging out with Steve without impending doom hanging over their heads. Robin was also there as she didn't want to miss Steve cooking, and Eddie didn't blame her.

"Holy fucking shit!" Eddie yelled, slamming down his fork. "Fucking marry me."

Steve blinked at him, blushing, and his mouth fell open. He quickly closed it and smiled.

"Okay!"

"Oh! I'll go get the book!" Robin exclaimed, clapping her hands as she ran off.

"Book?" Eddie asked. "What? What's going on?"

Robin soon came back with a large white binder with a lock on it. She slammed it on the table and pulled out a key from under her shirt, unlocking it.

"This is Steve’s wedding book. As his best man, I hold the key," Robin said.

"Wait, hold on, that wasn't a real - ," Eddie started to say.

"Ooh, some of these were definitely written before me. That's definitely Baby Steve’s handwriting. . . Ooh, I can just imagine little Stevie putting a white sheet over his perfect hair," Robin said. "So, Spring, Fall, Summer, or Winter?"

"I was thinking Fall-ish," Steve said. "Near the end of August, maybe in September. Not too cold, not too hot."

Robin closed her eyes and held a pen in the air. Where did the pen come from?

"August 30th! I feel it! Perfect day!" Robin exclaimed.

"Wait, just a goddamn minute! What are you doing?!" Eddie shrieked.

"Planning your wedding to Steve, duh," Robin said, rolling her eyes. "Now, Steve, are you sure about the groom?"

"Yeah," Steve said, grinning. "He's funny, very cute, and good with kids. Yeah, I'll take him."

"You like men?!" Eddie asked.

"Duh, babe, keep up. He's already told you this," Robin said.

"Fucking when?!" Eddie asked.

"In the hospital," Steve replied.

"When I was on painkillers?!" He asked.

"You still want Dustin to be the flower girl?" Robin asked Eddie.

"Oh, shit, that actually would be hilarious- no, nope, no way! This isn't happening!" Eddie yelled.

"Did you ask Steve to marry you?" Robin asked.

"Well, yes, but - "

"Did he say yes?"

"Again, yes, however - "

"Then you're engaged. Congratulations," Robin said.

"Ooh, we have enough money in the budget for weddings 2, 5, and 8!" Steve explained, looking over her shoulder.

"When I said that Steve should marry me, I wasn't -," Eddie said.

"Can you think of a reason why you shouldn't marry Steve?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't even know if I like men! I like women!" Eddie shrieked, running his hands over his face.

"You said something different in the hospital," Steve said.

"You mean, when I was on painkillers?!" He asked. "You're fucking with me. You guys are fucking with me."

"Babe, you seem stressed out by all this wedding planning," Steve said, taking his hand.

"I am VERY stressed out," Eddie said.

"Just let me and Robin handle it. I have been planning my wedding since I was like five, and trust me, I have never been a fan of big weddings, so it's going to be low-key and tasteful," Steve said, squeezing his hand.

"This is illegal," Eddie said weakly and in disbelief.

"Yeah, like none of us have ever done anything illegal," Steve rolled his eyes. "A marriage is more than just a piece of paper. Besides, I don't want the government at my wedding anyway."

"Fuck, yeah, me neither," Eddie said, shaking his head. "This is crazy!"

"Look, Eddie, I know this is sudden, and I know how scary it is to deal with all of this as well as speed running through a sexuality crisis. It's been a couple of months, but there were days where I sat by your bedside, hoping you would wake up, and when you did, I realized that I wanted to wake up next to you every morning," Steve said softly, rubbing his thumb. "I want to hear every single rant, even the ones where you're being as asshole. I love you, and if you really don't want to do this, then I'll back down."

Eddie looked into Steve’s hazel eyes, swallowing thickly as he imagined being married to him and waking up with him every day. He already knew that Steve could handle how chaotic he could be, how much he loved the kids despite his loud protests, and he remembered all the talks about their asshole fathers who basically abandoned them. Eddie remembered waking up in the hospital and seeing Steve’s relieved red rimmed eyes. He knew without a doubt that Steve was a partner that he could depend on.

"Okay! I've decided that I'm just going to let this happen!" Eddie said, throwing up his hand. "But I can't be domesticated! I refuse!"

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Steve grinned.

"Also, during one of the dances, we're playing Metallica!" He yelled.

"Done!"

Steve leaned over the table and kissed Eddie, who didn't waste a second kissing him back. Yeah, he liked it, and he wasn't ever going to kiss anyone else. On some level, he had known that as soon as he had slammed Steve against the wall of that boathouse.

"Oh my God! I'm marrying Steve Harrington!"

TWO DAYS LATER. . .

Eddie was sprawled out on the couch in his brand new living room when Wayne came in, back from his fishing trip. Eddie frowned as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

"So, how'd the dinner with Steve go?" Wayne asked.

"Well, the food was so good that I asked Steve to marry me, and he said yes," Eddie said. "It's on August 30th, save the date."

"You're hilarious, son," Wayne said, rolling his eyes. "You should be a comedian."

Suddenly, Steve burst out of the kitchen, looking flustered.

"Okay, I decided to be the bigger person here. I'm going to invite my parents to the wedding," Steve said. "If they don't come, they don't come. Hopper's already agreed to walk me down the aisle. Oh, hey, Wayne. I hope you don't mind, I wanted to cook for my fiancé and my future father in law. How was the fishing trip?"

Wayne stared at him, blinking at Steve and then at Eddie. Wayne sighed, shaking his head.

"Not a goddamn bite. Waste of a trip," Wayne said.

"Damn," Steve said and looked at the kitchen. "I have to check on the food. Sorry. I want to hear more about it!"

"Smells good, son!" Wayne yelled and plopped down on the couch next to Eddie.

"You accepted that pretty quickly," Eddie said.

"You can't do better than Steve. He went to hell and back for you. He never left your side. . .he loves you, and I can't ask for a better partner for my boy. . .speaking of why aren't you in there helping your fella?" Wayne asked.

"He kicked me out," Eddie pouted.

"You almost took my head off with a skillet!" Steve exclaimed.

"I nearly took him out, and he still wants to be with me," Eddie sighed happily and tucked his head into Wayne's shoulder. "By the way, when you walk me down the aisle, you can't let me fall, you know how I am."

"I would never let you fall."

Eddie smiled. Despite everything that happened, that's still happening. . .Eddie was happy, and he was getting married to the most wonderful guy in the entire world. Suddenly, Eddie sat up.

"Oh, no," Eddie said.

"What?"

"We told Dustin and the kids, but I didn't think to tell Ronnie," Eddie gasped.

"You mean, your best friend since you were eight?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I am in deep - "

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Ronnie Ecker stood there in all her long-legged glory.

"You're getting married to Steve Harrington?!" She asked. "And I had to hear about it from a 12 year old?!"

"He's 14, actually," Eddie said casually. "How was the trip from New York?"

Eddie suddenly remembered the thing Robin had reminded him to do: don't forget to tell your platonic soulmate.

[deadsetobsessions]

“DIDJA SEE THAT, DANNY?!” Tim, a scrawny eleven year old now, excitedly smacked Danny’s arm.

“Ow. Yes, yes I did.”

“Oh, gosh, I have to tell Jazz about this!!” The kid waved his arms about wildly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Jaso- I mean, Robin, smiled at me! And said he liked my t-shirt!! Oh my god, he likes literature puns, he even laughed! And then he punched the bad guy in the face! Look! I even saved the tooth!”

“Okayyy, nope!” Danny plucked the tooth and tossed it, ignoring Tim’s betrayed face. “I’ll trade you that for this.”

Danny Held out a piece of paper with Robin’s and Batman’s sigil on it, from when he asked them to sign it after they “saved” the two brothers from the two-bit thugs trying to mug them.

“Oh. My. God. This is like the best day of my life!! I love you, Danny! You’re the best brother ever!! Oh my god! I have to get Nightwing’s signature!!!”

Danny felt a rush of warmth at Tim’s proclamation of affection. Ah, he should probably step in.

“Hey, wait, no, we’re not going to Blüdhaven for you to stalk another vigilante.”

“It’s not just any old vigilante-!” Tim ignored Danny’s dramatic clutching-pearls gesture of mock hurt. “It’s Nightwing. The original Robin! He gave me my first ever hug!”

Danny paused. God dammit.

“…Fine.”

“YESSSSSS!!!!”

——

Danny-

“I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

-is so damn tired.

“Tim. I’m literally a vigilante ghost. What makes you think I’d be stupid enough to argue with a kid who runs around Gotham at night to take pictures of other vigilantes?”

Tim deflated. “Oh. Honestly, I thought you’d put up more of a fight…”

Jazz laughed and ruffled Tim’s hair. “I definitely couldn’t stop Danny when he went out. He trusted me to support him and I trusted him to come to me if he was injured, though. Can you promise me that, Tim?”

“Yeah… okay, Jazz, I promise.” Tim promised, even if he was still pouty.

Danny chimed in.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m totally worried and I’m gonna hover like a mother hen when you go out, but again, I know how stubborn and crazy we vigilante types have to be.” Danny paused. “Do you want me to put up a token protest?”

Tim nodded, sulking. “Yes, please. I had a speech planned out.”

Jazz and Danny exchanged amused glances.

“Oh, okay, my bad, kiddo. Here, let’s start from the top.”

“Okay. Ahem,” Tim straightened his back, settling into his previous mulish expression once more. “I’m gonna be Robin whether you want me to or not!”

Danny placed an appropriately disapproving frown on his face. “No, you can’t! It’s dangerous! You could get hurt! You’re just a child!”

Tim launched into his speech. “But I can’t stay still and do nothing when people are getting hurt! Even…!”

They were gonna be here for a while. There was definitely something about Batman going on a spiral because Jason wouldn’t be able to walk again after the Joker got to him. Danny wondered if ectoplasm could help. He might offer, if it actually had a change of getting Tim out of the vigilante business.

But that’s for later, because they had time. Jazz was on Spring Break… and they’re still staying here for free, after all of these years.

“So, how are you going to convince Robin to let you be Robin?” Jazz asked Tim.

Tim froze. “I… hadn’t thought of that yet.”

“Well, you could always remind him of the fact that we saved him from the Joker. He seemed pretty ready to leave the Robin mantle, the last time I saw him as Phantom.”

“I don’t want to blackmail him into it!” Tim whined.

“It’ll just be a suggestion, Tim.” Jazz smiled patiently.

“Besides,” Danny continued, smirking mischievously at his adopted little brother. “If you were actually blackmailing him, you’d pull out the photos where he ate dirt.”

“I guess that’s true…” Tim mumbled. “I know! I’ll have to follow them to see how I can best approach him!”

"I think that's called stalking," Jazz deadpanned.

"Well, it's not any worse than what he's already done." Danny shrugged at his older sister. "Sure, kid. Why not? Do whatever you want."

"I was planning to!" Tim bounced off to grab his photography gear. Jazz stared off after him.

"Should we be encouraging that?"

"More like can we actually stop him?" Danny leaned back, lazily completing his GED assignments. Jazz sighed.

"Guess not. Make sure he doesn't get in trouble."

"Do you even know how hard that is, Jazz?" Danny complained, dodging the whack Jazz sent at the back of his head. She smirked at him.

"Womp, womp, Danny. How does karma taste today?"

Danny flipped her off as he put the last punctuation on the paper. He heard a clatter and groaned.

“I’m gonna go watch Tim stalk Batman for the night. Want anything from the store?”

Jazz hummed. “Get me the specialty strawberry ice cream, from that one place?”

“The one that’s definitely a front for Falcone’s money laundering??”

“Yeah. They make good strawberry ice cream.”

“Sure.”

Danny went ghost and flew straight through the walls to catch Tim sneaking out by the scruff of his collar.

“No. Bad Tim.”

“Awww, come on Danny!”

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

More of my diabetic Steve verse!

Steve, who doesn’t realize that Eddie is super famous and robin who could literally not care any less.

Steve and Eddie exchange numbers and text all of the time. It takes a week for Eddie to crack and send this message:

Eddie: Please for the love of god let me take you on a date I need to wine and dine you so hard I think I might pass out

Steve obviously says yes.

Eddie takes them to a small diner because he doesn’t want to risk being seen by crazy fans who somehow always find out where he is. If Eddie is being honest, he blames twitter.

Eddie gets there to find Steve already sitting at a booth, fiddling with something on his phone. His glasses are sliding down his nose again and he is wearing a Wham! graphic t-shirt and light wash jeans. He stands up once he notices Eddie and flashes a huge grin, which causes Eddie to also smile.

They both sit down on their respective sides of the table and get comfortable, making small talk. It takes a bit, but Eddie notices that Steve has the menu pulled up on his phone and laughs.

“Doing some homework?”

Steve looks confused for a second before glancing down.

“Oh yeah! I always make sure to look at it beforehand whenever I go out to make sure that I have options depending on my blood sugar level.”

“What’s your… number, is that the correct term, now?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yes! And let me check.” Steve pulls out a cute green pouch and takes out a bunch of supplies. “I just changed my CGM—“ At Eddie’s confused look, he says, “My glucose monitor. It’s not completely synced yet so I can’t rely on my pod to tell me what level I’m actually at.”

After he says that, Steve cleans his finger with an alcohol wipe, lets it dry, and then pricks his finger. He squeezes the pad of his ring finger and blood pools to the surface.

“Yikes. I’m gonna have to give myself a correction or two.”

Steve cleans up the space but leaves his pouch out, and then wraps a sparkly bandaid on his finger.

“What’s a correction?”

Eddie feels dumb. He wishes he knew more about diabetes and actually researched it before showing up to the diner with no prior knowledge.

“I just give myself a little extra insulin to make my blood sugar go down. I’m flirting with 250 right now and I really want a burger.”

—

The date passes swimmingly and the two men find themselves sitting in the same booth at the same diner, but on the same side. Their hands are intertwined and Steve wrapped up half of his meal to take home.

“I made this for you!” Steve says suddenly. He grabs a stack of stapled papers and hands them to Eddie. “I made you a ‘diabetes guide!’ Since I plan on our relationship being permanent, it would give me peace of mind if you knew what to do in case of an emergency.”

Steve begins thumbing through the packet and explaining everything, but Eddie can hardly focus.

Not with Steve clutching his hand or with him wanting their relationship to become “permanent.”

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve waves his hand in front of Eddie’s face. “I understand if this is a dealbreaker or whatever, but I just like you so much and I want to be your boyfriend as of two weeks ago.”

Eddie just blinks. Then he smiles. “We only met a week ago, Stevie.”

Steve blushes, tucks some hair behind his ear. “I know that. I just had a feeling that I would meet the one.”

“Yeah?” A pause. “Can I kiss you?”

Steve releases a breath. Puts his hand on Eddie’s cheek.

“I thought you’d never ask. I hope you don’t mind the taste of hamburger.”

Eddie laughs before lunging forward.

—

As they head back to Steve’s apartment hand in hand, Eddie tells him about his more than ordinary job. Explains what might happen when people see them together.

Steve just laughs and says, “I’ve fought literal monsters from hell, I can handle anything.”

Eddie falls more in love than he knew possible.

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

DC Taglist

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever tag list

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know if there's anything you guys want to see with Jason in the future. My requests are open!

[apomaro-mellow]

steddie falls into porn cliches on accident

Steve was in the middle of washing the conditioner out of his hair, loving the silky smooth feeling and watching the water turn from cloudy to clear as it was all rinsed out. He was ready to start washing his body in earnest now, when he heard the doorbell ring.

For a second, he was ready to just ignore it, thinking it might be a delivery or someone trying to solicit. They could leave whatever they had on the doorstep or keep moving. Then the bell rang a second time and Steve remembered that he was in fact supposed to answer it.

Robin had hired a plumber to fix their sink. She told him they'd be coming between 8 am to noon. Steve had gotten in the shower exactly at eight, thinking surely he had enough time in that window. What kind of plumber showed up this promptly!?

Steve turned the shower off and grabbed the first robe off the hook. It wasn't his, he knew that. But in his defense, Robin wasn't home and he liked to air dry when he could. She could get mad at him later for snagging hers. He tied it hastily, rushing to the door before the plumber left.

-------------------

Eddie waited for the door to be answered, checking his watch while he did. Today was his only appointment, so he thought he was doing well by showing up on the early end of the window. He was ready to spout the rehearsed script when the door opened. Good morning, Munson and Son Plumbing. You got a problem with your drain pipe? Well I'm here to fix it. Fun fact, I'm a guitarist, so I'm pretty good with my hands. Anyone you know looking for lessons?

His uncle didn't always like him plugging his side gig, but putting up posters around neighborhoods wasn't quite as successful as actual face time. Then the door fully opened and he got an entire eyeful. A dripping wet god of a man, his modesty just barely preserved in a bath robe. It did nothing to hide his thick, hairy thighs or impressive chest.

"Hi I'm here to handle your pipe!", Eddie blurted out. "I'm mean I'm good with my hands! P...plumbing! I'm the plumber, I'm here for your plumbing."

"Oh, y-yeah, we've been expecting you", Steve tried to close the top of his robe more and that made Eddie self conscious about staring.

Steve introduced himself and Eddie did the same as he was let into the house, somehow not putting his foot in his mouth as he did. Steve took him to the problem sink and Eddie got to work while Steve excused himself.

He went into his room, looking for something presentable only to find it was mostly his stuff for the club. Definitely not appropriate for a plumber visit. Then he remembered why. He had started a load of laundry last night. And when he woke up this morning, putting it in the dryer so it'd be ready once he was done with his shower.

He went to the laundry room to do just that, emptying the contents of the dryer into his hamper, bending over to do so. Once he was done, he'd be able to put together an outfit that didn't make him look like a desperate housewife.

Eddie had just finished tangling with the pipe. It didn't take as long as he had expected but his shirt was drenched now. He listened out for Steve, hoping he was nearby so that he didn't have to call for him, only to hear something...odd.

He followed the sound until he came to an open door and realized what the sounds were - little grunts of effort. Eddie bit his lip, letting logic and reason work themselves out. Steve knew he had someone in the house and the door was wide open so he couldn't be-

Eddie walked through the door and there was Steve, bent over, top half in the dryer, bottom half sticking out. His robe had began to hitch up, revealing just the bottom of that perfect ass.

"Holy shit", Eddie squeaked out.

"Hey? Plumber guy? I know this is awkward but would you mind helping me out? My robe got caught on something and I can't-I can't free myself."

"Um, okay? So should I just...should I just?", Eddie got behind Steve, hands fumbling. Should he adjust the robe or would that be rude?

"Just grab me and pull", Steve said, wriggling around more and stopping when he heard a rip.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I'll just", Eddie grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, to no avail.

"Gonna have to do it a bit harder than that", Steve said. "Here I'll, I'll try and push too."

Eddie swallowed as he pulled again, Steve's hips coming flush with his own and eliciting a gasp from the other man.

"A...again."

Eddie pulled again, harder this time. He had kind of been working with a half chub. The kind Steve had to feel right between his cheeks every time Eddie pulled on him.

Steve gasped with each time their hips came together and it was getting hard to pretend his asshole didn't flutter with each movement.

"Fuck, just fuck me already", Steve whined.

Eddie wasted no time in dropping his pants and rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, precum dripping and Steve still wet from the shower. The tip slipped in with ease and then the rest of him and Steve's hips wouldn't stay still and then he was fucking him oh shit he was fucking him he was fucking a client while on the clock.

Steve's voice sounded goddamn ethereal, echoing inside the tub of the dryer. He was giving as good as he got, pushing back with each thrust and Eddie got to watch his dotted cheeks jiggle with each impact.

Eddie pushed the robe up more, licking his lips as he was rewarded with the sluttiest back arch that he'd ever seen. He wasn't going to last and this Steve guy wasn't either. Eddie came first, one hand on Steve's hip and the other bracing itself on the dryer so that he didn't fall over. Steve's cock spilled into the floor, a mess to be dealt with later.

"Fuck...you really are good at handling pipes", Steve laughed through his panting.

When Eddie left that day, he didn't get Steve's number. But a week later their company got a call about a clogged toilet and specifically requested that Eddie come over, that they only trusted his expertise. This time, Eddie wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. And this time when Steve greeted him in a half open robe, it was on purpose.

[wroteclassicaly]

Daddy Steve

(Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Summary: Steve finds out you’re pregnant.

Warnings: Language, hurt/comfort, best-friends to lovers, Daddy!Steve, mentions loss of virginity, alludes to smut, nausea, throwing up, and pregnancy stuff.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

A/N: Ever since that Daddy Steve comment in season three, my brain can’t get a breeding kink addicted Steve outta my filthy ass head! And thus, I bring you more trash that you didn’t ask for, lol!! I might do a part two with smut?? Enjoy! - Kristen <3

“C’mon, you love this stuff, honey,” Steve mumbles around a mouthful of buttery popcorn.

You’re smashed between him and your shared best-friend, Robin Buckley—on the sofa, watching some newly released horror film that went straight to video, and right into Steve’s VCR. You have to fight everything inside of you not to gag on the smell of popped kernels, urges to inhale, an automatic reflex that only serves to make your predicament worse. Robin wrinkles her nose in distaste, reaching across you and shoving his wrist away.

“Because having greasy ass butter on your chin is really encouraging her to try it out, Harrington.”

“Mhm,” You say, a half whimper slipping out. Your stomach rolls, making you automatically grip onto your baggy denim over shirt, the small swelling of your tummy a comfort.

Fuck the morning sickness… when did this start happening?

Robin’s eyes glance at you with a pitying worry, raising a brow in silent communication. You shake your head, giving her an ‘I’m fine’ signal, dodging Steve’s last classic film snack advance. When you catch sight of his tongue working to clean off his mouth’s corner, that ache teeters between your thighs, a rush of words tumbling off your lips.

“I have to go pee.” You scramble from the couch, nearly tripping over worn converse in the process.

And, as it turns out, your excuse is an even more idiotic thing to say. Steve’s voice halts you in your footfalls.

“Again? That’s like, the fifth time in an hour. And unless you’re chugging from some secret flask, I haven’t seen you drink much of anything, either.”

“I…”

“Dude, do not ever question a woman again about her bathroom habits, okay?” Robin interjects, giving him the Robin look.

“If she’s on her period she can just tell us that. You think I give a crap? We’re all friends here.” Steve shrugs a shoulder, tossing the empty popcorn bag down and ducking his salty fingers into his mouth with a delectable ‘pop’.

You’re momentarily lost within the realm of your raging hormones. Your doctor had told you to expect fluctuating moods, surprising shifts in your appetite; sexually, emotionally, physically, and nutrition wise. That explains why you’re always stealing Dustin’s sour candy and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter at 3:00 AM, crying at reruns of Cheers, and currently ogling your best-friend like he’s always been yours, and isn’t currently pining for someone else. Steve isn’t yours, despite what he’s put inside of you after one needy night together. His dark irises suddenly find you gawking, leaving him confused.

The way his nose is shaped, his jawline structure, that delicious neck he permitted you to mark at one point, that gorgeously soft hair you spent all night pulling, to that sinfully beautiful mouth—you’re speechless and very overwhelmed.

I need him…

He starts to move, but you hold up a hand. That would be sensory overload. “I should definitely go home after. I’ve got an early shift at the store tomorrow.” You lie.

“After what? Peeing?” Steve laughs.

Another ever changing hormone snaps your irritation, causing you to roll your eyes, desire lightly dissipating. “Obviously. That cool with you, King Harrington? Or do you need to further bore me with your pathetic excuse for a movie pick?”

Robin starts to edge back from Steve, his own anger at your snapping at him seeping through, coming off him in dangerous waves.

“Okay, what is with this goddamned attitude? We always watch bullshit movies and you’ve never complained about it before!”

“Mr. Former Prom King isn’t keen on attitudes now? Sounds like a problem that’s not mine.” You push, unable to stop yourself. After all, it’s better than feeling like garbage listening to him go on and on about Nancy, not even knowing he took your virginity and got you pregnant in one go.

If Steve could tuck his eyebrows into his hairline then they’d be there. His hands pinch his hips, lips pursed as he’s clenching his teeth.

“You know what, you should leave. Between your bitching, constant bathroom breaks, and acting too stuck up to watch a movie and eat some popcorn with your friends, you’re not much fun to be around anyways.”

“Steve!” Robin scolds.

“What? Princess is allowed to act like she’s too good to hang out lately and we can’t be upset about it?” Steve motions to you with a tipped hand.

There’s a burning brimming your eyes before you can stop it. You’d prefer the anger. Steve’s hands tighten at his sides, jaw twitching, a biting question, battling his urges to comfort you and apologize for upsetting you. “Why are you even crying right now?”

“Let’s all just calm down and breathe, okay?” Robin stands now, tiptoeing to meet in the middle of you.

“I was calm. I think you need to talk to her about all this. As a matter of fact, call her tomorrow after I call her a cab and she leaves, because I know she’s not working in the morning, and she just lied to our faces.” Steve adds.

Your face flushes, stomach tightening. That sickness is overpowering you, taking control. You can’t stop that watering in your eyes, blurring your vision, making your two best-friends blobs in the distance. They start arguing back and forth, Steve’s evident confusion at Robin defending your behavior, and Robin pleading with him to give you a break. You don’t say anything, but turn on your heel and make the walk down the hallway, barricading yourself in the bathroom and taking care of your pressing bladder, head in your hands as you silently cry.

Being a simple band geek that harbored a crush on Steve for years, turning into his best-friend too when you and Robin began working at the mall with him, to leaning on each other when Starcourt fell into shambles and monsters became very real to you, finalizing one shared night three months ago—it all happened so fast. Steve never said anything more after, just thanked you for being there for him and checked in on you with phone calls and a work chat. You couldn’t bear staying with him that night, either, so you had left, leaving your virginity and your scent behind on Steve’s sheets. You wanted to, you needed him as much as he had to have you, but you weren’t sure how to feel about it, and Robin had picked it up right away—scolding you, before asking how it was and if you were alright. She’s been there for you through it all, and you’re double on the guilt at dragging her into this mess.

“Honey?” A heavy rasping of knuckles and a deep voice, a softer tone is sighing out on the other side.

You imagine him in that Steve Harrington lean, his ankle crossed over the other, palm on the framework, posture leaning into the doorway. Heaving out a breath you shouldn’t have held, you finish and wash your hands, throat constricting around a painful gulp as you unlatch the lock and pull open the door.

You’re right.

His lips making that familiar motion, dark eyes saddened, worried, guilt ridden. You don’t even let him speak, locking your arms around his striped clad waist, arms sliding down, wrists brushing his leather belt. You inhale his laundry detergent, cologne spritzed scent, sniffling your apologies in quiet words. He lets you go on, pulling away a minute later to grip your shoulders, squeezing. “If you are on your period… or you’re upset about something, or I pissed you off, will you please talk to me?”

Your heartbeat gallops full speed ahead, thrumming sporadically against your throat. “I’m not on my period, Steve.” The words feel dry, your lips too chapped to even speak.

“Then what is it, and why can you tell Robin but not me?” He sounds hurt. Really hurt.

You find yourself at a loss, tongue stumbling to scrape up scraps of words. Nothing comes.

“She hasn’t told me shit, but I know that she knows what’s going on?”

You escape his words, chickening out. “My cab ride will probably be here soon, I better go.”

“I never called a cab.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest now. “And I wasn’t going to, you just pissed me off.”

“Yeah, well… ditto.” You snark, not meaning to.

“Okay, care to share why? Because I do everything I can to make sure you’re safe and you’re smiling. It makes me feel like shit when you feel like shit.”

Every scenario you imagined telling Steve about carrying his baby in, you never thought it would be him hovering over your blubbering, nauseated, hot mess form. But as you look into those eyes of his—glittering with undiluted concern, pulse vibrating off your lungs, ping ponging off your jugular, the words come on their own.

“I’m pregnant.”

That very popular symptom of sickness overtakes you, having you abandoning Steve in the doorway with your confession, your knees hitting the floor, head over the toilet bowl as it all comes out. And you sob. Over exerted from physical exhaustion, mentally tired over a guilty conscious, and ready to go to sleep—you pathetically cling to the Harrington’s guest toilet, panting, mouth wet, trembling hand reaching for your hair, only to be swept away. When you look up your heart takes a painful blow, stuttering in your chest. Steve’s eyes are watering, teeth gnawing on his lower lip.

He looks wounded, defeated. Like you kicked him into a gutter and left him there. Alone.

Still, he helps you lean back, stretching his long arm to flush the toilet and reach for a decorative hand towel, using the bathtub faucet behind him to wet it and press it along your forehead, edging down your neck, finally cleaning your mouth. He’s so gentle, so delicate in his touches, aside from his own emotions. You grip his wrist, seeing the dried tears matting his gorgeous lashes, holding his hand in yours. “I’m sorry.”

“How long have you known?” Is all he can croak, voice shaky and damp. He settles back against the wall, you following suit, still holding his hand in yours.

“Two months.”

“We had sex three months ago.” He reminds you, as if maybe he’s unsure how to approach it.

He remembers?

“I found out when I was already four weeks. Besides, it can’t be anyone else’s when I’ve only slept with you.”

“But we were just together for one night.” He looks confused, scrubbing a hand over his face, sniffing.

“Yeah, Steve, we were.” You hope to god that he gets the message without you having to say it.

It takes him moments, which feel like eternity. And then you are very aware of his pointed stare. “Are you telling me I’ve been the only guy to ever take you to bed?”

“Looks like it. Congrats.” You mutter, lifting your knees, an indulging stance your little swollen bump won’t let you complete. You grab over it, an instinctive reaction. Steve’s directing a watchful eye over your bulky denim, swallowing, his words coming out meek, gently. “Can I see?”

You look like a deer caught in headlights, moving to drop his hand, but he holds on, fingertips drawing circles over the back of your palm. “It’s okay.”

It relaxes you enough to agree, using your right hand to lift the denim, your simple lavender top stretched over the small swell that’s nestled at your navel, expanding towards your hips. You feel Steve move your joined hands over the fabric, scraping, scratching, dipping down underneath the bottom, hovering. “It won’t hurt it if I feel, right?”

This makes you laugh softly, shaking your head. “You didn’t pay attention in health class at all, did you?” At his exasperated dumbfounded look, you continue. “S’ okay, Steve. Just please don’t push on anything, because I can’t promise you the front of your shirt won’t look like the Exorcist after.”

“That bad, huh?” He questions, sincerity dripping through his words.

“You have no idea.” You help him raise your tee beneath your breasts, that cute and developing bump in all its glory. Your skin, already getting a couple more stretch marks, shines in the low light of the bathroom, your breathing and Steve’s all that is audible.

Times like this you wish you had your Polaroid to take his absolutely fascinated stare in. His big hand closes over it, pressing feather light, his watch showing 10:01 PM. It feels so damned good to have him know, to have someone touching you like this. And oddly… it’s as if this is how it should always be.

Steve is on the precipice of unknown, a possessive derailment wiggling its way into his normally calm exterior. His baby. Parts of him that fused with parts of you, growing an entire human being. And the sheer fact that you’re swollen with his child? He has to fight every way that pummels a fire into the pit of his stomach.

“I took your virginity when we made this?” He is marveling.

You clear your throat, embarrassed. “You did.”

He sniffles once more, then he’s palming circles across your stomach, before respectfully tugging your shirt down and adjusting it. He makes a move to halt you from shaking the denim back down. “You don’t have to hide it anymore. Please, don’t.”

You give a watery look of incredulous admiration, grateful he’s still the Steve Harrington you have come to know.

And love…

But he doesn’t have to be privy to that part.

“They said I should be able to hear its heartbeat next week.” A lightened load off your chest has you audibly relaxing against Steve’s shoulder—unintentional, but natural—his arm resting around your shoulders, kneading out mounts of week long tension.

“How big is it? I mean… can they tell?” His fascinating questionnaires have you giddy.

Ever the inquiring man.

You move your neck from side to side, attempting to fixate on the knots, trying to get some squeeze off your muscles. Steve takes notice immediately, his fingers tucking beneath your shirt collar, pinching your flesh and rolling it under his easy grip. “Don’t worry, I got you. How’s that?”

“Mhm, s’ good, Stevie.” His nickname tumbles free, making him squeeze you affectionately. “A plum, by the way.”

He does rear back this time, bewildered, a ‘huh’ pressed into the line between his brows.

You laugh, his ministrations on your neck’s nape continuing. “The baby. It’s the size of a plum, is the way they described it to me. Or whatever I wanna think of that is that size.”

“Can I come?” When you frown, he’s quick to continue, his voice a raspy whisper, still tear-dampened. “To the appointment, I mean.”

You won’t deny how your heart is racing, how his wanting to be involved is both scary and welcomed, but you’re also on the defense, walls up. You can only imagine what his parents will think, what everyone will think. And Nancy… You don’t want to ruin anyone’s future from one one sided night of meaningless sex.

Steve can see the wheels turning in your head, your muscles tensing beneath his touch. It’s a bit frightening.

“Honey—“

“I didn’t need anyone’s permission in deciding to have or keep this baby, Steve. I don’t expect any help, I don’t want any pity support. I’ll be fine on my own.”

The familiarity of descending guilt slaps you in the face, Steve’s shocked look peppering his features. “You think I don’t want to help with my own baby? You think I’m that much of a fucking douchebag?!” He stands now, hands on his hips in that stern way.

You too attempt to stand, gripping the empty towel rack to keep steady. “I didn’t know if that’s what you’d want, Steve. We’re both still so young. It’s my body, so the decision to carry our child was up to me. If I wasn’t going to, I still would’ve told you. As for helping? Like I said, we’re both young and you’re attached… elsewhere.” You try, carefully avoiding her name. “S’ not like I was excited to be the Midwest mom that traps the former heartthrob.”

“Then that would make me the Midwest dad that should’ve worn a condom and taken care of you more. If we’re sharing blame here, let’s even it out.”

You’re very aware he meant something else, but it brings you right back to being beneath him, your legs wide open, thighs trembling, hands holding purchase, unsure, going with him, letting Steve lead. That burning loss of feeling Steve Harrington between your thighs is enough to cause you to squeeze your legs, drawing his attention. And whatever this fresh feeling is, he seems to be feeling it too.

Steve lets his arm shift, fingers combing your hair back behind your ear. “You thinkin’ about it?”

You’re pitifully admitting, hands cupping his back as you slink into his embrace. It’s warm, it’s safe, it’s Steve Harrington. There will be a time for talking, but now isn’t it, now is soaking each other in, being together, with your baby boy or girl.

“I’m thinking a lot of things.” Is your answer, but it’s enough for him to remember how you felt that night, the way you gave yourself to him and stayed right there with him.

There’s a soft air around you both, seemingly helping ward off your aching insides, letting the nausea vanish. Your hand wraps itself over the swell, Steve watching in admiration, hand lowering onto your own. It’s back and forth grins, and you’re pulling away as you remember Robin is still in the living room. Stepping forward and out of Steve’s too warm for your hormones to handle embrace, you turn on the bathroom faucet to wash your hands and cup some water into them, drinking and swishing the nasty taste out. Steve doesn’t take his eyes off you, even as you both find your shared best-friend in living room, brow raised in concern and amusement.

Your bump is on full display and she is shaking her short mane, eyeing Steve’s doe eyed gaze, the color on his cheeks. “Aww, congrats, Daddy Dingus.”

You burst into laughter, full on.

[eddiesxangel]

Could i request eddie eating out the reader where shes on top and he loves absolutely smothering himself in her pussy, he loves it messy and hes gripping/massaging her ass so she cant move away, shes trembling and folded over, gripping the sheets and he loves that shes desperately rubbing her cunt on his face

I always think about early stages of a relationship with eddie when all of their friends are like "have you done it yet? Whats he like?" reader and eddie are flustered by the memories and the sound complaints because theyre addicted to each other

I kinda love the idea of eddie gloating to the boys about his sex life, not necessarily sharing private details but always praising reader and her body/skills n theyre all jealous 🤭

“Excuse me but what is that?!” Nancy points to your neck.

You thought that the dim lights of the bar and your high neck shirt would do the trick to cover the enormous hickey Eddie had left but alas, you were mistaken.

“Straightening iron burn” your hand shoots up to cover the evidence.

“You don’t own a straightener…” Robin squinted her eyes at you in question.

You look around nervously before you cave. You couldn’t lie to your friends, you were about embarrassed but also needed to tell them everything….

*********

“Dude what the fuck was up with you and y/n last night.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie shoves his face with the burger he ordered.

“I couldn’t fucking sleep because it sounded like you were eating her alive.” Gareth rolls his eyes.

“Sure was” Eddie smirks smugly.

“Not what I meant dude.” Gareth cringed.

“You’re just jealous because I’m having the best sex of my life. ” Eddie’s chuckles.

“The best sex of your life, huh?” Jeff pipes up.

“You have no idea man, I can’t keep my hands off her, her pussy has like magical powers or something.” He leans back in his chair remmebering last night….

*********

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!!” You chant, forgetting about keeping quiet for the sake of Eddie’s roommate.

You’re pussy was hovering over your boyfriends face as he insisted you sit on him. His fingers gripped into your plush hips as he pulls you down so your weight was resting on his face.

The way his tongue was flicking your clit was sinful. He was consuming you. Your pussy juices were covering his whole chin and upper lip. Your sent was consuming his nostrils while your taste was consuming his mouth. Eddie was addicted to you. You’re like a drug, the more he has the more he wants.

“Come on baby, I wanna taste you cuming on my tongue.” He speaks into your pussy and it sends a shockwave of pleasure through you.

“God s’good” you slur, unable to think about anything else.

What sends you over the ends is the sharp smack to your ass Eddie gives your before palming it with his large hand.

Your body quivers with ecstasy and Eddie continues the assault on your clit. He be damned if we were to stop now. It’s so much but you can’t help but grind your hips in his face. Your pussy catches his nose and chin and it only feels that much more erotic.

He wanted more, he was so greedy for you, all of you. He wanted to make you feel good, your pleasure was more important than his. He was obsessed, consumed, and in love.

“Come on baby, give me one more”

“Baby-no, I want you inside me, fuck me please!”

“Please baby one more your pussy tastes so good.”

“Oh-okay” you stuttered.

With your permission Eddie is lapping at you even faster than before, your sensitive clit was throbbing; you wanted to cum so badly once again.

“Can’t hold it!” You cry. Your hands landing infront of you on the headboard. Your gripping on for dear life as Eddie’s fingers slip up side your cunt, pumping in and out as he sits your most sensitive spot.

“Come.” Eddie demands and you can’t help but obey.

Again he laps up everything you give before gently lifting you up off his face and he inhales a deep breath.

“I could have killed you!”

“What a way to go darlin’ ” he smiles and you can’t help but roll your eyes and you also can’t help but want to kiss him.

He’s everything you want and you want him now. So you spread your legs wide, enticing and inviting him in. You want him so bad you can’t stand the separation you’re going through now.

“Eddie please, fuck me.” You don’t even recognize your needy voice but as Eddie watches your hands roam your body, kneading your breasts and your fingers running along your pussy folds he can’t stand it either.

“Please I want you so bad, I need you baby, I need you”

“Shhhh, I’m here baby, going to fuck you so good with this cock.”

“Please, that’s all I want!”

“I got you baby, you ready for me?”

“More than ready” you pant.

When Eddie finally slips it in your head spins. Nothing will ever compare to the way he fills you. Maybe it’s because it’s new, maybe it’s because you’re both so in love, or maybe it’s because he’s the best sex you e ever had but why didn’t matter. The way he fuck is you is animalistic, it’s messy, it’s passionate, and it’s fuelled by lust and love.

Never has Eddie ever felt this way when it came to sex before. No other person made him so feral he does everything in his power to please you.

“Your fucking pussy is so pretty when she takes my cock. You should see for yourself darlin’ sucking me in so good.”

You loved when Eddie talked dirty to you, it’s only made it that much more enjoyable.

You grab Eddie by the back of the neck pulling him down towards your mouth so you could kiss him. You loved kissing while fucking, especially when it was sloppy. His taste mixed with yours was your favourite flavour in the world.

As Eddie hips slapped into yours you start to lose it. The incoherent begging and mumbling, your brain feeling goofy from the pleasure he brought you, Eddie was your everything.

“I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet baby, not yet.”

“Please, I want it so bad please!”

“Almost there, come on. Hold it for me.”

“Eddie!”

His cock brushed that ultra sensitive spot within you each time his cock pounded into you and you tired to hard to obey but your body betrays you. The way Eddie fucks you is too much, too strong for you to take.

“Imcumingimcuminimcuming!” You babble.

“Fuuuuuuck” Eddie can feel your pussy seizing down tightly on his throbbing cock.

*********

“So how did you get that?” Nancy wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“What do you mean how? Eddie follows her around like a lost puppy. He looks at her like she hung the moon and the stars.”

“Oh he dose not” you blush. But she was right he dose.

“Well he dose” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay I know what but like? Is he any good?” Nancy wrinkles her nose.

“Oh my god best I’ve ever had! I think he enjoys going down on me than I do.” You giggle. “He wouldn’t stop until I came twice then he ducked me so good I think I blacked out!”

“Gross” Robin chuckles.

“You asked!”

“No, Nancy did.” She laughs. “Who would have thought that Munson had that in him,”

“That and more” you sit back in your chair dreaming about going back to Eddie’s tonight.

[chelseeebe]

jinx

18+ mdni. no smut but eddie is a grade a asshole to poor reader. mentions of weed and alcohol throughout. eddie munson x fem reader.

a/n: first off, anon i am sooo sooooo sorry it has taken me this long to fulfill your request!! i absolutely loved this request and am absolutely honoured that you came to me for it<33 i hope i've done it justice and that you still care to read this:') side note, i've updated my masterlist as i have slacked a bit but everything should be on there now ^.^

love me some chelseeebe angst—imagine fuckboy!eddie plays at the hideout right like regularly. reader starts frequenting his show days bc she likes him obviously but he starts noticing something. every time she comes in, something goes wrong. either he messes up a chord or cant see to flirt properly therefore no one ends up warming his bed as of late or something of the sort

his immediate first thought is ‘she’s a jinx!!!’ bc what other explanation could there be in his boy brain??? so he asks her to stop coming in. she does and yet he continues to mess up bc all he can think abt is her.

itd be so sexy if u added a moment of realization/angry love confession where in the middle of him being like you’ve bewitched me or something!!! he realizes hes the one obsessed with her.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

the party hums on in the background, a small group gathered outside to rob eddie blind, smoking away his entire supply. 

robin giggles nonsensically into steve’s shoulder, too high for her own good. 

“if you’re gonna smoke all my shit, the least you can do is come watch us tomorrow,” eddie had been nagging his friends to come down the hideout for months. they’d gathered a solid crowd now, not much but it was a start. 

robin groans, nancy and jonathan shift in their seats, steve can barely muster enough energy to reply and argyle snores. hardly enthusiastic about his dreams. 

“i’ll come,” you offer, bright-eyed as you smile politely at him from the floor. 

a friend of a friend, someone robin met in class and had dutifully introduced to the group. he didn’t know you well, nor had he ever really cared to. 

“i don’t think you’d like it, sweetheart” eddie retorts, flattered that you’d try and spare his feelings but he didn’t need your pity. 

“why? you can’t be that bad,” chuckling quietly to yourself. 

his eyes narrow, scoffing, “we’re not,” misunderstanding, or maybe just not caring to humour you back, “come if you want,” he shrugs nonchalantly, not as if any of his friends had offered to attend. 

“okay,” nodding along, “i will.” 

“alright,” turning his attention back to the embering joint glued to argyles fingers. 

who cares if you come? eddie certainly doesn’t. 

-

sure enough, the same couple dozen old drunks fill the bar, their glossy, zombie-like eyes stare back at him from the floor. he’d complain but beggars can’t be choosers and all that. 

they’re partway through the second song when something reflects in his eye, a low-cut sequinned top that would definitely look better on the floor of his van. 

it’s only when his eyes travel up that he realises it’s you who’s wearing that shirt, already looking straight back at him. a newfound look about you, thick lines of black line your eyes, worlds apart from the mousy girl who’d invited herself last night. 

“and we’re-,” he sings, an abrupt case of dry mouth as the next line struggles to come out, “we’re.. uh,” the entire song erased from his memory within seconds. 

he steps back from the mic, blinking rapidly in an attempt to trigger his voice though all he can see is you and that ridiculous top. 

gareth’s head whips round, still strumming along before picking up eddie’s slack, continuing the lyrics on his own, not without a damning glare in eddie’s direction. 

holy fuck. 

he’s just, taken aback, that’s all. shocked that you’d even bother to come, less so put the effort in to actually look the part too. 

his eyes don’t leave the back wall for the rest of the gig, practically stumbling through all of the songs as his head threatens to wander. trailing back to you only as they finish, walking off stage to down the harshest whisky the bar would allow. 

you saunter over a couple minutes later, while eddie tries his hardest not to stare right down your shirt. he’s not certain that he won’t choke on his words if you speak to him. 

“you were really good tonight,” you assure, smiling softly as his band mate turns to gawp. 

“uh, yeah.. thanks,” eddie fumbles, gripping the neck of his beer bottle, “thanks for coming.” 

there’s an aura surrounding you, like a wretched spell you’d evoked in him, turning him to a bumbling fool. 

“i’m gonna head out..” gesturing to the door, “see you around,” waving your fingers coyly at him before disappearing. 

his eyes linger at the door, wondering if maybe you’ll turn around and come back. not that he wants that. just curious as to why you’d come out just to see him play. 

“now who the hell was that?” jeff ogles, receiving a swift elbow to the ribs from eddie and a loud oof as he clutches his side. 

“a friend of a friend,” brushing him off, “don’t be weird about it,” jumping the gun to squash any sorts of ideas festering in his mind. 

“you’re the only one being weird about it,” jeff retorts, grabbing his beer and shuffling off. 

“i’m not being weird,” eddie calls from behind, “i’m not!” 

okay maybe he was being a little weird. 

who cares? 

definitely not eddie. 

-

this week, he feels more prepared to see you nodding along in the crowd, robin had joined you albeit looking less than impressed. 

eddie’s killing it, at least he thinks. avoiding looking anywhere in your direction, keeping his gaze on the stumbling drunk at the back instead. 

but the thoughts of you can’t help but creep into his mind, were you enjoying it? do you think he’s bad? why does he even care so much? 

his hand slides down the neck of the guitar, playing the wrong chord entirely, his fingers curating a mind of their own. 

fuck fuck fuck. 

why does this keep happening? 

gareth glares at him again, he had never been so frustrated with his idiot bandmate in his life. sure eddie liked to dick around in rehearsal but never on stage. 

if eddie ever wanted a career in music, he needed to get a monumental grip on himself. weird girls he barely knew should not have the capacity to ruin his career. 

after they clamber off stage, eddie makes a point of not going over to the two of you. no, you can come to him. 

though he wishes you’d just be a little faster at it if he’s honest. too busy squished into a booth with one of the younger regulars to care about him. 

heat rises in his chest, searing his cheeks a bright rouge, “-who is that?” gareth interrupts, bumping into his arm. 

“who’s who?” eddie coughs, clearing his throat as his eyes snap back. 

“that girl you’ve been staring at,” peering across the room to get a glimpse. 

“i’m not staring at anyone,” abruptly turning his head in the opposite direction, proving to himself that he wasn’t staring, not really. 

“you’re a liar,” gareth calls him on his bullshit immediately, “go talk to her! she’s hot,” scooting his friend along. 

“no she’s not,” you looked good tonight, he’d give you that, “can everyone please just stop being weird about this? first jeff- now you? honestly, i don’t get it,” working himself into a frenzy over what really was nothing. 

gareth’s eyes widen, scoffing at his melodramatic performance, “alright man.. calm down,” shaking his head in mild disgust. 

eddie was totally calm, you know, apart from his heart pounding in his chest. 

nothing major. 

-

filthy, downright pornographic sounds fill his cramped van, certain that it was rocking side to side with the utter obscenity happening in the back. 

chloe sits atop of his lap, tongues dancing around one another as she glides her hips back and forth. she was a regular, slightly older than eddie, at least he thinks, they’d made eyes a few times but only tonight had he gathered the courage to go and speak to her. 

any other time, eddie would be rock solid, pinning her down and fucking her into the dusty floor. today, it’s just not happening. 

his mind elsewhere, too preoccupied with nonsense to appreciate the opportunity at hand. 

he's thinking about you and the fact you’d left the bar without ever coming over to him tonight. what the fuck was that about? 

had he done something wrong? 

he breaks apart from her mouth, heaving into the tiny gap between them, “i don’t know what’s going on..” he chuckles awkwardly, looking down at his useless dick, “normally something happens by now..” 

she frowns, deep-set, showing her age more than before, “oh.” 

he reaches down, furiously palming his cock through his jeans. 

nothing. not even a twitch. 

he wants to curl up and die. never in his three years of actually getting laid has this ever happened. eddie got hard at the drop of a pin, he’d only have to think about boobs and his jeans would shift. 

so why the fuck wasn’t it working tonight?

“i’m gonna go,” chloe scowls, clambering over his legs, gathering her bag while not even attempting to hide her disappointment. 

eddie shoots up, pathetically crawling after her, desperate not to let her go. 

“it’s not me!” he screams out, watching helplessly as she crawls out of the van, “it’s you!”

no. 

“wait no! shit, that’s not what i meant,” peeking out of the van to find the empty parking lot, zero women to be found, “fuck sake.” 

left to wallow in his self-pity, alone, in the back of his dirty van. 

just as he deserved. 

if this was some karmic intervention, telling him to be a better person, he certainly wasn’t paying it any attention. 

-

another party meant another night of eddie trying to understand why the hell you had such an effect on him. 

it’s not even like you’re doing anything particularly riveting, sat with your drink in hand, nodding along to robin’s story. 

he can’t stand it. 

you have to go. 

maybe not like that, but he had to put some distance between you. there’s no way he could keep his sanity while you were still a constant in his life. 

eddie sidles over, feeling like the smartest guy in the room. he could do this, separate himself from you and your clutches and go back to playing as he once did. 

you smile upon him appearing, sickly and sweet. it makes his heart thump in the weirdest way. 

“oh.. hey,” playing this entirely nonchalantly, “i just thought i’d let you know that we’re not playing next week,” lying through his teeth, guilt ridden but really, it was necessary if he wanted to play a gig without fucking up the entire time. 

“oh,” sounding somewhat disappointed, “okay.. how come?” 

shit. 

he can’t think of a single valid reason as to why they wouldn’t be playing. 

“jeff’s sick.. real bad,” feeling even more guilty for lying about his friends health, wondering if he’s cursing jeff as you did him, “might even be a couple weeks off at this point.”

eddie was a terrible person. 

but so were you. 

bewitching him under some spell, forcing him to play terribly and embarrass himself in front of women 

you’ve jinxed him. a bad omen cursing him to play like a fucking amateur. that’s the only logical explanation his pea brain can conjure up anyway. 

that meant you had to stay away from the shows, from him preferably. 

he couldn’t understand why you have this effect on him, why your mere presence has him becoming a floundering fool. you don’t intimidate him, not even close. 

it’s almost as if he cares too much about what you think, to the extent that he overthinks it so hard that he fucks up. 

a curse that could only be broken with some distance between you. that way he could focus on the show instead of you and your doe eyes reflecting off of the stage lights. 

that’s what he’s praying for anyway. 

-

eddie despises wednesday’s. itching to get his classes over and done with so he can get his small taste of stardom on that tiny hideout stage. 

at some point over the last few weeks of you being an omnipotent presence in his life, he’d grown accustomed to crossing paths with you before the gig. 

crossing campus with your chin tucked down, arms wrapped tight around your books. typically only sharing a smile or a short nod. 

but this week you saunter over, resembling a frightened deer even more than usual. 

he pulls his headphone from his ear, anticipating whatever nonsensical, vaguely cute thing you were going to say. 

“hey,” he nods, a coy smile. 

even now you have his palms sweating, overthinking whether he should’ve said hi or hello instead. 

“you didn’t have to lie to me,” you start, brows furrowed, “it’s fine if you don’t want me to go to your gigs anymore, i don’t care,” a disappointed frown plaguing your normally cheerful face. “i thought i liked you eddie, really- but i don’t know anymore.. you’re not a good person.” 

you turn to walk off before he can even compute your words. 

oh shit. 

“wait!” he calls but it’s useless, “i didn’t- i wasn’t- fuck.”

it was unthinkably cruel, he didn’t think you’d ever find out. and maybe that was his problem, assuming you didn’t care enough to find out. 

guilt addles his chest, weighing heavy on his heart. for good reason too. 

eddie was an asshole. a true, grade-a asshole that wayne would positively despise him for. 

wait wait wait. 

you liked him? 

you liked him?

absolutely not. no way. that wasn’t what this was about.

or it’s not supposed to be. 

no, this was some adolescent feud, a confusing, one-sided, friendship that he couldn’t get a grip on. 

you didn’t like him. girls like you weren’t supposed to. 

-

it’s not at all surprising that he plays like absolute shit tonight too. 

guilt ridden for forcing your hand, for making you look at him like that. as if he were the worst person to walk the earth. 

shit, maybe he was. 

kind hearted people didn’t lie and deceive. no, kind hearted people came to gigs they obviously didn’t give a shit about. kind hearted people feigned interest in boring spiel about weed strains and whatever the fuck else eddie jabbered on about at parties. 

you, you were kind. kinder than he deserved. 

gareth slaps him harshly on the back the second they’re back behind the curtain, a scornful yet pitying scowl on his face, “look man,” he begins, “i dunno what’s going on with you but i don’t know how much longer they’re gonna let us play here if you keep playing like that.”

eddie sighs, because he knows this. he’s well aware that his performances have been lacklustre for weeks now. he just doesn’t really understand why. 

at first he thought it was just because you were there, a distance friend who would feed back to his friends about how good, or bad, he was. 

but that wasn’t it. 

you were there, and then you weren’t. and he still played like shit. 

somewhere entangled deep within his wretched heart, he thinks that maybe he just wanted to impress you. 

a nice girl, cares about her studies way more than he does, pretty too and you didn’t look at him like he was just some out of touch stoner with crazy dreams of his band getting big. 

you were polite, listening to his wacky stories and dreams of playing for thousands, in fact, you encouraged them, more than his friends ever had for sure. 

eddie’s not sure if, or how, he’ll ever be able to make amends for how he’s treated you. 

-

he’s making himself sick with worry. guilt wracking his brain. 

you don’t turn up that night, obviously. 

eddie’s eyes mindlessly search the crowd for any hint of you. his fingers failing to correspond with the rest of band, always playing a beat behind. 

you had infected him, ruined his once masterful skill to just a shell of what it once was. 

he doesn’t lay opportunity for the boys to speak to him again, rushing out of the bar as soon as his guitar is back in her case. 

there’s only one place he can think about going. 

a few months back, you’d hosted robin’s birthday party there and eddie had disgraced your bathroom with a girl he can’t even remember now. 

his fist bangs on the door, hoping the light in the upstairs window was you and not one of your roommates he’d have to shamefully apologise to. 

the orange light cascades over your face, peeking out from the barely cracked door with a frown that would scare any man off. 

“what’re you doing?” you spit, looking backwards in hopes he hadn’t woken the entire house up. 

“listen,” he sighs, “i’m real sorry about.. you know, lying to you,” his shoulders slumped over themselves, “but i just- i can’t fucking play when you’re there, can’t play when you’re not,” sounding utterly pathetic, begging for you to cure him from this sudden sickness. “i don’t know what to do anymore,” dragging his hand over his face. 

rightfully earning his spot as the worlds biggest fucking loser, stood on your doorstep begging for an answer. 

when he opens his eyes enough to look at you, you’re scowling back at him. nothing like how he had planned this situation in his head. 

he’d hoped that miraculously you’d understand, accept his apology and somehow still feel the same as you had. 

because that was it, really. 

too terrified to face the fact that he liked you too. 

somewhere in his heart of hearts he’d known it from the start. that’s why his heart fluttered when you’d volunteered to come or why he’d struggled to even touch anyone else. 

“what do you want me to say?” shrugging, “i won’t come back, that’s fine,” he wishes you’d just follow the script he’d curated for you. 

eddie doesn’t want you to stop coming, he never had. it’s killing him that you even believed that, twisting the knife in his chest further and further the more your bottom lip juts out and your eyes water. 

“actually, maybe it’s best if we don’t talk anymore,” you suggest, throwing him completely off kilter. 

woah. 

that wasn’t at all what he wanted nor was he trying to say. he just couldn’t gather the actual words he needed to express that to you. 

petrified that he’d admit to his feelings and you’d just turn around and laugh, how could someone like you ever like such a cruel man? 

“wait no, that’s not what i meant-,” bargaining with you for a little time to explain himself, though you definitely didn’t owe him any.

“-thanks for coming eddie, i’ll see you around,” flashing him a crestfallen smile before abruptly closing the door in his face. 

-

public humiliation was truly the only way eddie could think to make it up to you. 

well that and maybe a little big nudge from robin. 

he’d rather stupidly asked about you on saturday night, confused why you weren’t there alongside robin, who had very quickly got him in check. 

“why do you think dumbass?” she snapped, snarling her teeth at him, “you were an asshole and now she’s doesn’t want to come anymore,” her glare powerful and harsh, "i'd say you were lucky she didn't punch you in the face."

he’d deserve it. 

it had taken weeks of convincing to get you anywhere near the hideout again. not to mention the hundreds in free weed he’d had to bribe robin with to get her to help. 

you stand in a dark corner, hands folded against your chest, puzzled and irritated by robin’s incessant begging to get you here. 

“there’s someone here that i wanna apologise to,” his eyes don’t find you as easy this time, after weeks of missing your presence, he’s not used to you actually being in the crowd again, “if you know us, you know i can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, uh..” they find you, the lump only growing in his throat, “i’m sorry,” tunnel vision blocking out every other body in the room, “i’m really, really sorry.”

you blink, staring back at him like a deer caught in headlights. it makes him a little bit nauseous to recall how dreadfully he’d treated you, how you deserved absolutely none of it. 

your gaze lowers, and eddie can’t decide how to take it. he wouldn’t blame you if you decided to never forgive him, but he also couldn’t take it if you didn’t. 

his voice cracks a little as he speaks, “this is.. uh, we’re corroded coffin,” stepping back from the mic to gather his thoughts before the drum comes crashing in. 

-

eddie plays the best he’s potentially ever played. 

a force overcoming him to prove that he truly wasn’t as much as a loser as he’s shown himself to be.  

usually, he couldn’t wait to be off that stage and to the bar but today he’s dreading it. 

knowing that you’re somewhere out there waiting for an explanation. 

or maybe you weren’t. he wouldn’t blame you if you’d decided to leave soon after he’d embarrassed himself with that shitty apology. 

gareth runs up behind him, using his shoulders to launch himself into the air, “holy shit! that was amazing!” the boy presses a slobbery kiss to his cheek before continuing, “whatever the hell you did, keep doing it because that was insane!” running off past eddie to grab his weekly complimentary beer. 

a sudden sickness fills his stomach, slyly hoping that he could slip out of here before anyone else noticed him. 

you stand across the bar, waiting to catch his eye with your lips curled only ever-so-slightly. 

eddie’s limbs go stiff, still entranced by your jinx. by you.

your eyes trail away to the door as his follow, shuffling your way through the bustling crowd. 

his legs carry him without a second thought, out into the cool night as his eyes frantically search for you. 

he finds you perched against the crumbling stone wall a few feet from the entrance, just far enough away from the prying eyes of the smoking patrons. 

“i didn’t think you’d ever come back here,” is all he can say, feet trailing along the gravel. 

the streetlight glistens orange from your eyes, staring up at him from your perch, “i didn’t want to,” your smile only growing as he nears, “robin made me.” 

“oh,” it wasn’t as if he didn’t know that or that he didn’t orchestrated the entire thing, it just felt odd to hear it from your mouth. 

“i’m glad i came,” you clarify, allowing him to finally release the breath held tight in his chest. 

eddie dares to move closer, sitting back on the brick just inches away, “yeah?” 

you nod, the great big smile he’d forced away making a return at last, “yeah.” 

suddenly the air feels thick, it was easier apologising on stage, those people didn’t know him, they didn’t care. but now, sat here in front of you, it feels like he’s swallowing knives. 

“i’m really sorry for making you feel that way,” though it sounds meaningless now the damage was done, “i don’t know if you still care about me at all, but i- um,” his throat runs dry, clamping his eyes shut. it felt easier that way, somehow, “i think the reason why i was such.. an asshole,” the light flickers through his eyelids again, deciding that you at least deserved to see him, “fuck,” he exclaims, staring back at your confused expression. 

“it’s okay,” soothing even now, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” a twinge of sadness running through your tone. 

“no, no i do,” eddie persists. he’d fumbled once, he couldn’t do it again. “shit man,” he sighs, “i’m trying to tell you that i like you too, or maybe not too, i know i was an ass and i don’t deserve your forgiveness-,” your lips cuts him off mid-mumble, surging forward to press them against his blathering ones. 

he has to blink a couple times, taking in whatever the fuck was happening to him. 

you pull back, disappointed that his brain had been to fuzzy to focus on kissing you back. too preoccupied with trying not to explode and paint you in red. 

“really eddie.. it’s okay,” returning to your usual reserved self while his brain still struggles to compute. 

“can we do that again?” he asks politely, keeping the bubbling excitement to a minimum. 

you laugh, a real, throaty laugh, something he hadn’t heard in weeks, “only if you promise to stop talking,” leaning in once more, the rigid wall suddenly feeling like it was about to collapse from underneath him. 

your soft, cherry-tinted lips press against his forehead a second time, allowing him to gather his brain from a pile of mush on the floor just enough to actually kiss you back. a tender hand reaching out to caress his stubbly cheek, sending shockwaves through his limbs. 

you’re interrupted again by a loud whoop from behind, robin clapping wildly as she emerges from the bar, “now you two have kissed and made up, can we go home now?” 

[munson-blurbs]

https://www.tumblr.com/munson-blurbs/756854229024620544/i-wanna-write-a-smutty-blurb-either-eddie-x?source=share

A smutty blurb, huh? Ok what about phone sex with Eddie? Reader has been away for college and they miss each others a lot, miss touching each others and they get carried away during a phone call.

Or maybe, one where they are in a secret relationship but it's getting more and more difficult to not being affectionate towards each others when they are with others, so one day during a sleepover at one of their friends house, while everyone else is asleep, they go hide in a bathroom and they go from kissing to have sex on the counter

I went with the second option! My brain saw it and I sprinted to my Google Docs.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), an inconvenient boner, fingering, unprotected p in v, kind of public sex, secret relationship, sneaking around

WC: 1.5k

“Hey.”

Eddie’s soft voice was barely audible over the hum of the TV and Robin’s sporadic snores. Nancy and Jonathan had claimed the sofa bed and were currently curled up in the center of the Buckley’s living room. You had laid your blanket as far away from Eddie as possible, so as not to draw any suspicion from the rest of the group. 

But he stood above where you’d been trying to sleep, towering over you. Had he noticed you pressing your legs together as you tried to quell the desire building between them? Did he know that you were replaying memories of him kissing your neck as he pushed into you?

“Hey,” you managed, smiling up at him. “You okay?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah. I’m good.” He glanced around the room, making sure everyone else was sound asleep. “I was just thinking about you, and, um…” 

Your eyes widened when he gestured to the tent in his pants, now backlit by the TV screen. 

“Was hoping you could help me out.” 

You nearly melted at the sheepishness in his smile. God, he was adorable even when he was horny; you didn’t realize that was possible. 

“Yeah, of course.” Your stomach flip-flopped when he offered out his hand; you took it and followed him to the bathroom. 

Eddie’s lips were on yours the moment the door locked behind you. You could feel his erection through his pajamas, pre-cum leaking through and giving evidence of the way his cock curved slightly left when he got hard. 

He moaned when you pressed your body against his. “I’m so hard, it hurts.” He nipped at your bottom lip, snaking a hand up your shirt and groaning again. “Love when you wear pajamas.” His thumb grazed your nipple. “Because it means you’re not wearing a bra.”

You hummed in agreement, though following even the simplest conversation seemed impossible now. 

Eddie’s other hand trailed down past the elastic waistband of your shorts. He all but whimpered when he felt the wetness awaiting him. 

“I was thinking about you, too,” you confessed. 

He grinned against your neck. “What about me?” His middle finger easily found your clit, making deliberate circles that sent pleasure rippling through you. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, already hypnotized by his touch. “About that time we cut class and you ate me out in your van.” Your breath hitched in your throat. “A-And then I offered to suck you off, but you al-already came.”

The memory came rushing back: his desperation to please you, culminating with a pair of ruined jeans and another sloppy make-out session. 

“I was a bad influence on you that day, huh? Ditching school…fooling around in public…” Eddie gripped your hips, supporting you as you hoisted yourself onto the bathroom counter. 

You shoved Robin’s hair dryer aside and scooted back. Eddie tugged down your pajama pants, then your panties, his tongue darting out over his lower lip when he saw you fully on display for him. 

“Anyone could’ve caught us,” he continued. Taking a step closer, he ran his middle finger through the wetness between your legs before sliding it inside you. “We’ve gotta be careful. Don’t want people getting suspicious.”

You could only manage a nod, gripping the counter’s edge, as he filled you with just one thick finger. He kept the rhythm slow and even, working you with a patience you hadn’t known existed. You wanted all of him, and you wanted him now, but he seemed perfectly content to focus on your pleasure. 

Eddie’s ring finger joined his middle, both curling upwards to hit your sweet spot. “How’s that?” He murmured in your ear. 

“G-Good. Little faster, maybe?” He eagerly complied, sending euphoric surges through your body. “Perfect. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, yes!”

The exclamation came out louder than you intended, sending Eddie into peals of laughter. “Sshh,” he managed, slowing his pace slightly. “We don’t want them waking up.”

Now that would be a conversation for the ages. How could you possibly explain to your friends why Eddie was two fingers deep inside of you? Sure, you all had been studying for the science final, but it wasn’t an anatomy class. It was awkward enough when you struggled to concentrate during Nancy’s rapid-fire quizzing. And then Robin had to repeat what she’d read from her notes because you kept staring at Eddie’s tongue poking between his lips. 

You clamped your lips shut now, focusing your energy on your trembling legs. He just knew how to touch you, how to make you feel good, after months of sneaking around. His fingers learned your body like they had once learned to play the guitar. 

And damn, if you two didn’t make some beautiful music together.

“Eddie.” You tried to tell him how close you were, that he was bringing you to the edge, but there was only one word you could utter. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”

“That’s my girl. Let go for me.” His voice was husky, gaze meeting yours. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

You clenched around his fingers, chanting his name as quietly as you could. His pet name for you reverberated through your mind. My girl. You were Eddie’s girl, and every part of you ached for the world to know.

“Baby, can I…” Eddie’s breath tickled your neck as he gingerly withdrew his fingers and palmed the bulge straining against his pajama pants. As soon as you nodded, he loosened the drawstring and pulled his cock free. “Sh-Shit, fuckin’...” He trailed off as he stroked himself, using your arousal as a makeshift lubricant. 

The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance, your body welcoming him without resistance. A whine escaped your throat; this time, Eddie didn’t even attempt to quiet you.

His fingers gripped your hips to keep you in place, your own nails digging into his back with enough force to leave crescent-shaped indents through his t-shirt and into his skin. Each thrust had you holding him tighter as he grew harder still inside you. 

��Goddamn, you feel perfect.” Sweat matted Eddie’s curls to his face, and you pushed the strands out of his eyes and tucked them behind his ear. “Thanks, baby.” He kissed you, a token of his appreciation and his desire. 

Everything melted when his lips were on yours. They always did; it was as though the rest of the world faded away. The stress of final exams, the whirlwind of events between prom and graduation and college, the weighty expectations on your shoulders…they evaporated when Eddie kissed you. 

Eddie kept his nose to yours, sneaking kisses whenever he caught his breath. “Can never get close enough to you, I fuckin’ swear.” Each snap of his hips brought you both hurtling towards climax, and you could tell that Eddie was trying to hold out so you’d finish first. 

“I wanna come with you.” Your fingers weaved through his hair as you pulled yourself closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Don’t hold back, okay? I want you.”

He nodded, his kisses sloppier and only halfway on your lips as his orgasm neared. “Say that again for me?”

The slight tremor in his voice turned the command into a whine and weakened your minimal remaining resolve. “I want you. I want you so bad.”

“Yeah?” Eddie spoke through clenched teeth as he moved faster, harder, more determined. “Yeah, you want me? Or you need me?”

“Need you. Need you, I need you…oh my god, I need you!”

His mouth curved into a knowing smile, though you thought you spotted some relief behind it, too. As if he was glad that you wanted this as much as he did. How could you not? 

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your breast. Eddie squeezed, feeling your nipple pebbling beneath your shirt.

“Fuck, I…I’m gonna…” He thrusted into you—hard—and spilled into you with a groan. “Oh my god…holy shit…”

Eddie’s chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his orgasm slowly releasing him from its alluring grasp. “Baby…” He looked at you, eyes widening in realization. “You didn’t get to come.”

“I did.”

“I’m not talking about earlier.” Eddie shook his head. “You didn’t get to come during, like, the actual sex.”

There was no use denying it; he knew all of your tells too well by now. “No,” you admitted. Dejection brought Eddie’s gaze from your eyes to the tile floor. “But it’s okay. Really.”

He shook his head again. “It’s not okay. I wanna make you feel good, y’know? You’re my girl.”

There was that name again, accompanied by butterflies in your stomach. “Guess that just means you owe me an extra orgasm next time.”

“Well, ‘next time’ better not be in my bathroom!” Robin’s disgusted voice rang through the door. “I swear, if there’s an ass print—or worse—on the counter…”

“Looks like they know now.” Eddie smiled as he kissed you, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “You ready for the interrogation of a lifetime?”

You laughed as he helped you down from the counter. “We should probably wipe off my ass print, first.”

“Very true. Your ass and its prints are for my eyes only, baby.”

--

[tim-shii]

a/n: my beau, the love of my life 🫂 little smth before i go to war (finals is in two days) ,, AAAAAA i love aven so much hes so precious hes so dear to me MY BELOVED !! hes canonically a messy sleeper 😋 hes so silly bf oml

aventurine looks so ethereal right now. well, he’s always been beautiful. but in this light? with how the beams from the sun highlights his features, aventurine looks gorgeous.

he’s sleeping soundly, too. pajama shirt nearly unbuttoned because of how much he twist and turn in his sleep. blonde locks messily sprawled over the pillow and his forehead. he’s so endearing. it takes everything in you just to not wake him with a shower of aggressive kisses all over his pretty face.

usually, you’ll let him sleep in. however, today’s itinerary is quite full and busy so a few more minutes of sleep will indeed hurt.

“wake up, sleeping beauty.” you sit on the edge of the bed hovering over him, your pointer finger repeatedly poking his cheek. when he doesn’t move an inch, you gently blow air in his ear. grinning widely once he shudders. slowly after that, aventurine flutters open his eyes. squinting at the morning light, blindly patting around for your hand.

“g’morning.” he murmurs, arms snaking around your waist, pulling you close. aventurine nuzzles in your neck, his lips leaving short kisses on your skin. an attempt to coax you back to bed.

“good morni— no, no. you need to get up.” you hold his face and pull him away from your personal bubble. his cheeks are squished against your palms, you have the urge to sink your teeth into them. “it’s robin’s concert today and we promised to come over for her album release lunch party.”

“you promised her.”

“and you are my official plus one to everything.” you bite one of his cheeks and aventurine lets you. he loves you too much to deny you of anything. he also really loves affection from you so this situation is more beneficial for him than for you.

“so i’m just a pretty thing for you to flaunt around?” he turns his head in your hold in order to land a kiss on your inner wrist, his gaze affectionate and soft as they bore into you.

“my pretty lover whose presence i always want around? yes, you are.” finally, you lean down to kiss him. aventurine sighs at the feeling of your lips on his. he can taste the coffee you must’ve had before you went to wake him up.

“okay, enough.” you pull away. instantly, he frowns like a child whose candy got stolen. he tries to chase after you but a hard bite on his nose is enough to make him back down (he sends you a glare though). “get up. we still have to pick up veritas on the way.”

“he’s a grown man. he can drive himself there.”

“apparently, he was grading papers until 4am. he is in no condition to drive, baby.” you walk away from him after a last kiss on his lips. aventurine groans, annoyed that his sleep got interrupted and he felt like your kisses weren’t enough. he needs more than five kisses to fully function in a day. he pats around the bed for his phone, arm lazily hitting the pillows scattered around the bed.

as he clicks on the power button, his jaw drops in disbelief. you.. how could you….

“it’s five in the morning! why— it’s still too early!”

“you kicked me off the bed! it’s payback!”

“you’re such a menace, oh my god.”

“love you, baby! come down! breakfast is waiting.”

likes and reblogs are appreciated! masterlist

[luveline]

jade! i’d love to see anything with eddie and roan <3 i miss my man and my child

eddie and roan | ty for requesting <3

“Get lost.” 

“You get lost, you weirdo.” 

“I’m serious, go play somewhere else.” 

Steve frowns, shaking the fist of his Barbie at Eddie in outrage. “This is supposed to be a playdate. You can’t just boss me around.” 

“No, this is dinner. You were invited over for dinner.” 

“And Roan employed me to build some deep backstory for her characters!” 

Roan sits in your lap at the dinner table, nowhere near their playing. She has cracker crumbs falling from her mouth as she asks, “Wait, are they talking about me?” 

“Don’t think so,” Robin says, a butter knife in hand. She spreads thick, salty butter from one corner of a cracker to the other, cheddar dust falling from it like orange snow. 

You’re pleasantly surprised when she hands it to you. 

“I’m trying to get these sweet ladies dressed and you’re messing up their outfits,” Eddie says. 

“I’m not messing them up, they just look stupid when you dress them.” 

“I know how they looked in the box, okay? I should. I paid for them.” 

“That’s not true. I bought this one.” Steve holds up a Barbie with a flight attendant’s outfit on. 

“And I bought the bug scientist one!” you add from your seat. Like with Roan, cracker crumbs try their hardest to fall down your shirt. A Metallica one, Eddie’s influence. 

“I know how they look,” Eddie affirms. 

“So what? They’re toys, you don’t have to dress them up like they came in the box. Roan, can you please do me a big huge favour and tell your daddy he’s being too strict with me?” 

Steve’s pouts at her, but Eddie’s daughter is loyal to her father. “Daddy always dresses them the best, sorry,” Roan says. 

“My angel,” Eddie says, a mutter, distracted by a Barbie where he wrestles a coat over plastic arms. “Thanks, baby.” 

She licks her fingertip. “Y’welcome.” 

You squeeze your arms around her waist and steal a slice of cheese from the paper plate in front of her. 

“Don’t let him draw you into their fighting. Anyone would think they’re the kids,” Robin says. 

“I resent that!” Eddie says, as Steve calls, “Shut it, Buckley, nobody asked you!” 

“I asked, Aunt Robin,” Roan says. 

The boys tussle over a pair of plastic shoes. Robin just sighs, like she’s seen it a hundred times before. “Thank you, Ro. I hate when they do this.” 

You’re enjoying it, but maybe the novelty wears off. 

“Babe?” Eddie calls. 

“Yeah?” Steve asks. 

“Fuck off a second. Sweetheart?” 

“Yeah?” you ask. 

“Can you get that plate of cheese out for Roan, please?” 

You snort and grab another cracker from the tub. “What does he think I’m doing?” you ask Roan in a whisper. “What, I’m just sitting here watching him play with your dollies?” 

“He’s silly,” Roan whispers back, giggling. 

A pink high heel the size of your fingernail pings off the side of Eddie’s head. “Can you pay attention to me? I’m trying to get her ready for the catwalk and you’re not helping.” 

“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging with a smile. They seem like they’re actually having fun, under their exaggerated spats. “It looks like a good time.” 

[runninriot]

written for @steddie-week day 6

Love Drunk

prompt: dizzy, drunken confessions | wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: alcohol | tags: platonic stobin, steve has a crush on eddie, pining, jealousy, love confessions, friends to lovers | also on ao3

  "Steeeve, I really don’t think this is a good idea.“ Robin grabs him by the sleeve of his shirt to hold him back.

   "Oh, but it is a great idea, actually! The best idea I ever had!“

Steve has to concentrate hard not to trip over his tongue, to pronounce each word clearly.

He’s drunk. Like, really drunk. Drunk as in - the floor’s moving like he’s standing on a boat rocking on the shore and the world around him is turning too fast.

He knows he’s had too much but that doesn’t keep him from downing another shot.

Steve needs it, needs the courage. Because he has a plan.

   "You’re gonna regret it, Steve. And then I’ll have to listen to you whine and complain and you’re gonna blame me for not holding you back! I can’t let you do this.“

    My sweet Robin.

He’ll thank her later for this. For trying to talk some sense into him. She’s his best friend in the world. And usually, he knows he’s always better off listening to her advice. Because Robin is smart as hell. He’s lucky to have her. She loves him, always has his best interest at heart.

Steve turns around to look at her, can’t fight the urge to boop her on the nose.

   “You’re cute,” he says completely out of context and while he can see the confusion on her blurry face, she still laughs at the notion.

   “Well, you’re not,” she says and Steve pouts.

   “Don’t you love me anymooore?”

    God, Steve sounds like a kid even to his own ears. How pathetic.

He’s always been an emotional drunk.

That’s probably why, when he caught sight of Eddie laughing at something this- this random guy standing too close to him must’ve said, Steve suddenly felt like someone had pulled the rug right from under his feet.

   “You know I do. That’s why I’m telling you not to do anything stupid.” Robin says sternly, seemingly unimpressed by the emotional turmoil raging in his mind.

The thing is, technically, he knows she’s right. Sober Steve would listen to Robin without hesitation. Would let her take him home and comfort him while he pours his heart out to her.

But Drunk Steve?

Drunk Steve is as bold as he is stupid.

Drunk Steve has a mind of his own, steered by a heart that is too loud for any sensible thoughts to come through.

He can’t stop himself from staring, from watching Eddie through the open kitchen door that leads to the other room, where the music is loud and everyone’s having a great time.

Everyone, including Eddie and random guy, who’s touching Eddie’s arm, smiling and batting his lashes at him. He’s flirting with Eddie, undoubtedly. And Eddie clearly doesn’t mind, going by the way he keeps moving closer to the other guy, holding his gaze, reciprocating his touch.

That’s just-

Not okay.

He needs to do something.

Like, right now.

   “’m jus’ gonna talk to him,” Steve announces to Robin without looking at her.

She sighs, and he knows Robin has accepted her defeat when she finally lets go of his arm.

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.”

He barely catches her last words before making his way over to where Eddie and Rando are standing, careful not to stumble because the floor is uneven. Or maybe there’s something wrong with his feet? Who knows. Doesn’t matter, he’s on a mission.

Slowly and on wobbly legs, he makes his way through the spinning party crowd until he finally reaches his destination.

As if he can sense his presence, Eddie turns around immediately, while the guy next to him is throwing metaphorical daggers at Steve for interrupting their conversation.

   “Steve? Are you okay?” Eddie sounds concerned for some reason but Steve can’t find it in him to question it, not when Eddie holds out a hand and touches his shoulder.

Not when the hand on his arm feels so nice. And keeps him steady. Keeps his body from swaying.

    Why is the floor moving so much?

   “Do you need to sit down?”

Before Steve can wonder why Eddie would ask him that, he’s losing his balance, feels his knees give out and then all of a sudden, everything goes dark.

   “There you are.”

Steve blinks his eyes open, tries to focus his vision on the figure looming above him.

There’s something cold and damp on his forehead and a warm hand caressing his cheek.

   “Wha’ happened?” Steve’s voice is hoarse and his mouth is dry and there’s a nasty aftertaste of tequila on his tongue.

    Ugh.

Steve tries to push himself up from where he’s lying on... a bed? But he fails, feels dizzy, and slumps right back down.

   “Careful, Stevie. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

It is only now Steve realises who is talking to him. Who is sitting beside him at the edge of the bed with a hand pressed to the washcloth on his forehead to keep it in place.

   “Eddie?”

    Oh fuck.

Robin will never let him live that down.

   “The one and only,” Eddie smiles and although Steve feels like absolute shit, he can’t help but return the gesture.

   “Where are we?”

The room is only dimly lit by a bedside lamp, with the door closed and the curtains pulled shut. Steve can hear the music coming from the party still going on downstairs.

   “Linda allowed me to take you to her room after that little stunt you pulled.”

Eddie must sense his confusion because before Steve can ask what he means, he continues.

   “You blacked out. Kinda fell right into my arms,” he chuckles. “I caught you before you went down and brought you up here. I asked Jeremy to find Robin and tell her what happened but I guess he... was a bit mad at me for leaving.”

    Oh god.

Steve remembers now.

Jeremy must be the guy Eddie was talking to.

He can’t blame him for being pissed, though he’s probably not mad at Eddie but rather at Steve for interrupting their little- whatever it was.

   “Sorry for ruining your date,” Steve says quietly, shame creeping up inside.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? That was his plan.

Not to faint! But to disrupt whatever flirting game random guy, Jeremy, thought he had going on. But now that he’s slowly coming to his senses, he can’t help but to feel guilty for it.

   “Ah, it’s fine. He’ll live.”

Eddie grins, doesn’t sound mad at all which is good but the fact that he didn’t deny that it was, in fact, a date, makes Steve’s stomach turn into knots.

Because while he’s definitely still drunk, Sober Steve is slowly trying to force his way into his conscious, crawling through the fog still clinging to his mind. And with that comes the realisation of how stupid his plan was.

If he hadn’t blacked out, he would’ve told Eddie that he-

    Godfuckingdamn, this would’ve ended in a catastrophe.

Eddie doesn’t like Steve like that. They’re friends, nothing more.

And Steve would’ve ruined it all.

He knows he can’t keep his tongue in check when it’s loose from alcohol and still, consciously made the decision to go over the limit anyway.

How could he be so stupid? So recklessly putting their friendship on the line for- what? A rejection?

Steve should’ve listened to Robin. She tried to warn him, tried to save him from embarrassing himself but of course, he didn’t listen.

Now Eddie is sitting here next to him in depressing silence instead of being with-

   “You should go looking for him.”

   “For who?”

   “Jeremy? I’m fine now. Thanks for looking after me.”

Eddie’s hand slips away from Steve’s forehead and there’s a change in his expression that Steve doesn’t know how to read. He looks... disappointed? Kind of hurt in a way, and Steve doesn’t know why.

   “I’ll go looking for Robin and ask her to take me home. Wouldn’t want to waste any more of your precious time than I already have.”

The words feel like acid on his tongue because they’re lies. He’d want nothing more than to stay here with Eddie a little while longer. Hell, he’d spend the whole night alone with Eddie if he could.

But he can’t because it wouldn’t be fair to keep Eddie to himself when he could be out there having a good time.

Doesn’t matter that it hurts like a bitch to imagine Eddie going home with that guy at the end of the night.

To imagine someone else’s hands on his body, someone else’s lips on his mouth.

To imagine someone else getting to have all these things Steve would die for.

   “You’re not wasting my time, Steve. Never. I love spending time with you.”

Eddie smiles again, nervously rubbing the back of his neck and it’s way too much for Steve’s weak little heart to handle.

   “You can’t say things like that, Eds.” Steve says because he needs Eddie to stop making his heart flutter.

   “Why not?”

   “Because I might take advantage of it.”

    What the fuck? Shut your mouth before you say something even more stupid.

Steve finally manages to sit up, head still feeling heavy but at least the wooziness is gone.

With his new seating position, Eddie is suddenly so much closer than before.

They’re sitting next to each other, arms and legs touching, and Steve has to force himself not to lean into the warmth radiating off Eddie’s body.

   “I wouldn’t mind.” Eddie says while he fumbles with his rings, eyes focused on his own hands.

It’s like he purposely avoids looking at Steve.

   “Oh, you would,” Steve insists. “Because I’d want too much.”

Eddie looks back up, tilts his head to the side.

   “What do you mean?”

Steve feels sick.

Not from the booze but from the violent fluttering sensation in his gut – he’s worried he’ll throw up butterflies if he opens his mouth.

   “I-“

He feels dizzy again, this time for reasons he’s not willing to confess.

Eddie’s gaze is piercing. It’s like he is trying to look right through him, searching for the truth that’s locked away in Steve’s heart. Barely held back from pouring out, thrashing behind bars that slowly crack and crumble as Steve loses himself in Eddie’s eyes.

His emotions swim in a sea of tequila and beer. He feels light-headed and the room is spinning again but this time, it’s because Steve feels drunk on Eddie.

   “I have a big, fat crush on you.”

It’s out. Just like that. And nothing bad happens. The world still revolves around the sun, people downstairs are still having fun, and Eddie doesn’t tell him to fuck off.

Instead, Eddie takes his face in both hands and looks him deep in the eyes.

   “Is this drunk you talking? Or do you mean it?”

Steve allows himself to lean into the warmth of Eddie’s palm, and smiles.

   “Both? I mean it. But I wouldn’t have told you if I hadn’t drowned my last functioning brain cells in Tequila,” Steve says honestly and his heart makes a funny thing when Eddie snorts at his words.

   “You’re lucky you’re cute, Stevie. I can’t believe Robin let you off the leash like that.”

   “Hey!” Steve protests with a light push to Eddie’s chest, absently lets his hand linger where he can feel Eddie’s heart beat hard and fast beneath his palm.

   “Just for your information, she did tell me it was a bad idea. But I saw you with that guy and-“

    Oops.

That’s not what he wanted to say.

   “Oooh, so you got drunk because you were jealous, huh?” Eddie wags his brows and it looks so dorky, Steve can’t help but laugh.

   “No! Okay maybe. But-“

Steve only now realises that Eddie’s hands are still cupping his face. That Eddie hasn’t pulled away; he’s still touching him, still so close there’s barely any room between them. This is too close. And although it feels good, Steve knows it isn’t right.

   “Listen, Eddie. I know that this isn’t mutual. And I guess- well, I hope this doesn’t make it awkward between us? I like you, Eddie. A lot. And I- I hope we can still be friends, des-“

  “Woah, hold on, Stevie!”

Suddenly, Eddie’s expression turns serious and Steve feels like his heart stops as he holds his breath, waiting for whatever comes next.

   “Before you jump to conclusions, I gotta confess something, too. I might also have a big, fat, stupid crush on you.”

Eddie’s hands move to the back of Steve’s neck, fingers curling into his hair in this kind of gentle but demanding way that makes Steve shiver.

   “I just didn’t think I’d have a chance.“

He moves closer, so close their noses are touching. Steve’s heart does that thing again, flips and kicks and he can feel Eddie’s do the same.

It makes him feel bold.

   “Can I kiss you?”

Steve wouldn’t even be mad if Eddie said no. He probably smells like a distillery and he looks like shit and his mouth is so dry because-

    God, why did I drink so much?

   “Only if I can kiss you, too.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for a response, just closes the remaining distance between their lips, tentatively and almost shy. But the way he digs his fingers deeper into Steve’s hair and pulls shows a desperation that matches Steve’s own.

Steve, who clings to Eddie with both arms wrapped tight around him, kissing him, touching him, losing himself in the moment.

He’s breathless when they part.

   “You good?” Eddie asks, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort in Steve’s.

   “Perfect,” Steve lies, doesn’t want Eddie to stop on his behalf, wants to keep kissing him.

   “You’re a bad liar, Stevie. You look tired.”

Eddie’s right. Steve should go home, drink a gallon of water and go to sleep, let the buzz wear off and-

   “Will this still be real tomorrow?”

    Please, let it be real.

Eddie presses another kiss to his lips before he nods.

   “I’m yours if you want me.”

   “Want you.”

   “Come on, then. Let’s get you home.”

   “Are you coming home with me?” Steve asks, sounding a little more hopeful that he’d want to admit.

   “Just for tonight, let’s pretend I’m a gentleman, okay? I don’t want Robin to kill me before I have the chance to tell her.”

   “Tell her what?”

   “That I’m in love with her best friend.”

Steve will have the worst hangover tomorrow, he’s sure.

And Robin will have a lot to say about all of it.

But to hear Eddie say those words makes it all worth it.

   “What about Jeremy?” Steve’s being a teasing little shit now, he knows he is, can’t help himself.

   “I think his name was actually Jeffrey, or Jackson? I don’t really know him. He just wanted to talk to me about my band, saw us play a few weeks back.” Eddie grins, has this knowing look in his eyes that sends a hot rush to Steve’s cheeks.

   “Oh you bastard!” Steve huffs, feels stupid for falling for something like that. “I can't believe you let me think you two had something going on. That’s so mean!”

They both laugh.

   “Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Eddie smirks and Steve can’t not kiss him.

   “I hate you,” Steve says through a smile and Eddie answers with his own.

   “I know, I love you, too.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

wanna shout it from the rooftops

for @steddie-week prompt 'secret relationship'

rated m | 1397 words | cw: implied sexual content | tags: secret relationship, established relationship, love confessions, making out, coming out

🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫🤫

As soon as Dustin walked out the door, Eddie was backing Steve against the wall, lips on his neck, hands wandering across his arms and sides.

“God, I thought they’d never leave,” Steve gasped, throwing his head back as Eddie’s teeth bit into his collarbone. “Need you so fuckin’ bad, baby.”

“Looked so good in that apron. So unfair I couldn’t get my hands on you when you were making cookies for us,” Eddie groaned against his skin. “Wanna fuck you right here. Open you up on my tongue-“

“Sorry, Steve! Forgot my-“ Dustin’s voice stopped before Eddie could even register that he should pull away. “What the fuck!”

“Language!” Steve yelled as he shoved Eddie away from him, trying to fix his shirt and hair. Not that it would do any good; Dustin just got an eyeful already.

At least they weren’t naked. Yet.

“Please tell me you were fighting,” Dustin sounds distraught, which isn’t fair. He should’ve knocked.

“You spent months making me feel bad for not wanting to hang out with your new best friend and now you’re hoping we’re fighting?” Steve placed his hands on his hips, subtly trying to catch his breath and will his dick back to soft. “What about that looked like fighting to you? How have you not sat through sex ed yet?”

“You were having sex?!” Dustin’s voice cracked. “In the hall?!”

“Of my home!” Steve threw his arms up. “And no we weren’t having sex, but we were getting there.”

Eddie held his hands up, brain finally coming back online enough to intervene before things got out of hand.

“Okay. Dustin, why the hell are you even back?”

“I forgot my notebook.”

“And you decided to storm in here like it’s your house instead of knocking?” Steve was trying to take it easy, but everything was falling apart.

They’d kept their relationship a secret for nearly three months now. Robin didn’t even know.

Now that Dustin saw what he did, everyone would know and everyone would hate them and then Eddie would leave Steve for making everyone hate them and-

“Stevie!” Eddie’s hands were on his cheeks as Steve focused back in on what was going on. His breath was coming in short pants, and if Eddie wasn’t so close to him, he isn’t sure he’d be able to see him. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ve gotta breathe for me.”

Breathe for Eddie. He could do that. He did that all the time.

He liked doing what Eddie told him to, he liked the praise that came when he did it, he liked being good. Breathing was easy.

He took a deep breath, then another, relaxing as Eddie smiled back at him encouragingly.

“That’s good, angel. Keep doing that. I’m gonna get Dustin’s notebook, okay?” Eddie didn’t seem like he wanted to leave Steve alone, but he didn’t have much of a choice right now.

“Okay.”

Eddie walked away, towards the study that they’d turned into a game room for the kids to hang out in, and Steve immediately felt the panic settle in his chest again.

“Steve?” Dustin asked, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Dustin sounded hurt, looked hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was worried you’d hate me, or Eddie. That all of you would hate us for…for being different,” Steve looked down at his hands. “Didn’t wanna lose you.”

“But it’s okay if you’re gay, Steve. None of us would care!” Dustin exclaimed. “I just kinda thought you liked girls. Like Nancy.”

“I do. I just also like guys. I love Eddie,” Steve provided, relaxing slightly at Dustin’s words.

“You love him?” Dustin asked.

“You love me?” Eddie asked from the doorway, clutching Dustin’s notebook tight to his chest.

Steve wasn’t used to keeping his crushes and relationships a secret. He was used to holding hands in the movie theater and kissing a girl goodbye at her door. He was used to being able to show how much he loved someone without a filter.

But with Eddie, he’d held back. He had to in some ways, and they agreed it was best not to give anything away around anyone else for a while, but he’d hoped that Eddie saw how much he cared about him when they were alone.

“I do. I thought it was pretty obvious,” Steve stepped closer to Eddie, ignoring Dustin’s presence entirely. “I love you.”

Eddie threw Dustin’s notebook to the side, ignoring the ‘hey!’ that Dustin let out, and pulled Steve into his arms.

“Can’t believe you told Dustin before you told me,” Eddie laughed against his shoulder. “You know he can’t keep a secret.”

“Yeah, well. I love you enough to not care if everyone knows,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist, kissing the side of his head and lingering there for longer than he probably should in front of a guest. “Was gonna tell you tomorrow after our date.”

“You mean the super secret plans that you wouldn’t give me any hints about?” Eddie pulled away, searching Steve’s eyes. “Will you tell me them now?”

“Maybe when Dustin leaves.”

Both of them turned to Dustin, who was staring at them with a blank look.

“Dustin?” Eddie asked, snapping his fingers to get his attention.

“I’m gonna go,” Dustin said, still looking lost. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Hey, man,” Eddie let go of Steve to walk towards Dustin. “We good?”

“Yeah! I just thought you guys barely even liked each other and you’re actually in love and having sex and I’m just trying to do the math.”

Steve snorted, but straightened out when Eddie glared at him.

“If you wanna talk about anything, you can stay. You seem kinda…out of it.”

“I’d rather not intrude right now,” Dustin said, gesturing to the way their hair and clothing was still a bit disheveled. “But you are gonna tell everyone soon, right? So I don’t have to keep it a secret?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, smiling when he gave him one nod in agreement.

“Yeah, dude. We’re gonna tell everyone at the next movie night,” Eddie said as he turned back to Dustin.

“Thank god!” He breathed out. “Then I’m leaving so you two can do…whatever it is you do.”

He didn’t wait for them to respond, rushing out the door, nearly forgetting his notebook again.

Eddie laughed as he slammed the door, his head falling onto Steve’s shoulder as they fell against the closest wall. Steve was holding Eddie up, laughing with him at the absurdity of being caught by their favorite, but most likely to tell everyone, kid.

“He’s gonna go tell everyone right now, you know that, right?” Steve gasped out between laughter.

“Oh yeah. We’ll be lucky to have another hour before they’re all showing up here with questions,” Eddie said breathlessly.

He pulled back to look at Steve, both of them flush with sudden relief that it was no longer a secret. He leaned in to kiss him once on the corner of his mouth, smiling when he felt Steve’s lips turn up.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

“Even though I made you wait to tell everyone?” Steve sounded unsure suddenly, like maybe Eddie would retract everything.

“You didn’t make me do anything, sweetheart. We both agreed to wait.” Eddie cupped his jaw and kissed him slow, much softer than where they’d left off before being interrupted.

No matter how much he enjoyed taking Steve apart, how much he liked seeing him covered in bite marks and bruises, he liked seeing him melt like this more.

“I love you,” Steve said against his lips, already letting Eddie take more of the weight he didn’t have leaning back against the wall. “Want you. Before they get here. Please.”

“How can I resist when you ask so nicely?” Eddie nipped at his bottom lip before pulling away. “Let’s go to your room this time. Don’t want any more interruptions.”

Steve nodded and led Eddie upstairs.

If the kids showed up in an hour, Eddie would make excuses for why Steve was asleep in bed, field their nosy questions, and ease some of the burden of coming out for Steve. If they didn’t, he’d get to keep showing Steve how much he loved him.

Over and over again. Until the whole world knew.

[xxsteveharringtonxx]

Call It Love

Steve Harrington x Reader

All credit of images to original owners

“It’s Steve.” Robin’s voice was shaky and it made your knees feel uneasy, swallowing the lump in your throat you drove straight to his house.

When you did get there you saw his car park haphazardly in the drive and the sob that was suffocating you only got worse.

He would never park his car like that unless a) he wasn’t driving it or b) he was in a rush. Or worst of all c) he was in such a bad way he actually let someone else drive and was in a rush to get inside.

Deciding you probably didn’t have time to think too much about that you parked your own car just as terribly behind his and not even closing the door as you ran into your boyfriend’s house.

Having hardly heard from him since he dropped you home two nights ago you were already worried.

When you got inside you gasped at the sight of him, covering your mouth as the sob finally escaped Steve, Nancy, Eddie and Robin all looked over to you.

Steve’s face turned thunderous at the sight of you, turning he barely hesitated as he grabbed Eddie by the shirt and threw him against the wall.

“I told you not to call her!” He seethed and even in the moment you tried to think if you had ever seen him that angry.

“Steve it was me, she deserves to know what’s going on.” Robin intervened quickly making him release a nervous Eddie.

They all looked at you, Steve stepping forward cautiously not to upset you even more.

He was dirty, shirtless bar from a denim vest that definitely wasn’t his, bleeding, covered in bruises.

A vast contrast to how you are used to seeing your usually clean cut boyfriend, the last time you had seen him he was wearing a crisp white polo and his stupid family video vest. But his skin was tanned from the spring sun Hawkins had got, his hair perfectly placed.

“What.. what the hell happened to you.” You choked out not taking your eyes off him, pupils moving to try and take in every injury on his body, he took another tentative step towards you and holding out his hands as if approaching a wild animal.

Yours were shaking.

“Baby, baby look at me, I’m fine!” He protested trying to get you to hear him but he knew the noose type bruise around his neck was louder, the chunk of skin missing in his side and bleeding was blaring.

“Steve.” Your chin wobbled and he didn’t know what you needed in that moment.

Hell he didn’t know what he needed and it was choking him.

“I’m fine, you need to look at me okay?” He coaxed just one more time and took the final step to get to you, when his fingers brushed yours to get you to look him in the eye you flinched.

“Baby I’m okay.” He begged as you finally looked him in the eyes, they were the same warm honey that looked at you with so much love it gives you butterflies.

Except this time they made you cry.

You flung your arms around his neck sobbing into the crook between his jaw and collarbone. His arms pulled you as close as possible and he rubbed your back.

You barely had the will in you to let him go, and he wasn’t sure his heart had ever pounded that hard in his life.

Robin bit on her bottom lip knowing now why Steve was so adamant on not calling you. He knew you would hate to see him in this state and he knew you would worry yourself half to death.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You asked softly and gently pulling away to kiss him on the lips.

One of his hands moved to hold the back of your neck, the other on your back still trying to hold you close to him.

“Yes baby, god I’m so fine.” He breathed out kissing you once more, finally a small sense of relief coming over him that you were here.

Maybe a little grateful now that Robin had called you.

But he won’t admit that.

“What happened to you?” You asked again looking over all his bruises and realised when you unwrapped your hands his blood was smeared all over them. “Oh my god.” You whispered scared and he took them in his own, the shaking not going unmissed.

“I’m getting cleaned up and I’ll be back to normal in no time.” He reassured kissing your knuckles and while you nodded at his words you spoke again.

“Tell me what happened.” You demanded and he sighed heavily.

“I don’t want to.” His voice was honest and firm, he threw a glare at Robin and then sighed heavily.

“Well tough Harrington because if I ever get a call like this again, and I find you in this state if you aren’t already dead I will kill you myself.” You snapped putting a hand on your hip just to prove the sentiment, and all it did was make him grin.

It was real and warm and it took over his whole face.

“There she is. My beautiful girl.” He kissed your lips, your neck, your nose, your forehead and even though you let out a relieved giggle at the normal reaction from your boyfriend you still didn’t have an explanation.

“Can someone please fill me in?” You all but begged as they all avoided your gaze.

“Can you help me get cleaned up baby? And I’ll tell you everything.” He promised before leading you down his hallway into the small mostly unused bathroom the Harringtons fitted two years ago.

He showered and you watched from your spot on the toilet seat as all the blood, dirt and grime ran off his body. His arm leaning on the tiles ahead of him as the water washed down his back, his muscles clenched and he hissed in pain at the impact but you wiped away your worried tears before he could see. And when he was ready and the tap squeaked off you were waiting with a plush white towel wrapping it around him.

After what felt like hours of silence he had taken your spot on the toilet seat, the first aid kit open beside him on the counter and you began fixing him up.

Stopping when he winced but starting again when he looked up at you his eyes all sorry and sad.

“Is this a bite mark?” You whispered as you made it down the scariest looking wound below his ribs.

“Yeah. Demon bats, big ones.” You scoffed out a laugh at his joke and rolled your eyes.

“Harrington, come on. I know you don’t want me to be worried but demon bats, I’m not that stupid.” You huffed out with a soft laugh before looking back up at him.

His silence kind of worrying and the sincere look on his face wiped the smile straight off yours.

“You remember when Will Byers went missing…”

-

It wasn’t until nearly 2am when you crawled into his bed with him.

You rejoined the rest of them after Steve told you as much as he could as quickly as he could. He cursed himself for involving you when you cried and you made him promise to tell you any and every time he could potentially be in danger.

When you got downstairs you hugged all of your friends tightly and ordered them pizza. Once they were all asleep in different parts of the house you and Steve also went to bed.

“Why are you all the way over there?” He whispered as you lay on your back firmly on your side of his bed.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You whispered back rolling onto your side to look at him.

“Baby, it’s hurting me more that you’re so far away.” He whined in his usual needy tone, with a giggle and a squeal he yanked you into his side.

Curling into him you took a deep breath of his scent and pressed your lips onto his chest with a soft kiss.

“I’m sorry you’ve been going through this alone.” You heard yourself whispering.

“I haven’t been alone, I’ve always known you’d be right here, waiting for me whenever the hell was over. I don’t know what I’d of done if I didn’t have you to fight my way back to.” He told you before pressing a kiss onto your hair line.

“I love you Steve Harrington.” You told him into the darkness, his chest rose and fell quickly and your words seemed to hit him.

“Yeah, I love you too baby. More than you know.” His arms tightened around you and while you were careful of his wounds you decided you weren’t ever going to let your Steve Harrington get hurt like this again.

Even if you had to get to Vecna himself, Steve is too good to suffer this.

And while you were thinking of that Steve was thinking about how he could keep you so far away from this mess so you never had to worry about it again.