#lawyer!steve

[stervrucht]

Prompt by @sabbathbloodysabbeth for my 200+ followers event. This was really fun, thank you!

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” 

Steve sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before looking back at the expert witness to his case — a dark-haired mechanic, young by the looks of it, maybe a few years older than Steve himself. The garage had said — no insisted — that Eddie Munson was the best mechanic there is, especially in cases concerning older car models. 

Steve is skeptical.

This Eddie guy hardly looks like a professional. He sits on the other side of Steve’s desk, slouched in the designer leather chair,  distracted by the various items on the walls. His overalls are unzipped to reveal his naked chest and it is covered in tattoos. 

And yes, it’s summer and the garage is probably sweltering where he works, but what about professionalism? Steve is wearing a three-piece suit himself, for God's sake! Not particularly pleasant in the summer heat, but he works through it.

“The car — signs of tampering?” Steve reminds him. Munson’s eyes shoot back to Steve. 

“Oh right, yes, deffo.” Munson clicks his tongue and winks at him.

“You can’t say ‘deffo’ in court.” Steve tries, but he has a feeling it may be a lost cause.

“I’m the expert, right? It’s my expertly opinion that I can say whatever I want.”

Steve stands up and turns to face the wall. This case was a tough one, maybe the worst faced so far. All evidence pointed toward his clients’ guilt. But there is something about those guys — something so sincere that makes Steve believe they’re innocent.

The car is the last essential puzzle piece that can prove their innocence, and Munson confirmed it — the car had been tampered with. Now all that is needed is for Munson to state so in court and his clients will walk free.

“The suit looks good on you,” Steve hears Munson say from behind him. Steve turns around and is about to thank him when Munson continues, “Makes your ass look tight.”

Steve’s mouth is agape, thoughts interrupted by Munson’s statement. He wills it close and stares at Munson who looks back at him, eyes challenging and a sly smile playing on his lips.

Steve swallows thickly, eyes unwittingly drifting down to Munson’s chest again before catching himself.

Munson is a witness.

Steve has worked hard for what he has — his expertise and reputation well above what is expected of someone his age. He can’t ruin it by fucking his witness. Not even when he’s asking for it so blatantly.

Steve clears his throat. “Let’s start from the beginning again.

—

The next day in court, Munson’s testimony goes well. His speech is formal and professional to such a degree that Steve suspects he may have faked his incompetence the other day. Still, it does not escape him the way Munson’s eyes drift downward whenever he slightly turns his back, nor the way he smiles whenever Steve catches him after.

Once the hearing is over and Steve’s clients are acquitted, Munson seeks him out in the hallway and slips a note into Steve’s back pocket.

“Maybe we should go for another round of practice after some beers,” he says in Steve’s ear, tapping the pocket once before leaving.

When Munson is out of sight, Steve fishes the note from his pocket. 

It’s a phone number.

Steve smiles to himself. He may just take Munson up on his offer. 

After all, he isn’t a witness anymore.

[calumfmu]

i could send you a million requests!

having an affair with your divorce lawyer steve 😏

HIII HUNNNN. Thank you for your patience love <3 Here it is in all its glory, smut, smut, smut oooo Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (2.3k+ words of pure smut) cw: 18+, mdni, smut, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, dirty talk, ugh, all Steve goodness, set in NY, famous!reader,

Three drinks down, adrenaline pumping through your veins, you only had one thing on your mind. Freedom. It was seven months into this divorce--if you could even call it that. A messy separation, public legal dispute that was plaguing the city's newspapers, headlines screaming about the famous ex-ball player's divorce with New York's once most eligible bachelorette.

Hitting the town three days in a row seemed like a good idea in retrospect, but it was really starting to get to you and your reputation. But as you chased that sixth tequila shot with lime, it was the last thing on your mind.

"Hey, isn't that..." your friend's voice trailed off as she pointed her beer towards someone across the bar. You followed the point of the bottle, gaze focusing on a tall man--Steve.

A Cheshire grin spread across your face, eyes widening as you recognized him, his mole dotted face, thin wire glasses framing his face as he laughed with a group of other suits, those you knew as his colleagues.

"Oh my God," you whined, immediately downing the shot that was supposed to be for her. She protested, hands throwing up around her as she watched you finish it with a grimace. "What is he doing here?"

She shrugged, swigging out of the glass as she eyed him down. Her bobbed hair swung in the air as she tilted her head down to fully drink him in.

"You know if I was straight I'd be all over that," she replied, turning around to face the bar. Your eyes remained on the older guy, tongue darting out to lick at the corner of your mouth.

"Robin!" You squealed, swatting at her arm. She giggled in response, arm waving to capture the attention of the bartender.

"I'm just saying," her tone was suggestive, eyebrows wiggling with her words. "You should just get after it, I mean... see what Harrington & Partner really has to offer."

You considered her point, your own head tilting down to observe him as his head tilted back with laughter. From across the bar, you could see the stretch of his neck, the expanse of skin being exposed to show more moles, disappearing behind the fitted collar of his dress shirt. The dark bar lighting did wonders for him, highlighting the amber high lights of his hair, showing off the small gray wisps that poked out at his hairline, a testament to how men age like fine wine.

"I've already seen what it has to offer," you said under your breath, grabbing her beer out of her hand. She whined again as you finished it off, slamming it on the counter behind you. "And I want more."

Her jaw dropped, eyes widening as she took in your words.

"What do you mean you've already seen it?"

Laughing, you took a step away from her, bag fitted over your shoulder as you adjusted the dress you wore. "Long story. Late night. Tedious divorce papers. Did I say that out loud?"

She reached a hand out to you, but you dodged it, backing away from her as you made your way over to his group. Her eye roll was enough for you to know you were making a bad decision, but you couldn't care. Your mind was set on one thing only.

"Steve!" You cheered, waving at him as he looked at you confused. Immediately, his gaze dipped across your figure, dress hugging your curves in all the right places.

He covered it up with a cough, eyes widening as he suddenly realized he was in the presence of those he worked with. The sound of your name rolled off of his lips, a surprised cackle of speech.

"What are you doing here?" It was less of a question and more accusatory.

Your mouth dropped open in a wide smile as you held your arms out. "Celebrating my separation, freedom."

Realization crossed his features as your words slurred, the intoxication becoming clear as you lingered a little too close for comfort. The men he surrounded himself with eyed you as well, eyes flickering over you as you teetered on the heels in your feet.

"Ah," he muttered, tongue smacking against his teeth as he took a step back. His hand came up to adjust the tie that was fitted around his neck. "I see. Just a few months away from that."

The suits laughed, deep chuckles of laughter that screamed money. Old money, New York money, jurisprudence, whatever you wanted to call it. Rolling your eyes, you felt all the confidence of the tequila shots you took, pressing a hand to his arm. His eyes dropped to it, slowly dragging away to peer down at you over his wire frames.

"Excuse me," he said to the group, placing a hand to your lower back to drag you away from them. He lead you through the crowd, pressing you into a dark corner of the swanky bar. On the way, you had seen Robin, her thumbs up thrown in your direction.

"What are you doing?" He whispered again, backing you into a wall. He towered over you, immediately, you were weak in the knees, this interaction normally being behind the closed doors of his 30th story office.

Your hand found his arm again, trailing up the expanse of it as you craned your head back, a soft bump against the wall.

"Having fun," you sighed, biting your lip as he took a step closer to you. His scent overwhelmed you, warmth beginning to pool into the pit of your stomach as you rested a foot up against the wall.

"This is a bad look," he suddenly grew professional, straightening up as your hand left his arm and began to trail down his abdomen.

You rolled your eyes, dragging out a groan that bordered childish.

"You're a bad look," you retorted, reaching up to grab the lapels of his suit. Tugging him closer to you, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck. "You're wearing too many clothes."

He pulled away from you again, clearing his throat as he urged you from the wall. Fast in his movements, his hand was at the small of your back, pulling you towards a back exit, one you were unaware that was even there.

A black Lincoln sat in an alleyway, the door opening as he threw you in the backseat. You rolled your eyes as you sat up, pulling down your skirt as he slid in behind you. He muttered something to a driver, the car already moving as the world began to spin around you.

"You can't have people seeing you like this," he muttered, shaking his head as he pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Leaning into his touch, your eyes fluttered shut.

"Relax, nobody saw."

"Hmm," he was annoyed, the tone of his voice short. "You don't know that for sure. There's too much at stake right now, especially with the way his side is going."

You groaned, leaning fully into him as you began to trail a hand over his body. Touching any skin you could get was the only thing you were focused on, hastily unbuttoning his shirt as the car began to make turns throughout the city. He didn't oppose, only settled into the back seat of the vehicle even further.

"I don't want to talk about him."

You climbed into his lap, squeezing in the small space as you pressed your lips to his. His hands found your ass, squeezing as he ground you down into him. The stubble on his face scratched at yours, your jaw rubbed raw as the two of you made out, tongues fighting against each other.

"I think you're," he muttered in between kisses, his hands beginning to lift your skirt as your hands found his belt buckle. "The worst client I've ever had."

"Mmmm," you groaned, pulling his belt buckle loose. It clanked in the air, followed by the sound of the driver sliding the separation window closed. "Talk dirty to me, Harrington."

He laughed into the kiss, lips slotting into yours perfectly as you freed him from his pants. His cock was angry red, swollen through its length as you briefly looked down to grip at him. The girth of it alone had you watering at the mouth, wishing you had the freedom to sink to your knees.

You pulled away from him, pressing him back down into the cushion of the seat as he chased your mouth, leaning up as he wanted more. He groaned at your touch, his head leaning back against the headrests.

"Need you to fuck me," you whispered, adjusting so the cave of your pussy sat right over him. A pant escaped him as he felt your wetness, encasing him as you grinded down on him.

"You're gonna get me fired, hun," he moaned, teeth digging into his lip as you lifted off of him, angling him so his head pressed at your entrance. The small stretch of his tip had you mewling, the intoxication of the alcohol leaving your body as you got drunk off of a new feeling.

"We've barely left Manhattan," the grunt of words only worsened as you pressed lower, his length stretching you wide. His hands found your hips, guiding you lower.

Your knees sat on the sides of his hips, locking him in as you stopped half way, hovering above him. With your head tilted back, staring up at the ceiling of the car, your eyes watered, the heat of the moment making you so caught up that you cursed at your previous idea of skipping the foreplay.

"You talk too much," you whispered, pressing all the way down. Stretched down to the hilt, the both of you sat in silent groans, his hand finding the back of your neck to press his forehead into yours.

From this angle, you could see the chocolate brown of his eyes, sunken with desire, his lids hooded in pleasure.

"fuck." The hand that never left your hip raised you, a soft squelch filling the back seat as your wetness dripped around him.

As you began to bounce on his cock, his moans began to grow louder, fingers digging marks into your hip. The press of his cock deep inside made you feel weak, that spongy spot not being granted mercy as he drove into you.

"Steve," you groaned, swirling your hips as he mouthed at your neck, deep colored marks being left in his wake. The heat of his touch added to the fire pooling in your belly, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Look at my dirty girl.

His words could've gotten you right then and there, if it were not for the alcohol in your system prolonging your orgasm. You loved it when he called you names like that, claiming you as his even when you both knew you weren't.

Such a bad girl.

That one had you squeezing your eyes even tighter, your hands resting on the tops of his shoulders as you rode him, bouncing in a frenzy that he had yet to see. The scratch of his suit pants against your ass was oddly soothing, distracting you from the white hot feeling building faster and faster.

"Need you to fuck me harder," you whimpered, reaching a hand up to tug at his hair. The sounds he made to the yank on his scalp had you pulling closer to your orgasm, legs shaking as he began to match you half way, hips lifting off of the seat.

A ring of white began to form at the base of his cock, wetness from your pussy building into a thick cream, your release teetering on the edge. He was close to his own release, his breath coming short as he fucked you, hips moving into an uneven pattern.

"Gonna cum all in you i-if you keep talking like that," he tried being strong in his words, but his voice failed him, cracking in the middle.

A small smile ghosted your lips, knowing exactly what it would take to get him to paint you white, release deep inside of you.

"Cum inside me," you whined, sinking lower as you pressed your lips to the shell of his ear. Your voice was low, scratchy from the frequent moans, borderline shouts he drew out of you.

"Make me yours, Steve."

He groaned, hands locking behind your hips as he began to drive into you, slapping sounds filling the air. Your hand snaked down to circle at your clit, tight circles around the nub that had your eyes rolling back.

"Show everyone who's pussy this really is."

With a low groan, he came inside you, fucking you through it as you found your release quickly after. It was the loudest one you had experienced, legs shaking as explosions tingled up your spine. His hips never slowed, riding out both of your highs.

You pushed off of him, collapsing into the empty leather next to him, legs sprawled wide open. Your chest heaved with exhaustion, yet adrenaline still coursed through you, tequila urging another round already.

"How soon do you think is too soon for me to marry my divorce lawyer?"

He laughed at your words, tucking himself away as he peered out the window. The city lights were far in the background, familiar streets nearing his home coming up in the distance.

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, dear," he shook his head, leaning down onto you to press a kiss to your forehead anyways. You beamed at the press of his lips, tilting your head closer to him.

The look in his eyes that he gave you was sweet, something that you had once yearned for from your now-ex. You knew it was wrong, to be this smitten over your divorce lawyer, but God, was he beautiful.

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

also--not proofread, but should be in the next week or so :)

[morganbritton132]

Want to make a minor adjustment to my Steve With Much Older Siblings post from yesterday. I think it’d be a much more interesting dynamic if he’s actually their half sibling from an affair.

Their father had an affair with his secretary and then married her when she got pregnant. It broke up their family and they blamed Steve for it for years.

When they stayed over for their weekend with Dad, they were either outright cruel to him or pretended he didn’t exist. When they were old enough to stop coming over, they did. It’s only after growing up and maturing that (most of) his siblings were able to acknowledge that Steve was never at fault for their family breaking up.

They tried to mend their relationship with him, especially after realizing how absent his parents are, but by then Steve was old enough to build up his own resentment. It’s an uphill battle.

It’s a lot of actually coming around for holidays and a lot of teasing when they do. It’s actually picking the phone when the hospital calls, something that’s happening with increasing frequency.

Steve has never asked any of them for anything until one day, he shows up on Richie’s front porch smelling like death and gasoline. He’s got blood drying all over him and is visibly shaking, and Richie thinks that he’s been hurt in the earthquake but Steve barely acknowledges the concern, “I need you to represent my friend.”

“What?”

“You’re the only lawyer I know, and -“ Steve takes a big shuttering breath. “They’ll kill him, Rich. He never hurt anybody but no one will listen. They’ll lock him up and it won’t be fair, and Dustin can’t… I never ask you for anything but. But I need…”

“Eddie Munson?” He asks incredulous. “You’re friends with Eddie Munson?”

[shushmal]

steve, occasionally the mental terrorist: so, is lizard jail actually fun?

eddie: please stop

steve: like, you all yell the entire time at each other. must be hard getting the lizard out of prison.

eddie: i know you're doing this on purpose. stop it.

steve: you're like the judge right? and everyone else is the lawyers? who's the defense attorney and who's the prosecutor?

eddie: please

steve: what crimes did the lizard commit to receive 25 consecutive life sentences?

[fnaf-movie-countdown]

The first wave of fnaf movie youtooz debuts May 24th!!

Source

[neurotic-sinkhole]

as someone who has worked in courtrooms and actively is in law school i. i just have to talk about the cleo v doc case.

i finally got around to watching doc's entire POV after being too busy. i saw clips over and over again that were just calling my name. and oh boy did the full vid not dissapoint. my mouth was wide open the whole time in both shock and laughter. surprisingly, some of the proceedings of the court were accurate to typical US court proceedings!

here's a list of events and actions that stood out to me for their questionable realism:

- skizz's opening line was pretty accurate to how most plaintiff/prosecutions begin -"your honor, opposing council, members of the jury"

- most courts don't let you... submit evidence in opening statements but i love the hustle skizz!!

- honestly skizz's entire opening statement would have had a jury on his side

- but no jury? this would be a jury case

- honestly joe's baby defense i could see playing out in court

- joe really held up the batshit defense arguments stereotype and i love that for us 🧡

- arguing in opening to have the case dismissed... baby that time has passed. not even discovery can save you now

- i get the feeling neither joe nor doc knew the plaintiff was going to call witnesses which is not only major illegal but also so fucking funny

- this is the type of questioning a proffessor would show what leading a witness looks like

- literally during both of joes cross' i was crying it was so funny

- also ren's "i cannot recall" yeah!! that's good.

- should have brought up husband status

- skizz. please. it is not "disposition". beef did not give you a "disposition". it's "deposition". please. i'm crying.

- really good relevance objection! and skizz didn't say "relevency" so +3000 lawyer points!

- the judge firing missles at both councils is a feature i think the lower courts should implement

- DEFENSE DIDNT GET TO PRESENT A SINGLE WITNESS???

- like they had no case. the witnesses are your case. they didn't begin their case to even rest it. help?

- no experts testified but i think if D did get a witness they could've had an expert testify to either doc's baby or insane status and that would have really helped.

- joe's mens rhea argument in closing was SO GOOD. like that really was the glove moment of this trial.

anyways i'll be thinking about this for 1000 years.

[shaxza]

[newtstabber]

Eddie: alright, you're turn in initiative, whadya got?

Dustin: what does the phrase 'worn or carried' mean to you?

Eddie: *sighs* it means being worn or being carried.

Dustin: ok. I can work with that. Would you consider a human heart to be worn or carried?

Eddie, staring: I'm sorry- a human heart? Okay I'm gonna regret this but why are you asking?

Dustin: so there's a first level spell, catapult-

Eddie: yes I'm familiar with this spell.

Dustin: now that spells says I can jettison an object that is not being worn or carried.

Eddie: you can't see his heart though, so-

Dustin: ah but see, catapult doesn't require you to see the object you are throwing.

Eddie, blinking: what?

Dustin: catapult does not require line of sight

Eddie: ok but even if it's not being worn or carried, a heart is not an object.

Dustin: what if it were in a jar? You'd consider it an object then, wouldn't you?

Eddie: I am not going to allow you to use a first level spell to fling someone's heart from their chest!

Dustin, shrugs: rules as written says I should be able to.

Eddie: your written rules can kiss my ass

[steddieasitgoes]

Busker Eddie who always sets up right outside The Harrington and Son Law Firm because the overhang of the tall building gives him the best acoustics, and it’s right across from the subway line.

Sure he has to deal with Mr. Harrington calling the police on him for soliciting every time he shows up. But the tips he makes are worth it. Plus, he’s managed to win over the chief of police Hopper, who never writes Eddie up. He thinks it’s because Hopper has some kind of feud with Harrington, but he doesn’t ask. It’s better not to get involved.

Eddie’s busking his heart out one day. Giving his all to a small group of tourists gathered around him when a Young Suit marches over to him. Fights his way through the tourists, gets his hands on Eddie’s shirt, and yanks him away from the crowd.

The Young Suit is dressed like all the other suits who sneer at Eddie as they head into the building every afternoon. But this Young Suit doesn't look anything like the rest of them. His hair is fluffy and styled to perfection, nothing like the clean-shaven and buzzed heads Eddie's used to. His walk is a little less polished, dress shoes a size too big on his feet, Eddie guesses. But it's his eyes that really give him away. They're not dark and dead like every other suit who sold their soul to the devil. There's a glimmer of life behind this guy's eyes, enough that Eddie doesn't immediately start his rant about how lawyers are the devil reincarnated.

He still gives him shit though.

"What the fuck man?"

"Look, I don't want to do this," Young Suit says, running a hand through his hair. "But my dad's ready to throw the fax machine out the window if you don't leave so can you please find somewhere else to busk?"

Dad, huh?

Eddie can work with that.

"Ah, so you're the son in Harrington and Son's Law Firm," Eddie says, a salacious grin appearing on his face. "Sorry, Harrington Jr., but no can do. This is my spot. Tell daddy I have the license to prove it."

Harrington Jr. sighs dramatically before his hands land on his hips. He looks like an exasperated soccer mom.

A cute exasperated soccer mom.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Could you at least change the days you're here then?" Harrington Jr. asks. "My asshole dad never works on Mondays and Tuesdays. If you busk those days, I'll make sure no one calls the cops on you."

"Like I said, no can do," Eddie says, casually. "I make most of my rent money on Thursdays and Fridays. Daddy dearest will have to deal with it."

"Don't do it for him, do it for me."

"And why would I do anything for you?" Eddie asks, caught off guard for the first time in a long time.

Harrington Jr. gets a wicked look in his eyes. Lips twitching upward in a smirk that has Eddie's knees seconds away from buckling.

"Because I actually like your voice and want to hear more of it without my dad screaming and threatening violence in the background," he says, laying the compliment on thick. "I can also make it worth your while."

"How do you plan on doing that?"

"I have a friend who works at the club on 9th. One phone call and you can be performing on a real stage for people who don't smell like stale subway air. You're too good to be performing on street corners."

The offer is tempting, it is. But Eddie can hear his uncle's nagging voice in the back of his head. The one that tells him not to take offers from strangers, especially not pretty ones who can't be trusted.

"Tell you what, Harrington Jr." Eddie flirts. "I'll think about it, while I finish my set. Till then, I'm not leaving. "

"Better keep watch for flying fax machines then," Harrington Jr. sighs again, finally dropping his hands from his hips. He turns to go back inside but stops abruptly, digging in the pockets of his pants before pulling a thick wallet out. He leafs through it before tossing an impressive stack of bills in Eddie's open guitar case.

Eddie waits for him to say something else, but he never does. Just stuffs the wallet back in his pocket and drags himself back inside the building.

When Eddie's sure Harrington Jr. is back inside, he kneels down to inspect his earnings. He nearly passes out when he spots three crisp hundred dollars bills lying under a business card that reads:

Steve Harrington Associate Lawyer Harrington and Son Law Firm 646-442-8422

Well played, Eddie thinks as he pockets the business card with Steve's number. Well played, indeed.

[calumfmu]

divorce lawyer steve is the loml 😍

could we see him finally meeting the husband you’re divorcing? 😉

Shorter one, but you know--had to do this to build the little universe better.

Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader [part one. part two.]

cw: smut-ish (interrupted), vulgar language, slut shaming, older!Steve, two idiots in love

“What are you doing here?”

Steve stood in your doorway, semi casually dressed—to his standards. White button down, pushed to the elbows, navy blue pants, brown loafers. His glasses were missing from his face, hair disheveled as he seemed to be more dressed down.

“I was in town?” His voice was gravelly, as he hadn’t expected you to open the door before he even knocked. You were on your way out, a normal visit to the inner city to drown out the past few months with partying.

“You live on the other side of New York.”

“Ah.”

You two sat there, staring into each other’s eyes. It was the first time around him you had felt uncomfortable, if you had even wanted to call it that.

“What’s that?” Your finger pointed to a box, wrapped in black paper, glossy, with a single bow.

“Oh, it’s nothing.”

He was acting suspicious, not quite meeting eye contact as he stood in your doorway, looking like a scared cat that could flee at any moment. You grabbed the box anyways, snatching it from his hands before turning on your heel to go into your living area, plopping down on the couch.

As you began to unwrap the gift, he remained at the door, hands shoved in his pockets. You eyed him, raising an eyebrow as you took off the last bits of paper on the box.

“Stop being weird, old man,” an exasperated sigh left your mouth as he grumbled to himself, not pleased with your comment referencing his age.

It had been about a month of being his client, discussing paperwork, the details of separation, fucking him behind closed doors. The last part shouldn’t be apart of the equation, but one look at him, you couldn’t resist the temptation.

As the door to your apartment closed behind him, he stepped in, taking a wide look at the room around him. Moving boxes were still present, shoved into the corners of the room, scribbles of your name on the cardboard. You didn’t know what he was expecting—you to be living this lavish life in a lavish apartment, but it was home to you. Home to you at least for now.

You gasped loudly, slapping your hands to your mouth as you finally took a look inside of the box. Manolo Blahnik Mary Jane’s, patent leather shiny as ever, sitting there and dying to be worn.

“Steve!” Your mouth was wide open, surprise evident as you were had no idea was even aware of this side of heaven—shoe heaven. Grabbing the shoes, you immediately toed off your others, trading them for the gifted heels. Perfect fit. “You shouldn’t have!”

Giddy with emotion, you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. A sloppy kiss landed on his cheek, the grimace in return as your entire body weight leaned on him. Slowly his arms came to snake around your waist, gripping the skin around your middle section.

His eyes met yours as he stared down at you, warm, chocolate brown with a whole world to offer. In this lighting, you could truly see his beauty, how age only made him more angelic, filled with fine lines and moles dotting his cheeks.

“You said I owed you, so…” he shrugged, a smug look crossing his face as he took in how grateful you truly were for the gift.

“You didn’t actually have to,” you replied, trailing your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “The other pair wasn’t actually ruined, and these are so… so-”

“Think of it as an early separation gift.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. Just as you turned to lean into the kiss, he pulled away, a slight dip of his eyebrow in teasing manner.

“Steve Harrington, what am I going to do with you?”

He looked away from you, smiling into the distance as you looked down at your shoes once more, squealing with delight. This was all too domestic, too inappropriate for what your relationship should be with him, especially only a month in—yet not a relationship at all, but who was anyone to tell you differently?

Sinking down to your knees, you were careful to not scuff the gifted shoes, settling on the balls of your feet. You reached for his belt buckle, hastily working the metal between your fingers. His hand instinctively came to your head, tangling in the hair as he gasped.

“What-what’s—no, you don’t have to-” His words became jumbled as you smirked up at him, blinking through long lashes.

Faux pouting, you freed his zipper, slowly pulling it down with the lightest touch of your fingers.

“I could tell you about this Ferragamo dress I’ve been eyeing,” you whispered, biting your lip as you began to palm his through his exposed underwear. His head dipped back quickly, his eyes rolling shut. “Or—I could show you how grateful I really am.”

He nodded down at you, tightening his grip in your hair as you pressed a kiss to his groin, staring up at him through it. A shuttered breath escaped him, slow and jagged, his eyes watching the quick dart of your tongue dampening the material.

Just as you pulled him out of his restraint, a rapid knock was heard at the door. Steve craned his head back, silently cursing to himself as you wrapped a hand around him, moving slowly over the velvety skin of his shaft.

“Should you get that?”

“They’ll go away.” An open mouth kiss was pressed to his head, licking away the beaded pearl at the tip. The salted skin had you drooling, already craving more.

The knock was more urgent this time, a male voice heard through the thick wood of the door. It made the both of you pause in your tracks, Steve’s eyes widening, your mouth half way around him.

“Is that-?”

“You think-?”

It took only one more knock before the two of you were making haste, Steve’s pants sliding up with a jump, you wiping the corners of your mouth. The both of you were trying to appear normal, appear like actual lawyer and client inside of whatever this was.

Rushing over to the door, you have one last look at Steve, him lingering over the kitchen island as he grabbed a random folder, grateful that it had been documents relevant to the divorce settlement.

Your soon-to-be-ex’s eyes were small as he took you in, eyes dragging down your figure. His looks, those in which you had once thought were beautiful, seemed devious, up to no good while he stood before you.

“New outfit? Looks slutty,” he muttered, pushing his way into your apartment. He looked around, focusing on the boxes in the corner of the apartment, taking in every minuscule detail of the room.

“Aw damn, I was hoping for more tramp-y,” you were firm in your words, but insecure nonetheless. You felt exposed as he stood there, nervous that he would instantly know what you and Steve had previously been up to.

Taking notice of the older man in the corner of the room, your ex adjusted his suit, shirt unbuttoned down to below mid-chest exposing firm muscle that had your eyes rolling. He put on a bravado-type show, puffing out his chest like some animal trying to intimidate its prey. Steve didn't notice.

You leaned a hip against your couch, arms crossed against your chest, eyes rolling back as your ex continued to do whatever he was doing.

"Is there a reason you're on my side of town?"

Steve finally turned around at the sound of your voice, pulling his wire frames out of his pants pocket and sliding them onto his face. If there was just the privacy of you two, you would've jumped him by now. Barely looking at the younger man, his eyes focused on the papers in front of him.

"Your side of town?" His NY accent was thick, home to the city you now call home. "Didn't realize that was on the table for the divorce."

"Speaking of terms of settlement, I don't think it's quite appropriate that you're here right now," Steve's voice drew the staring competition that you two began, two stubborn attitudes gnawing at each other. You were reluctant to pull your eyes away from the man, noticing just how cheap his expensive suit looked on him.

Your ex turned towards Steve, hands on his hips, chest poked out, styled hair coiffed on his head. Its style didn't compare to the older man—and he had about 20 years on him.

"And who might you be, old man?"

Steve's reply was a tick of his jaw, tongue smacking against his teeth as he walked up to meet the man. A hand shot out for him to shake, although it was left unmet. Your ex-partner just stared down at it, thumb reaching out to rub against his bottom lip.

"Harrington, Steve Harrington. Representing the young lady over here." Sighing, Steve tucked the hand into his pocket, stifling his own eye roll at the rude gesture. He shared a brief look with you, understanding now why you wanted out of the marriage so badly. Even by this barely thirty second interaction.

"Mm, bet you're sleeping with her, grandpa," your ex's words had you stifling a giggle, your teeth digging into the palm of your hand to stop the sound. It wasn't that his words were funny, but more so Steve's reaction to it.

He had cleared his throat, rather loudly, tugged at his collar that hung loosely at his neck. Obvious wasn't the word to put it, just a surge of an uncomfortable feeling that overcame him. One thing you could count on was your ex-husband being dense as ever, grateful that he hadn't caught the movement he had made.

"Hardly ever professional," Steve answered, clasping his hands in front of him. "Even to joke about, young man."

He was met with a response similar to his original, a tick of the jaw and eyes cut towards him. The younger man hated the turn of the namecalling back, even despite calling Steve everything other than the word 'geriatric' itself.

"I can bet you want to. I mean, look at her."

"Sir."

The irritation that stemmed from the nicknames towards him geared towards the comments made about you, Steve pinched his nose bridge. He shoved the papers to the side, tugged on the sides of his jackets, straightened his posture. Taking a step towards you, he brushed past the younger guy.

"I have a meeting starting up soon," he said, crowding your space. One of his hands brushed against the side of your thigh, a gesture that went unnoticed by the other party in the room, definitely noticed by you. Butterflies began in the pit of your stomach, tingling lower as your skin burned with the touch of his hand. "We can meet at my office, our scheduled twelve."

As you began to answer, your ex spoke up for you, waving his hands in the air as he made his way towards the door instead.

"I'm heading out, you can relax, geezer," your ex opened the door, lingering for a moment more. "I was just stopping by to see what more my lawyer can collect."

He threw a wink towards you, nodding in Steve's direction.

"Better suit up well, pal. It's only going to get worse from here."

The door shut behind him, silence hanging heavy in the air as the two of you sat there—stunned silence. It took only seconds for you to start laughing as soon as that door closed, leaning against the couch with your hands covering your mouth, feet in the air as you sat on the back of the furniture. Steve shook his head at you, running his hands through his hair.

"Really? Him?"

You nodded, cackling at the mess that was left behind by the few words that were shared between the men. Taking a step in your direction, Steve found space between your open legs, hands resting on the couch outside of your thighs.

"There's no way he could've been anything other than that," Steve huffed a laugh finally, hanging his head as your giggles finally came to a stop.

You ran your hands up the front of his chest, the fabric of his shirt running between your fingers. Tugging at the material, you brought his face closer to your own, inches away from each other as you stared up into his eyes. That chocolate brown had you smiling softly, comfort easing the anxiety that had settled at your chest from the earlier interaction.

"Shut up and kiss me, old man."

Steve smiled widely, eyebrows shooting up. Humor found him at your words, different than the earlier reactions given. "Oh, you guys were perfect for each other."

You pressed your lips to his, slotting perfectly into his shape. It was a chaste kiss, a subtle press of lips that warmed your core.

"But I think you're perfect for me now."

Masterlist. Inbox and requests are open! <3

[morganbritton132]

Thank you for feeding us with the Steve Has Older Siblings AU. God tier level of characterization I gotta say.

How do the older siblings handle the “Eddie Munson Problem”? I would imagine they actually do try to get rid of him at first given Eddie’s reputation but then realize he treats Steve better than any of them ever have.

Well, there is cash incentive.

Richard Harrington still has aspirations of going into local politics one days and he is not going let Al Munson’s son kill that dream. Or kill their son. Richard waves a dismissive hand in his wife’s direction because, “Of course. Of course. Or that.”

Whoever makes that boy disappear gets five thousand dollars.

(1.)

Claire takes a direct approach. She corners Steve and tells him that Eddie is a drug dealer and a drug user. She tells him about all the scary things that showed up on his toxicology report in the hospital and Steve replied flatly with, “Wow. Crazy. I had no idea.”

“I’m serious,” She says. “You could get hurt with someone like that. Do you know how that would make us feel if something happened to you?

“I fractured my ankle at a track meet once and Dad made me walk to the car afterwards,” Steve replies. “I think you guys will be fine.”

“I’m serious.”

“You know, Claire,” Steve nods to himself because, yeah. Sure. Let’s do it. “How have you felt the last three years? Or, I don’t know. The last two concussions? You have no idea what I’ve been dealing with for years now and – and you’ve never cared so why now? What’s Dad giving you to ruin my life because-“

He shakes his head, “This is not worth it. Like how picking up the phone when the mall caught on fire with me inside it wasn’t worth the effort. Tell Dad you tried really hard, but no. I’m not going to get rid of one of the few people in my life that actually like me.”

(2.)

Jason takes a different – dumber – approach. He goes in with no plan and no intentions, just took the opportunity when he saw Eddie’s van pulled off on the side of a backroad. He bangs his fist against the side and is delighted that he caught Eddie and Steve.

He threatens to beat Eddie up which is bold to say to an accused murderer in the woods, but okay.

Then he turns around and threatens Steve that he’s going to tell their dad that he was getting high in the woods if he doesn’t keep away from trailer trash, but Jason is fucking idiot because they were decidedly not getting high in the woods. He leaves with an eighth of marijuana and  no closer to five thousand dollars because Steve had just shrugged like, “Okay? Go ahead. Tell him.”

(3.)

Richie does not participate in this because he actually wants to improve his relationship with his little brother and he was the first person Steve went to after they got Eddie, barely breathing, to the hospital. He saw how shaken up he was and he also saw the bruising around Steve’s neck.

He knows what the bruising looks like. He knows how people gets bruises like that. And he knows that he’s a coward because he could not bring himself to ask a question he did not want the answer to. And he knows Eddie Munson.

Eddie is harmless.

All you have to do is have one conversation with the kid and you’ll see that he couldn't hurt a fly. Richie, however, had many conversations with him when Harrington & Associates took his case on pro bono so he knows just how harmless Eddie is.

He also knows that Eddie spends a lot of time trying to make Steve laugh. Richie has spent enough time in his life making his brother miserable. He's not doing anymore.

[chirpsythismorning]

this has been on my mind recently...

[juliaswickcrs]

BUTTERFLY EFFECT AU :: MARGOT THOMPSON ( oc halloween challenge, day seven )

Nick Fury never recruits Margot Thompson to SHIELD. Not beholden to any government agency or espionage, Margot eventually becomes one of the strongest civil rights defense lawyers in human history, defending the innocent and holding several politicians accountable for their actions against marginalized groups. Of course, it's only natural that when her superhero boyfriend comes into conflict with the United Nations, Margot's the first person he calls to defend his best friend and the rights of enhanced humans across the globe.

taglist: @bisexualterror @foxesandmagic @iron-parkr @camiemendess @a-song-of-quill-and-feather

@arrthurpendragon @starcrossedjedis @drbobbimorse @kingsmakers @noratilney

@stanshollaand @astarionbae @darth-caillic @mystic-scripture @aliverse

@misshiraethsworld @asirensrage @eddiemunscns

@princessmadelines @impales @waterloou @thatmagickjuju

MARVEL TAGLIST: @notxjustxstories @themaradwrites

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Sugar and Spice

Chapter Nineteen

Master List |  Steve Rogers Master List  | Series Master List

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Pairing: Lawyer!Steve Rogers x OFC Rowan Maddox

Warnings: none

A/N: thank you to the patient Saphir and your coffee request! Happy reading!

I do not tag. For notifications, please subscribe to the story on AO3, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library

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[estrellami-1]

Someone help because I don’t have nearly the legal jargon knowledge to turn this into the fic it could be.

“Nancy,” Eddie gasps into the receiver as soon as she answers. “I need a huge favor. Like, huge.”

Nancy hums. “What’s up?”

“I need you to expose the Harrington Firm.”

“For?”

“Uh. Fraud? Extortion?”

“Ah.” She chuckles lightly and says the one thing he’s never heard her say before. “No can do, Eddie, sorry.”

“What?” His brain helpfully supplies, you kick Miette? He ignores his brain.

“I can’t expose what’s not there, Eddie. Listen, I’ve gotta go, Robin just came in with an urgent look on her face, but I’ll call you later, okay? We’ll do lunch sometime!”

And without another word, she hangs up, leaving Eddie’s brain buzzing along with the dial tone in his ear.

Can’t expose what’s not there, she said. Which means-

Oh, no.

She doesn’t know.

Eddie rolls his shoulders and nods decisively to himself. She won’t do it? Fine. He’ll do it himself.

[riricitaa]

A Stucky au requested by anonymous

kinda related  X  |  X