#first thought of this when writing secret robin

[redrobin-detective]

I’ve been kind of brain dead for ideas lately but an old one that I was batting around the other day was, following Jack Drake’s death everyone was scrambling to figure out what to do with Tim. Bruce wanted to adopt him, Dana was going to take him when she was well enough, Dick probably threw his hat into the ring to give the kid options.

Now Tim has this grand scheme to circumvent all this by hiring an actor to portray a made-up uncle but he looks out at the city one night and is Tired. This city stole his peace, bits of his flesh, his friends and now his dad. Suddenly he doesn’t want to live there anymore. He makes a phone call and a few days later, he’s on a bus to Smallville to be fostered by Martha Kent.

Kon was a little surprised at the call but Martha didn’t hesitate to sign those papers. She’d seen the fallout of Tim when his mother died, if no one else would take care of Tim then she would. He arrives with a backpack full of clothes and a U-Haul of computer equipment which he sets up in the back guest room barely leaving room for a bed.

He goes to Smallville High with Conner, eats an early, homemade dinner by Ma who kisses his forehead before he Zetas back to Gotham for patrol. He’s still Robin, still fights and bleeds for Gotham. But he can’t live there, not right now. Bruce is doing his pouty hurt dad routine, Dick thinks he’s trying to make a move on Kon but really Tim is tired of the brutality of the city and wants some peace for once in his life. He Zetas back early in the morning, quietly knocks on Ma’s door so she knows he’s back and heads to bed.

His allergies give him hell in the country but he still insists on helping Kon with chores. Conner laughs at how badly he fumbles through livestock feeding and crop tending and starts working on ways to make it more efficient. He sleeps through class and spars out in the open fields and, when he’s feeling homesick, Kon will fly him real high and drop him and he can pretend like he’s just dived off a skyscraper. Martha reminds him to eat, to sleep, to wash behind his ears and stop looking at gruesome crime scene photos at the dinner table. Tim’s never had a happy, normal family situation. It unnerves him but it soothes him too as he works, really works, on some of his more self-destructive habits. For Ma’s sake. Martha knows this is only temporary, that Tim can’t, won’t, stay away from Gotham forever. But she drapes a blanket over his shoulder where he’s fallen asleep 5 minutes into a movie on the couch and brushes his hair out of his sleep deprived eyes. She loves Bruce like a second son but Tim is her baby now too and she’ll tear B to shreds if he doesn’t properly care for Tim when he returns.

Kon and Tim, who’d been kind of dancing around their feelings for years, are now in an equally strange dynamic of ‘are we brothers now? are you just a bud crashing indefinitely at my house? we come and go from Titans Tower together what does everyone THINK is happening???’ and settle for just doing nothing. They do stay up late on nights Tim isn’t in Gotham talking about bad tv shows and how lame school is and rocket ships and the latest supervillain scandal. As weird as the situation is, Tim looks happier and healthier than he has in ages. Plus it’s kinda rad to have a sleepover with your best friend every night. As far as he is concerned, Tim never has to step foot in Gotham again.

Clark comes back to the farm from a long space mission to find Batman’s latest sidekick typing up a storm typing on a computer with one hand and stirring soup with the other. “Sup,” Tim mumbles as he remains focused on both his tasks. “Sorry, guest room is mine now. I’d offer it up but it’s a pretty tight fit in there with all my gear.” And that’s how he found out his Mom may or may not have legally kidnapped Batman’s sorta maybe I guess not kid from under his nose and he’s Clark’s unofficial little brother. All he knows is Bruce is going to be a nightmare at the next League meeting.

[starrystevie]

hurt/comfort | mentions of anxiety and trauma | crossposted to twitter

"what's that?" eddie murmurs into the quiet darkness of their bedroom.

dread piles into steve's stomach. he wants to tug his sleeve over his hands so eddie can't see the writing on his palm anymore. wants to hide the pen marks by holding onto his hips instead.

"it's nothing," he whispers back, attaching his lips to the underside of eddie's jaw. he knows his boyfriend melts at the kisses he puts there. knows it will distract him from asking any more prying questions.

the ink is smudged, hardly legible anymore after a day at work. between washing his hands and shuffling papers and rubbing subconsciously at his palm when that certain type of anxiety knots into his gut, the pen marks from earlier are halfway to disappearing until he starts it all over again the next morning.

steve can't help it. he thought that moving in with eddie, having his support, would make it easier to cope with it all. thought that having someone else to help hold him accountable was the answer.

yet here he is, writing a list on his hand every morning, just to help him remember simple things.

he turns on the coffee pot in the morning, makes a note of it on his palm, crosses it out when he turns the pot off and tells himself over and over that it's actually off and he's not imagining it.

he locks the door and writes "LOCKED" in all caps so he doesn't come home halfway through the day to check and make sure it's actually locked.

he brushes his teeth, he feeds the dog, he puts his wallet in his briefcase, he closes the refrigerator door after breakfast and writes reminder after reminder on his palm in sticky black ink.

it helps, really it does, when steve's mind starts to wander in a boring meeting and he gets that hot rush of guilt of forgetting something burning through his veins. he'll look at his hand under the table and scan over the notes, find what's looking for, and try to breathe.

he'll read it over and over, the crossed out "coffee pot" or the "wallet in bag" or the "fed duke", until he feels like it sinks in, blinking back into real time to focus.

it's some strange mix of anxiety and lack of control and head trauma, robin thinks.

steve can't talk to a lot of people about it, embarrassed that he can't remember doing simple fucking tasks, but robin gets it. gets him. robin lets him swing his legs into her lap and pulls his hand up to her face so she can inspect the notes from the day to piece them all together.

it was her idea in the first place to write on his hand. she had suggested paper first but that was too easy to lose especially if he couldn't remember setting it down. she traces over the ink and lets him vent about feeling like a failure or stupid or some type of broken, reminding him gently that none of them got out hawkins without scars.

but steve hasn't let eddie see that yet, too afraid of breaking whatever they've made together, too afraid of scaring him off with his cracked brain and clenched jaw. too afraid of being built so wrong that he'll look like a once shiny penny covered in rust-colored problems.

so he digs his fingers into his palm, nails slicing into flesh & ink, and presses his lips fiercely into eddie's jaw to stop him from spilling any secrets. lets his tongue sneak out as an apology for not showing him his jagged edges. lets his teeth bite against the words he wants to say.

"baby," eddie whispers, his gentle callused hands trailing over steve's arms to settle on his clenched fist. he shakes his head against eddie's chin, bites at his neck again, ignores the way the love of his fucking life is trying to peel his fingers open to see it. see him.

steve feels raw, a live wire, one second away from snapping into sparks of electricity. he shakes his hand free and curls it around the small of eddie's back, tugging him closer, hiding his shame.

"it's nothing," he repeats, voice shaky and rough against eddie's skin.

if he just slots his leg right, if he just presses into eddie right, if he just tips his head and rolls his hips and plays his cards right, he can avoid all of this all together. he can take eddie's mind away from the writing on his hand and convince them both everything is okay.

but it's not that easy, it never is, because there fingers wrapping around his wrist at an awkward angle to pull his hand back and heat flares up in his cheeks. eddie's going to see, going to ask, going to figure out that steve is broken beyond repair and it's all thanks to one too many blows to the head & one too many times of fucking up & one too many times of leaving the goddamn door unlocked.

"i just-" he bites out, trying and failing to pull his arm out from eddie's grasp. maybe some part of him wants to come clean and get the inevitable over and done with. "-they're just some notes okay?"

and now eddie's looking between him and his palm with those eyes that hold love and the pity that he hates, so he blinks away, jolts to get his arm free again. he doesn't want pity, he doesn't want puppy dog eyes, he doesn't want the reminder that he can't-

but then there's lips pressing oh so gently to the hand he rubbed raw earlier when he could have sworn he didn't triple check that he paid the water bill. there's the flutter of eyelashes against his fingertips as eddie trails kisses over the thing that makes him feel less than.

steve doesn't fight to pull his arm back anymore. his shoulders drop, his muscles relax, and that ball of dread in the pit of his stomach eases away into something that feels more like acceptance.

"that's smart," eddie mutters against his palm. "to help you remember?"

and just like that, it isn't secret anymore. just like that eddie's peeled back the layers of bravado and nonchalance and seen steve for the mess he is.

he kisses the notes like it's the easiest thing to do and maybe for eddie it is. maybe taking a piece of steve's hurt is what they found each other for. maybe eddie was made to understand every inch of steve from the inside out like the way a vine instinctually knows to follow the sun.

steve resettles his face in eddie's neck, nods and breathes him in so he has him deep in his lungs. "it was robin's idea."

"she's smart too, then." eddie hums and drops steve's hand gently, letting it wind back around him so he can tangle his in steve's hair. "does it help?"

"yep," steve mumbles.

"how have i never noticed you scribbling on your hand everyday?" eddie asks with his lips pressed into the crown of steve's head.

"i didn't want you to see. i'm pretty good at hiding."

he can feel when eddie takes in a deep breath. feel when his chest expands and collapses before whispering "start adding 'eddie loves me' on there."

steve shakes his head with a small grin, his heart beat slowing from an anxious jack-rabbiting speed to something more eddie paced. "i never need a reminder of that one."

[dcxdpdabbles]

Nice how about to give you one of my old DC DP crossover prompts

Danny is a big fanfic writer for Batman, most of the time doing Tim joins the bat family early and Alternate attack on Titan's Tower. After his accident he decides to write a Jason Todd is a halfa straight out of the grave fic. Just to get his emotions out there and to vent and it gets incredibly popular.

As Time evolves the fic itself evolves from a vent fic to a under the table way to reanalyze his ghost fights and do better by transplanting his ghosts into the fic for Jason to fight. This happens generally okay until Penelope Spectra of unlike the other ghosts she was known by the rest of the world and was actually tracked by Reddit. Making the fans realize hey this is actual going on maybe not by Jason Todd but someone is using this to reanalyze their fights under the veneer of being fiction.

Danny starts to get famous for his fanfictions when he introduces the idea of halfas for the second Robin. He's not sure what happened to the second Robbin, but there are rumors he didn't die; he just retired, and the fans all accept that as the truth.

At first, Danny writes the second Robin struggling with his double life, as alive and dead, forced to hide his existence from Batman as a secret helper at night. He uses the second Robin to freely speak about his struggles with his powers in the early days, using fiction to cover his venting.

He even gave Robin a secret identity- with a disclosure that it was all made up and he did not know anything about the Bats because fans can be crazy- with the name Noir.

He made Noir a loser in school- consistently bullied, his grades were low without Batman's help, and he even had Noir live on the streets for a while before getting flung into the Ghost Zone.

Danny didn't realize it, but his writing made Noir a loveable character to his fans, who all loved "how flawed but kind-hearted" Noir, the halfa Robin. One of Danny's best commenters always claimed that Danny captured the second Robin's character.

He quickly develops Noir into someone who grows comfortable in his role after defeating the old Ghost King and getting discovered by Batman. He made the series with Noir, focusing more on the threats of the other ghosts that came to challenge the Ghost King.

Each ghost was based on his own rouges- all fighting the same way but with different names. Danny switched his main focus from Noir being confused by his powers to Noir getting stronger and stronger through all his fights.

Instead of venting on what life had done to him, Danny used his fanfiction to analyze his fights. He often wrote about what he could have done better, only after writing the actual scene and using that in a fight later on.

He even threw in there some questions that Noir started having about boys- which in high sight he should have known Jazz would have quickly picked up on because she took him to Pride "just to experience new things, Danny!"

He confirmed Noir was bi two updates later and sat back with a smirk when all the comments started rolling in.

Noir's Double Life was his pride and joy. He thought people had to search for his fic, and no one besides his sister would ever read it. Then he made the mistake of writing in a new ghost- Penny Spectra- using her exact powers, thinking no one would recognize her.

What he forgot was that back before Danny kicked her ass into the ghost zone, was that she was a well-known school counselor. A miracle worker, they called her.

Because she always found the teenagers about to fall apart and "saved" them. She had made her way clear across the country, bringing to light issues parents and guardians had no idea their children were going through and getting them the help they needed.

Mr. Lancer had been proud of getting her to come to the school for good reason.

Most adults also didn't know that teenagers talk to each other or, like Danny, post online to vent. Her past victims- for they were victims as some had not been able to pull themselves from the darkness she plunged them into- had started a riddle trend about her.

People began to piece together that whenever she went young people became more and more depressed. They had no proof of course, so she became an urban legend, a demon that appeared as a woman in schools.

Like when a celebrity is turned into a meme for being a secret serial killer, no one takes it seriously, but they think about it in the back of their minds.

Danny just wrote about her with a far too honest retelling of what she had done and how he had found out she was a ghost. He hadn't realized that one of his readers would be one of the original responders for the old Reddit thread about the fact he was a past victim.

That same reader would later link his work for the thread- especially the chapter where she appeared- and everyone would agree that the real Penelope Spectra was a ghost.

And that would be read by Tim Drake, a young member of Riddit who always took mysteries to heart and knew what was real and what wasn't.

This sane Tim Drake would later present Jason to the fanfiction in an effort to tease him about someone adoring him so much they wrote a fic about it and Jason would surprise him with claiming to have already been following the story. \

Their bickering would grab the attention of Bruce, Zatanna, and Constantine, who were in the room next door talking about protection against the dead.

John will be alarmed to see how accurate the fanfiction writer's description of ghosts and King Phantom is, then even more alarmed to find that the writer knows about halfas.

Two days after he posted the newest chapter, Danny is hunted down by Batman to find the human with an insane amount of knowledge about the Infinite Realms and his second son's condition.

Danny would be busy trying to decide if he should give in to the idea of giving Noir a ship and who it should be with while his friendlier ghosts beta-read his work.

"Honestly, I'm a little flatter about how hot you made me sound. Noir definitely has a crush on James the ghost biker." Johnny says flouting to read over Danny's shoulder.

Kitty nods eagerly from where she is lounging on the couch. "I agree, James and Noir are meant to be Danny!"

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Hii !! From the smut prompts (stop rolling your eyes, I know Im predicatable!) could I request "Accidentally Sending Nudes", "Sexting" and... a secret third thing (the choice is yours, go hogwild) for Jason x Fat Fem Reader? I'm leaning more towards sub!reader but shes def a little shit about it :3

Thank you in advance if you write it !! 🌼

See, this is why it pays to send in a request with me, because even if I don't answer it right away, I keep requests in my inbox for months and come back to them later!!! (This is from December 2023)

(Also this request is just plain fun) (because Star knows exactly what buttons to push to get me lmao)

DC Titans Requests - OPEN

How would Jason react to you accidentally sending him a nude?

(Jason Todd x Fem!Thick!Reader)

Warnings: set specifically in the Titans!verse - set during season 3/mentions of season 3 plot points; spoilers for major plot points of Titans (including character deaths on the show); this is kind of enemies to lovers? (enemies to fwb, I guess); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; the reader is described as being fat/plus sized; passing mentions of Gar x reader (I couldn't help myself); dubious consent - because of the nature of the trope, Jason sees the reader naked without her explicit consent, and he decides to keep the picture without her consent - but it does spark a consensual sexual relationship between them; passing mention of using nudes for blackmail (that does not happen); this isn't really proofread; (generally, I consider this post to be a fucking mess because it was written in Tumblr but I was still trying to have fun with it lmao.)

...

Jason is minding his own business when it happens.

(For once in life, he is fully, completely, minding his own business.)

He's back in Gotham and he hasn't seen you in months - and if asked, he would say that he hasn't thought about you. He doesn't have time to think about you because he's been too busy with this therapy bullshit, training, trying to get back his title of Robin. Trying to get back in the cape. (And trying to get back in Bruce's good graces.)

But that's not exactly true. He's thought about you a lot.

(Most of those times have been with his hand around his cock, but again - he won't admit that.)

There is an occasional time that you cross his mind and it's because he's wondering genuinely how you're doing - wondering if you're well, how your training is going, wondering if you're doing okay under the Dickhead's reign. But he can't ever pluck up the courage to text you and simply ask. Because that would be admitting that he cares, and that would make him look like a weak little prick.

And that's why he's so damn surprised when you text him first.

He hasn't heard from you since he left the Tower (well, since he stormed away from Donna's funeral in what you called a 'toddler fit' - something that ended in a rather vicious text argument between the two of you). In fact, the last thing in the text history between the two of you is you calling him a 'giant, petty, whiny baby who can't deal with his own emotions'.

(You had no clue what had happened between him and Rose, so that did inform a lot of your opinion on the matter.) (And that was probably the reason why Rose still had all of her teeth after you had seen her at the funeral.)

But all of that was aside from the point.

The point being - Jason found himself smiling when your contact name popped up on his phone.

He has you in his phone as 'Pretty Girl' - along with a contact picture of you sticking your tongue out at him in response to having his phone shoved in your face with the knowledge that he was taking a picture of you. (That tongue always makes him think certain things, so even though you intended for it to be some rude thing to ruin the picture, it makes it so much better for him.)

(1) new photo

That instantly catches Jason's attention.

Perhaps you were sending him a picture just to flip him off, or sending him a picture of a dumpster to ask him if it reminded him of home - a common joke you used to make when he still lived at the Tower.

Jason grabbed his phone and opened the message, expecting another tired joke, and-

Holy fuck.

The last thing he was expecting - your naked body. Your gorgeous naked body.

(He likely would have expected a nuclear blast or for the Joker to clean up his act and actually become a decent, sane citizen before he expected this to happen.)

Jason brought his phone closer to his face, making the picture full screen in order to examine it better - he needed to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or that this wasn't some weird dream. But fuck, he definitely wouldn't be able to dream up this.

You were so perfect - so fucking perfect in a way that was so very real.

The picture was a fucking stunning side profile of your body - rolling curves, lacy underwear that could clearly barely contain your impressive hips with sweet little stretch marks jutting out from the fabric (jagged little marks across the softness of your skin that made Jason want to act up) - soft fat for him to grab onto, and the perfect teardrop shape of your breast, now bared to his eye in a way that he had only dreamt of before. Something that he had stared at through the oversized tee shirts you wore to bed without a bra, just wondering what you looked like underneath.

And fuck, this was so much better than anything he could have dreamt up.

Jason's cock began to harden almost instantly, and laying in bed, he reached over to his nightstand for some lube, ready to milk that picture for all it was worth, when-

His phone buzzed again.

Pretty Girl: 'Delete that.'

Jason hadn't even considered that you had sent it to him by mistake. He had been far too busy enjoying to even consider the intention or the psychology behind it.

So, he took his hand off the waistband of his sweats and texted back the first thing that came to mind.

'No.'

(He didn't hear your annoyed growl on the other end, frustrated at his downright typical Jason behaviour.)

'It's not my fault you made a dumbass mistake. Besides, it's the least I get after all the nagging from you.'

Then, something else came to mind as the bubbles popped up, meaning you were busy formulating a reply - an annoyed one, no doubt.

'Who did you mean to send it to anyway? Who are you fucking whose name starts with J that's not me?'

(You hesitated.)

Pretty Girl: 'I didn't type in J.'

'???'

Pretty Girl: 'I typed in G. And it turns out the first contact that popped up was Giant Baby. That's you.'

Jason felt annoyed and insulted on all levels. The fact that you were going to Tiger Boy for dick instead of him, and the fact that you had used such a mocking contact name for him. But when he realised that such a pathetic string of events had caused him to accidentally see you naked, he couldn't be too upset.

'I'm still keeping the picture 😈'

Pretty Girl: 'You're such an asshole' Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me one'

'Fine, I'll owe you one'

Jason shrugged it off, thinking he had won, until -

Pretty Girl: 'No, you owe me a cock.'

This made Jason's stomach jump. You couldn't possibly mean-?

Pretty Girl: ... Pretty Girl: 'You owe me a picture of your dick. You know - an eye for an eye type stuff.'

Jason wanted to ask questions - what did you plan to do with the picture? Should he shave his balls first? Did you want more than one?

But his cock got even harder at you asking for a picture, at you demanding to see his cock, and he couldn't properly think - he couldn't even reason that you might later blackmail him with the picture.

No, instead, he found himself ripping down his pants and turning on the bedside lamp for good lighting, pumping himself up to peak rigid hardness and grasping the base of his cock in hand. And then, without hesitation, he snapped a picture for you. He made sure to get his abs in the photo - a collection of his best assets, with his pants pulled down to mid-thigh, showing off his tight stomach, the deep V leading down to his dick, and his thick seven inch cock in hand surrounded by some well-kept dark pubic hair.

(He was proud of it - and that ego was one of the things that annoyed you most about him.)

He sent it without hesitation and then you began typing several times and stopped once again. Jason's stomach churned with nerves until -

Pretty Girl: 'Fuck you' Pretty Girl: 'I thought it would be smaller'

Jason had no clue how to respond to that, and he was busy racking his brain for some clever reply, when -

Oh. Oh fuck.

(1) new photo

You had sent him another picture. And this time it was definitely on purpose.

It was a view between the plump, beautiful thickness of your thighs - your hand was inside the pretty lace of those panties, and your fingers were visible working on your clit while your needy hole dripped wetness onto the fabric.

So you had liked what you had seen.

Pretty Girl: 'What would you do if you were here right now?'

Jason's brain short-circuited then. He thought of so many things - eating your pussy until you screamed, flipping you onto your stomach and fucking you until you begged him to stop, gripping onto those gorgeous thighs, pinning them to your chest and pounding into your cunt until you finally surrendered and said that you had liked him all along, fucking your smart little mouth to finally shut you up-

Pretty Girl: 'Come on, Jay. Don't disappoint me.'

Oh, he won't.

(Another thing Jason won't admit - he came back to the Tower just for you.)

...

DC Titans Masterlist

[usedtobecooler]

(I know you don't write for Steve but this just came to me) What about Steve teaching virgin!reader how to blow virgin!Eddie?!

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), handjobs, blowjobs, inexperienced virgin reader, inexperienced virgin eddie, experienced pushy steve, awkward boners, bullying, mutual pining.

Word Count | 2.8k

A/N | i've never written for steve before and i took this and ran with it lmao, i hope i did your prompt justice!! if any of you see any mistakes, no you didn't, this wasnt proof read.

Eddie and Steve's relationship had always been odd. You'd noticed it from the first time you'd ever hung out with them, when Robin had dragged you along to meet her friends. You hadn't known her for long, but Robin was loud and unabashed and adamant you had to come hang out with her outside of work.

When you'd first clapped eyes on them both, you noticed the air seemed thick between them. The way they'd bite at each other constantly, bicker and call each other names, the way Steve's eyes would linger on Eddie's lips a second longer than what would be deemed appropriate.

It seemed like a constant fight for dominance, especially when the kids were around. A battle of who Dustin loved more, who Mike looked up to more, who Max harbored a secret 'big brother' liking to more. It was a constant game, and you wondered if they even liked each other.

Then, sometimes, they'd be sweet with each other. Steve would knock Eddie back with a gentle hand when he was about to stumble over a curb, Eddie would grab Steve a burger even when he said he wasn't hungry. Steve would even help him set up the D&D table, he didn't understand what it was about and never played, but he'd help anyway. Even when Eddie bitched that the way he did it was wrong.

So, it was weird. The more time you spent together, the more you found yourself being sucked into the dynamic unwillingly. Robin said she could tell Eddie had a crush on you, which made you blush -- he was cute, and surprisingly really nice despite the hard exterior, but Steve caught onto it pretty quickly and used it to his advantage during their bickering.

You'd walked in on them arguing about you one day, when they clearly thought they were alone. You stood behind the doorway, eavesdropping;

"What would she want with you, Munson? You're a twenty year old virgin, trust me she's not interested."

"Oh yeah? As opposed to what, exactly? The town slut? As if you're any better than me because you've fucked every girl our age."

"At least I didn't jizz in my pants when she gave me a hug."

"That didn't fucking happen, and if you tell her that I'll kill you."

"Ooh, scary."

The admission of Eddie being a virgin was unsurprising, chicks weren't exactly queuing up outside his trailer to fuck him. But, he was pretty, like devastatingly so. Once you got to know him he was a great guy, smarter than he made himself out to be and nothing like the people of Hawkins claimed he was.

The next time you all hung out together, three joints deep and a bottle of scotch being passed around, you made a point of also admitting to being a virgin, to make Eddie feel better. Steve had stared at you open mouthed and flustered, Eddie had choked on his gum, Robin had watched it all unfold and let out a loud barking laugh.

You'd hoped that it would settle Eddie's mind and maybe get Steve to back off and stop hounding him about it, particularly in front of you.

And now, how you ended up in this situation is fully Robin's fault and she'll get told that when you next see her. Her and Nancy had bowed out of your designated movie night ungracefully, claiming to be slammed with babysitting Holly at last minute, but you knew better.

The three of you were crammed up on Steve's bed, and you're wondering why he and Eddie willingly chose to sit next to each other, so close their arms were squashed together and their legs knocked. You were watching The Lost Boys, at Steve's adamance, because apparently it was the horror movie of the year, but you begged to differ, nothing exciting had happened yet.

It gets to a sex scene, and you awkwardly shuffle from where you're sat next to Eddie, cheeks burning hot as you avert your eyes from the screen. Neither of them notice, enamored with seeing a pair of tits on the screen like a pair of twelve year olds.

Your fingers accidentally brush Eddie's own, and you shoot back like you've been scalded, "Sorry, Eddie." You whisper quietly, settling back into your pillow with an inch of space between your bodies for safe measure.

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, which catches Steve's attention, making him turn away from the screen to look at you both, eyes flitting back and forth. Then, a scoff escapes him, "Trust you to pop a boner at a pair of fucking tits, Munson."

You furrow your brows, glancing down to where Steve's eyes wandered and oh. Eddie was hard, straining against the loose plaid pyjama pants that he always wore when you guys hung out at night, refusing to buy a pair of sweatpants.

Eddie's face is flushed a dark red, you can see it as clear as day from the glare of Steve's TV, "Fuck off, Harrington. They're a nice pair of tits."

"You're such a virgin, you want some help with that?" Steve wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and you think it's meant to come out as a joke but the way Steve says it seems anything but. He looks at you over Eddie's shoulder, motioning towards him, clamping a hand down on his leg, "Don't you think it's about time he got touched by something that wasn't his right hand?"

You flounder a little, unable to form proper thoughts at what Steve is insinuating, "What do you mean? That I should help him with that? I'm the unwilling third party here, keep me out of your homoerotic bullshit."

"We could both do it, silly. Was it not totally obvious that he's got a massive crush on you?" Steve shrugs like it's nothing, and you feel Eddie tensing up next to you, can see his cock straining further in his pants out of the corner of your eye. In that moment it clicks for you that they're both into this, have probably been waiting a while to find themselves in this situation, with you specifically.

"At this point I think you have a crush on him, you're so obsessed with him it's hilarious." You snark, leaning forward a little until you're crowded back in Eddie's space, hands bumping each others, "What do I get out of this, exactly?"

Steve looks you up and down, a cute grin gracing his face, "Trust me, you can have anything you want."

You chew on the inside of your lip, genuinely thinking about it. Did you really want your first time doing anything sexual with another person to be in a threesome? You clench your thighs at the thought, a wave of heat flushing through your body at the thought of being touched by four hands at once, two mouths.

You wonder how Eddie feels, he's uncharacteristically quiet. You hazard a glance back down, and Eddie has his hand clamped over Steve's own on his thigh. So, yeah, clearly he's into it too.

"Aw, c'mon, don't you want to show the freak a good time?" Steve asks, a smirk overcoming his features — it's disgustingly attractive, a far cry from the usually sweet Steve you knew when Eddie wasn't around, but it did things to you, made your tummy clench.

"Steve, I've never done this either... you know that," You pull your bottom lip with your teeth, chewing anxiously. It's not as if Eddie had anything to compare you to, you were both a pair of bumbling touch starved virgins, but you didn't want it to be bad for him, either.

"Harrington, if you don't stop rubbing my thigh I'm gonna cum in my pants," Eddie's voice cuts through the air, loud enough to knock you out of your trance and making you look up at him, taking in just how disheveled he was already from the merest touch.

"I'll show you how to do it," Steve says, completely ignoring Eddie's protests, never taking his eyes off of you as he brushes his hand up Eddie's thigh even higher, knocking his clothed hard dick with the back of his hand. Eddie hisses, Steve grins and lets out a cackle, "Won't take much, anyway, not if this is anything to go by."

"I am right here," Eddie balks, throwing his hands up in the air. Steve shushes him, shoving into Eddie's space like an eager puppy to grip at his pants and pull them down his thighs.

Of course Eddie doesn't wear underwear under them, why would he? His cock springs out, flushed and hard, the tip a pretty pink colour that makes your mouth water, a small amount of precum blurting out of his slit.

"You guys good with this?" Steve double checks, Eddie whines a little, which is enough of a reply for Steve. You don't even reply, batting Steve out of the way with one hand and wrapping your other one eagerly around the base of Eddie's dick - which to your delight elicits the prettiest little moan from his mouth.

"Eager little thing, isn't she?" Steve smirks at Eddie, which in return has you rolling your eyes and Eddie nodding his head fast. You slide your hand up the length of Eddie's cock slowly, shocked by how your fingers don't even wrap around it fully, all girthy and nice to touch.

"Right, you've not got enough lube for your hand to glide properly, here," Steve leans forward, mouth just mere centimetres away from Eddie's dick, and he lets out a glob of spit onto the head.

"Fuck, what the fuck," Eddie's words comes out erratic, eyes wide as he watches Steve spit all over him without a care in the world, like this was normal and something 'bros' did. Your hand squeezes the base of his cock a little to focus his attention back on you, hand sliding up to rub in the mess of Steve's spit and get him all nice and wet.

"There you go, see? Much easier." Steve's cocky demeanor is starting to diminish, you can tell by the way his voice comes out softer as he watches your skin connect with Eddie's, the slick slide of your fist up and down his cock. You feel Steve's large hand ghost over your lower back, under your shirt. You gasp quietly at the touch, the burning heat of his skin on yours making you shiver.

"Does this feel okay?" You ask Eddie quietly, ignoring what Steve just said because what the fuck would he know, it's not his dick being touched.

"Feels good, sweetheart, cross my heart." Eddie's cheeks are tinged rouge red, neck veins popping a little as he clearly struggles not to blow his load. You can see Steve looking back and forth between you both with curious eyes, smile still on his face, clearly enjoying watching a pair of virgins going at it like a creep.

"Do you want me to use my mouth?" You ask tentatively, cocking your head to the side as you keep eye contact with Eddie to try and gauge how he feels. It's meant to be innocent, comes out dirty. Dirty enough that Steve's hand moves to grip at your waist slightly, a soft sigh escaping him.

"You'd like that, right Eddie?" Steve's smile is sickly sweet, but you can tell he's starting to fold because he's using Eddie's real name, not his last name or a stupid nickname. Eddie nods silently, eyes shutting and head thumping back against Steve's plush headboard.

You slide down the bed quietly, shuffling until you're nestled in between Eddie's spread legs at an angle that meant you could just lean forward and slide your mouth over his length, "Tell me what to do then, genius."

"Take your hand off him, I'll do that, you just put your pretty mouth to use," Steve's slender fingers move yours out of the way until you're releasing Eddie's cock, his own large hand wrapping around the base and squeezing, making Eddie whimper.

Steve guides Eddie's dick over to rub the tip over your closed lips, smearing precum all over them. Your tummy clenches, ridiculously turned on by what you're doing, unable to stop your mind racing. You feel dizzy, like this is a dream you'll wake up from any moment.

"What're you waiting for? Wrap your lips around the head, give it a try." Steve's demanding, his voice firm with you, so you lean down and close the distance, opening your lips and sinking down onto the head, hot mouth engulfing Eddie's cock.

"Jesus Christ, fuck," Eddie cries out, can't help but open his eyes to look at you, has to see what you're both doing. The sight of Steve's massive fist around his cock, jerking it lightly into your mouth, you sucking and licking at him - he's teetering on the edge dangerously fast.

"Feels good, right?" Steve chuckles a little, looking between where his fist and your mouth meet and Eddie's blown out, wide eyes, "She didn't even need any help, knew just what do on her own like a good girl."

You and Eddie both moan in unison, the vibration on Eddie's cock enough to have his hips bucking up wildly, which in turn causes Steve to reach his free hand out and push him down onto the bed harshly, "Don't cum yet, Munson. Don't be a little bitch."

Eddie chokes out a little sob, whining at Steve being mean to him. It makes his body run hot, the coil in his tummy tighten. You glance up at him, mouth still full of his cock, just to make sure he's okay, and the bit of eye contact has Eddie losing it.

"Sorry, fuck, sorry, I'm cumming," Eddie grips at a chunk of Steve's meaty thigh and he comes with an embarrassingly loud yelp, Steve's hand tightening as he jerks Eddie's cock into your open, willing mouth, swallowing his release down like you'd done it a million times before.

You kitten lick at the head until Eddie shakes with sensitivity, popping off with a little grin, "You good? Back down to earth yet?"

Eddie smiles dumbly, saluting at you with two fingers, body completely sagged into Steve's plush sheets, flaccid cock still out, "Alive but barely."

You clamber up the bed, the sudden urge to kiss him overtaking your body. You fist a hand in his messy curls, pulling him up to kiss you. Eddie wraps an arm around your back, kissing you all sloppy, teeth and tongue, to an outsider it probably looked gross, but it was so hot to you that you wanted to cry.

You break apart to catch a breath, forehead to forehead with wild eyes and stupid little smiles on your faces. You ache with how much you like Eddie, a love for him overtaking your whole body. Steve clears his throat at your side, pulling you out of your trance, making you turn to look at him.

He's got a firm hand gripped into the arm of Eddie's shirt, you can see his own cock tenting in his loose sweatpants and God, it's big and intimidating, even through his clothes.

"Don't be greedy, share it with me," Steve closes the space between you both and smashes his lips onto yours, licking into your mouth expertly to swipe over your tongue. You moan into the kiss, cunt clenching at being used in this way. He kisses more firmly than Eddie, more sure of himself, it's nice in a different way.

Just as you're getting lost in it Steve pulls away, a whine dying in your throat when you open your eyes to see his face gliding closer to Eddie's, and then they're kissing too. Steve grapples for your waist with closed eyes, tugging you even closer to them both.

They're animalistic with each other, like they're both angry and filled with pent up rage. Eddie grips a hand in Steve's mane of hair, has him groaning into the kiss that's all teeth and grunting. You watch through hooded eyes, unable to take your gaze away from them, wetness pooling in your pretty underwear at the sight of them both.

A whine escapes you, the noise filling the air and cutting off their kiss, both of them looking at you with differing gazes. Steve looks like he wants to pin you down and fuck you into oblivion, Eddie looks like he's in love. Steve sits up a little, grabbing at you and Eddie with every free bit of his big hands, fingers roaming unabashedly.

Steve glances at you both, a smirk back to gracing his features, "If you think I'm done with you two yet, you're sorely mistaken."

[bia-wayne-west]

Milk with cookies and bedtime stories [Batmom x Damian Wayne]

Synopsis: It was just a few months ago that Damian was included in the Wayne family. He still didn’t like you, but you tried so hard to make him appreciate you. During a patrol, Damian got hurt and after Alfred took care of the little boy’s wounds, you surprised him with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk.

Characters: Damian Wayne and Reader [YOU]

A/N: I wrote this quickly. Hope you like. In this imagine, Batmom has been married to Bruce since he adopted Dick.

I want to apologize if there are any writing errors. I'm a Brazilian girl and I don't speak fluent English, so I may make some writing mistakes. Feel free to correct me.

I hope you read, like and feel how cute Damian is.

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, reading a fashion magazine while you waited for your husband to return from patrol.

Bruce forbade you to stay in the Batcave, as he was afraid that someone would break in and find you, alone and unprotected.

As soon as you felt the ground shake, it meant that the Batcave had opened and that Batman had arrived with his Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing.

You ran to the clock that gave access to the secret entrance to Batcave. The elevator quickly took you to where your children and husband were.

“Hey, my love. You got back before 5am!” You said, running up to Bruce Wayne. He still wore black clothes and was without a mask. Your husband didn’t respond. He was serious and had a worried expression on his face.

“A man dropped Damian from a three-story building .” Bruce said looking at the boy who was sitting next to Alfred.

You finally noticed Damian, whose face was bruised and his leg was bandaged. You walked over to the boy and knelt in front of him.

“I’m fine, Y/N. I fell on top of a car and didn’t break any bones.”

“Damian, darling, are you hurt?” You asked, looking into Bruce’s son’s green eyes.

You smiled, in a motherly way. Damian didn’t consider you a mother, unlike the other three boys who called you ‘mother’ and ‘mommy’ all the time. Your husband’s son only considered you as a stepmother, but that didn’t stop you from taking care of him as if he were your son.

“I’m going to run you a hot bubble bath. After Alfred takes care of you, I think you’ll want to relax in the warm water.”

“Thank you, Y/N, but I’m not your baby.” He said rolling his eyes and turning his face to look at Alfred.

“Damian!” Bruce warned his son. But you smiled at your husband, showing that everything was okay. You left the Batcave, heading back to the mansion to prepare Dami’s bath.

(…)

Damian was already in his room. You were heading to the boy's room, with a tray in your hand.

The clock said 2:32 am, but you were sure the boy hadn't slept yet. The Waynes used to sleep only when the sun came up.

Yout left hand knocked lightly on the wooden door with the boy's initials engraved on it. Ypur ears picked up a “you can come in”, authorizing you to enter Damian’s room.

“I came to see if you were okay, Dami.” You said, entering and closing the door behind your body. Your arms came off the tray on the bed, seeing that the boy was sitting on the mattress. “I brought milk and cookies, this will definitely make you feel better.”

“Why do you do these things, Y/N?” He asked, with a questioning look.

“I didn't understand. Don't you like what I do for you?”

“At first I thought you had a plan to win me over and then you would hate me for being Bruce's biological son.” He said, seeing you take a cookie and offer it to him.

“I would never do that. I love you, Dami, even if you don't like me. These things I do for you are normal motherly actions.”

“My mother didn’t do any of that. She only got cookies when she did something good.” He said, his eyes shining like he was going to cry.

“Oh baby. I know you don't consider me your mother and I don't want to force you into anything, but I want you to know that these things I do are because I love you.” You explained, smiling widely at him and drinking some milk. “Do you know what my mother did for me when I was hurt?”

“No.” He said, while devouring several cookies. “She also gave you cookies and milk?”

“Yes, and she also told me a bedtime story.” You argued, running your hand through the boy's hair. “I'll tell you a story.”

“I’m not four years old, Y/N” He murmured.

“Damian, you’re not old enough to hear a good story before bed.”

“OK. Just don't tell stories about princesses or ponies.”

“Clear. I'm going to tell the story of a boy called Dami. He was so brave and beautiful, he was a strong and fearless boy.” His lips formed a smile as he said the words. Damian's eyes were bright and sweet. “One day, he went to the forest to play with the birds and found a portal to a magical world.”

“Like Narnia?: He asked, completely interested in your story.

“Yes, but without the closet. The magical portal led to a kingdom full of witches, fairies, vampires and any magical creature you can imagine.”

“Even elves?” He questioned you again. Now Damian was lying in bed and you covered him with the blanket.

“Of course, elves can't be missed.” You said. Your heart filled with love and you almost cried when you saw the image of the boy who hated you six months ago totally interested in a bedtime story. “In that kingdom there was a crystal that served as oxygen for all beings there, but a terrible villain broke this crystal and stole its essence, leaving the world without magic.” Damian still had complete fun with your narration. “Then, the queen called Martha went and asked the brave Dami to hunt down the villain and recover the essence of the crystal.”

“And he did this?”

“Yes! Dami took a sword and shield and went out to the magical kingdom in search of the villain. He went to an ancient village in the kingdom called Gothym and met three knights named Grayson, Todd and Drake. They sent Dami to the mountains where he would find the villain.”

“And he found it?”

“He found it, but it was difficult. The villain was hiding in a ruined castle north of Gothym. Dami fought bravely with the villain and defeated him. Dami recovered the essentials of the crystal and in exchange, Queen Martha gave him a personal portal to return to the kingdom as often as he wanted. Dami was a brave hero and defeated the evil villain.” You told the story while running your hand affectionately through the boy's hair. “Did you like the story?”

“Yes, it was the best story anyone told me.”

“I'm glad you liked it, my love. If you want, I can tell you a story every night.”

“Todd would make fun of me if he knew.” He said, looking at you so intently that you knew he was embarrassed for having liked the story.

“I'm gonna tell you a secret. I told Dick, Jason and Tim stories for three years, but they didn't want to.”

“Did you tell Todd bedtime stories?” He asked loudly, as if it were some blasphemy.

“Of course, and he loved them all.”

“So I want to hear stories before bed.”

“I'll love telling you, along with a glass of milk and cookies. Good evening, Dami.” You said getting up from the bed. Your lips found the boy's forehead.

“Good night, mom.” He said, making you look surprised at him. “I can call you mom? Since Dick, Jason, and Tim call you Mom, I thought you might as well.”

“Of course, my dear. You can call me mother and I will call you my son.” Your arms wrapped around the body of the boy, your son. Love seemed to explode in your heart. “Good evening, my dear son.”

“Good nigh, mom.”

You gave Damian one last kiss on his forehead, before picking up the tray and taking it to the kitchen. After washing the dishes, you went to the master suite, the room shared between you and Bruce.

Your husband was lying on the king size bed, waiting for you. After showering and putting on your pajama, you laid down on the bed.

“Damian called me mom.” You said to Bruce, earning a smile from him.

“With bedtime stories, milk and cookies.”

“How did this happen?” He asked, setting aside the iPad he was using to hug you.

[pixiemunsons]

for your viewing pleasure (em)

the girl in eddie's favourite porno mag looks real familiar...

over 4k words (i couldn't help it i'm sorry), best friends to lovers, dirty talk, joking about non consensual touching (it's a single line and absolutely a joke), lots of pet names, weed use obvi, eddie's been jerking it to a pic of someone who looks like reader so if that's an issue don't read, no use of y/n. reader’s hair reaches her shoulders. also unprotected sex (even these two idiots know that’s a bad idea)

no vol two spoilers here!

a/n: i'm so horny for eddie munson i just needed to write this. i'm still working on multiple bridgerton one shots so don't worry, i've not neglected them, eddie is just my fave rn

you quite literally could not believe your eyes.

you had really seen some shit these last few years. visiting your friend robin at work one afternoon had pulled you into an absolute mess of russians and alternate dimensions and kids with psychic powers and numbers for names. if anyone had told you two years ago that steve ‘the hair’ harrington would be dropping you at school most mornings, that your closest friends would be a group of fifteen year olds, that you would be best pals with eddie fucking munson? you’d never believe them. but this was truly the most unbelievable thing you’d ever seen.

you don’t know why. it was unmistakable. uncanny, really. laid out, literally bare in front of you.

the girl in the centrefold of eddie munson’s most dog-eared, crinkle-paged, unnervingly sticky porno mag looked just like you.

you knew snooping in his room was wrong, but you had no idea there were still secrets between the two of you anymore. you’d been joined at the hip since steve had introduced you the year before, and you weren’t really looking through his stuff, you just wanted to find his stash so you could roll you guys something for when he got back from his shower. but then your fingers had closed around something glossy under his bed and you just had to know what was in it. you weren’t expecting anything like this, maybe just some softcore shit you could tease him about for a couple weeks, but the magazine had opened on its own to its apparently most viewed page, and your jaw had dropped with it.

you couldn’t see all of her, just from the lips down to the knees. she was led down, mouth spread in a wide grin, lacy white underwear adorning her hips. her breasts were exposed, nipples pebbled to the seemingly cold air, and she was trailing her hands up her stomach teasingly. her knees were bent to the side in a look-but-can’t-touch sort of gesture. it was almost tasteful compared to the open mouths and hairy bushes of the other photos. and she literally looked just like you. the hair falling over her shoulder was the exact shade as yours, and even her breasts seemed to be the same size. her skin could’ve been matched to yours at a make up counter, and the shape of her hips and thighs was so reminiscent you would’ve believed they were yours had you not known otherwise.

so why the fuck was eddie looking at this photo? there were a couple of possibilities to be pondered. first, it was a second hand magazine. as gross as that thought was, the person who handed it to him might not have even known you. it was also possible that eddie had never thought of what you might look like under your clothes, which whilst a little deflating (god knows you’d thought about what he looked like under his) was a definite possibility. and then there was the alternative, which was that eddie had realised she looked like you and jacked off anyway, which meant…

you didn’t have time to think about it, though, because eddie was making his way noisily back to his room. quickly, you threw the magazine under his pillow and led back on it, rearranging your skirt and pretending to pick at your nails just as he threw the door open. he was still wet and, you were glad to see, completely shirtless. he leant an arm against his doorframe, the very top of his boxers peaking out from under his tight jeans in a way that had your mouth watering just a little bit. you couldn’t deny that eddie was attractive, and more than once you’d woken up in a cold sweat after having certain dreams about him. but he’d never given any indication that your feelings were reciprocated. sure, he flirted with you, and he loved being close to you, slinging an arm over your shoulder in queues and having a hand on your thigh when he drove. but that was just how he was. with everyone.

‘wanna smoke something, babe?’ he winked, and with a roll of your eyes he came and sat next to you, dragging his lunchbox out. of course. he kept it in his underwear drawer.

───

‘baby, i’m tellin’ you, the lord of the rings is a fucking epic!’ eddie cried out, joint in one hand and the other waving wildly through the air as he tried to prove his point. you plucked it from his fingers, allowing yourself to indulge in the way they brushed yours for a second.

‘dude, i don’t disagree, but i’m saying it’s not long enough for all the lore! like, come the fuck on, it’s two hours long for like, seven books! that’s at least four movies,’ you argued your own back, laughing at how eddie rolled his eyes. ‘some of us can read, munson, and those books are fuckin’ long.’ you smiled at him sarcastically, squealing as his hands reached out to tickle your waist. his body rolled halfway onto yours, pulling the blunt from your hand and taking one final hit before stubbing it out on his bedside table. long fingers clasped around yours, dragging both hands above your head to tickle your arms and you were laughing and from under your head… an unmistakable sound of paper rustling.

you froze instantly, and you knew eddie had heard it. your eyes shot open, and you could feel blood spreading up your chest and neck and across your face.

‘sweetheart…’ eddie looked into your eyes, and in that awful second, you knew exactly what was about to happen. slowly, carefully, with both of your hands still trapped in one of his above your head and his pelvis pressed into your left hip, he reached under his pillow and came out with the magazine. folded open on the centrefold. you were frozen under him, horrified and in shock and vaguely aware of the fact that your skirt had been rucked up to your mid-thigh by eddie’s leg and your underwear was dangerously close to being exposed. no time for that now, though. not when eddie had caught you going through his stuff and he was going to kick you out or call you a weirdo or, oh god-

‘i see you found my dirty little secret, babe. what’d’ya think?’

your head shot up. he asked you like he was asking about the weather, so casual and restrained. not the voice of a man who’d just caught his best friend rifling through his porn collection. your words came out trembling, made worse by the fact that he still had a hold of your wrists.

‘i didn’t mean to, i was looking for your weed.’ 

eddie scoffed, looking down into your face once again. his pupils had blown out, a mix of the high and something else, and his eyes looked black.

‘you sure baby? because you seem nervous. i think you saw something you like.’ his voice was still teasing, but there was something darker lurking there. you swallowed harshly, and he abruptly let go of your wrists, sitting up.

‘was it this one? perv.’ he joked, unfolding the picture to show her in her entirety. even from this angle, she was just like you, and you gulped again.

‘it was open on that one when i found it,’ you murmured, and for a split second eddie looked… embarrassed? the tips of his ears were flushing a bright red under his hair. you took this as an opportunity to sit up under him, and now he was half straddling your left thigh as he sat on his knees. you fiddled with the edge of your skirt, thinking about how he’d called you a perv. perv! after you’d found outthat he had been staring at a picture of you - well, not you, but, you know - naked! and before you knew it, the words were tumbling from your lips and you tried to stop them, you really did but-

‘she looks an awful lot like me, eddie.’

his face, which had been hidden behind his curtain of long hair as he played with the ragged corners of the magazine, shot up, and his eyes met yours once more. this time he seemed even more embarrassed, if possible. his cheeks were bright red, eyes open in shock, and he was gnawing painfully on his lower lip, a habit you’d noticed he kept when he was nervous. he opened his mouth to respond but you had already started now, and the words were falling from your lips like vomit.

‘i mean, you can’t see her face, but that’s what i look like when i’m- well, not exactly like that but her boobs are just like mine and… not that you think about my boobs or anything or you’ve even seen them to know what they look like but it’s actually a bit creepy how alike we look.’ your hands flew to cover your mouth, and you were wide-eyed. ‘not that you’re creepy! god no, i mean, i’m flattered, really, but…’ you shut up then, not because you had realised that you were rambling like robin but because there was a hand on the back of your neck and one on your waist and eddie’s lips were on yours.

they were chapped and slightly raw from him chewing on them, but so soft and his tongue was minty as he eased it into you. he was breathing heavily, and a subdued moan worked it’s way into your mouth when you gripped his bare shoulders and tugged him into you. you had no idea what this meant, mind reeling as he pulled you closer so you were now straddling his thigh, both of you sat up on your knees. the hand that spread over your waist splayed across the expanse of your back, travelling lower until it met the crease between your ass and thigh. his long fingers pinched at the skin there, pulling a whimper from you as you rolled your hips against his leg in response. his own bucked up against you, the denim seam of his jeans rubbing against your soft inner thigh and making you gasp. you pulled away ever so slightly to meet eddie’s eyes, and he tried to chase your lips, letting out a whine.

then he was dragging his lips down your neck to where it met your shoulder, working at the skin with his teeth and chuckling as you whimpered.

‘eds!’

‘yes, babe?’ 

his voice came from under your line of sight, muffled against your reddening neck, and you craned it to try and get a glimpse of his face. instead, you saw him pull away, smiling proudly at the mark that he had most definitely left with his mouth. cockily, he dragged his eyes up to yours.

‘the girl in the magazine-‘

‘would you believe me if i told you i bought it because she looks like you?’ he looked almost bashful asking you, a total contrast to a moment ago, and you couldn’t help the way your jaw dropped. 

‘i know i’ve never seen you naked, but some of these skirts you wear leave very little to the imagination, and you were wearing a white shirt when we jumped into lover’s lake that time. worst place to pop a boner.’ he chuckled as you hit his arm lightly. he was right though; you’d dived in after steve without hesitation, and eddie had had to lend you his jean jacket for your ‘modesty’.

‘i’m sorry, baby, i thought i’d been makin’ it clear how i felt about you.’ his voice had dropped to a murmur as his eyes explored your face, lingering on the way your lips had swollen with his kiss. without thinking, he reached up to cup your cheek, and he wanted the way your eyelashes fluttered closed imprinted on the inside of his brain forever.

‘thought you were just playin’ with me, eds.’ you gulped as he ran his thumb over your lower lip, tugging on it gently. his forehead creased, eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

‘never playing with you, baby. i wouldn’t fuck with your feelings like that,’ his nose nudged against yours as he pulled you into another searing but short kiss, ringed fingers clutching your chin so that he could commandeer the exchange. he angled your face delightfully, leaning you back so you had to arch your chest against his to follow him.

‘wish you’d made it clearer,’ you gasped when his left hand clutched your ass, pulling your crotch towards his own, ‘could’ve been doing this since that night at the lake.’

a laugh rumbled in his chest, fingers stretching back to grasp the back of your head.

‘wanted you a lot longer than that night, babe. i’ve had that mag since i was sixteen.’ you giggled at this, pulling back to stare at him in disbelief.

‘is that right, munson?’ you arched an eyebrow at him. he held a hand up as if in defense, leaving the other firmly attached to your ass.

‘you said it was flattering! would it make you feel better if i said it’s not just because i think you’re hot?’ he asked, sounding sincere. ‘i’ve wanted you a long time, gorgeous, not just to fuck you. i wanna make you mine, y’know? that’s why i’m always callin’ you baby, and touchin’ you up a little-‘

‘i fucking knew it wasn’t an accident when you grabbed my tit last week!’

‘i didn’t grab it, i brushed it. and anyway, i meant how i’m always draggin’ you closer, tryna keep you under my arm, especially when you wear sexy shit like this.’ he reached down to rub the hem of your short black skirt between a thumb and finger. you had noticed the effect that you had on him when you wore certain items of clothing; long socks, denim shorts, band shirts. you always thought it was because he was just a man - god knows you’d caught harrington staring a couple times. but with eddie, you now knew it was different for you both. if you were honest with yourself, it had been building up to this moment for months. and you knew what you had to do.

‘look, eds, i’m gonna be honest with you. i really want that shit too. i want to get milkshakes in town, i wanna drive in the van with you, i wanna go see shitty bands in shitty bars outta town. but…’ you grabbed his hand and pushed it up your thigh, revelling in the way he groaned when his fingertips made contact with the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs. ‘right now, i really need you to do somethin’ about this.’

suddenly, you were on your back again. the movement made your tummy flip, butterflies erupting when eddie kissed you again. before, he’d been gentle; probing and exploring. this time, the kiss was tongues and teeth, and his hips were rutting against your thigh, pushing your skirt up to expose your underwear.

‘you’re fuckin’ kidding,’ eddie moaned out when he saw that you were wearing white. it wasn’t on purpose, but it was almost identical to the photo, and for a moment eddie munson thought he had died and gone to heaven. you made a move to pull your panties down your legs, but you swore you heard him growl before his hand flew out to stop them.

‘baby, i’m gonna need you to keep these on. turn over for me.’

you did as he said, flipping over so you were face down in his pillow, propped up on your elbows. behind you, you could feel eddie’s eyes burning into you. you could imagine how 

you probably looked right now; skirt flipped up, legs spread for eddie to kneel between them, wet spot between your legs as ringed fingers rubbed over your cheeks. two of them plunged between your legs suddenly, rubbing quickly over where you wanted him most, and you mewled and bucked your hips back towards him. a big hand pushed against your lower back, forcing you back down.

’shh, baby, i’m gettin’ there. just busy looking, you’ll have to wait a minute.’

his voice was hard but you knew he wanted it as much as you did, and you were proven right when, not a minute later, two long fingers pushed under the fabric and straight into your heat.

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped past your lips, hips keening back against his hand again as he searched for the spot that would make you scream. fingers crooked, eddie started stroking up against you, wrapping the other hand around your waist. he yanked you up so your back was pressed against his chest, and the change in angle led him right to what he was looking for.

‘fuck, eddie!’ you cried out, and you could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass through his jeans.

‘is that it baby? right there?’ he asked through gritted teeth, and the hand wrapped around your waist pushed its way down your skirt and into your underwear to rub at your clit. both hands were almost too much, and you would’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he had you working for release did it not feel so good. eddie was so caught up in making you cum that he didn’t even realise you had let go of his arm until your hand was wrapped around his dick, and he choked on a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

‘sweetheart, fuck, i can’t concentrate if you do that,’ he moaned out, clutching onto you even tighter than he had been before. you laughed breathily around a moan, hips grinding down on eddie’s fingers to speed up your impending orgasm.

‘sorta the idea, babe.’ eddie was nosing at your neck, pressing kisses to the back of your ear, and your words just made him work that little bit harder to get you there.

‘god, i really wanna fuck you right now.’

‘so do it.’

he stopped still and you turned around to look at him for the first time since he’d started touching you. he looked fucked out already; his lips were spit soaked and swollen, his chest was heaving and his eyes were wide open, drinking the image of you down.

‘fuck, babe, d’you really mean it? you don’t have to, i’m probably gonna have to beat off after this anyway.’ 

instead of answering, you reached down, stripping off your shirt and shimmying your skirt down your legs, leaving you sat in just your white underwear, pulled to one side. eddie’s knees almost buckled under him, and he grabbed your face to pull you into another kiss. the angle was awkward, you turning over your left shoulder, but it meant you could just about reach his bare cock and rub it through your wet folds. he jumped away like he’d been shocked, eyes pulled like a magnet down to where your bodies threatened to connect.

‘you’re not wearing a fucking bra either. you’re going to be the death of me one of these days,’ he moaned, and you had to stifle a laugh.

‘would it help if i said i never wear a bra around you?’

‘i oughtta put you over my knee and spank you, you dirty girl.’

‘promises, promises, munson. you gonna fuck me now or not?’

he chuckled darkly, swatting your ass cheek with a wink before leaning into his bedside drawer, sighing heavily when he opened it.

‘baby, i’m really sorry, but i’ve got no johnnies.’ eddie rested his chin on your shoulder, nipping at the skin there with his teeth. you leant back into his touch, swallowing heavily.

‘i never did this before,’ you said, and you could almost feel his ears perk up. ‘but i’m on the pill, so as long as you pull out…’

if he died now, he’d be dying a happy man, he was sure of it.

‘fuckin’ hell, babe, you sure?’ he grunted, teeth grazing your ear. ‘i needa hear you say it, sweetheart. tell eddie you want him to fuck you bareback.’ you supposed he was trying to be funny, but it sent a shiver down your spine that he didn’t miss.

‘does it turn you on when i talk to you like that, baby?’ he crooned, and you could just about babble out a ‘shit, yes!’ 

‘then tell me you want me to put it in,’ he teased, rubbing his cock through your folds and bumping your clit in a way that made your eyes roll back in your head.

‘eddie, i swear to fuckin’ god, put it in or i’ll just get myself off.’

‘as tempting as that is to watch, sweetheart,’ he muttered, squeezing your hip, ‘i think i’ll stick to this.’ and with that, he pushed himself in. 

he wasn’t going to put it all in at once; he was gonna spread you nice and slow, fuck it in and out slowly. he knew he was bigger than most girls were used to, and he was gonna use all his self control to make this as easy as possible for you. but as soon as he put the first inch in you were squirming, begging for more and sucking him in like a fucking vacuum and trying to sit down on it. not to mention how wet you were; he’d never known anything like it. so when you leant back and grabbed his arm and looked at him with those beautiful puppy dog eyes and pouty lips and begged ‘baby, please, just fuck me?’ 

well, he was a goner.

you were so turned on you barely even registered the pain of the stretch, but you knew from the way eddie was repeatedly bumping your g spot that he was bigger than anyone you’d ever had before. and he knew how to use it. he was holding it deep, fucking you in slow, grinding thrusts. every part of your body was touching a part of his, as if you were one person, moving together in perfect synchronicity to get you both there. eddie had never been in anyone bare before, and he was starting to feel like he’d never want to use a condom again; he could feel every part of you, and it was bringing him closer and closer to his release with every passing second.

‘eddie, i think i’m gonna cum already,’ you half slurred, half moaned, and he kissed your shoulder, increasing the tempo of his hips. suddenly, you felt the knot break and your orgasm washed over you in a crescendo, and you cried out eddie’s name as he fucked you through it. he was using his hands to guide your hips against his, all while whispering in your ear; ‘so good for me, babe, so fuckin’ good, gonna make me cum aren’t you sweetheart? such a beautiful girl, so naughty just for me, ’s that right?’ you were nodding along with his words, fingers clutching onto him tightly and so wrapped up in the moment that when he stilled his hips and gasped ‘oh fuck, babe, ‘m gonna cum, you need to get off,’ you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop rocking against him. your head was leant back against his shoulder, and you could hear him muttering frantically as he tried to hold onto his orgasm and push you off.

‘eddie, babe?’

‘sweetheart, please, i’m gonna cum, you need to-‘

‘calm down,’ you turned your head, kissing down his neck and stroking his hair gently, ‘just cum in me.’ you felt his thighs still under yours, then tremble as a rush of warmth filled you up. you wished you could bottle up the way eddie moaned into your ear, the way he pushed right up into you and filled you up to the brim, the way he sighed as you kissed his cheek when he finished.

‘babe, that was really hot, but fuck, we really shouldn’t have done that,’ he murmured, pulling out and feeling terrible at the way you whined.

‘’m on the pill, we’re good,’ you whispered, eyelids drooping as you climbed into eddie’s bed, completely naked.

‘shouldn’t you go, like, pee or?’ eddie asked, combing long fingers through your knotty hair, and you noticed he had, at least, pulled his boxers back on.

‘shhh, sleep time. i’ll do that later. we can get a plan b too, if you’re worried.’ you yawned, and eddie’s heart soared when you made grabby hands up at him. ‘now come get in bed, i need a cuddle.’

‘yes, ma’am.’

‘don’t make it fuckin’ weird, munson.’

[steddiealltheway]

It's a pretty dead day for Family Video with no customers for hours besides Eddie who stays around, "For your entertainment," he explains to Steve when he asks why he's still there. It's not that Steve minds, in fact, he really enjoys his company... like... really enjoys it.

Robin teases him about his crush, but Steve refuses to acknowledge it because he knows Robin might accidentally blab about it to Eddie. So he settles for casually brushing off the lighthearted teasing about his hopeless crush.

Sure, Eddie seems to flirt with him and spends a great deal of his time around him, but Steve isn't one hundred percent certain that he's into him. In fact, he seems to act the same way around Nancy who he is currently talking about.

A groan from Robin cuts Eddie off and has Steve confusedly looking at her. "Tell me how to win over Nancy!"

It comes to Steve as a bit of a shock, not the crush but the cry for help to not only him but Eddie, too.

Eddie weirdly doesn't seem as shocked though, and he even seems... excited.

"Buy her roses?" Steve suggests, but Eddie immediately scoffs.

"Nancy Wheeler, does not want roses. She wants someone who will listen to her. Try asking her about what she's writing for the paper and really stay invested," Eddie says.

Robin looks at him for a moment with narrowed eyes but nods. "That's... actually good advice. Thank you."

Steve pauses and considers it. It really is good advice. Great advice even. It's almost as if that's what Eddie wants...

"Surprised?" Eddie asks and Steve glances up at him from across the counter. "You look like you're deep in thought wondering how I thought of something like that," Eddie says as if he's about to let him in on some secret.

But before Steve can think about what it could be he replies, "No, I was just... wondering if you wanted to tell me about your most recent campaign. Dustin told me a little about what you have so far, so...fill me in on the rest?"

Steve hears Robin scoff behind him in disbelief as Eddie's jaw slightly drops and he stares at him. "You're serious?"

Steve nods in response and smiles.

"Okay, Harrington, but strap in and prepare to get your mind blown..." Eddie says and launches into the details. Steve is surprised when he genuinely gets taken by the story and starts asking him questions. But then he gets a bit distracted by the way Eddie keeps leaning into him with wide eyes gleaming with joy and an even wider smile.

Steve sincerely hopes that Robin keeps asking for advice because it's going to come in handy as he tries to win over Eddie.

-:-:-:-:-:-

"Eddie, could you possibly give me more of your wooing wisdom?" Robin asks a few days later.

Steve's almost surprised since the first piece of advice had gone so well it scored Robin a full day of hanging out and even a drop-in visit at Family Video by Nancy herself. But Eddie nonetheless is already leaning over the counter and saying, "She would love it if you complimented her. Just little things like her outfits, her hair, her writing especially though. She seems like a sucker for words of affirmation."

His response is so quick that Steve wonders how much Eddie craves those words of affirmation. "Speaking of hair, have I ever told you how great yours looks?" Steve asks Eddie.

Robin cackles as Eddie's eyes go a bit wide. "Uh, no, but thank you, Stevie."

Throughout the rest of the shift, Steve subtly throws Eddie little compliments such as how he looks in his infamous vest, his taste in movies, and even goes as far as complimenting how great he is with the kids. It makes the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheek a little pink, and that's exactly the reaction Steve was hoping for.

He wonders what else Eddie has up his sleeve.

-:-:-:-:-:-

After a few more days filled with compliments, lots of intentional listening, and quite a few visits from Nancy, Eddie finally hops over the counter and corners Robin. She continues to watch Nancy in the back of the store as she reads over what must be very interesting descriptions of movies because she's been in the store for quite a long time.

Steve keeps teasing Robin about it, but she refuses to listen. Maybe Eddie will make her.

"Final piece of advice," Eddie says to Robin quietly enough that Steve has to scoot closer to them to eavesdrop. "Just ask her out. She's over there waiting for you to make a move. Just... trust me, okay? If it goes wrong you can punch me in the face, chop off my hair, and even go after my guitar."

Steve's eyebrows raise. Eddie must be very confident in his advice.

Robin seems to actually listen as she carefully and very slowly makes her way toward Nancy.

Just ask her out... So, Steve should just... ask Eddie out. Simple.

"Hey, Edd-"

"I've been wa-"

The two glance at each other and smile. "Go ahead," Steve says and looks back toward Robin.

"I've been waiting to tell you this. I've gotten all those tips directly from Nancy. I made Robin her walking kryptonite," Eddie says excitedly.

Nancy's walking kryptonite. Not Eddie's. Shit.

"What were you saying?" Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head. "Nothing... I just forgot."

Eddie nods and nudges Steve's shoulder as they watch Robin ramble out something to Nancy who stares at her with furrowed brows. There's a pause as Nancy says something that sounds like, "So a date?"

Robin nervously nods back, and there's a moment that makes Steve hold his breath.

"I'd love to," Nancy says back and Eddie nearly jumps for joy as Steve lets out a deep breath.

Eddie turns back to him and asks, "Are you sure there wasn't something you were going to say?"

Steve nods, and Eddie seems disappointed. He hesitates then turns around as if he's going to scale the counter again.

Steve glances around the basically empty store then reaches out and grabs his wrist. "Wait."

Eddie turns around and looks at him.

"This is so stupid, but I thought all the advice you were giving to Robin... Well, I thought it was what you wanted. So, I've been trying to use it to win you over, but turns out... it wasn't what you wanted. And I'm not sure why I'm admitting this to you, but I just wanted to let you know why I guess I've been so weird the past few days," Steve says and runs a hand through his hair.

Eddie gives him an incredulous look. "You wanted to win me over?"

Steve can feel himself begin to flush as he nods.

A wide smile spread over Eddie's face. "Well lucky for you, flattery works on me, but just asking me out works even better."

Steve takes a moment to process what Eddie means.

"Ask him out, dingus!" Robin says and Steve jumps a bit forgetting she was there.

"Do you want to go out sometime?" Steve asks quickly as he takes Robin's advice.

"Yes, my advice is that we go out tonight after your shift."

Steve laughs, "My advice is that instead of giving advice you just tell me what you want."

"Well, I advise you-"

"Oh my gosh, if either of you says advice one more time I'm letting Nancy use you for target practice," Robin says and Nancy laughs.

Eddie leans closer to Steve and stage whispers, "I think we should advise her to watch her temper."

"Eddie!" Robin says as she scales the counter.

Eddie easily gets away and runs out the front door. "I advise you to pick me up at seven!"

"I'll take your advice!" Steve yells back.

It's worth the lecture Steve gets from Robin for the rest of their shift, but she isn't too mad since Nancy stays (following Steve's advice).

[louloulemons-posts]

Secret Kisses

Steve Harrington X Fem!Henderson!Reader

Summary : You and Steve are secretly dating, here are 3 times you were almost caught and the 1 time you were.

Word Count : 1.2k

Warnings : Not proofread, 3am writing, swears, pet names, FLUFFY, kisses, suggestive at parts, fem reader, no use of Y/N, Steve and reader just want to make out lol.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- First time : Driving you home and nobody’s in

You’d been hanging out at Eddies trailer, watching some horror movies and smoking a bit with your friends.

Giving the metal head a hug and waving goodbye Steve drove you and Robin home.

“See you guy’s tomorrow,” she said, kissing your cheek from the backseat and climbing out.

“Let’s get you home,” Steve smiled, taking your hand in his. “Thank you for driving me.”

“Couldn’t leave my girl stranded could I? Or worse, Eddie could’ve drove you home in his death trap!”

“Eddie can drive,” you laughed.

“Sure, doesn’t mean the vans safe.”

“You worry too much,” you sighed, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

“Just want you to be safe.” The drive was quick and quiet, one of your favourite tapes of Steve’s playing. Steve pulled up to your house, no lights on inside.

“Tonight was fun,” you spoke, smiling.

“It was, we do need a proper date night though. Maybe the movies?” he asked.

“That sounds good, I’ll trust your taste in movies.” He leaned over the console to kiss you, leaning in softly.

You lips almost touched when you heard a foggy voice, “Are you coming in or not?” Dustin.

Pulling away from Steve you sighed, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Y-yeah, goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled, climbing out the car and headed over to your brother.

“Have you been smoking?!” he exclaimed.

“Shut up!” you slammed your hand over his mouth, shoving him in the house. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” Waving at Steve before heading in yourself.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Second time : Movie dates, sat in the dark, perfect right?

Sat in the movie theatre side by side, fingers linked, waiting for the lights to dim. You’d decided to see The Breakfast Club, after Nancy had said it was really good.

“You’re going to run out of popcorn and the movie hasn’t even started yet,” you chuckled at Steve. “It’s good!” he defended.

“Lies, but either way you’ll be grumpy 15 minutes in because you have nothing to snack on.”

“That’s why I got you snacks my love.”

“What so you can steal them?”

“Exactly that.”

“And what if I said no?”

“Well I’m sure I could persuade you..”

“Oh yeah?” He leaned closer to you, lips touching, “Yeah.” He softly pressed his lips to yours when familiar voices came.

“Okay so G6 and G7 El,” Max Mayfield spoke. “Shit,” Steve whined. The seats right in front of you. “Shit,” you repeated.

Walking down to their seats El spotted you, smiling, “Hi guys!”

“Hey,” you smiled back, nudging Steve.

“Hi,” he let out a pained grin.

“Just you two?” Max asked.

“Oh yeah, had to drag Steve with me. Nobody else would come with,” you shrugged.

“Hm, seems like Robins type of film. Eddie thought … not so much,” the redhead hummed. “Yeah exactly.”

“Should have come with us,” El said softly.

“If I’d have know you wanted to see it I would’ve, could’ve made a girls night out of it,” you smiled at her. Always having had a special place in your heart for that girl.

The lights dimmed, “Well we’ll see you after the movie,” Steve said. The pair sat down facing forward. “Guess we can’t make out now,” he sighed.

“You’re literally a horny teen.”

“Well I’m a teen and you’re hot so … I’m always horny.”

“Shush,” you laughed, punching him lightly.

“Maybe you can stay at my place?”

“Hm, if you’re lucky.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- Third time : Lunch breaks aren’t easy either.

It was Steve’s lunch break, just him on today as it was a slow Monday. He shut the door and turned the sign to close, smiling at you who’d brought him food.

Pushing you into the back room, hands on your waist, your own tangling in his hair. Lipgloss transferring onto his own lips, “Stevie,” you giggled into his mouth.

“Missed you … so much,” he spoke between kisses. “Saw me yesterday.”

“Not enough!” Pulling you as close as he could, your legs wrapped around his waist and he lifted you into a filing cabinet.

“So. Fucking. Perfect,” he kissed and kissed and kissed. His hands played with the bottom of your skirt, pulling away. Lips swollen and hair messy.

“We’ve got 20 minutes Stevie.”

“That’s plenty of time to do what I need to do to you,” he smirked, lowering himself.

The bell on the door jingled, “Steve!”

“I’m gonna kill your brother.”

“Oh I’ll help.” Tidying himself up he left the back room, you jumping down from the cabinet.

“Henderson, thought you were smart enough to know what the word closed means.”

“Ha you’re real funny. I was just wondering if you’ve seen my sister?”

Steve’s heart went to his throat and you panicked trying to keep your breathing quiet. “Nope, why?”

“Well I saw her car outside and I thought maybe we could head home together,” he explained, “She might be getting some groceries though.”

“Mhm, maybe. If she stops by I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”

“Great, thanks man.” You heard the bell ring again, signalling his exit.

Walking out of the back room you sighed. “Your brothers looking for you,” he teased.

“Oh you don’t say?” Kissing the boys cheek, “I should probably go.”

He whined, “Steve if he catches us-“

“I know I know. Okay go, but next time something like that happens I’m not stopping.”

“I’ll take your word for that.” Pecking his mouth you headed out the door to find you shit head of a brother.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

- The time you’re found out

You heard soft knock on your window. Not wanting to turn the light on in fear your headache would get worse, you walked over.

Pulling back the curtains, you saw a familiar face. You pulled up the window and stepped back, “What are you doing here?” you asked.

Steve climbed in (fell in) to your room, “Robin told me you weren’t very well, couldn’t really call cause you know,” he motioned to the door.

“Thought I’d come check on my girl, brought you some gatorade and snacks.”

“You, Steve Harrington, are the sweetest boy I’ve ever met.” Pecking his nose, you walked back to your bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Migraine.”

“Oh baby I’m sorry. Have you taken anything?”

“Took some more tablets not too long ago, they should kick in soon.”

He sat down next to you, stoking hair gently. “Do you want me to go, leave you in peace?”

“Could you stay?”

“Course. No place I’d rather be.”

Taking off his shoes, jacket and jeans he climbed in beside you. “Come lay on me baby,” he whispered. Resting your head on his chest, you hummed, his warmth was so nice.

Running his fingers up and down your back you were quickly lulled to sleep.

Stirring awake to a knocking sound, “Yeah?” you said voice croaking, thick with sleep. Steve also woke up, giving you a sleepy smile.

“Mom said do you want breakfast, she’s made waffles,” Dustin spoke.

“Oh yeah sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Does Steve want any?” He asked through the door.

You looked at the boy, both of you wide eyed. “Hello? Does he want any?” your brother repeated.

“Oh um sure if she’s got any spare,” Steve said. Hearing you brother grumble as he walked away, you put your head back on his chest.

“Well he knows.”

“Yeah.”

“I can do this now then,” Steve smirked, kissing you square on the mouth.

“Hm, yes Mr Harrington you can.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

A/N : I wanted to do some fics with other characters soon, they don’t have to just be Stranger Things characters, I’m part of many many fandoms. So if there’s any other characters you’d like to see, let me know! 🤍

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave any requests 🤍

[littlexdeaths]

fever pitch - r.b.

softball player robin buckley x cheerleader fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: all characters are 18+, oral (f receiving), fingering, public sex, thigh riding, secret relationship, allusions to sex, bullying, mean!dom robin, little bit of mean reader, jealous reader

this is a collab with the absolutely brilliant @undead-supernova !! i literally had so much fucking fun writing this with you august, and it might be my favorite robin fic i’ve ever written. i feel like our brains collided and made a gay ass baby and i’m so proud of us. we hope you enjoy xx.

word count: 3.7K

“Shhh, don’t want us getting caught like this do you?”

Robin’s voice is hushed but stern, now lifting her head from between your trembling thighs. The blonde has you spread out on a bench in the dugout, skirt shoved up around your hips as her tongue laps up everything you have to offer.

That is until a broken moan leaves your lips, unable to stop it as her fingers curl up inside you. The sound breaks through the silence, the only thing heard above the soft hum of cicadas.

“What would your little friends think, hmm?” she taunts, brow raised as she looks up at you, dirt still smeared across her cheeks from the game. “Knowing a loser is the one making you feel so good?”

In that moment you can’t find it within yourself to care anymore, gripping her hair in your fist to guide her back between your legs. “Let them.”

Robin hums, her lips drifting lower to nip at the tender skin of your thighs. The action causes another loud whimper to leave you. “You sure about that, honey?”

“I don’t care,” you admit out loud for the first time, thoughts completely overwhelmed with all things Robin.

“Fuck, I don’t care anymore,” you sigh.

Never in your wildest dreams would you think tonight would turn out like this.

You’d been watching her from the sidelines as she attempted to slide into homebase, coming up a little short. You’d never gotten to see her play before, your extracurriculars usually running at the same time. But today had been just your luck, with Chrissy spraining her ankle, immediately being rushed off to get it iced. Coach ended practice shortly after—no use continuing without the star of the squad there, right?

It gave you the perfect opportunity to watch her without raising any suspicion—two of your teammates by your side, laughing as Robin struck out. You took your lower lip between your teeth, trying not to gawk as she rose to her feet. Dusting the dirt off her thighs when she caught your eye, biting back a smirk as she made her way towards the dugout.

But not before stopping by where you were leaning against the bleachers. Right there, in front of everyone for the first time.

See, this has been going on for months. The sneaking around, the feigned rivalry.

If only they knew what was really happening behind closed doors.

You first noticed her late one afternoon, walking to your car after cheer practice. Robin hadn’t even crossed your radar, barely a glance in the hallway. Too wrapped up in your own world to notice. But there was just something about the warm glow of the sunset laying against her flushed cheek. The way she found your eyes, like she knew your secret, before she spit out the shell of a sunflower seed. Chuckling as she grabbed her bat and walked off.

All you knew after that was you desperately wanted to know more. And boy, did you.

You quickly learned through word of mouth that she had been caught hooking up with some girl in the band room after school. That confirmation prompted you to start dropping her little hints. Longing glances when no one was paying attention, nods in the hallway. Sneaking out of practice early just so she’d notice you walk by. And, sure, she noticed.

But Robin wasn’t going to come easy, was she?

No, she wanted to make you work for it. To prove to her you were serious, not just another girl looking to make out with her for the thrill of it. Or some sick joke conjured up by the cheer squad to humiliate her more.

You quickly realized that your subtle hints were not going to get you what you wanted. Her.

One day you’d finally had enough, boldly slipping a note in her locker between classes. Coaxing her to meet you in the secluded alley between the gym and the cafeteria. A place you’d only used to meet a certain super senior when you wanted to buy some weed.

A spot unknown or used by the majority of the students of Hawkins High, knowing you wouldn’t be seen or heard by any curious passersby.

Part of you was worried she wouldn't show, becoming increasingly more nervous as time passed. Any lingering qualms were squashed when you saw her striding down the narrow path towards you. She looked good, her dark jeans hugging her hips just right. A button-up shirt tucked loosely into them, the top few buttons left open.

You wanted nothing more than to lean forward, closing the short distance between your bodies. Leave a trail of blues and purples along her exposed skin. And that terrified you, to know that one girl could mess you up in such a monumental way.

“So,” you mumbled, kicking a pebble with the tip of your sneaker.

“So,” she answered, crossing her arms over her chest.

Without hesitation, you introduced yourself but Robin gave you a confused look.

“Yeah, I already know who you are.”

“You do?”

“Well, we’ve gone to school together our whole lives…” she paused, running a hand through her hair, “and when a girl is practically eye-fucking you in the halls, it’s hard not to notice.”

“Oh, right,” you replied, looking down. Embarrassment washed over you. “Sorry, I guess I misinterpreted this whole thing.”

You carefully pushed off the wall, ready to walk away and pretend like this whole thing never happened. Save yourself the humiliation.

But her soft voice stopped you in your tracks.

“I wouldn't say that.”

“Then what would you say?” you asked, more confident now.

“You’re the one who asked me here,” Robin pointed out, turning the focus back to you.

And just as quickly as your confidence had risen, it fell. So you looked down again, now fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“I don’t, um,” you struggled. “I don’t really know how to say it. I just…I…”

“Oh, just spit it out already.”

You looked up at her exasperated expression, narrowing your eyes. “Fine! Fine. Whatever. I like you, okay?”

“Like me? We’ve never spoken.”

“Don’t give me that when I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

Robin’s hardened expression fell. “Touché.”

Silence fell between you, Robin lifting her head to look at the sky. You couldn’t help but squirm again, feeling a desperate urge to breathe in her scent.

You sighed. “So, what do we do now?”

“Hell if I know,” she replied, looking back at you. “I thought you were stuck up like the rest of your prissy friends.”

“Not when I’m around you,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “You make me feel…different, somehow.”

“I could make it much worse for you, you know,” Robin replied, a smug grin reaching her lips as she stepped closer to you. “All you have to do is ask.”

“Please—”

“Actually, no,” Robin interrupted, fingers inching towards your hip. “You should beg.”

“Please,” you said without hesitation. “Please, Robin. I need you.”

Robin knew she shouldn’t. And so did you. But there was just something there, pressing against your chests as Robin pressed you against the brick. And when she kissed you the first time, you nearly whined in contentment, mewling softly against her mouth.

That kiss left you feeling desperate, eager for her to show you more. However, Robin wasn’t going to chase you, forcing you to take matters into your own hands. You sought her out one night after practice, pulling her into the equipment room outside the gym. Backing her body against the door, lips meeting once you heard the lock click into place.

“Just couldn’t stay away now, could you, baby?” she mumbled against your mouth, pulling a soft whine from you as she nipped at your lower lip. The noise caused her to laugh softly.

“I want you, Robs.”

She hummed in response, letting her lips trail across your jaw. “Want me how?” she prodded as the tip of her nose skimmed along your collarbone, rendering you utterly speechless.

“Show me,” she breathed, further stealing the breath from your lungs as she kissed you deeply. Taking control as she flipped your positions, enclosing you against the door.

You’re pliable under her soft touch, guiding her fingers up and underneath your pleated skirt. The blue of her irises nearly swallowed whole by her pupils as she gazed at you hungrily. That look ignited something within you, feeling emboldened as you reached forward to undo her pants. Exploring each other in a way that was unfamiliar to you, her skilled fingers helping to guide you with ease.

After that, it was just your little secret, with no one being the wiser. Why would they? You were on the opposite ends of the food chain, fractured by the Hawkins High hierarchy. Leaving little glances across the cafeteria, brushes of your fingertips in the hallway as a secret reminder of what you two had. It didn’t hurt that you could sit in class, practice, or even the shower and think about how they’d brush against your breasts later.

Of course, you couldn’t help but wind her up whenever you could be overheard. As she would gladly put you in your place in private.

But you knew as she approached you on the field with that familiar glint in her eye— you were really in for it this time.

“What’s so funny?” Robin asked, removing her gloves. You let your eyes linger on her fingers for a moment as she gripped the leather. Quickly shifting your gaze elsewhere as you pressed your thighs together.

Something the blonde didn’t miss. Holding back a smug smile as she looked between the three of you.

“You’re just such a loser,” Carol snickered, snapping her gum between her teeth.

Heather joined in with a giggle. “Yeah, maybe you should look into joining the t-ball team. Seems like a much better fit for you.”

Heather knew she struck a nerve, pleased with herself as Robin’s jaw clenched in anger.

“Oh, yeah?” Robin said, ready to egg her on. “And what do you know, Holloway? I’d like to see you do something other than shake your ass at Billy Hargrove during games. Don’t you find it pathetic how desperate you are for his attention?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Heather snapped back. “As if you are getting any. No one even knows your name.”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin replied, her eyes shifting towards you as if on instinct. “You know, I don’t recall ever seeing this one with a guy.”

“You better get back to that pitch before you strike out, Buckley,” you bit back, shooting her a warning look. “Again.”

With a shake of her head, Robin glanced behind you at your “friends” before scoffing and turning. But not before she took her cleat and scuffed up dirt onto your shiny white sneakers.

“Oops.” She laughed, giving you one last look before walking away.

Not missing a beat, Heather turned to you with a bewildered expression. “You know her name?”

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s on her uniform.”

“Oh— right,” she murmured, the conversation quickly forgotten as they discussed their plans for the night: yet another kegger at the Harrington residence. It was something you definitely weren’t interested in attending.

Though they begged you to join them, you merely shrugged and told them to go without you. They didn’t even blink before heading off, their laughter fading as quickly as it started. But you soon found yourself lost in the chatter of the crowd and the roar of the umpire.

You decided to move up, leaning against the chain-link fence, pom-poms thrown to the dirt as you watched your girl stepping up to bat again. The score had been tied, this being Hawkins High’s last chance to win the game.

As always, Robin found you again. She gave you a wink before you heard the sharp crack of the bat. You gasped along with the crowd at the sight of the ball shooting through the sky and into the parking lot.

You couldn’t help the loud cheer erupting from your lips, clapping along with the crowd as she sprinted through each base with ease. And as she slid into home and was declared safe, her eyes met yours. They followed you as she picked herself up, sweat dripping as she removed her helmet. Shaking her dampened hair out with a wide grin.

There was no longer anything inside you that beckoned you to be malicious. You could feel a swell of pride inside you, wanting nothing more than to show her just how incredible she was. How much you cared about her…and you planned on it.

Her teammates were quick to surround her, lifting her up onto their shoulders as the crowd continued to cheer. Robin was clearly embarrassed by the sudden swarm of attention, her cheeks beautifully flushed as they carried her across the field. Soaking in the glory for a few more moments before they were called to line up, shaking hands with the opposing team.

But as everyone began to clear out, you noticed Beth Wildfire hanging back, laughing near the dugout with Robin. As you moved closer, you could make out the way Beth was checking out Robin’s ass as she bent over to grab her glove.

Robin lifted her head slightly, noticing you making your way over.

“Nice win, Buckley,” Beth said, popping in a piece of gum. “We should go out and celebrate.”

“Oh, yeah?” Robin asked, a devious smile on her lips as she rose. You couldn’t stop the jealousy beginning to surface. “You think we should invite the team?”

She was making you work for it, wasn’t she?

“Actually, I thought maybe you and I could—”

“Hey, Robin,” you said, directly in Beth’s line of sight now.

Beth gave you a look, clearly annoyed by your interruption.

Good.

“Hey,” Robin greeted. “What’s up?”

“You still need that ride?” you asked, clutching your pom poms tighter in your fists.

“I’d almost forgotten,” Robin replied smugly.

“Well, uh,” Beth said, taking a step closer to Robin. “I could always take her home after heading to Benny’s.”

“No, that’s alright,” you said curtly, faking a smile as you also took a step forward. “I think I’ve got it from here.”

You and Beth exchanged glances before her eyes widened, flickering between you and Robin who was only looking at you. Beth said nothing, opting instead to give you both a quick nod. But the clear disappointment on her face brought you more joy than you cared to admit.

“I’ll see you later, then,” she said. “Again, nice win, Buckley.”

Even as she walked away, Robin never broke eye contact. “Thanks, Beth,” she called out, a grin widening on her lips.

“Ready to go, mon chéri? I’m starving.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

And that’s how you ended up here, your legs draped over Robin’s shoulders as her tongue circles over your clit. One hand buried in her hair and the other clutching onto the chain link fence behind you. Her blue hues never leave your face, taking in each and every reaction she pulls from you.

“You know, you’re pretty cute when you’re jealous.” She grins, flicking the tip of her tongue over your swollen clit. Enjoying the way your body twitches with every motion.

“I wasn’t jealous.”

You breathlessly try to deny it, but you both know you’re lying. Once again letting your pride get in the way, prompting Robin to remove her tongue from your center.

“No— Robbie, please,” you whine as she pulls away fully, resting her cheek against your inner thigh as she continues to slowly thrust her fingers inside you.

She revels in the way your walls grip tightly around the digits, almost as if you’re trying to keep them trapped inside. And as much as she loves feeling you, she loves making you beg even more.

So she slips her fingers out of your dripping cunt completely. Standing up to hover over you as she brings them to your lips.

“Please what, princess?” she taunts, her fingers now slipping into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly swirling around the digits until they’re devoid of any trace of you.

Robin removes them just as fast, trailing the saliva-coated digits down your jaw until they wrap around the base of your throat. “Answer me,” her harsh tone only further dampening the area between your thighs.

“Please don’t stop,” you plead without hesitation, rocking your hips up against her thigh. A look of desperation flitting across your features as you clutch onto her shoulders.

“Aww, you wanna cum, pretty thing?” Her tone is laced with condescension, finding yourself nodding almost frantically as you gaze up at her.

“I don’t know, baby… you were pretty mean earlier.” She paused, a small pout forming on your lips as she traced over them with her thumb. “You think you deserve it?”

You nod as if on instinct, whining as she pulls away from you completely. Rising to her feet once again, grabbing your hands and pulling you up off the bench. Your breasts press together as she whispers softly in your ear, “Prove it to me, then.”

You eagerly reach for the buttons on her uniform, tugging the zipper down. Impatiently yanking her pants down over the curve of her ass as you take back control.

“Sit,” you demand, resting your hands on her shoulders. Coaxing her to take your previous position on the worn bench.

“So bossy,” she teases, gripping your hips as you swing your leg over her thigh.

Taking a seat as you slip your fingers past the elastic of her underwear, moaning at the wetness you find there.

“This all for me?” you muse, your thumb brushing over her bundle of nerves with ease now. Having become quite familiar with every inch of her body over the last three months.

“I mean… Beth was looking good tonight—”

You cut her off with your mouth before she has a chance to finish her sentence. That surge of jealousy coursing through your veins as you kiss her deeply.

“She can’t have you,” you mumble against her mouth, before taking her lower lip between your teeth and tugging. “You're all mine.”

Robin curses softly as you begin to grind your hips against her thigh, slipping two fingers into her awaiting heat. Pumping them in tandem with each rock of your hips, as she mewls against your mouth.

“Please.” Now she's the one doing the begging, despite your hips continuing to grind down against her thigh. The mixture of her saliva and your juices making a mess on her bare skin.

You giggle softly as you increase the pressure on her clit with your thumb, burying your fingers deeper inside her. “Say it again.” She moans as you attach your lips to the base of her throat.

The blonde tilts her head back to expose more of her neck as you greedily suck on her flushed skin. A feeling of pride washes over you as you leave blotches of red and purple in your wake.

“You’re mine, Robin.” Your tone is overly possessive, enjoying how her body trembles beneath you. Your words being the thing to finally send her over the edge as she pulls your face back up to crash her lips against yours.

Her fingers dig harshly into the skin of your hips, encouraging you to keep grinding on her thigh. Lifting her leg to increase the pressure on your core. “That’s it… such a good girl.”

She pulls back slightly to watch you with hooded eyes, lips lifting in a genuine smile.

“My good girl.”

Her words elicit a bigger response than either of you expected, your thighs tightening around her own as you loudly cry out her name. Her hands continue to guide you along her thigh, working you through each wave of euphoria that crashes over you.

You’re both panting as you begin to come down from your highs, nuzzling your face in the crook of her neck. “Wow,” you breathe out, lightly tracing over the darkening love bites on her neck.

“Jeez, I think the whole town heard you,” Robin teases, running her fingers along your back.

“Well,” you start, pulling back to look at her. “I’m just trying to congratulate my girl on her big win.”

“Your girl?” she teases.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. “Mhm.”

“Admit it,” Robin says, lifting her eyebrows, eyes tracing the lines of your face. “You were jealous.”

“Maybe I was,” you finally admit, earning an amused smile from her. “But I don’t think I have to worry about anyone else.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm.”

You press a quick kiss to the corner of her mouth before standing, helping her to her feet. Leaning back against the fence as she wiggles her pants back up over her hips.

Robin is still fastening the buttons as you walk out onto the field. Her eyes follow your figure as you reach the pitcher's mound. A fond look falls over her features as your eyes flutter shut, letting the last glow of the setting sun soak into your pores.

Feeling the weight of her stare, you turn back around. Flashing her a beaming smile as she finally reaches you on the field.

“So… Benny’s?” you ask, twisting your skirt back into place. “I’m actually starving now.”

Robin looks at you in utter disbelief as she places her hat back on her head, the brim facing the opposite direction. “Wait, you’re serious? What if someone sees us together?”

You can’t stop the giggle that leaves you, now closing the few feet separating you from her. Cupping her face in between your palms as you press another kiss to her lips.

Right in the middle of the open field.

“I told you,” you say, louder this time. “Let them see us. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

You slip your hand into hers, lacing your fingers as you begin leading her towards your car. A sight to see, her bat and glove in her unoccupied hand. Your pom-poms in yours.

“You were still an asshole earlier, you know that?” Robin says.

As you share a laugh, you swing your intertwined hands back-and-forth. You’re practically skipping as you pull her along, light-hearted and winded.

“And you ruined my sneakers,” you counter. “Are you gonna clean them for me?”

“Only if you’re good, mon chéri.”

“I think I can manage that,” you reply as you venture further into the twilight. “At least for a little bit.”

tagging some moots 💕

@xxbimbobunnyxx @babygorewhore @impmunson @voyeurmunson @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs @strangerstilinski

[headkiss]

single thread

part 1, part 2, part 3

pairing: spider-man!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve has a big secret and convinces himself he needs to stay away from you to keep you safe. that’s tough to do when you’re his neighbour.

word count: 8.2k

warnings: spider-man!steve au, some violence (r is attacked and a pocket knife is mentioned but nothing major happens), blood/injuries, strangers/sort of friends to lovers (ish?)

a/n: i really liked writing this one and i hope u guys like it too!!! spidey!steve is something i’ve wanted to try for a while and here it is!!!! he’s my baby <3

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

When Steve moved to Indianapolis, not once did he think he’d get bit by some radioactive spider and gain super powers. Yet, here he is, swinging through the city like something out of some comic book. Sometimes he doesn’t even believe it’s real, and it’s his life.

On his way home, he spots his building easily, the route embedded in his head. The corners to turn, the spots to shoot his webs.

Stuck to the wall beside his window, he tries to open it and realizes he left it locked. “Idiot,” he grumbles to himself.

With a groan he jumps down, landing in the alley. He throws his clothes over his suit and makes sure nobody’s around before slipping the mask off and into his bag. For once, he uses the actual door to enter the building.

He opts for the stairs and when he makes it to his floor he sees you in the hallway. He resists the urge to go back down and wait a couple of minutes.

His door is across from yours, and when he walks over, you’re quick to send him a smile and a ‘hello.’ He nods at you and faces his door, unlocking it quickly and going inside.

It’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s that he doesn’t want to involve people in his life when it’s gotten so complicated. He has Robin in the city and that’s about it. And he already worries enough about her. If he’d met you pre-bite, things would be much different.

He’d return your kind smiles and greetings, he’d tell you when he likes your outfit or thinks your hair looks really nice (which is pretty much every time he sees you, even when you think it’s awful).

He’d rather not put you in any danger, though, so he doesn’t. He just thinks you’re pretty and keeps it to himself.

You don’t know any of that, however, so you’re convinced that Steve doesn’t like you and you have no idea why. Every time his only response is a nod or a limp wave, you wait until he’s out of sight to frown, to scrunch your eyebrows.

You try to think about what you might’ve done.

You first met Steve when you moved into the building, your hair held away from your face with a clip, baby hairs sticking to your damp forehead, and your sweatshirt hanging off your shoulder. Not your best look.

He must’ve heard the thump of boxes hitting the ground, the mumbled curses you kept uttering. Knuckling at his tired eyes, he opened his door and peeked his head into the hallway.

“What the-”

He shut right up when you turned around, smiling (almost wincing) at him.

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, and he repeated your name so quietly you didn’t even hear it. “Sorry about the noise. I have a lot of stuff.”

He nodded, looking at the few boxes in the hall, “you’re moving in?”

“Yeah.”

“You need some help?”

“Seriously?” He half nodded, half shrugged. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”

“Sure. ‘M Steve, by the way.”

Steve. He’s pretty, you thought. Brown, fluffy hair and soft eyes, a mouth you think must look even better when he smiles.

He carried the heavier boxes without complaint or breaking a sweat. His arms flexed with the actions, but his face was completely unaffected. You were amazed. And probably stared at him too much.

When every box was inside your apartment, you’d thanked him, and he’d brushed it off saying it was no problem and went back inside his own place.

No problem, like he didn’t carry box after box for you because you couldn’t afford movers.

Now, with your back against the inside of your door after seeing him in the hallway, you replay that meeting once again. You can’t figure out what you did. Worse, you think, maybe you didn’t do anything at all and you’re just someone who’s easy to dislike.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter so much if he wasn’t so good looking. If he didn’t make you nervous whenever his eyes glanced over you, if you had actual friends to occupy your time, if you didn’t want him to like you so bad.

If, if, if.

You try to stop thinking about it and pick up the book you’d left on your coffee table. You have to reread passages, distracted and unfocused.

-

The bookstore’s been slow today.

You’ve been keeping yourself as busy as possible, even with an empty store. Dusting shelves, re-organizing sections that looked fine before, switching displays around. Eventually you gave in and sat behind the counter with a book, watching people pass by the front windows.

The sun set at some point, sinking behind buildings and leaving the city lit by streetlights and warm glows seeping through windows.

As boring as it can be, you wouldn’t be doing much different if you were at home. Finding things to do to pass time, sitting around aimlessly. At least here, you get paid for doing it.

When it’s time to close up you’re not sure if your sigh is from relief or disappointment. You’re lonely often, but it’s harder to ignore it when you’re all alone at home, no people around at all, even if they’re mostly just passing by on the sidewalk.

You go through the list, sweeping, setting the alarm, shutting off the lights, and locking the door.

The night air is cool, light wind blowing at your cheeks, ruffling your hair. The usual sounds surround you. Honking horns and tires rolling against pavement, indistinguishable voices and the click of the bookstore door locking.

You keep your keys in your hand while you walk home, one of them sticking up between your knuckles. Just in case.

One foot in front of the other, again and again, you walk along the sidewalk. Your footsteps a steady rhythm, hands tucked in your pockets to keep them warm, head bent to avoid making eye contact with any other pedestrians.

Only a couple of minutes from your place, you can hear someone walking along behind you. You shake your head, telling yourself they’re probably just headed in the same direction.

That reassurance disappears when the stranger whistles at you.

You don’t look up, you don’t turn around, you just keep your head down and walk faster, your heartbeat speeding in your chest. You’ve seen stories of what can happen to someone walking home alone. You never thought you’d have one of your own.

“Hey, cupcake! Where you going?” His voice is scratchy and scary. You pick up your pace even more.

At your ignorance, the man speaks again, “I’m talking to you.” His hand grabs your sleeve when he says it.

More afraid than you’ve ever been, you jerk your arm from his grasp and stupidly turn down an alleyway as a shortcut. It’s a horrible decision, but when you’re scared like that, it’s really hard to think straight.

You feel bad for being annoyed with people in horror movies. You get it now.

You’re almost jogging now, but it doesn’t deter the man. No, he catches up and grabs your wrist, twisting you around and pushing your back roughly into the brick wall of the building behind you.

Your wrist is slammed against it where he grabbed you, no doubt scratching your skin and making you flinch, your keys falling from your grasp.

This is it, you think. I’m gonna die here. Alone.

Your eyes water, a tear drips down your cheek and the man laughs in your face. You try to break away from his hold but he doesn’t let up. The only thing you manage is to knee him in the thigh, but it doesn’t do much.

“Nice try, cupcake. I’ve got you now.” he says. That’s when you notice the glint of a pocket knife in his hand.

“Please. Don’t,” is all you can say, trying and trying to get your arms out of the man’s tight hold. Tight enough to bruise.

Steve’s hair stands at the back of his neck, on his arms. Until now, his patrolling had been quiet. Easy fixes like an elderly woman not crossing the street quick enough or a man who’d locked his keys in his car.

Now, his instincts tell him this thing isn’t so small.

Without a second thought, he jumps from where he’d been perched at the ledge of a building and swings in the direction his senses take him. In your direction.

One second, you’re squeezing your eyes shut, thinking it’s the end, and the next, there’s the sound of someone landing in the alley and the thwip of a web.

The man is pulled off of you so fast you can barely keep up. There’s a flash of blue and red, hints of webbing being shot, and just like that, your attacker is knocked out and stuck to the opposite wall.

Your chest heaves and your back slides down the wall, landing on your bum on the pavement.

Steve turns around now that the man’s been dealt with and he thinks his heart stops for a second. He hadn’t realized it’d been you. You and your sweet smile, now turned to tears streaking your cheeks.

He thought, without him, you’d be better off. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he should’ve been keeping an eye on you. For now, he’s sort of glad he hasn’t spoken to you much, only because there’s a better chance you won’t recognize his voice.

Steve moves to crouch in front of you, “are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His hands hover by the sides of your face, like he’s holding himself back from touching you. Restraining himself.

Spider-man is in front of you. Spider-man with his suit and white-eyed mask who just saved your life is right there in front of you. So much for a slow day.

You shake your head and wipe your cheeks with your palms, “no. No, just- um, just my wrist, I think.”

“Can I look?”

You hold out your arm for him to see, and he moves his hands down, one tugging back your sleeve and the other holding your wrist gently. The fabric of his gloves brushes against your skin lightly, careful not to touch you where you’re hurt.

“Doesn’t look sprained. Just scraped,” he says. He looks up from your arm to your face, the eyes on his mask narrowing ever so slightly. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt anywhere else?”

He sounds genuinely worried. Like, you can hear it in his voice. It makes you want to cry all over again. You’d always thought that when Spider-man dealt with the bad guys, he’d just move on. Now, you can see that he cares a lot more than that.

You shake your head, “I’m fine.”

As fine as you can be after what just happened.

He nods and stands, offering you his hands to help you up. You pick up your keys and accept, slipping your hands into his. He pulls you up and squeezes your fingers before letting go.

“Will you let me take you home?” He asks.

You’re sort of in shock, and you’d rather not walk anymore. So, you agree.

He opens his arms for you, picking you up easily with a single arm wrapped around your waist. Your own arms go around his neck, legs tentatively wrapping around his waist.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” you almost whisper.

He hears you loud and clear, your mouth close to his ear, his senses seemingly even more heightened than usual with you around.

“Hold on,” he says.

Then, you hear the whip of his webs and you’re in the air. Your limbs tighten around him.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.”

The wind rushes all around you. In your ears, your hair, your jacket. The city does, too, lights flickering by and buildings growing distant over his shoulder. You squeeze your eyes shut.

“You okay?” He asks over the wind.

“Maybe!”

You can feel his chest rumble with a chuckle. You wish you could’ve heard it, too.

He swings you towards your building when he remembers he’s not supposed to know where you live, “where to?”

You tell him, yelling over the noise not realizing he can hear you just fine normally. You don’t know about those superpowers, focused on the ones that have him transporting you home.

He gets you there quickly, landing just outside the front entrance. You stay wrapped around him for a second before you realize you’ve stopped moving. You remove yourself from him so quickly he has to steady you with hands on your upper arms so you don’t fall.

“You okay from here?” He checks, his head lowering to catch your gaze.

“Yeah. Thank you for…” Saving my life, making sure I’m okay, taking me home. Everything since you landed in the alley.

“Just doing my job.”

“Right. Thanks again,” you turn to head inside.

“Goodnight. And take care of your wrist!”

“Goodnight, Spider-man.”

-

Steve sees you more often after that night. He thinks the universe might be punishing him. Making him see you more, making him work harder to keep his distance.

He tossed and turned the entire night after bringing you home. He wondered if you were actually okay, trying to listen in case you were crying or having a nightmare. He worried so much more than he would have if it had been any other person and he hated it.

He saw you the next morning. You were checking your mail at the same time as him. Your sleeve had ridden up, exposing the scratches on your wrist from the brick wall, the faint bruises of fingerprints, your eyes tired.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help but ask, gesturing limply at your hand. Maybe if you give him a convincing yes, he can finally stop thinking about you so much.

You look down at your arm when he asks, quickly tugging your sleeve back down to cover it up. “Oh. It’s nothing.”

It’s not nothing. He knows it isn’t because he was there and he saw at least a part of what happened to you. He can’t let you know that, so he just nods and turns to his mailbox, listening to your footsteps as you walk out of the mailroom and back up to your apartment. His fingers twitch by his side.

Steve’s used to feeling protective over people, that’s not new, but to feel so protective over someone he barely knows hasn’t happened before. That night haunts him. Your tear-streaked face, the blooming bruises on your arm. He never wants to see you hurting again.

Maybe that’s why he starts returning your greetings in the halls, actually pausing to ask how you are, to smile back at you (they’re tight-lipped smiles, but it’s something).

He’s trying to be kind without getting any closer. No matter how much he wants to know you.

One day, as Steve’s heading out for the late shift, you’re just getting home from your own job, it seems. The clip in your hair has loosened since you put it in, strands falling freely around your face. For a second, Steve has the urge to tuck them behind your ears.

He pushes that down.

“Hi,” he says, his door shut behind him.

“Hi, Steve.”

“How are you?”

“Okay, thanks. Tired,” you fiddle with the frayed hem of your knitted sweater. “Had the opening shift today.”

“Ah. Any plans?”

“Probably just gonna take a nap.”

He nods. For a second you think he might’ve asked because he wanted to do something with you. It’s a stupid thought and you push it away.

“Have a good nap, then,” he gives you the close-mouthed smile that’s become more common between you, and heads towards the stairs.

The shift in his behavior towards you hasn’t been huge, but it’s been enough for you to notice it. He talks to you sometimes—always briefly, but still—he doesn’t turn away from you as soon as he gets the chance like he used to.

It’s confusing, but you’re happy about it anyway. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to you a bit. Maybe he doesn’t hate you after all.

Inside your apartment, you change into sweats and practically collapse onto your couch, playing something mindless on the TV and pulling a blanket over yourself.

You really are tired, but it’s not only from working early. Lately, your dreams have been haunted by rough hands, dark alleys, and flashes of blue and red. You constantly feel like there are eyes on you, and when you walk home from closing shifts, you always search for a certain superhero at the tops of buildings.

You fall asleep at some point, and by the time you wake up, it’s dark outside.

-

Days seem to blur together. Repetitive and tiring all the same. The only thing you have to look forward to lately is your short conversations with Steve in the halls.

You’re not sure how many days later it is when you fall asleep on your couch again. This time, you’re woken up by noises coming from the hallway, right by your door. You get up slowly, feet hitting the cool floors as you walk over to your door.

You don’t know what time it is, but from the darkness of your apartment and the random game show that plays on your TV, you know it’s late.

Peeking through your peephole, you see Steve, fumbling with his keys and almost limping. You open the door.

“Steve?”

He shuts his eyes when he hears your voice, all sleepy and worried.

Like an idiot, he’d left his window locked again and had to use the door after a night of patrolling. A worse night than usual.

You gasp when he spins to face you, one of his eyes swollen shut, a cut on his eyebrow, his nose bleeding, and another cut on his lip.

“Oh my god,” you step forward a little, leaving your door open. “What happened?”

“I’m fine. Sorry for waking you.”

“You’re bleeding,” you say. “Come on. Let me help you.”

You grasp his arm lightly in both of your hands, and when he doesn’t protest, lead him into your apartment.

Steve’s suit feels tighter now, scratching his skin where it sits because he worries you’ll see it despite his layers on top of it. Still, he could use some help. And he can’t bring himself to be upset that you’re the one helping him.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is scratchy.

“I want to help you, okay?”

You bring him into your bathroom, making him sit on the toilet lid. You leave him there for a bit, coming back with some ice in a dish cloth.

“Here, for your eye.” He takes it from you and sucks in a breath when he presses it against his swollen skin.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“‘Course.”

You pull out your first-aid kit from under your sink, setting it on the counter and taking out what you need. You grab another cloth, wetting it in the sink.

“Here,” you stand between his legs, using a bent finger to tilt his chin up towards you. You wipe the dried blood from his skin in silence, Steve’s eyes shut, yours running all over his face.

You’re surprised he trusts you enough to let you do this. You wonder if this is why he’s so closed-off. If maybe he’s involved in something that gets him hurt. Often.

An underground boxing ring, debt with bad people, so many possibilities cross your mind, not a single one being the truth.

Once his face is as clean as it can be, you move on to disinfecting the cuts by his eyebrow and lip. “This might sting a little.”

“S’okay.”

His face pinches a little bit when you dab away at his cuts, but he doesn’t make any noise. All you can hear is his deep breaths and the small sound of his leg bouncing.

His nose hasn’t bled anymore since you cleaned it, and he keeps the ice over his eye the entire time. The cut by his lip looks much smaller when there’s no blood surrounding it.

Only his eyebrow needs a small bandage, which you grab and unwrap. “Last step.”

He feels you press the bandage on, your fingers lightly pushing the sides onto his skin to make sure it’s stuck. The process, he finds, hurts much less when you do it.

He misses your warmth when you step away from him. “Thank you.”

“Are you in trouble, or something? What happened to you?”

“It’s not a big deal. I swear.”

He hates lying to you, but he convinces himself it’s better this way. For your own good.

You don’t look convinced but you drop it. “Okay.”

“I should go,” he stands from where he’d been sitting and waivers a little, leaning on the counter.

“You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m fine, just got dizzy.”

“You can take the couch, if you want. It’s not a problem, really.”

“I live across the hall, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He steps towards the doorway and has to pause again. “Or maybe I’ll stay. If you’re sure.”

“I wouldn't have offered if I wasn’t.”

You walk him to the couch, letting him lean on you whenever he needs to along the way. He sits down, and you go to get him a pillow and blankets.

This is the longest amount of time you’ve ever spent with Steve, and it pinches at your heart that he’s hurt during it. That he only needed help, not company. Even so, you fight a smile when you come back to the living room and find him laying down, already half asleep.

You spread the blankets over him. You take the pillow you’d brought him and guide him to lift his head. You’re convinced he’s asleep, so you let yourself push the hair off his forehead just once.

When you turn to go to your room, he catches your hand in his.

“Thank you, honey.”

Honey. That’s new.

-

Steve was already gone when you got up the next day. The only evidence of his visit the blankets he’d left folded up on your couch and the washcloth stained with his blood you used to clean him up.

Every time you pass his door you think about knocking and checking on him. About making sure he’s okay.

You’ve been worrying a lot more ever since the night you were attacked and saved by Spider-man, and that goes for more than just yourself. You worry about every person you see walking alone, about Steve being hurt again, about noises you might be imagining at night.

You probably look over your shoulder fifty times on your way home from the grocery store, your hands too full with your bags to be able to defend yourself if anything happens.

You breathe out when you make it in front of your door. You’re safe, you’re fine, you have to tell yourself.

In your rush to get your keys from your pocket, you drop two of your bags. “Shit.” Boxes and cans thump against the floor.

Steve hears everything, all of the time. He hears you curse and the sound of your stuff hitting the ground. He blames the fact that he heads to the door on boredom and nothing more.

“Need some help?” His voice startles you.

“Oh! Hey, Steve. It’s fine, just dropped some stuff.”

You set the rest of your bags down, kneeling to pick up things that fell out of the ones you dropped. Embarrassed, you keep your head ducked.

Steve can sense it, the way your pulse jumps a little around him. He doesn’t know whether to be glad or worried that he makes you nervous. Either way, he bends down beside you, helping you pick things up.

A bag of apples, a can of soup.

You both reach for the bags at the same time, fingers brushing before pulling away. Like there was a shock, a little spark where your skin met for the briefest second.

Before you can, Steve picks up the bags. “I got ‘em. You get the door.”

“I- Okay.”

You turn around and fumble with the lock, opening your door and walking inside. Steve follows you and puts your bags on your kitchen counter.

“Good?” He checks.

“Yeah. Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem, honey. Think of it as payback for you patching me up.”

Honey. Last time he said it, you chalked it up to his tired state. That excuse can’t be used this time, and the term warms you.

“Right,” you look him over. His injuries are almost gone and it’s only been a couple of days. At least, you think it has. “You’re feeling better?”

“You did a good job,” he says.

“I’m glad.”

He nods, rocks back onto his heels once, “so, um, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. Thanks again.”

He nods again and heads out, shutting your door behind him. With every conversation you have, Steve seems to warm up around you just a bit more. You don’t want to hope too much, so you push your hair from your face and turn to put your groceries away.

That evening, when you’re getting ready to cook dinner—a simple spaghetti and meatballs—you realize you’ve never seen Steve bring groceries into his apartment. Not once.

He must eat, you know that, but you wonder if he eats well, or enough. You cook for two without realizing until it’s finished. There’s extra of everything.

It’s probably stupid, maybe weird, but you make a bowl and head out into the hall. You knock on Steve’s door, three little taps of your knuckles against the wood.

He hears the knocks right away, listens closer to hear your voice mumbling to yourself. He knows your voice well. Sometimes, he can hear you humming to yourself in your apartment. He doesn’t try to listen in on you, but it’s like his ears subconsciously seek you out.

Steve opens the door and sees you in the same clothes as earlier, a shy smile on your face, and a bowl of spaghetti in your hands.

“Hey. What are you…?”

“I accidentally made too much food, and I thought maybe you’d want some?”

Actually, you made too much food for him, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh,” his heart does a stupid jump in his chest. You’re so kind and you don’t even seem to be trying. If anything, you seem to be embarrassed about it, like it’s a fault. “That’s really nice.”

“It’s just pasta. You want it?”

“Sure,” he takes the bowl from you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I promise it’s not, like, poisoned or anything.” You wince at yourself, “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s not poisoned.”

You laugh awkwardly. “Okay. Um, enjoy.”

He stands in his doorway while you go back inside, his smile spreading as soon as your back is turned to him. He heads inside after you do, kicking his door shut.

He’s never smiled at a fucking bowl of pasta the way he does. It’s getting harder and harder to make himself avoid you, avoid that light in his chest that seems to brighten when he sees you.

He’s in trouble.

-

You bring him dinner often. At least twice a week, on days you don’t work or when you’re pretty sure he’s home.

He thanks you every time with a close-mouthed smile and brings back your dishes the next day, perfectly clean.

It feels like, over time, with every dish you bring him, a chip falls away from the walls he’s built up around himself. You can tell there’s a lot of them, and that they’re tall, but you don’t mind waiting for them to lower piece by piece. He’s worth that wait, you think.

You’re happy to cook for him—you’re cooking for yourself already anyway—and you’ve grown closer because of it. Something like friends, almost. The conversations seem to grow longer each time you see him.

Sometimes, on good days, he even invites you inside to eat with him.

You aren’t very close, but right now, he’s the only friend you have (besides your coworkers, who really only hang out with you because they have to). You’d think the way you get excited to see him would be sad if it weren’t for how nice he is, for how he makes you feel.

He listens to you when you speak, his eyes don’t stray, either. He always tells you he likes your cooking when you know it isn’t all that great. He even hugged you before you left his place once, his arms around your waist, hands running over your skin delicately before he pulled away.

“Thank you for dinner,” he’d said. “Again.”

“I like making it for you. Makes me feel useful.”

“Still. Thank you, honey,” he’d surprised you with it, moving close before you could really process it.

“Oh,” you’d stupidly let your arms hang limp for a second before wrapping them shyly around his neck. “I don’t think my cooking is this good.”

“It’s not just your cooking,” he’d told you.

He pulled away after that, leaving your body warm and your smile difficult to suppress.

You’re well aware you have a crush on him, but you don’t want to let it ruin the beginnings of the friendship you’ve built.

Steve’s not sure what the pull he feels towards you is, like one of his webs is tethered to you even though he can’t see it. It’s something his senses can’t tell him, no matter how much he focuses on them.

He thinks you’re the sweetest person and you don’t even try, all shy smiles and soft gestures. He likes how when you talk, he can really hear how you feel about something in your voice. He trusts you, despite not knowing you too well.

He also thinks you’re really pretty, but that’s not important.

Steve had another rough night patrolling. Some guy decided to play Wolverine—he’d made gloves with blades and everything—and scratched Steve pretty good on his upper arm. It hurts like a bitch, even though it’ll heal quickly. And he’ll have to sew up his suit.

He got the guy, which is something, at least.

Luckily, he actually remembered to unlock the window this time, so he’s able to sneak into his place with ease. He stripped out of his suit and took a shower before anything. Maybe not the smartest decision while actively bleeding, but he felt gross.

Afterwards, clad in plaid pajama pants and a plain cotton t-shirt, he searches his bathroom for his first-aid kit while keeping a towel pressed to his arm. A dark stain blooms on the fabric the longer he keeps it against his wound.

“Yes,” he cheers to himself when he finds the small white box.

He sits on the tile floors, back against his sink cabinets, and the kit in his lap. He opens it with one hand, the other too busy trying to slow the bleeding. When he gets it open, he’s disappointed with what he finds.

“Fuck,” he says. There’s barely anything left. A roll of gauze, a box of bandaids, and one tiny alcohol wipe. That’s it. He really needs to remember to refill this stuff.

He pushes himself to stand, winces when he has to use his injured arm.

There’s only one person close by that he knows for sure has a first-aid kit that has what he needs, because he’s seen it pretty recently. That person is you.

He hates that he’s dragging you into this again, that he’s gonna ask a favor of you that he really shouldn’t. One he doesn’t even think he deserves. He needs the help, though, so he walks to his door, into the hallway, and a few steps to your place across from his.

He knocks, his towel more red than its original color by now.

The sound doesn’t exactly wake you up. It’s late, and you’d been in bed, but you’d been having a hard time falling asleep. You were tossing and turning, staring at the ceiling.

You sit up, push your hair out of your face, and head to the door. You should, but you don’t even look to see who it is before opening it, keeping your body behind the door and peeking your head around. You certainly weren’t expecting this.

Steve stands in front of you, his hair damp and a mess, falling over his forehead. His face is pale and, when your eyes flicker down, you find that his arm is bleeding. A lot.

“Holy shit. What happened to you?”

He ignores your question. “Can you help me?”

You move away from the door. The cold air from the hallway combined with the way Steve’s eyes look down before quickly looking back at your face remind you of your attire. A sleep shirt and underwear.

“Fuck! Sorry,” you go to shut the door but remember that he’s literally bleeding. “Come in, you know where the bathroom is. I’ll just- um. Let me put some pants on.”

He’d laugh at the way you pretty much sprint into your room if he wasn’t so focused on the pain of his arm. He’d also be thinking a lot about the way your legs looked just then.

You meet him in the bathroom, legs now covered in a baggy pair of sweatpants. Steve’s sitting on the shut toilet just like he did the first time you helped him. You haven’t touched your first-aid kit since then, finding it exactly where you left it then.

“Sorry about that,” you tuck your hair behind your ears quickly before opening up the box, turning to him afterward. “Can I see?”

“Yeah.”

You take the towel from Steve’s hand, slowly moving it away from his wound to see how bad it is. Steve’s hands twitch where they sit atop his thighs. He’s holding himself back from touching you.

Three gashes break his skin. The outside of his arm, just below his shoulder.

“Do these need stitches?” You ask, the concern is clear in your voice, in how it shakes a bit. “Maybe you should go to the hospital-”

“No. Please. No hospital.”

“I don’t know how to do stitches, Steve. I don’t know if I can help you.”

“I don’t need stitches, I swear,” the look on your face makes him feel awful. The sadness in your eyes, the small frown you try to hide. “I ran out of bandages. That’s all I need.”

“Are you sure?”

He can’t tell you that his skin will mend on its own, that he’ll be fine in just a couple of days. “Positive.”

You nod and grab a different towel than the one he’d been using, pressing it against his arm to make sure the bleeding stops. He groans quietly when you do. “Sorry,” you whisper.

“I’m alright.”

When you’re almost 100% sure that the bleeding is done, you pull the towel away. You hold it under the sink, wetting a part of it that didn’t soak up his blood. You use it to clean away the dried blood on his arm, apologizing every time he sucks in a breath through his teeth, hissing at the pull on his cuts.

One of your hands holds his arm up, the other occupied with the towel. You’re bent close, stood between his legs, your loose hair tickling his skin.

“Steve?” You whisper, still focused on his gashed arm.

“Mm?” He hums, watching you help him with the most careful touch he’s ever felt.

“Who’s hurting you?”

“It’s nothing.” He says it in a way that tells you it really isn’t nothing. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Maybe you don’t need to worry about him, but you do. You worry constantly. Anytime there’s a bandaid or scrape on his skin you wonder if it’s the same people that gave him that black eye and split lip weeks ago.

You worry because he’s so good. He’s a soft person under the invisible armor he protects himself with and he doesn’t deserve to be hurt. His skin is too delicate for it, his face too pretty.

You pull away and grab the roll of bandages you have in your kit. When you look at him again, his eyes are set on you, scanning your face.

“Please don’t worry about me,” his voice is quiet, and you hate the way it breaks on the first word.

He hates it, too.

“I’ll try my best,” you force a small smile at him, trying to lighten things as much as you can given the situation. You look back at his arm, wrapping it slowly. “Is that good?”

He looks at his arm, his wounds now covered with white wrappings. He looks back at you, “thank you, honey.”

“It’s not too tight?”

He shakes his head, standing when you step back to give him the space. You stand toe-to-toe, his head bent down to look at you, yours titled up.

“It’s perfect.”

Your breaths mingle in the air between you, growing thicker. Before you let yourself hope for something you shouldn’t, you move to the counter and grab the rest of the bandages you have.

“Here,” you hold them out to him, “for when you need to switch it.”

“You won’t need it?” He asks instead of telling you that by the time it needs switching, it won't be an open wound anymore.

“The most I use from that kit is the regular bandaids. I’ll survive without it.”

He takes the bandages from you, his hand brushing yours.

“I’m sorry for showing up the way I did.”

“I’d rather that than have you bleeding out in your apartment,” your eyes flick over to the bloody towels on your floor, your heart pinching in your chest. “If you need to talk to someone, or anything, I’m here.”

He leans closer, pushes a gentle peck into your cheek, and speaks with his lips still brushing your skin. “I don’t deserve your sweetness.”

He drops his head into your shoulder, just for a second, before moving away from you.

“Wha-”

“Bye, honey. Thank you,” he says, walking out of your bathroom.

You stand there, a hand lifting to press against your cheek in the spot his lips did. You pull it away and look at your fingertips, like you’d been expecting to see a physical residue of the kiss. Flecks of glitter, or the soft pink of the sky at sunrise.

You just see your skin, painfully normal.

-

After thinking and thinking and thinking, you determine that maybe Steve likes you more than you thought he did.

The way he calls you ‘honey’ in that voice of his, the softness of his eyes that he can’t hide no matter how cold he tries to keep his exterior, the way he kissed your cheek and let his lips linger when he spoke.

All of those things make you hope that maybe he likes you at least a little bit in the way that you like him, but if not, at the very least, he likes you more than you thought.

You think he tries to hold himself back from getting close to you at all, and you really don’t know why. All you know is that his shoulders were slightly slumped when he forced himself to leave after you'd bandaged his arm, after he told you he doesn’t deserve you.

There’s something in his life that makes him think that way and as much as you wanna know what it is, you hope that the best you can do is prove him wrong.

That’s one of the reasons you’re cooking dinner for two once again tonight. You also feel like, since this is sort of what brought you closer, the dinners are a tradition for you and Steve. Something completely yours.

It’s nice to have something like that with another person. You knew you were lonely, but you never noticed how much until you started talking to him more. With each meeting, the string between you both shortens.

You’ve never cooked this meal before. You’re extra attentive with it, tasting it to make sure it’s right, keeping your eyes on things closely to avoid burning it at all.

When everything’s done, Steve’s meal packed up nicely and your ponytail now a loose mess, you head to the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. The most you do is fix your hair before feeling silly for caring so much about your appearance.

He’s seen you tired-eyed and pantless. This is better than that, at least.

You haven’t brought Steve a meal since you patched him up and he thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and possibly, maybe, loaded words. You’ve seen him, yes, but this is different than a two minute conversation in a hallway or the mailroom.

It’s your way of checking on him.

Your door shuts with a click behind you, his meal in your hand as you step into the hall. You knock on Steve’s door in quick, small taps. You’re not sure why you’re nervous to be doing it this time.

The doorknob twists and you’re met with Steve’s smiling face. Like actually, fully smiling. You don’t think you’ve ever seen that from him before. Not like this. It’s like a beaming ray of sunshine, warm and beautiful.

You’d like to be the one to make him smile like that.

“Hi, honey,” he says. It’s then you notice his cheeks are slightly flushed, little pink blooms on his skin.

“Hey. I made you dinner again,” you hold the container up awkwardly to show him.

“You don’t have to keep making me dinner.”

“I like doing it.”

He nods. Steve knows that you do it as an excuse to see him, and if he were braver, or less concerned about involving you in his impossible life, he’d tell you that you don’t need to have food to knock on his door.

He’d tell you that you could knock whenever you wanted, that he’d happily open the door for you.

“Steve!” A voice—a female voice—calls from inside the apartment. “Who’s at the door?”

Fuck. Okay, he has a girlfriend. You probably interrupted something, you think, looking at his flushed cheeks, thinking about the smile he wore that most definitely was not for you.

You’re embarrassed for even thinking that he could like you, embarrassed for having read everything wrong, for hoping too much.

“Oh. You have company. I’ll just-” you pivot on your heel to leave and realize you’re still holding his dinner. You turn back around and hand it to him, awkwardly turning towards your door again and heading inside.

Steve stares at your door for a couple of seconds before going back inside. He sets his food on the counter and sits back on the couch.

“So, who was that?” Robin asks.

Robin, his best friend and the only person in the world who knows pretty much everything about him. Spider-man and all.

“My neighbor. She was bringing me dinner.”

“It was her? And you didn’t let me say hi!”

Yeah, Robin knows all about you. She knows that you make Steve dinner, that you’ve taken care of him without digging too deep for answers, that Steve thinks you’re the ‘prettiest girl ever.’ His words.

“She left pretty fast after you yelled.”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“Nooo. I scared her off!” Steve is clearly very confused, so Robin huffs and continues, “she heard a girl’s voice in your apartment.”

“And?”

“God, you’re such a boy sometimes, it’s insane. She thought I was your girlfriend!”

“Why would that scare her off?”

“I know you don’t get out much, dingus, but seriously?” She literally facepalms. “She likes you! Why else would she be making you dinner and shit? She likes you and thinks you’re dating someone.”

“Oh. Oh. No, she doesn’t like me. Not like that.”

“You’re an actual dingus.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about that possibility because it’ll make it much, much harder to keep you at arms length. Though, even now, that arm is mostly bent, losing resistance.

“So what if she does like me? I can’t do anything with her.”

“Why not.”

“Because I’m Spider-”

“Spider-man, yes, I know. Who cares? You can't live your whole life ignoring every single romantic feeling you have because of that.”

“I don’t wanna drag her into this.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe she would want to be dragged into this?”

“I guess not.”

He goes quiet after that, and Robin, knowing him so well, drops the subject.

-

Steve thinks about what Robin said even after she leaves.

It’s hard for him to believe that you’d like him enough to worry that Robin was his girlfriend. You, a dream girl, liking him, with his unexplained injuries and past grumpiness towards you. There was no way.

But, on the slightest chance that it did matter to you, Steve decided he wanted to explain.

His crush on you isn’t something he should explore, isn’t something he wants to let grow because, despite what Robin says, his life is dangerous and you already worry about him enough without knowing that.

Still, the thought of you being upset because you think he isn’t single is enough to make him head across the hall.

While Steve wondered what he’d say, you stewed in your embarrassment. You’d sat on your couch in your sweats and tried to forget the girl's voice or the smile on Steve’s face. You were unsuccessful.

The knocks on your door have become a familiar sound—there’s only one person who actually comes to your apartment.

You walk over and muster up a smile that you hope looks genuine, “Steve, hey.”

He scratches the back of his neck and looks at you, “can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

You move aside as he walks in, shutting the door behind him. The apartment feels smaller with him in it, you think. His presence takes up space for you, it draws your focus.

“Thanks again for dinner,” he says.

“You’re welcome-”

“That wasn’t my girlfriend, by the way. The voice you heard,” he cuts you off because he worries that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. “I mean, she’s my friend, and a girl, but we’re not dating. Her name’s Robin, she’s my best friend, that’s it. Promise.”

You’re not sure whether to be even more embarrassed at how obvious you were with your concern, or to be relieved that he’s not taken like you thought. You settle for a bit of both.

“You don’t have to- I know I was weird earlier but you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you tell him, tugging at the ends of your sleeves with your fingers.

“I wanted to make sure you knew.”

There could be a lot of weight in that sentence, if you let yourself look hard enough.

Rather than reply you confess, “you know, I used to think you hated me. Or, didn’t like me. Before we talked and stuff.”

Steve’s standing really close to you. Has he always been this close? You can smell his soap and feel the light puffs of air leaving his lips. It’s almost dizzying—like, if someone poked your shoulder, you might fall over.

You notice a lot about him from this close, especially when there’s no blood on his face. He has the lightest dusting of freckles over his nose, his eyelashes are dark, framing his brown eyes.

Steve reaches out with a hand to link his fingers with yours, loosely and slowly, like he doesn’t want to startle you. They fit together easily. His other hand brushes his knuckles against your cheek before cupping it gently in his palm.

His touch is so gentle, so much less guarded than his usual actions. You blink up at him and without even thinking, you push yourself into his touch, just a little.

“I never hated you,” he says. A murmur between your mouths.

“Oh,” is all you can say.

Steve’s strong, inhumanely so, but he isn’t strong enough to stop himself from kissing you.

The first brush of his lips on yours is so light that you think you might be dreaming. When you don’t pull away, he kisses you more firmly, his lips a little bit chapped but still soft as they land on yours.

You haven’t kissed a lot of people but you’ve never felt one like this. One that you’ve been dancing around for longer than you ever realized.

Steve’s hand squeezes yours, his thumb running back and forth against your cheek, his mouth moving with yours like a dance. He probably shouldn’t have let himself kiss you, because there’s no way he can fight whatever this is after feeling your lips on his.

He pecks you once, and twice, before pulling away. If he kept kissing you, the single thread left holding him back from you would’ve snapped. A clean break.

He leans his forehead against yours, and whispers so quietly you would’ve missed it had he not been so close to you. You could almost feel the words being spoken, lips still a breath apart.

“Never hated you.”

/ᐠ(๏‸๏)ᐟ\

if you enjoyed, please reblog and/or let me know what you thought!!! it would mean a whole bunch <3

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts no 28

Danny dropped his pencil when the door slammed open and a very angry vigilante pointed a finger at him, "YOU!"

The class around him started to chatter, wondering what was happening.

Voice raising an octave he answered dumbly, "Me?!"

"You didn't show up for the wedding!"

If the room full of teenagers were curious before they were nearly howling now. Fenton of all people is dating a potential superhero?! Marrying even?!

Standing up from his seat he grabbed his backpack, "I never agreed to the wedding!"

"Yes you did! I asked for your hand and you agreed!"

Danny thought back to when he and Robin first fought and he barely managed to hold his own, "I thought you were helping me up!"

"You will wed me as you agreed! Even if I have to challenge you for it!" Uh oh. Quick Fenton come up with something or you're gonna be a Wayne soon.

"Forced marriage is illegal in America!" Really brain? That's what you came up with???

"Then we will have the wedding in 'Eth Alth'eban!" Danny didn't even know what that was.

"Thats not the point!" Danny was acutely aware of all the eyes in the room, even Mr. Lancer seemed thoroughly enthralled by the scene that was unfolding. Which is just another reason why he needed to escape. He opened the window he had been edging toward since the start of this argument and flung himself out of it, ignoring the horrified screams of his classmates. He landed two stories down in the flowerbed and ran towards the football fields. Damian knew about Dannys powers, but that didn't mean he couldn't be deceived.

Damian followed after soon enough, leaving the class to explode with theories as to whats happening. Mr. Lancer took this moment to get back to what he was teaching by connecting it to what just happened and making them write a "short" story of a minimum 5 pages of what they thought happened here.

In reality Mr Lancer was an English literature major. Loving a good story came with the territory and oh boy did he need to know this story. Even if it was essentially just fanfiction from his students.

Theories run rampant throughout the school about what the truth was. Paulina even goes on a mushy gushy speel about The hero perhaps being a prince (technically true) that fell in love with Fenton (true), got Fenton to accidentally agree to a marriage proposal (true) and followed him here from his homeland to pursue his hand in marriage (also true)

The fact that Danny was constantly forced to use his powers in human form while being chased by his "fiance" was setting off every upgraded ghost alarm they came near, leading everyone to think Robin was a ghost. (Not true)

The Fenton parents go nuts when they find out a "ghost prince/ghost superhero no 2" was chasing thier son around and went to rescue him. Danny threatens to never forgive Robin if he kills his parents so birdy has to hold back.

Danny gets trapped in a ghost cage for a while as Fenton for his own good, gets told off by his parents as Phantom telling him they don't have time for him right now. Danny is both touched and offended. Even as thier top priority he's thrown onto the backburner. The chase ends with Robin carrying an unconscious Danny in a bridal carry into the Fenton portal while the camera in the lab livestreams it for all to see courtesy of a few tech nerds hacking

Tucker and Sam had been running interference all day and were exhausted. They were lucky Dannys secret was still safe.

Aka: Dannys Unfortunate Supernatural Romance from the Perspective of his Classmates

Do they follow them through the portal? Yes, but they have to corner Jazz, Sam and Tucker into letting them into the spector speeder under threat of snitching.

No one is allowed to ask why they're following a boomerang through the undead dimension.

[acowardinmordor]

You Left Me, You Miss Me

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

@mc-i-r is writing another version of this and tagged me and my brain woke up, so here ya go. This is almost all dialogue, and my new love for Mrs Buckley.

----

"Hey Steve-o! Get in here!" Robin yelled.

"Thought you were talking to your mom?" Steve shouted back.

"I am! That's why you have to come here! The cord won't reach!"

Steve hauled himself up from the corner of the kitchen where he was reorganizing things for the third time since they moved in last week. There was a pile of boxes they really needed to open in the hallway, and his mattress was still against the wall, but he kept going back to the kitchen, trying to make it work despite there being only one pull out drawer. One. They noticed before they signed the lease, but they both assumed they could make it work somehow if they just tried hard enough. But. Third time's the charm.

Flopping onto the thrifted couch next to his best friend, he leaned against her head, and greeted, "Hi Mrs Buckley, how are you?"

"Now why can't you answer the phone so politely, Robin? Who raised you to be so impolite?"

"Yeah, mom, I know you love Steve more than you love me, you tell me every time you talk to him, now can you say it again please?"

"Yes, well, like I was saying, I don't really know why they were all so upset about it, but I didn't want to overstep, so I didn't tell them anything. Not really. Only that you had moved and that you were fine. It's not like that's a secret. Then I noticed that they didn't know about that and so I didn't answer the rest of the questions, which really only made them more upset, but I think they were upset with me, not with the pair of you, so that's perfectly fine, none of them were nearly as vicious as Robin was when she was fifteen and decided she--"

"Mom!"

Steve giggled. Robin's rambling came from her mother, that was certain, and it was worse when they were on the phone. They fed on each other's talking. Like that snake thing.

"Right, yes. Well, Steve, like I told her, those boys, the ones you used to babysit for, they came around to ask if I knew where you were," Mrs Buckley finally said.

Robin grabbed his hand with the one not holding the phone, and pressed her forehead harder against his as they crowded the handset. Steve didn't think he'd reacted, but they didn't need anything as boring as a visible reaction to know each other.

"They said that they went into the video store and saw someone new at the desk, and when they heard that the two of you were no longer working there -- Apparently that manager of yours had some unpleasant words on the subject. You know I never liked him? The first time I stepped in there he asked me if I was still married? Not like that, of course, but it was still very strange. I didn't like it. And according to Robin he was always like that, wasn't he, Steven?"

"Yeah, he was pretty weird," Steve answered numbly.

"Well, that Keith fellow told them you were no longer employed there and that curly haired one demanded to know where you were employed. Since its not like he knew even if he would have told them, those boys went looking for themselves. I guess they went to your house first, Steven, and must have seen the for sale sign. I don't know what your parents are thinking, selling with the market like it is right now, but no one has ever made either of your parents listen to a single word of sense in their lives."

"Mom, the point?"

"Yes, sorry dear, like I told Robin, eventually it must have occurred to them that the two of you would be in the same place and thought to come by. Well. I say come by. First they called, and your father, you know how he is, simply said you were no longer in residence and hung up on them. He thinks he's so funny. Oh! Make sure you remember to call next Tuesday to congratulate him. It's his first day as the lead manager in the office. Oh no, wait, does it count as long distance for you? Never mind, I'll place the call so you don't have to worry about it."

"Mrs Buckley? You were saying something about Dustin?" He was proud that his voice was steady. They left Hawkins eleven days ago. They started packing two weeks before that. His parents put the house on the market around the same time. It wasn't until today that they noticed.

"Yes, that's the one. So Dustin didn't take your father's humor well, and he and his friends came by earlier this evening."

"Wait, evening?" Steve interrupted, "It was dark? They were biking around in the dark? In this weather?"

"Oh goodness no, that young man drove them. The one that was in the papers that the pair of you helped last year. He was much more polite than they were. Well, once I told them that you'd moved, they all started shouting over each other, I was sure that Ms Wickley was going to come over and scold them."

"I'm sorry, ma'am--"

"Oh you don't need to ma'am me Steven, I've told you that."

"Mom, he was just trying to be polite when he asked you to please get to the point, so can you, you know, try to get to the point some time tonight. You're paying for the call, but jeez."

"Oh yes. Well it occurred to me while they were all shouting that if they were your friends like they were saying, they would have known that you were moving. So when they managed to calm down enough I could hear a thing I said, I refused to tell them anything else. It's none of their business if you don't want it to be. And that Dustin boy said that you were his best friend, right in the same sentence he said he hadn't seen you in a month. But, I wasn't entirely sure if I was wrong about it, so I did promise I would ask you if you wanted me to pass on your information."

"Good job, mom, you finally got back to it. This is why I had you come over here, so you could hear that last part. I should have just asked you. Do you want my mom to give them our number or address or anything?" Robin had rolled her eyes over her mom's rambling, completely unaware she was just as terrible. But then she stared at him, concerned and outraged and protective and sad. God, he didn't know what he'd do without her.

"Did they ask?" Steve said.

"Ask? I don't think a single one of them knows how to ask anything. They certainly shouted a lot of demands. If you don't want me to tell them, I have no complaints about being the villain in this story. After everything you've done for my girl, being there for her before she even told me, and now making sure she's safe from any kind of trouble up there, you're such a perfect - what was the - beard? I think that's what I saw in that article in that magazine. Oh, no, the Zine, I ordered. But even without all that, I'll happily shut the door in their faces every day for a year if that's what you want done."

Steve's next breath stuttered, and that was all Robin needed to see.

"Hang on mom, I'm going to put the phone down, don't hang up, we'll be back." She sat the handset on the couch, then dragged a throw blanket over it to muffle their voices completely.

"You okay there or do I need to make a snap decision about which is going to be our household's vomit bowl?" He pushed her shoulder half-heartedly. "Okay, yeah, we both know it's gonna be the one with the cow on it. But you okay there, Stevie?"

"I'm fine."

"No you aren't."

"I'm fine."

She gasped, "You would lie to your soulmate? To her face?"

"I'm not! I'm fine! I just... I don't know, Robs."

Robin watched for a second as all of the muck of emotions bubbled inside him. Then she, as she always did, understood him.

"You want to say no. You want to tell her not to let them know where we are, but you're also freaking out because the brats come find you whenever It's back."

And because for a second, he desperately hoped that they missed him, or wanted to call so they could apologize for the last months. She didn't need to say that part. He half shrugged, sort of nodded, and bobbed his chin towards the throw blanket.

"You sure, Dingus?"

"Yeah."

"Is it gonna be Hopper or Joyce?" she faux wondered as she grabbed the phone from its prison. "Mom? Hi, back. Yeah, thank you. I'm gonna hand the phone to Steve now."

She didn't move away, but she didn't share the earpiece.

"Hi Mrs Buckley. I guess I -- could I ask a couple questions first?"

"Of course dear. What would you like to know?"

"Did any of them say anything weird or really specific?"

"Like what?"

"Like, about the mall, or last spring, or, bats, or uh, did they say anything about their dungeons and dragons game?"

"No. Why would they?"

Steve forced his shoulders to relax. El said it was done, but four years of it coming back meant he'd never fully trust that as true.

"No reason I guess."

"Well. That Munson boy did ask me about a radio right at the end. After the others stomped back to the driveway. He came back and he seemed - well he asked about a radio. And I said you certainly had a radio in your car, but I think he may have been talking about something else. Is that what you meant?"

"Okay, uh. Yeah. Thank you. I guess."

"So what would you like me to tell them next time I see one of them? If you'd like to take your time about it, you can. They were quite worked up about it, but it's a little ridiculous to act like they were owed something if they didn't even notice you two moving. You knocked over a stop sign with that rental truck."

Steve laughed. Couldn't help it. "I really can't wait, ma'am. They'll be back tomorrow morning to bother you." He gave Robin a look she immediately returned. Even without hearing the other half, she understood how true that was.

"Of course they won't, they have school," Mrs Buckley argued.

"Yeah, just means they'll be at your door even earlier."

"Well that's rude."

"Yeah, that's them. So, um. You can be rude back if you want. Don't, uh, you don't need to answer their questions. If you don't mind that they're not going to take it well."

Mrs Buckley laughed, loud and cackling for a moment, making the phone go staticky. "Oh dear, it would be my absolute pleasure to be rude right back to them. I'm much better at it. Anything else?"

"Yeah, you know Jim Hopper?" The resounding silence promised she was giving him the same judgemental look Robin was. "Sorry, that was dumb. But can you give him our number? Not to share with them, just so he has it. And, funny story about radios, but, the one that -- that that guy asked about is in your hall closet. Top shelf, next to the popcorn tin. Give Hopper that too?"

"Certainly, anything I should tell him, or should I ask to return the phone to my ridiculous child that you're generous enough to live with so I can say good night?"

For some reason, it made him think about the returns box at the store. A handle pulled open, the movie dropped inside, and nothing else needed. No one had to explain why they were giving back their copy of Breakfast Club. They had it for a while, hopefully they enjoyed it, and then when it was done, when they didn't need it anymore, or when it was overdue, when they kept it longer than they should have, costing them more money to keep around than it was worth, when they decided they were done with it, they didn't write a letter and explain why they--

"No. But, just. Tell him its for emergencies or something. Thank you, bye, or, goodnight ma'am, Mrs Buckley, uh, here's Robs. Bye."

He climbed off the couch as he shoved the phone at her, and headed for the window in his yet to be unpacked room. Rob would kill him in his sleep if he had a cigarette, but if he had any, he'd have taken the risk.

The glass was so cold it was painful against his forehead when he leaned into it, and he watched the little flurries of snow on the street kicked up by the wind. They didn't even notice for a few weeks. They'd quit Family Video a week before they left, and he knew the kids watched at least a few every weekend. They must have gone in, multiple times, and just, not noticed. Or not cared.

He wasn't sure which of those was worse.

He wasn't sure why it hurt when he made his peace with it weeks and weeks ago. It hadn't ached so vividly since the fall. Worst of all was the shock of concern for them, thinking they were out on their bikes in the dark and the snow. Then the relief that Eddie drove them. The feeling was huge enough to eclipse anything else until he knew they were safe.

Hadn't seen them in a month, barely seen them before that, and his first instinct was still to drop everything and grabs his keys. He was two hours away, and his brain was itchy to go drive by and check on them. They didn't need him to do that. They didn't want him to.

And based on how his stomach lurched when he heard that they didn't know he'd left, he didn't think it would do him any favors to go back. Hop and Joyce knew how to handle them if they started to do anything too risky, and the kids were practically glued to Eddie's side.

They weren't his to look after.

"Stop staring out the window like your lover is lost on the moors," Robin complained, wrapping him in a hug from behind.

"I have no idea what that means, Robs."

"Good, I'll explain it to you. Come on, lets go, we've got a kitchen to reorganize. I already started stuff for popcorn and hot chocolate. Lets gooooo, you're too heavy for me to carry, hup two."

Steve snorted and let her drag him away.

"I thought we were going to get my room set up, so I wouldn't have to share with you again?"

She gave him that look. That one that was fond and frustrated and sassy as shit. The one that said she wasn't going to let him get away with being dumb, but wasn't going to call him on it.

"It's a woman's prerogative to change her mind. You can share with me for a while longer. Now do the hot chocolate, and don't skimp on the whipped cream. We bought that can on sale and its going to go bad any second. Just use all of it. Directly into our mouths if we cant get it balance on the mug. Don't want to waste it, and we deserve it. I'm on popcorn duty, and then we're going to defeat this puzzle, Harrington. We outsmarted the Russians, we can outsmart the dishes!"

Shit. He sniffled as he followed her orders.

He was so damn grateful he still had her.

-----

Next>>

Still don't do tag lists. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[morganski-19]

Things I Won't Say When I'm Sober

inspired by this post by @imfinereallyy. I saw this post ages ago but literally just found this idea in my drafts and decided to finally write it,

part 2

Steve lies across the floor of Eddie’s new trailer, mind hazy, with Robin’s limbs haphazardly laying on him. He’s mindlessly running his hands along the carpet, feeling the soft fiber under his hand. Eddie’s hand reaches into his vision as he passes Steve the joint. He really doesn’t need to take anymore, his muscles already relaxed more than they have been in a while, and his mind is slipping into that territory that might give him a panic attack if he goes too far. But he’s with people he trusts and Robin will cut him off before any of that happens, if he won’t cut himself off before then. 

He blows the smoke up into the air as Eddie takes back the joint. Running his hand across the carpet again, he brushes against something different. Curious, he starts playing with it, rolling it between his fingers, tugging on it a bit to see if he can tell what it is. 

“Stevie,” Eddie slurs. Steve hums. “Why are you playing with my hair?”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow. “This is your hair?” He tugs on the strand between his fingers a bit. 

“Yes, and I'd appreciate it if you’d stop pulling on it.”

“It’s so soft,” Steve finds himself saying, not dropping the hair between his fingers, instead picking up more.

Robin bursts out laughing. “How high are you, dingus?”

Steve shrugs. “Pretty high I guess.”

“Could you stop playing with my hair?” Eddie complains, rolling away a bit and almost kicking Steve in the face. 

He moves his hand away from Eddie’s hair and brings it up behind his head. Robin shifts, rolling off of Steve and starting to stand up.

“Where are you going?” Steve complains, needy.

“The bathroom,” Robin deadpans. “Why?”

The giggles kick in and Steve struggles to get the words out. “Cause I have a secret and I need to tell you it.”

The secret in question was Steve’s crush on Eddie. Something he’s buried deeper than he’s willing to admit and something that he’s barely come to accept. But something about the safe feeling of his friends and the weed loosening his thoughts to stop the denial and face the facts made him want to tell her. It’s not the first time that he’s thought that his attraction to Eddie was a fact and not just the desire to be friends. That it wasn’t normal for people to fantasize about kissing their best friends and sharing the same bed all the time. 

It took time for Steve to realize that these thoughts were ok for him to have. That he could have feelings for girls in the past while also having feelings for a boy now. That it’s ok for him to be having feelings for a boy at all. He is who he is, and who he likes won’t change that. The Steve he was when he dated girls isn’t different from the Steve who has a crush on a boy. It’s all him, even if he didn’t know he was capable of doing it. 

The main problem was that he hadn’t told Robin about it yet, and it seems that his hazy mind decided that now was the best time. Now, when Eddie, the person he has a crush on, is still in the room.

“And this secret is hilarious?” Robin joins in on the giggles but tries to hide it. “Can you tell me the secret so I can go to the bathroom?”

Steve shakes his head while giggling more, now realizing his mistake and thinking it’s hilarious rather than embarrassing. “No.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “No?” 

“Mhm. Can’t tell you.”

“So you have a secret that you need to tell me but can’t tell me. Why is that, Steven?” Robin very annoyingly asks, only pulling out the full name when she wants him to get to the point. 

“Eddie’s in the room,” Steve says like it’s the simplest fact there is. 

Eddie sits up. “Why can’t I know your secret?”

“Cause it’s a Robin secret. You don’t get to know those.”

Robin rolls her eyes again while Eddie makes an overexaggerated offended look. “I’m going to the bathroom, you two can figure this out while I’m gone.” 

Steve stops his giggles to roll over and grab at Robin’s legs as she gets up, attempting to stop her from leaving. She steps out of his grasp and makes her way out of the room. He lays there pouting for a second before bursting out in laughter again. 

“So keeping secrets from me is so funny now isn’t it,” Eddie pouts. 

“I am so high,” he manages to get out between giggles as he rolls back onto his back. 

Eddie rolls his eyes before laying down next to him, their heads next to each other this time. “Yeah, I can tell. You don’t normally laugh this much when you’re not.” 

The weed is doing nothing to stop the blush that covers Steve’s face, though his face was plenty red before so maybe it would hide it. “You notice that about me?”

“I notice a lot of things about you, Steve,” Eddie responds sincerely, turning his head to look Steve in the eyes. 

Maybe it’s the high, maybe it isn’t, but Steve can’t help but think that the look Eddie has in his eyes is the same one that he finds himself getting every time he looks at Eddie. The simple want of something more that can never be. To be more than all that they are, friends. 

A look that tells Steve that if he leaned in for a moment, maybe Eddie wouldn’t back away. Maybe he would let it happen. Maybe he would lean in too. Maybe all of the things Steve has accepted that he wants could come true. 

Not that he would even try right now. He’s high, Eddie’s high. No person’s first kiss with someone they really care about should be like this. It should be in a state where they could remember it. Where they could look back on it in the future and remember every detail. Or maybe it should be done when he’s a little bit high. Maybe then he won’t second guess himself at the last minute and actually go through with it. Then if it ends badly, he has the chance of forgetting the little details but is left with the knowledge that this is hopeless. Then he can get over it. 

He has the feeling that getting over Eddie would be hard though. The feelings that bubble over in his chest every time he’s around Eddie are all but proof of that. This is different, more than he’s felt about someone in a long time. The most he’s felt about a person since Nancy. 

That scares him, still scares him. That he can look at another person the way he looked at her. Or more, he can feel something for someone on that level again, but this time completely differently. He likes Eddie for different reasons then he liked Nancy, but it doesn’t change the way he feels about him. This affection, this crush, this almost love is deep. Steve doesn’t want to mess it up this time. 

“I’m not that offended that you won’t tell me you’re secret,” Eddie whispers, like this moment isn’t meant to be heard even though they’re the only ones in the room. “I know that you and Robin share pretty much everything. So if it’s meant for her ears only I understand. I just hope you might be able to tell me one day.”

“Eddie, I-” Steve stammers, cut off by the sound of Robin entering the room again. 

[cozage]

Hi, can you write a scenario where Sanji founds his S/O (who is secretly an artist) staring the Aquarium's ceiling, and when he looks, he see that they painted a ocean landscape (like the All Blue) on it? I'm not good on explaining, but i think that would be a cute idea.

A/N: ALL THESE SANJI REQUESTS ARE MAKING ME FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM YOU GUYS NEED TO STOP!!! (jk you better not stop he deserves love)

Characters: gn reader x Sanji

Cw: none :)

Total word count: 1k

A Painted Dream

Sanji hadn’t seen you in a few hours, and he began to grow worried. Once he finished cooking for Luffy and Usopp, his mission would be to find you. 

The more he thought about it, the more concerned he became. You had been scarce most of the week, actually. He could really only remember seeing you for meals and for bedtime, which you came late to most nights. 

“Luffy.” He handed over a plate of sandwiches for the captain. “Have you seen Y/N recently?”

Luffy hummed, thinking about the question while he ate. “I saw them at breakfast this morning,” he said with a mouth full of food. 

“I saw them down in the workshop a few days ago,” Usopp offered. 

Of course these idiots wouldn’t be any help. He lit a cigarette and started cleaning up, trying to think about your conversations over the past few days. You almost always showed up to meals late, and you always looked a little disheveled when you arrived. Whenever he went to serve you snacks you weren’t there, and he always got distracted by another crew member before he had time to find you. He hadn’t noticed it at the moment, but now that he was reflecting on it, your behavior had been kind of secretive lately. 

He trusted you, of course, but he still felt uneasy. Moreso, he felt guilty that he hadn’t noticed it sooner and asked you about your day to know what you were doing in the first place. 

He wandered the ship, trying to find you. He asked all his crew mates, but the only helpful info he got was from Franky, who said you borrowed a small scaffold a few days ago and hadn’t returned it yet, and you borrowed a ladder this morning. 

There weren’t many places you could use a ladder inside the ship, so he checked the library first. He found Robin there, but not you. 

“Try the aquarium,” Robin offered, turning the page of the book she was reading. 

He wandered down to the aquarium and opened the door to find you standing before him. Your hair was pushed back in a bandana, and a variety of colored paint was smeared across your face and your arms. You were holding a palette in your hand and a paintbrush between your teeth while you stared upwards, focusing on something above you. 

His eyes trailed up to see what you were staring at, and he let out a small gasp of shock. Fish from the North Blue to his right, the South Blue to his Left, the East Blue on the far side, and the West Blue above him, all swimming towards the center of the room. There, they intermingled freely, swimming amongst sea kings and other monsters you all had seen on your travels. He could feel tears welling up and he furiously blinked to clear them. He didn’t want to cloud his vision of such perfect artistry. 

A sound at the door alerted you to a presence, and your eyes flicked over to see someone in the doorway. Tall, blonde, dressed to the nines. Sanji.

“No!” you cried, running over to him. “No! No! No!” 

You reach him and throw your hands over his eyes, which were glued to the ceiling. “You can’t see it yet! It’s not done!”

He stood in front of you, still as a statue. Your hands were still over his eyes, and you could feel wetness beneath your fingers.

“Sanji?”

You opened your hands slightly so you could see his face, but kept them cupped so he couldn’t see the ceiling. He had tears streaming down his face as he looked at you.

“You made that painting?”

You nod sheepishly. “I was hoping to finish it before you saw it, though.”

He looked at you, surprised. “It’s not done yet? It’s-”

“Just adding the finishing details now. Making it perfect.” 

“Can I sit here and watch you finish it?”

Your face made a pout. “You have to promise not to look until I say so.”

He laughed and took a seat in front of the fish tank. “I’ll keep my eyes on you.”

It was hard, but he did it. He desperately wanted to glance up at the painting, to be lost in the intricacies and name every fish he saw. But he waited until you gave him permission, and he kept his eyes on you the whole time. He watched as you squinted to see, huffed in frustration, and smiled in success. 

After an hour or two, you nodded in satisfaction, and you turned to him. “Okay, you can look now.”

He strode over to you and wrapped you in his arms, and then the two of you looked up at the All Blue you had created. 

“Just when I think you can’t surprise me, you go and do something like this.” He pulled his gaze away from the painting and smothered you with kisses, causing you to cry out in a fit of giggles. 

“You really like it?” you ask, peering up at him. 

“I love it. I love you.”

The two of you stood there, looking up at his dream until your necks were sore, and then you laid on the ground and kept looking up. You listened to him name each of the fish he saw, delightedly pointing them out like a child pointing out shapes of clouds on a sunny day, and thought about how you couldn’t wait for him to finally find the actual one. 

[thewayitalknj]

Friday, I'm In Love?

Eddie Munson x Female Reader.

When random corny love notes start appearing in your locker, you're wondering who the hell Is taking time out of their day to think of you.

Quick Notes - Happy Valentine's Day! I got this idea while playing our Valentine's Day Playlist at work and thought I would write something. Super short but to the point, lol. Hope you enjoy!

Word Count - 849 (Told you it was short) Warnings - None! Enjoy :)

Monday That's when the first note fell out of your locker. When the small piece of paper fell onto the floor you were confused. You had all your notes, what could this possibly be? You opened it up and read the message ; Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours.

"The actual fuck?" You laugh.

"Whacha you got there?" Eddie snatches the note from your hand and reads it in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard, clearly used for DM'ing only. You close your locker and lean against it. "You have a secret admirer? That's adorable." You take the note back and stuff it in your bag.

"Beats me. Probably someone playing a stupid prank."

"Or someone's in love with you."

"I highly doubt that."

Tuesday ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles.

"So, who do you think it's from?" Jonathan asks as you walk the track field for gym.

"No idea. I just find it odd. Why now? For fucking Valentine's Day?"

"Maybe they think it's the right time since it's a holiday about love."

"I still think it's a silly prank."

"Or someone is in love with you." He smiles.

"Well, I highly doubt it."

Wednesday ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake.

"I like this one, it has to do with food." Robin snarks, holding all 3 notes in her hand.

"That's such a you comment to say."

"What are you guys talking about?" Nancy takes a seat next to you at the lunch table.

"Someone has been leaving me stupid notes with pick up lines in my locker everyday this week."

"And you don't know who it is yet?"

"Nope."

"You have't recognized the hand writing?"

"See, this is why you're the smart one." Robin states.

"I never even thought of that, let me take a look." You examine the writing on the notes. "Yeah I got nothing. Who knows, it could be very obvious and I don't even see it."

"Or, someone is in love with you."

"Again, I highly doubt it."

Thursday You fling your locker open and there fell a note. ; If I were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you.

"Okay, that's it. I'm done with these. Thank god tomorrow is Friday."

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Eddie asks.

"Nope, I haven't. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, of course not. But speaking of stupid," He pulls out his math binder. "Here are the math notes you needed."

"Thanks, I'll get them back to you tomorrow. I can't believe you actually paid attention."

"Well if I want to graduate I gotta do some work, ya know?"

Later that night you're doing homework in your bedroom and started organizing your math notes. Using Eddie's notes from earlier you flip over the page to continue note taking when you notice some scribbles at the bottom, definitely not pertaining to math. Let's commit the perfect crime. You steal my heart and I'll steal yours. ; They say true love hides behind every corner. I must be walking in circles. ; If you were a fruit you would be a fine apple ; Romance is the icing, but love is the cake. you're a 9 out of 10 and i'm the 1 you need ; well i'm here so what are your other two wishes? if you were a cat, I would spend all nine of my lives with you ; if you let me borrow a kiss I promise I'll give it right back to you.

A lightbulb goes off and you immediately reach for the love notes in the front pouch of your backpack.

"Holy shit." You whisper.

Friday The morning bell rings as you slip a note into Eddie's locker. ; Roses are red, Violets are blue. I found out who you are, and you must admit it to me too. Meet me at the picnic table after school.

The afternoon bell rings as you take off towards the woods to meet Eddie.

You sat on the table impatiently waiting, bouncing your leg up and down until a familiar face appears before you.

"What's this?" He asks waving the note in his hand.

"It's you."

"What do you mean it's me?"

You wave the four notes in front of him this time. "Didn't get one this morning. I beat you too it."

"That's not me."

"Stop lying Eddie."

"But it's not. Can you prove it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Your math notes." He looks at you confused, taking out his backpack and finding his notes. As you watch him flick through his eyes get wide.

"Holy shit." He whispers.

"Yeah I said the same thing."

"Look I'm sorry-"

"Why are you sorry? And why didn't you just say anything in the first place?"

"Because it wasn't suppose to end like this, and I didn't know how you would react. So I thought this would be a good way to ask you out. Maybe. Possibly."

You nod your head and look down to the ground.

"So?" He ponders.

"So what?" You look back up.

"Can I take you out on a date?"

You smile.