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solarmorrigan · 2 months

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Silly idea I talked about ages ago with @azure7539arts, inspired by a similar event my workplace hosts every year. Would minors be allowed to participate in such an event? Probably not! But then again, it was the 80s, who can say for sure. Anyway, it's my birthday and I'll post nonsense if I want to <3

“I need you to buy me.”

Eddie looks up from his notebook, effectively jarred from his campaign-plotting fugue state by Steve’s declaration.

Steve is standing at the other end of the dining table, staring at him expectantly.

“Y’know, this is the part where someone usually follows up their completely bonkers demand with an explanation,” Eddie says slowly.

“At the charity auction,” Steve clarifies. “I need you to bid on me, and I need you to win.”

Ah, yes, that weird Rent-an-Athlete charity auction the school runs every year; anyone on any Hawkins High sports team could volunteer to be “auctioned” off in order to raise money for said sports team, to spend a day at the beck and call of the highest bidder (within reason, supposedly). It’s generally restricted to students, but occasionally, prominent alumni are invited to participate – and Steve certainly fits the bill, especially after the story the government spun about his heroism in the face of “serial killer” Henry Creel last spring.

“And what, deny all those pretty girls a chance to get at you?” Eddie asks drily (he’d never turned up at previous auctions himself, but you could hardly avoid gossip in a school their size; it had usually been some cheerleader bidding with daddy’s money who won a date– that is, a day with Steve Harrington).

“It wasn’t always a girl who won,” Steve says, crossing his arms over his chest. “One time it was Mrs. Dalton – you know, the lady on the school board who lives on my block? I just spent the day doing yard work for her. She gave me lemonade. That was pretty cool.”

“Right,” Eddie drawls. “And I’m sure she definitely didn’t sit outside and stare at your ass while you were working.”

“She did not– she– I mean she was on the porch, but, like– she wouldn’t have– she’s, like, seventy, Eddie,” Steve splutters, and it’s all Eddie can do not to laugh.

“Older gals have needs, too, Steve,” Eddie says, giving in to a smirk. “So she was checking you out from the porch, huh?”

Steve goes red. “Shut up, that isn’t the point. I’m trying to ask for your help.”

“Right, right, your absolutely reasonable request for me to buy you at market. Why, again?” Eddie asks.

“The kids are planning to bid on me,” Steve says gravely.

Eddie blinks at him. “Okay?” he says, when no further explanation is forthcoming. “You basically do most of what they ask, anyway, so…?”

“Okay, believe it or not, I actually say no to at least half of what they ask me to do. I would literally never get anything done if I gave in to all their demands.” Steve jabs a finger at Eddie, who holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Anyway, this is all Henderson’s fault.”

“It usually is,” Eddie agrees, nodding sagely.

“He decided that he was going to bid on me and then use that day to finally make me play your nerd game with you–” Eddie snorts, and Steve shoots him a look, “but Wheeler doesn’t want me to play, so he said he was going to bid against Dustin and make me do anything but sit in on a session with you guys.”

“So let Wheeler win.” Eddie shrugs.

“No! I can’t let fuckin’ Mike win, he’ll probably make me do something even more ridiculous!” Steve exclaims. "He’ll make me play chauffeur for him and El on a date, or something, and he’ll probably include the stupid hat.”

“Wait, I thought El broke up with him,” Eddie breaks in.

“No, they’re on again,” Steve says absently, shaking his head. “Which is why Max has been in a bad mood lately.”

Eddie bites back the reflexive need to ask “How can you tell?”, going instead with, “I thought she and Sinclair were on again.”

“No, they are. That’s why no one’s been actively murdered,” Steve says.

“How do you keep track of all of this?” Eddie asks, squinting at Steve.

“It’s a natural skill. And we’re getting off track,” Steve says quickly. “Normally, I wouldn’t be that worried, because Dustin regularly blows his savings on weird science gadgets or whatever, but then Lucas and Will started taking sides.”

“This is getting very involved,” Eddie says.

“So you see why I’m stressed!” Steve insists, smacking a hand to his forehead (personally, Eddie thinks Steve is stressed for many other reasons, but he figures pointing that out just now won’t be appreciated). “Lucas is on Dustin’s side, and that kid does odd jobs like nobody’s goddamn business; he actually has shit saved up. And usually I’d have faith in him being more, like, sensible than to spend it all on this, but the little shit is really fucking competitive.”

“Wonder who he got that from?” Eddie mutters.

“Okay, we do remember that I’m not actually biologically related to any of these idiots, right?” Steve snaps.

“Well now we’re just getting into nature versus nurture–”

“Eddie.”

“Right, sorry, continue.”

“Well, Will took Mike’s side–”

“Shocking.”

“Right? But anyway, I don’t know if the kid has much saved up, but between him and Wheeler, they might be able to win.” Steve sighs, looking far more world-weary than Eddie feels the situation really warrants.

“You know you don’t actually have to do what they ask you to, right?” Eddie points out.

Steve rolls his eyes. “If an auction winner complains to the school that the person they bid on didn’t fulfill their end of the bargain, they can get their money back. It’s a whole…” he waves his hand vaguely, “thing. Happened once when I was a sophomore; Deacon McNab. Lost a good chunk of change for the football team, and they vandalized the shit out of his car.”

“Ah, right. Forgot we went to school with literal psychopaths,” Eddie hums.

“So, I just need you to bid on me and win, so I’m not stuck wasting a Saturday on whatever the hell the kids are going to try to make me do. Or not do. Or– whatever,” Steve says.

“Okay, not that I don’t understand your predicament here, but I think you’re forgetting something kind of important, Steve,” Eddie drawls.

Steve’s brows draw together in question. “What?”

“I’m fucking poor.”

“Oh.” Steve shakes his head. “I didn’t mean– no, I will give you the money, you don’t have to spend a dime, man, I just need you to get me out of this.”

“Why not have Buckley do it?” Eddie asks.

“That was Plan A, but she actually has a date that night, and it’s kind of a big deal, so I don’t want her to cancel,” Steve says. “But I assumed you wouldn’t be busy.”

“Wow, rude,” Eddie scoffs, and Steve sighs.

“Fine, sorry, I just really hoped you wouldn’t be busy.” Steve gives him the most lethal set of puppy dog eyes Eddie has ever seen, as if there had been any chance from the beginning that he’d be able to say no. “Please?”

Just for show, Eddie lets out a long sigh, falling against his chair and letting his head flop over the backrest like he’s deflating.

“Fine.”

“Thank you,” Steve groans, sounding so genuinely relieved that Eddie almost feels bad about how quickly his thoughts dip into the realms of the inappropriate. “Oh my god, I owe you.”

Eddie glances back up at Steve, tongue darting out to wet his lips almost unconsciously. “You know I’m not as easy to appease as a couple of fifteen-year-olds, right?”

Steve’s eyes drop for just a second—maybe down to Eddie’s lips, maybe not; who can say?—before he looks back up, cocking an eyebrow at Eddie. “I think I can handle it.”

Slowly, Eddie grins. “We’ll see.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve & the party #stranger things #solar wrote #this is very silly but I had fun writing it so I hope it's a fun short read #obviously Eddie does win the auction (surprisingly stiff competition; he may or may not end up throwing in a little of his own money #even though none of the kids are the top bidders at that point)#and then you can choose your own ending:#either Eddie chickens out and just asks Steve to play roadie for the band on their next gig night #but it works out in his favor anyway because he gets to spend the night watching Steve lifting and carrying and being supportive #while Steve gets to watch the band perform and is lowkey starstruck by Eddie and they smooch about it at the end of the night #OR; Eddie demands the same treatment Steve gave those cheerleaders who won a date with him back in the day #he's sort of joking but Steve takes him very seriously and takes him on a date so sweet and fun that Eddie is almost mad about #being swept off his feet by it #and at the end of the night Steve walks Eddie to his door and Eddie asks if the treatment ends here #or if Steve did anything... else for those girls #Steve; eyebrows raised: Are you asking if I slept with those girls for money?#Eddie; blanching: WAIT SHIT NO-#Steve: Nah I'm kidding. Come inside and fuck me #and Eddie does

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koinotame · 9 months

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all yours and all mine

word count: 2.5K content warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamics, alcohol consumption (childe is drunk, but there’s no depiction of drinking itself), vague implication of breaking and entering and subsequent murder, dehumanisation/objectification (not at reader), they/them is used for reader

a/n: this a repost (lightly edited)! and a sequel to this. like the previous installments, you can read this as a modern au but (this one in particular) it'll make much more sense with the previous context. also on ao3! no intruders were harmed in the production of this chapter

"[nameeee]—"

the way he whines out your name, pulling you into stumbling arms before you can say anything in return, is more than enough to tell you ajax is almost definitely drunk.

he giggles when you wrap your arms around his back, then abrubtly stops. "ah wait, your name is sacred and I shouldn’t use it so casually…. I’m sorry, please forgive me, your grace~"

…your grace?

well. that confirms your suspicions, you guess?

"you don’t sound very sorry," you quip without any real malice, trying to close the door with him still wrapped around you. the guy who dropped him off (some friend of ajax’s you’ve seen once or twice before) snickers behind his hand and waves when you shoot him a grateful look.

ajax giggles into the crown of your head. "that’s because I love you~ and I love using your name… but not as much as I love you."

"mhm, I love you t—" you squeak when he suddenly throws his arms around your waist, picking you up and twirling you around. he responds to your protests with more laughter, but he does put you down swiftly and instead stuffs his face into your shoulder.

"they said they love me…. I’m so lucky, ahh." he keeps going before you can ask him about the title he used earlier. "you’re all mine, and I’m all yours."

come to think about it… didn’t he say something similar when he was proposing?

"but," he whispers into your neck like he’s telling you some secret only the two of you can be privy to, "even if you weren’t all mine, as long as I’m all yours, I wouldn’t mind."

he rubs his face across your neck and shoulder like a happy cat marking his owner, his hold on your waist tightening slightly. your hand comes up to cart through his hair, and he starts making some sort of rumbling noise.

is he… is he purring?

you try to push all of that out of your thoughts and focus on making sure he’s okay. "…hey, when’s the last time you drank water?"

he stays quiet for a bit, then speaks up just as you’re about to repeat your question. "I dunno."

you sigh, barely registering the whimper that escapes him. "could you sit down?"

he whines, his arms tightening even more. "I don’t wanna leave you…"

"don’t be like that. you need some water… and some medicine." when he doesn’t move, you decide it’s time to pull out the 'good boy' strategy. "I can’t carry both you and the water, so please be good and go sit, okay?"

he stays quiet for a bit again, before his arms hesitantly retract from you. "mmgh, okay…"

he obediently trots over to the couch (not before shooting you a sad look). by the time you come back, he’s discarded his jacket and shoes. you make a note to move them once you get him tucked in.

"I missed you," he whines out, making grabby hands in your direction.

"it’s been three minutes, you sap."

then, figuring he won’t mind too much, you hook your fingers into his mouth and gently pry it open. he makes some sort of choking noise and immediately propels backwards, covering his mouth with his hands.

for a second you’re worried you went too far, but looking at his face he seems more embarrassed than uncomfortable. his eyes look off to the side, his entire face flushed. "don’t look, I don’t want you to think I’m gross."

biting your tongue, you try to hold back your chuckle. "you’re so adorable I could eat you up."

he whines, hands still covering his mouth, and sinks down into the couch further. "I wish you would…"

it’s a weird thing to say, but you chalk it off to his alcohol-addled brain not being able to convey himself properly.

you reach out the pill to him and he takes it without complaint, swallowing it and then the rest of the glass you hand him. when he pats the space next to him and you sit down, he immediately slides his head onto your lap.

his hand comes up to play with your hair, his gaze wistful and distant.

after several moments of silence, he pipes up quietly. "I was made for you, you know."

"mhm," your hand cups his cheek. "and I was made for you."

he frowns, his hand coming down to press against yours. "no."

you tilt your head. "no?" you know he’s always been more focused on you, but there seems to be something deeper to this than just him having low self worth… but then again, you’ve never been good at reading others.

"no," he repeats, still frowning. "you never understand. I was literally made for you. without you, I wouldn’t exist." his hand drops and he sighs before you have the opportunity to really process his words. "it’s flattering when you say you love me and that you were made for me too, but…"

you don’t say anything, your hands suddenly feeling cold and clammy.

his gaze is intense when it turns to you again. "you should treat me like the tool I am… then I wouldn’t get all confused."

his hand clutches at his shirt, around where his heart is. "every time you treat me so gently, I feel like my insides are exploding. it makes me feel like I’m special…"

he stops for a few seconds, blinking blearily at you.

"…to you. like I’m special to you." he repeats the words as if they’re hard for him to believe, as if he can’t accept that you’d care for him even now. as if the idea of you loving him is entirely foreign to him.

weakly, you swallow. "…you should get to bed."

he groans suddenly, his hand coming to cover his eyes. "uugh, I don’t want to get up… I still need to clean up that pest that broke in…"

he needs to what.

"ajax." you shake him, urgency in your tone. "ajax, what."

he groans again, flopping around a bit. "don’t tell them, they’d just get mad 'nd never approve… if they get mad and hate me, I’ll die."

"no you won’t," you shake him again. he whines. "ajax, what did you do?"

"you don’t understanddd," he starts, dragging his hands down his face in a way that would be comical in any other situation, then rolling over and squishing his face against your tummy. "they’re the reason I was even born. if they get mad… my life is over."

and— you’ve always been aware your fiancé has some problems, and maybe didn’t have the happiest childhood, and has a bad tendency to put you first no matter what, but this is way beyond any of that.

is this… how he’s felt the entire time?

you briefly wonder if you made him feel this way, or if the idea of anyone loving him and treating him kindly is alien to him.

"I was so worried, you know," he starts before you can say anything, "when I first saw them, they didn’t recognise me… or any of the others. but the second I saw them, I knew. that was them. that was who I was born for. my whole life’s purpose."

your breath hitches. how… how are you supposed to respond to that? tears sting at your eyes. maybe it’s ironic of you to feel this way, but you can’t stand how fond he sounds.

"I’m so happy…" his arms tighten around you. "even if they only know me as their sweet roommmate ajax and not the ajax that would give up everything for them, that would take over the world and sacrifice his entire life for them…" he sighs dreamily. "I’m so happy."

the more he talks, the less his words make sense, and the more your stomach drops.

"ajax," you try shaking him again. "come on, get up. you should sleep."

he whines but dutifully unrolls from your stomach, blinking up sleepily at you. then he puts up his fist and goes "woof!"

and, despite everything, you stifle a chuckle.

"come on, big boy, get up." you pat his cheek gently, affectionately.

he makes some noise of complaint but sits up anyway, rubbing at his eye. it’s like he’s forgotten that he thought you were someone else just moments ago. "mmgh, good tools shouldn’t need help from their owners…"

your smile falls. "ajax, we’re engaged. I’m not your owner."

he shakes his head, still facing away from you. "no, you do own me."

nervously, you try, "…you mean your heart?"

his head lolls to the side. "mhm, that too." he adds it on like an afterthoughts, and the heavy feeling in your gut intensifies.

"if we’re engaged… that means you can still return me, right?" he keeps going before you can ask about his word choice or rebuke his thought process. "then I gotta work extra hard to keep appealing to you…"

he starts counting off on his hands. "you don’t like it when I take care of our household, or when I cook for you, or when I get you stuff…" he trails off, then lights up just as you’re about to tell him you don’t dislike him when he does any of that, you just don’t want to take advantage of him. "oh! what about my body?"

his empty eyes stare at you as he brings your hands to the bottom of his shirt. a whine escapes him when you don’t move your hands.

"my body is no good either?"

"your body is fine," you let go of his clothes to intertwine your hand with his. "and I don’t mind if you do stuff for me, really! I just… you’re always so eager, and it makes me feel kind of bad. I don’t want to take advantage of you."

he tilts his head, looking genuinely confused. "why not?"

it’s your turn to blink at him in confusion. "wh… what do you mean?"

he squeezes your hands. "isn’t it good if I’m useful to you…? I’m all yours, you shouldn’t hesitate to use me. I…" he looks away, almost bashfully, though his eyes keep darting back to your face. "want you to take advantage of me. that means I'm useful and worth keeping around, right?"

"that’s, um, why." your throat is dry. "I don’t… I don’t want either of us to think of it as using you."

he stays quiet for a few seconds, and you almost think you’ve finally gotten through to him. "…are you worried about me?" a lovesick smile spreads on his face and he sighs sweetly. "ahh, you’re so sweet, I love you… but I can take it. if I couldn’t, then I’d have no right to call myself yours."

he brings one of your hands to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to it. "being a weapon in this world is no good… but I can at least be a useful tool for you."

he presses another kiss to your other hand. "I want to be useful to you… it’s the least you deserve."

"I don’t deserve this much," you begin but trail off, unsure what words would fit best.

"you do." he insists, holding your stare. "you deserve so much more. if anything, I’m the one who feels selfish."

your throat runs dry.

"you should be living in a palace built especially for you, worshipped by everyone in the land… but here I am, selfishly keeping you to myself and cooped up in this small apartment. I’m greedy, insatiable, and I don’t feel bad about it at all…"

you almost don’t want to ask. "who else would even worship me? I’m really not that special."

"you are," he insists, squeezing your hands. "tons of people would. there’s those people I have the disgrace of calling coworkers, that haughty excuse of a dragon, and…" he trails off, listing some more people you don’t recognise.

it’s definitely not the most outrageous thing he’s said (a dragon? gods? worshipping you? yeah, he’s definitely drunk), but you can’t help but wonder. "aren’t you unemployed?"

he doesn’t say anything, simply staring at your intertwined hands.

"I wish our fates were intertwined like our hands," he says, and somewhere in the back of your head that sparks a small memory. "but the truth is my fate is like a string tangled up in your fingers."

you squeeze his hands in return, and he sighs. you can’t tell if it’s in fondness or something else.

"if I can’t be your tool, can I at least be your loyal knight?"

you hate the part of you that just wants to tell him yes, the part of you that wants to just surrender and stop fighting him. it’s clearly what he wants… but another part of you is just as aware that wouldn’t do any good for either of you.

instead of voicing any of that, you change the subject. "how about you go to bed now?"

he frowns. "just be’cuz my head is all fuzzy doesn’t mean I didn’t mean any of that."

I know, you want to say, and that’s the scariest part.

"ajax, please." he whimpers, but drops the topic.

it’s quiet for a couple more minutes before he pipes up again. "can we at least take a bath together before going to bed? I wanna wash your back and hair."

you sigh, dropping his hands and getting up. "fine, but no more talking about this."

he doesn’t make any noise of acknowledgement, and you’re halfway out the door before you notice. when you turn, he’s staring blankly at his empty hands. "ajax?"

his head snaps to you. "right."

he almost falls asleep while you’re washing his hair, and you’re worried he’ll fall asleep in the bath for real, but he wakes up enough to protest when you try to get out without him having had the chance to return the favour.

you try not to think too much about the claw-shaped scars on his side, about how his earlier comment about some dragon might not have been too farfetched. about how that would even be possible. about what that would mean for how he insists he was made for you.

he asks you if you really don’t like his body ("I’ve honed it for you for years," he insists! you can only hope that’s an exaggeration on his part) again while attempting to dry you off, then starts whining when you don’t answer him.

you usher him to bed while he continues complaining, but he falls asleep fairly quickly once you get him tucked in (and wrapped around you, a fact you’ve come to accept just comes with sleeping with ajax).

it takes you a while longer to clear your own thoughts and nod off. you just hope he won’t remember any of this tomorrow.

wait, your eyes snap open just as you’re on the verge of fully falling asleep, he never answered your questions about that intruder.

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #self aware au #self aware genshin #childe #tartaglia #repost #i keep being like 'nah i haven't edited this that much' and then i check and i've added 2-300 words somehow 😭#anyway. i'm done looking at this so it's getting posted and out of my mind

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