discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Steve’s laying on the couch, half-heartedly watching some episode of some show he’s seen something like a hundred times at this point, which he’s only really half paying attention to, when his phone chimes. He glances down, tabs over to the app.
howdy sailor
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- Part 1 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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The clown starts toward them, dragging the blade of a chainsaw on the ground as it goes, and Steve – without even meaning to or thinking about it, swings.
The clown dodges out of the way with a shout, and Steve feels Eddie catch him around the waist, holding him back with a breath of laughter in his ear.
“Whoa!” the clown yells, voice muffled from under the mountain of latex demon makeup glued to its face. “Watch the face, dude.”
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- Part 2 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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“You’re doing it too tight,” Eddie says. “Like, pull my hair out of my scalp tight.”
And Steve makes a frustrated sound as Eddie twitches out of his hold again. He swats him on the shoulder as Eddie seizes the opportunity to take a swig of his beer.
“I’m only doing it so tight because you keep moving and pulling it tighter.”
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The gauzy curtains flutter in the ocean breeze, softening the spill of sunshine from the window into a gentle glow that spreads over Steve’s face above him.
He dips down to press a kiss to Eddie’s lips, and Eddie cranes up to meet him, gasping against his lips as he feels Steve’s hand skate down over his side, over his scars, over his hip to the outside of his thigh.
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“You’re being creepy,” Steve says, matter of fact. He raises his eyebrows, wiggles his fingers at Eddie teasingly. “Watching me sleep.”
“Well, you’re obviously not sleeping,” Eddie says. “So technically, I was watching you lay there fully awake with your eyes closed.”
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- Part 5 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Eddie laughs a little, watching the slow progress of car lights moving over his ceiling.
It’s four in the morning in Paris, and he has to be up and ready for the airport in less than an hour, but right now he just wants to drift and relax and imagine that he’s back home and helping Steve make spaghetti for four demonic children instead of tucked up in a European hotel suite preparing for a flight to Tokyo.
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Steve leans forward, patting an absent hand over the strong column of Cinnamon's neck as he scans the horizon with his eyes.
There are bandits in the hills; he knows that much, but he can’t see them, shielded as they are in the rocks and scrub. If he takes the mountain pass, they’ll knock him off his horse, steal what little he has left in his packs. He might not even make it out alive.
(yeehaw, babies; it's a cowboy au)
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- Part 7 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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The story goes like this: a group of campers, nice and sweet and well-behaved, playing songs around the fire, until a couple of them snuck off to the barn, where they met a grisly end at the hand of a mysterious killer who remains at large to this day, ready to make his grisly return and –
Robin snorts, throwing a marshmallow that bounces off Eddie’s forehead.
“Whatever, dude.”
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- Part 8 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Steve’s taking it so, so well, whining into his mouth and arching up against him, cheeks flushed all pink and pretty, and Eddie’s eyes fall shut because he’s so fucking beautiful that it honestly hurts sometimes just to look at him like this, and that’s when it just – slips out.
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- Part 12 of Kinktober 2023
- Part 9 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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It's not like he goes looking for trouble.
He never has – he’s never had to. It just finds him, whether he wants it to or not.
Steve meets a mysterious stranger on his way home from work one day.
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- Part 10 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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He hadn’t really expected for it to turn out like this, all but immobilized against a pillar while the rest of the band stands around him perched on platforms of different heights which – he’s been told – will eventually look like jagged outcroppings of rock.
Apparently post production can work miracles, because right now they just look like boxes, and Eddie can feel the fake vines (whatever they’re made out of, rubber?) chafing at his wrists.
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- Part 11 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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“Don’t go,” Eddie says, hand sliding over Steve’s hip. “Please?”
Steve feels his heart give a lazy thrum as he pauses on his way out of bed. He blinks.
“You want me to stay?”
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- Part 12 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Steve lets out a frustrated little puff of air, and Eddie can hear a whine building in the back of his throat as his cheeks bloom pink from exertion. He’s sweating, flushed and glassy-eyed, and he looks like he’s about to cry.
“What do you say?”
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- Part 13 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Maybe this has just always been a part of who they are, this and them and the flames of it licking at the backs of their heels.
Tommy licking at the backs of his teeth and Carol’s hands in his hair and all of Steve’s skin on fire, top to toe.
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- Part 14 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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Endless tanned skin and long-fingered hands and that smile when he turns his head and catches Tommy’s eye.
And just – he’s so pretty.
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- Part 15 of discord drabbles: st writers guild
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The night is soft and the stars are bright, and all Steve can think about is the gentle curve of Eddie's cheek where it slopes up toward his nose.
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- Part 16 of discord drabbles: st writers guild