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thefatedthoughtofyou · 7 months

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"I'll see you guys later!" Eddie calls, his hips wiggling as he fake jogs to the door. Steve holds his hand up after him, Robin waves her whole arm at him, not looking away from the stove. Steve stares after him as he disappears, he hears the door open and click closed.

"You've got that dopey look on your face again." Robin says, crossing her arms and resting against the counter as she watches him. Steve turns to her, avoids her eyes and watches the steam rise from the bowl of Ramen on the countertop.

"Shut up." He grumbles.

"Just sayin. Your eyes get all shiny and your mouth literally hangs open sometimes... it's... ridiculous." She shakes her head but she looks... sad? Steve hates when she looks at him like that.

"Well-" he stops, takes a deep breath. Robin's lip twitches.

"Let it out babe. You'll feel better." She holds her hand out, twitches her fingers encouragingly.

Steve grimaces, runs his hands over his face and then jumps off the stool to his feet.

"It- it- it's just dimples! Dimples across the board Robin! I mean what am I supposed to do with that!?" He groans, his hands flailing at his sides, a habit he'd picked up from both Robin and Eddie.

"You should tell him how you feel maybe?" Robin says, he voice completely calm as she stirs her ramen slowly.

"Can you please stop suggesting that. We've established that's not a viable solution." Steve huffs, hands falling to the countertop on their small island, his shoulders tight.

"Well. No. You established that. I agreed to no such thing." Robin shakes her head, crosses her arms again.

"Steve. It's been three years. We've all lived together. For three years. You've been hopelessly in love with him. Forthree. Fucking. Years."

Steve opens his mouth to defend himself but before he can speak there's a clatter by the door and Eddie comes skidding back into the room.

"You're in love with me!?" He shouts, his eyes wide as they bounce between Robin and Steve.

"I'm out." Robin says, grabbing her bowl gently and walking away.

"Robin!" Steve calls, it sounds more like a whine but he would deny that to his grave.

"Nope." Is all he gets from her as she, uncharacteristically, gracefully dodges his reaching hands and disappears down the all into her room.

Steve turns, his mouth opening, about to apologize or backtrack or maybe cry a little, but instead finds himself with a chestful of Eddie Munson. Eddie's hands tug his hips close and then move nimbly up his sides to rest against his neck.

"Hi." Eddie says, smiling. Steve's eyes move to his cheeks, his dimples, helpless.

"Hi. I can expla- mmfph!" Eddie's lips press to his with a genlte force Steve could only associate with Eddie. His lips are soft, if a little chapped, and warm, moving gently agaisnt his. Steve lets his eyes fall closed and hums into the kiss, wraps his arms around Eddie's waist and holds him close.

"I'm in love with you too." Eddie breathes, pulls back, looks at Steve, his eyes shining with tears.

"I love you too." He breathes again, bumping his nose into Steve's.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, tilts his head and watches as Eddie dramatically clutches his chest with a teasing grimace.

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his nose scrunching. Steve bites his lip, squeezes Eddie's hips until he squirms and then pulls him close again.

"I love you." Steve says, reaching up and tucking Eddie's hair behind his ear.

"You said." Eddie sinks his teeth into his own lip and scrunches his nose again, swaying side to side, moving them both.

"Not to you. And it's nice to say it. Finally." Steve says, smiling as Eddie keeps them swaying slowly.

"Three years is a long time I guess." Eddie nods, slowly, eyes narrowing.

"What? What's that for?" Steve asks, reaching up and moving his finger over the frown lines on Eddie forehead, trailing his finger down his nose as well, making it twitch.

"Nothin just. Three years is a lot." He bites at Steve's hand as he moves it away to rest on Eddie's shoulder, Eddie's eyes move back to his face.

"But six years is longer." He mumbles it, and quickly tucks his face against Steve's neck, hugging him and holding him close.

"Wait what? Six years?" Steve frowns, tries to untangle Eddie from himself, Eddie holds on tighter.

"Eddie!" Steve huffs, manages to untangle himself and look at Eddie, who's red in the face.

"What?" He asks, sounding innocent. Like he hadn't just said what he'd said.

"Six years?" Steve asks. Eddie nods, looks at the floor.

"That was... senior year. My senior year." Steve says slowly, doing the math.

"Yeah. I was there for that." Eddie mumbles.

"I know. I just... you have not been in love with me since senior year." Steve protests, rolling his eyes fondly.

"Okay fine. Maybe not actual love. But I was infatuated. Big time." Eddie admits, rubbing at his neck.

"Dude I was miserable senior year. I had no friends. I got my fuckin heart broken. I mean I was a mess." Steve shook his head again, watched as Eddie nodded in agreement as he spoke.

"I know dude. And I know it probably says something shitty about me but... it was a good look on you." Eddie shrugged, looking sheepish.

"Misery was a good look on me?" Steve propped his hands on his hips. Eddie waves his hand at Steve, groans as he spins in a circle to get his eyes back on Steve.

"Yes man! Sorry. Not in like... ugh. I don't know. You went from pretentious douchebag to sad pretty boy. And you stopped Tommy shithead from shoving my head into a toilet one day and I dunna that sort of changed how I saw you okay?" Eddie's hands flailed, and then he clapped his hands and pointed at Steve.

"And! And and! You didn't even like... seem interested. You just told him to fuck off all nonchalant, and then you were gone, man! And then the next fucking year all that shit happened, and I saw you with the gremlins and I just... fell hard okay?" He shrugged again, rolling his eyes when he saw the grin spreading across Steve's face.

"You sat by my bed in the hospital man. What did you expect? There's only so much my little gay heart can fend off before it goes all soft and gooey." Eddie pouts at him and Steve thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

"You never said anything." Steve says, takes a step toward Eddie.

"Yeah well. I didn't know you were into guys until very recently and I-" his hands wave at his sides, like he's helpless.

"You what?" Steve pushes, teasing now. Eddie levels him with an unimpressed look and then rolls his eyes.

"I was scared alright? Cuz if I said something, and you didn't feel the same, then I'd have ruined everything. And I don't know if you've notcied this Steve, but I kinda like having you around. And being around you." He makes a face, like it should be obvious.

"And love confessions tend to change things, between people. So I just... didn't say anything." He shrugged again, helpless again. Steve closed the distance between them quickly. Grabbing Eddie's face genlty, holding him as he stares at Steve.

"We are. So. Fucking. Stupid." Steve punctuates each word with a little shake to Eddie's head. The laugh that bursts out of Eddie as he wraps his arms around Steve and pulls him close again fills their apartment like sweet music.

Steve presses kisses anywhere he can reach, along Eddie's shoulder, up his neck, across his cheeks. Eddie finally cups his cheeks and finds Steve's lips with his own.

"Honey I love you. But if you ever call yourself stupid again in my presence we're gonna have a problem you and me." Eddie mumbles, his lips still brushing Steve's as he speaks. Steve snorts and dives face first into Eddie's neck.

"Laugh all you want sweetheart. I'm serious." Eddie assures him.

"I called you stupid too ya know?" Steve sighs into Eddie's shoulder.

"Mhm. I'm allowing that. Currently." Eddie hums, his hand rubbing Steve's back as he clings to him.

"Okay. I won't. But I do really love you." Steve says, pulls back to look at Eddie. His nose scrunches again, that giddy smile back on his face.

"I really love you too." Eddie darts forward, peppers kisses across Steve's cheeks.

"Shit. You're gonna be late." Steve says, glancing at the clock on the microwave. Eddie shrugs one shoulder.

"That's alright. They'll understand. You wanna come?" He asks, squeezing Steve's hips.

"You want me to come? To your dungeon game?" Steve lifts his eyebrows.

"Okay I know you know what it's called. That's not as cute as you think it is." Eddie says. Steve leans closer, his breath ghosting over Eddie's neck makes him shiver.

"Yes it is." Steve whispers, then licks a stripe up Eddie’s cheek, and then promptly pouts when Eddie is unfazed.

"They won't care if I come?" Steve asks, wiping at the wetness he'd left behind.

"Course not. The guys love you. And they'll be fucking ecstatic that I'm not gonna be pinning about you anymore." Eddie winks, slaps Steve's butt as he reaches behind him for his keys sitting on the counter.

"You've been pinning for me?" Steve repeats, teasing, as he grabs his shoes.

"Six. Years. Steven. Yeah, you could say I was pinning." Eddie grabs his bag off the floor as Steve tugs his laces tight.

"Alright alright. But hey," Steve presses himself to Eddie's side as they reach the door.

"They're gonna wish you were still pinning by the time we're done." Steve grabs Eddie's head and presses his lips to Eddie's cheek, hard. Eddie cackles, shoots Steve a wink as he grabs his hand, and tugs him out the door.

#this is just a random lil thing i wrote simple because i saw a gifset of eddie and his dimples #it took me ages to get it....sort of okay so i hope you guys like it #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #my writing #mine #fates endless inkwell #fei #my fic

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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Reframing the “Steve nearly fainting because of the bat bites” scene so he stumbles into Eddie instead:

“Jesus, Harrington, you good?” Eddie says in alarm.

The gasping breaths coming from Steve don’t sound healthy in the slightest.

“Oh, sh—I’m fine, fine,” Steve gets out through the ringing in his ears. He tries to straighten up, but it just makes him sway again.

“Okay, okay, easy,” Eddie says quickly. “Just—sit down before you… woah, all right, there you—”

Distantly, Eddie can hear Nancy and Robin tearing up cloth for bandages, but his eyes remain fixed on Steve—and maybe if it was any other kind of situation, his brain would be fixed on Steve Harrington is shirtless in front of me, but right now Steve is lifting up his hand from his side with an awful wet sound, and—

“Oh, Christ,” Eddie hisses, feels himself pale.

Steve somehow manages an exhausted smirk. “Hey, if you’re gonna throw up, don’t do it all over the hole in my stomach, dude.”

Robin laughs, high-pitched. “Yeah, vomit wouldn’t cure the potential rabies.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, aim for Robin’s hair.”

Eddie can’t find it in him to joke back, just watches the sluggish flow of blood from the wounds, the fucking bite marks, where the flesh was—

Okay, maybe he needs to sit down.

Nancy eventually takes pity on him, darting in front to wrap make-shift bandages with a tight precision that both impresses and frightens Eddie in equal measure.

And yeah, he is squeamish about blood, sue him, but he forces himself to watch, sees the way Steve bites back groans, how he stands afterwards like it was nothing.

And maybe this is the moment where it all finally clicks—Eddie seeing a montage of Dustin singing Steve’s praises in his mind’s eye, thinking oh, I get it now.

But it’s a grim kind of realisation. This is more than understanding that a kid’s hero worship was justified.

When they bike to the trailer, Eddie watches as Steve’s arm occasionally curls around his middle. Sees the bandages dampen with sweat, making the dried blood almost look like it’s flowing again.

This is how far he’ll go, Eddie realises. Take a hit then I’m fine. Rinse, repeat. And it’s too close, too fucking close for comfort. It can’t happen again.

Well. If there’s a next time, Eddie swears to himself, then he’ll just need to be faster than Steve Harrington.

#next chapter of nothing but the dead and dying out hopefully tomorrow instead but have this random thing rn! thanks for waiting ❤️#steddie ficlet #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie

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navnae · 1 year

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Steddie going on a fair date and everything is going wrong for Steve. Whenever they play games he always loses, when he wanted to get on one for the rides that he knew Eddie wanted to get on but couldn’t because the line was extremely long and on top of everything it was so cold outside that both of them were shivering the later it got in the day. Eddie says that he had an amazing time with Steve even if things didn’t turn out exactly how he had planned them. To end the day on a good note Steve tries again at one of the games and this time he win a humongous teddy bear just to give it to Eddie who is more than excited to receive it. He showers Steve with kisses as he squeezes his new furry friend tight and their date turns out to be the funnest thing that they have ever done.

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thetarttfuldickhead · 1 year

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It would never have happened if not for Dr. Fieldstone. Now, Leslie’s delighted about her joining the Richmond team on a more permanent basis – she works wonders with the lads (and one head coach who shall remain unnamed, if only because he’s still a little sensitive about seeing a therapist) – but it does mean that Leslie’s once more out of an office. Just for the moment, of course, until he can find a suitable space without kicking anyone else out of their room. It’s really no hassle. He’s doing fine on the bench just behind the recyling bins outside of the copy room.

Or he was, until Roy Kent stops by just on the other side of said bins and, seemingly entirely unaware of Leslie’s presence, starts fiddling with his phone in what can only be described as an angry way.

It’s Roy, so that’s nothing out of the ordinary, and Leslie’s just about to offer a friendly greeting when he hears the hollow rings of an outgoing call and ah, it’d be terribly rude interrupt, wouldn’t it?

For a long moment there’s nothing but beep after beep and Roy’s muttered pick the fuck up you fucking prick and then—

“What the fuck do you want?”

Jamie’s not on speaker, but the sound’s loud enough for Higgins to not only recognize the voice but to hear every word, and the jagged, slightly petulant edge to them.

“Where the fuck are you?” Roy growls.

“How’s that any of your business? Training’s fucking over for the day, Coach.” Spat, more or less.

“Don’t be a fucking— “ Roy cuts himself off. “I need to see you.”

“Why?”

“Fucking hell! I wanted to… I want to fucking apologize, all right!” Roy sounds very, very annoyed about it.

“You can do that over phone. Or in a text.” Jamie sounds slightly less annoyed, but not by much.

Leslie dares crane his neck just so to sneak a peek at Roy’s face. Roy has closed his eyes, looking pained as he grits out a simple, strained: “No. I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Roy looks to the ceiling. Looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. Still he plods on, and Leslie feels a small surge of pity, small surge of pride.

“Because you’ll want to hug me afterwards,” Roy says, “and you can’t fucking do that over phone, can you?”

There’s a long pause. Leslie finds himself holding his breath, and not only because he’s halfway terrified he’ll start nervously gagging if this goes on for much longer.

“Fine,” Jamie says eventually. “You can meet me back at my place in twenty.”

“Yeah, okay. Cheers.”

A snort, somewhere between derisive and exasperated. “You better fucking hug me back.”

With that, Jamie hangs up. Roy takes a few deep breaths before stomping off and leaving Leslie to carefully consider what he’s overheard. Obviously something must have happened at training and if their head coach and star player have a proper falling out and Ted’s not there to talk some sense in them—

Eh. They’ll sort it out. Leslie returns to his e-mails.

#currently and probably forever obsessed with roy understanding and adapting to jamie’s cuddly needs #special shout out to all the sweet people helping me land on the word ‘gag’ as the best way to describe higgins’ weird noise #you are all absolute darlings #if this ficlet seems particularly random or odd #it’s possibly bc this technically is one part of a 5+1 ficlet #about other people obeserving roy and jamie being casually but deeply weird about and with each other #but i’m not sure i’ll ever do the other 4 and 1 #so i’ll just put the out one by one as and if ~inspiration~ strikes me #and potentially put them together if i get enough in the end #i realize some people write things and don't inflict them on others just bc they've written them #rip to you but i'm different #jamie tartt #roy kent #leslie higgins #roy & jamie #roy x jamie #post-canon #ficlet #my stuff

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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When Eddie finds Steve lying on the living room floor, he’s not concerned at first. It’s what he does sometimes, and Eddie himself can appreciate a bit of floor time on occasion, too, but for Steve it’s sacred. So he smiles and sits down beside him, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, a “Hey, pretty boy” already on his lips before he freezes.

Because Steve isn’t all relaxed like he usually is, with his mind just a few inches off to the side where everything is calm and fine and better. And when he finally meets Eddie’s eyes, they’re not glazed over but sharp. Sharp with something that cuts right through Eddie, because he’s seen this look before, and he knows just what to do.

“Stevie, baby, I’m right here. I’m gonna make a call, okay, I will be right back.” When Steve opens his mouth, Eddie just leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He’s not sure how much invasion of space is allowed, but Steve is still holding his hand so that has to count for something, right? “Shh, don’t speak,” he whispers. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

He tries not to kiss Steve like he’s about to break, or talk to him like something’s wrong, because nothing is wrong. Steve is not wrong for getting like this sometimes, it’s not his fault; it’s not something Eddie can’t handle. Steve doesn’t deserve to feel like he’s somehow wrong for getting into that headspace where words just won’t come out of his mouth and he needs to lie down and hope that will help.

Which, today it didn’t, apparently.

Eddie gets up with one last kiss to Steve’s hand and a reassuring smile, and goes to make a phone call. There’s only one person who can help Steve get out of his head, and Eddie doesn’t really understand it, nobody does, but they all know it.

“Hey, Joyce,” he sighs in relief when she answers the phone. “Is El home?”

“Eddie! Yes, she’s there, what… Steve?”

“Steve.”

Joyce sighs and Eddie knows she’s worried and wants to tell her not to be, it’s not fair to be worried, Steve hates when they worry, but. He’d be a hypocrite.

“You know you don’t have to ask, honey. Get over here, I’ll make some cocoa.”

With a smile, Eddie hangs up and goes back to Steve, crouching down beside him to stroke the hair out of his face. “Hey there again, pretty boy. I’m gonna drive over to Joyce’s, wanna tag along?”

What he really wants to say is, I’ll take care of you. Everything is gonna be just fine. But Steve doesn’t like the fuss. That kind of discussion is for another day, though. When Steve can actually get a word in.

That is how they find themselves in the Hopper-Byers household, Eddie holding Steve’s hand as the boy tries to make himself smaller than he is — like every time. Joyce doesn’t fuss, and Eddie knows just how much that takes, knows that Joyce is so much stronger than him in moments like this.

“Steve,” comes a small voice from the door to Eleven’s room, and Eddie finds the girl approaching them slowly. Beside him, Steve sways and Eddie tightens his grip for a second, brushing a kiss to Steve’s cheek before letting him go.

Eleven wraps her arms around Steve’s middle and the two of them just hold each other. They have a bond that none of them truly understand, one that Eddie knows even Robin is jealous of. But it makes sense, he figures. On some kind of deeply existential level, it does make sense for Eleven to be the one who can help Steve when he’s nonverbal like this.

Maybe because she doesn’t talk much. Maybe because around her he doesn’t feel like he has to be anyone or anything because it’s all the same to her. Or maybe there’s a special kind of magic in the way she will pull him onto the floor, their backs against the couch, his head on her shoulder and her fingers running through Steve’s hair.

They’ve been through something together. Maybe they go through something together every time they talk each other down without words — because in return, Steve does the same for her. It shouldn’t work, but it does.

It’s calm and quiet in the living room and Eddie shares a glance with Joyce before they step outside to give Steve and El some privacy.

“I hate seeing him like this,” Eddie admits finally. It’s hardly more than a whisper, a treacherous little truth that cuts into his heart every time this happens.

“I know,” Joyce says. “Me too.”

“I hate that I can’t help him.”

Oh the truths just keep coming. It’s that kind of moment.

“You’re helping him, honey. You are. But sometimes we need different people for different hurts. And that boy has more than all of us combined. Or… Well, not all of us.” And she’s looking through the window, watching El and Steve still wrapped around each other.

And it’s true. Eddie knows. Maybe that’s why he hates it so much. Steve’s nonverbal episodes are a stark reminder for all the pain he had to take upon himself. Alone. For years.

“Just love him through it,” Joyce continues. “Not despite it, not because it it. Just through it.”

“I am. I do. Don’t think I could stop even if he asked me to.”

She smiles and squeezes his hand. “Good. Now, join me on a run to the bakery? I think they’ll need something sweet when they’re back with us.”

With one last glance through the window, seeing Steve calm and quiet, Eddie bows and offers his arm to Joyce. “I’d be delighted to join you, lady Byers.”

It’ll be fine, he tells himself. They’ll be fine.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve & eleven #stranger things fanfiction #nonverbal steve and nonverbal eleven do you catch my drift #maybe i should have written this from steve’s pov but it wouldn’t be a random dio vibe fic if it made sense huh?#nonverbal steve harrington #idk what this is but i’m probably projecting huh #oh yeah this might actually possibly be set post-time travel au since that’s my current brainrot but feel free to imagine whatever au #dio words #time travel au #time travel au ficlet

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zmediaoutlet · 1 month

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Sam marks time. Dean doesn't know why. Their watches still tick and that weird clock in the library still traces the hours and Sam writes them out on the chalkboard in the kitchen: one day and then two and then three and then—Dean doesn't keep track, doesn't want to look. The sun rises and midnight comes and it's another day in an empty world. He's not sure what the benefit of knowing how long it's been is, other than a hair shirt. Sam's good at constructing those but Dean's never felt the need. The hair shirt rides with him, inside his skin. Never really goes away.

Two remaining humans on Earth. Jack's a question mark. He spends a lot of his time split between his bedroom and sitting out on the side of the plant above the bunker. Taking in the air, or something. Dean would ask but he doesn't know what to say. When they failed—this bad. When it's their fault and there's no excuse to offer.

Sam would say it wasn't their fault but Chuck's. At least another Sam would. He tried on that first day after they came home, Chuck's glee searing some new kind of pain over every one of Dean's bones, and Sam's supposed to be the optimistic one but even he couldn't get through it. They could have, they should have. On that first night they both get very, very drunk, and Dean does have the thought somewhere between the last moments of lucidity and blackout that—okay, so they should've played their roles—at least Earth would be alive, at least there'd still be the old lady who worked the register at the grocery store and little kids selling chiclets in Acapulco and the Denver Broncos—but really, would that have been the end? If they'd gone full Romeo and Juliet. If he'd shot Sam in the head and then cut his own wrists and waited, the blood pooling into a lake, feeling every weakening heartbeat as the punishment he deserved. Would that have been enough? Or would the writer have realized that ending wasn't satisfying, either, and there'd be—shock, surprise—another sequel, the show renewed another year, and the Winchesters would be dragged back from death to enact some new version of melodrama? Dean watched a lot of soaps, back in the day, waiting through dull lonely days until he could dig a grave under cover of darkness. He knows no one ever got free, unless they got recast, and on an empty Earth there was fat chance of that. Which he explained to Sam, but Sam might've passed out by that point.

Fourth day of an empty Earth they get in a fight. It's halfhearted at best. Dean's hungover and Sam's jittery and terrified because there's nothing he can think of to fix what's gone wrong and Jack's quiet, a kicked dog not wanting attention in case another boot comes its way. Dean drank the last cup of coffee and Sam's pissed at him and then Dean's furious. It feels pointless even as it's happening. Sam gives him that look like he expects more and Dean throws his empty mug at the wall and leaves the kitchen and every ounce of anger drains out as soon as he's in the hall. He takes a shower—by some miracle, they're still getting water and power and light—and leans his aching head against the cold tile and doesn't cry but maybe he'd feel better if he could. It keeps not coming. When he dries off he pulls on boxers and a t-shirt and goes back to the kitchen and the pieces of the mug have been swept up and left in a broken pile on the kitchen island. Visual metaphor. He hopes Chuck appreciates it.

Sam's in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a beer in hand. Ten in the morning. "Stealing my move," Dean says.

Sam doesn't look at him. Dean sits beside him on the bed and looks at the wall, too. Says, "Where's Jack?" and Sam says, all rusted edges, "Outside," and Dean doesn't know how the kid does it. When the door's closed on the bunker it feels—not good but not all that different than it used to. When they were alone down here, and the world could pass by overhead unknown. The silence down here is something Dean loved. The silence out there—

He takes the beer out of Sam's hand. Sam lets him. He takes a deep swallow. Then he sets the beer on the bedside table, and then he sets his hand on the back of Sam's neck, and then watches Sam close his eyes and his jaw flex. Dean doesn't want to ask; he doesn't have to.

They fuck. It's not good or bad. Dean's brain shuts off and when he comes to they're panting and it stinks kind of, Sam's sweat and the jizz in the air and two bodies sticking together. Sam's arm is curled under Dean's head and Dean turns his face down into Sam's bicep, hides his eyes from the light. His hangover hasn't gone away and may never. He says, "If we could've," and can't finish, but Sam knows what he means.

"We had our whole lives to learn how," Sam says. Very quiet. He lays his hand on Dean's belly and his forehead tips down against the back of Dean's head. Kind of hurts, bone to bone. "I never could. Could you?"

Sam's blood on his hands in exchange for seven billion lives, plus or minus a few. His gut aches. He can't respond but Sam doesn't seem to expect him to.

Refractory periods being what they are in a man's forties, Dean can't wipe his brain clean again the way he'd prefer. He leaves Sam's room and gets drunk again instead. In the morning he's hungover, and Sam's made coffee, and the chalkboard says it's day five.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 326 #i actually forgot it was wednesday for a while #but then remembered i had to take out the trash #and also that i had to do this other thing

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wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart · 1 year

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Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

STEVE LOOKS AT HIS BIG EMPTY HOUSE AND THINKS FUCK IT

(ft. baby Steve and Hopper accidentally teaching El the word 'orgasm')

cw: child neglect, underage drinking, sexism, brief fatphobia, Italian (like 2 words)

plugging my steve playlist

At first, eating fast food every day sounds like a dream come true. His parents don't allow him to eat pizza - we don't want you to become fat, Stephen, what would the people think? - but when he finally breaks the double digits and they deem him old enough to stay home alone, the freezer is filled with frozen pizza. "You know how to get takeout, right?" his mother asks. Steve doesn't mention that he needs to get on his tippy-toes to reach the tall table with the phone and nods. And then he is alone.

Tommy Hagan says that he loves it when his parents aren't home. His brother wants to be left alone, and so he is sent upstairs and can watch as much tv as he wants, even the horror movies he isn't allowed to yet. Sometimes, when his brother invites friends over, he can even sneak a bit of alcohol. He loudly proclaims that alcohol is cool and fun and awesome, but one time, when Steve and Tommy are alone, he whispers that beer actually tastes really bad and makes him sleepy and that sometimes it gives him a tummy ache.

And it is somewhat exciting, at first. Having the entire house for himself. He can watch as much TV as he wants, even the scary movies his mom hates. (But at night, when he dreams of monsters and demons and blood, there is nobody there to reassure him that it isn't real). He can eat whatever he wants whenever he wants. (One night he puts all the pizza in the oven and plays a game against himself: eat as many slices as possible. The next day the teacher sends him home with a bellyache and he barely makes it into the bathroom before he is throwing up. He can't even look at pizza after that without feeling nauseous)

After that disaster he discovers the wonder that is takeout. (The table is so incredibly tall and every time he reaches for the phone there is a split second when his heart stops and he is sure that the phone will fall on the floor and break into a hundred pieces and he won't be able to hear it when his parents finally decide to call (they haven't had time yet, his father is a very busy man) and they will find out and they will hate him forever. But he always manages to catch it, so it's fine.)

Hawkins is a small town, which means that Steve's options are severely limited. His parents left him three pamphlets from different restaurants he can call. The first is Italian. Steve remembers heaving on the toilet and throws that one away. The second is a Diner. His stomach is already growling and reading has never come easy to him, so he calls without even reading the last one.

By the time his parents return, he knows the number of the diner by heart and is already on first-name basis with most of the staff. His favorite is Daisy. She always asks him how he is doing and sometimes she sneaks in sweets he didn't order.

He misses Daisy when his mother starts cooking again, and then he feels bad for missing her because his parents are finally home! He never really appreciated his mother's cooking until he had to go without. He has vague memories of refusing to eat his vegetables when he was small, but the feeling of eating something not greasy is so good he even takes seconds. His parents smile and he feels his heart fluttering in his chest. "See, he is already growing up", his father says, and Steve beams.

He wants to help in the kitchen, but his parents don't allow it. ("Only women belong in the kitchen", his father thunders. "You're just making a mess! For gods sake Stephen, leave me alone! Aren't you too old to keep running after your mummy?!", his mother complains.)

Steve isn't sure when exactly he decided that he didn't care. Maybe it was when he went to Carol's house and realized how empty his fridge is in comparison to hers. Maybe it was when he started exchanging his readymade supermarket sweets for other people's lunches, so he could at least have something that isn't prepackaged. Maybe it was when Daisy suddenly stopped going on the phone when he called the diner and the new worker (he doesn't know her name) got really annoyed with him when he wanted to talk about his day. (He is scared that he is the reason she is gone. That all the secret sweets and fries she would add to his order got her fired. But he doesn't know how to contact her, or even her last name, so he can never find out for sure)

All he knows is that one day he looks at the kitchen and knows he can't do frozen or canned meals anymore.

Steve goes to the living room and searches the huge bookshelf with narrowed eyes. (He once asked his father why they had so many books if neither he nor his parents like to read. He said that he should stop asking stupid questions.)

He chooses to see it as a good sign when he finds a cook book in the lowest shelf. The bookshelf is even taller than the telephone table, and if all the recipes were too high up he wouldn't be able to reach them even with a chair.

He makes for a noticeable picture, a tiny boy dragging around a huge book and an even bigger bag. (He had never gone to the supermarket before. When his parents go on a business trip they always leave him with enough food to last until their return, and when they are home food always seems to magically appear in the kitchen - or he assumes it is in the kitchen, he isn't allowed in there when mother is home. He thought grown-ups just magically knew what they needed to buy, but he took one look at the ingredients list and knew he would never be able to remember everything. When he sees a woman taking a shopping list out of her bag, his tiny mind is blown.)

Sometimes he can't reach a shelf. Then he stretches and glares until an adult notices and takes pity on him. They offer to help him with the book or with the bag but he refuses. Father says he is already a big boy, and big boys don't need help. It doesn't count when people just do it without asking. He would've been able to reach the flour all by himself if no one had interrupted him. Probably.

His first attempts in the kitchen are disastrous to say the least, and his respect for his mother only grows. One time his neighbors even call the firefighters. He was terrified when he heard the sirens nearing his house - was sure that his parents found out that he was messing in the kitchen even though they explicitly forbade it and that he was going to prison and that he would never walk free again. Luckily that didn't happen. He doesn't mention that part when he recounts it to Tommy and Carol the next day. And if he exaggerates the fire a bit, there is nobody there to dispute him (it's okay if it makes him look cool.)

(The firefighter asked where his parents were. He said they were on a business trip. Another one asked when they would be back. He answered in a week. The first said he should call his parents, and Steve explained that they didn't like to be bothered. The second one frowned, and Steve asked if he was in trouble, but he assured him that he wasn't. The first one said he should call them anyway, that they would want to know this, and so he did.

His father answers the third time he calls. He sounds annoyed - Steve can perfectly picture his angry frown - and so he explains that he didn't want to call him, he promises, but the firefighter said he should.

"What happened?" his father asked, still annoyed.

And Steve hesitates. His teacher says that lying is wrong, but when he was honest and told his mother he wishes they were home more often she said that he should stop being so selfish, that it's not a good look, that it's ugly. So he doesn't say that he accidentally charred another chicken (the book said that if it is even a little bit raw it can make you sick and being sick isn't fun when you don't have anyone to take care of you) and forgot to turn off the oven. He knows his parents don't want him in the kitchen. They will probably feel like they should come home early, and of course they won't because father's work is important, but they will feel bad while they are gone and Steve doesn't want his parents to feel bad. So he starts talking about his day, hoping to be able to come up with something by the time he gets to the part where he has to explain the fire. Luckily his father doesn't have time to listen to his ramblings and hangs up before that.)

The next day Steve goes to the supermarket, the trip already a part of his daily routine (this time with a list, like a real grown-up), and tries again. He learns what fancy words like "bardare" or "irrorare" mean and that you need to preheat the oven before you use it. He still messes up, but it's okay.

After all, he's got a lot of time to learn.

Steve is glad that he wasn't the only one.

And he feels horrible when he thinks that. These fucking monsters are terrifying, he was sure he was going to die more than once. (He still can't believe that he didn't).

But if he had to go through all of this alone, he wouldn't be having a We All Survived An Attack By Monsters From Another Dimension/Will Byers Is Back/The Weird Supergirl Needs Friends/Isn't The Sheer Amount Of NDAs We Needed To Sign Literally Insane/Just Like What The Fuck In General-Dinner right now. He feels a bit like an outsider - which is ridiculous considering his literal girlfriend is also a part of it (or at least he hopes she still considers him her significant other). But he has nothing better to do and he doesn't want to worry Nancy, so he compromises with himself and brings food as a sort of apology.

(he isn't sure what he is apologizing for)

He arrives early to help set up the table, and Joyce places his dish right in the center.

The first one to taste it is Hopper. Steve doesn't blink when Hopper guides the fork to his mouth and he doesn't breathe when he starts chewing. For a moment it seems like time stopped flowing (he is eerily reminded of the first time he saw that monster, the demo-monster-whatever. The realization that the world is so much scarier than he originally thought). Then, Hopper's eyes widen. He makes a sound that would not be out of place in a bedroom. The kids (and isn't it awful that they are so fucking young they are like half his age they shouldn't have to deal with this) stare at him in varying degrees of disgust.

"Holy fuck Joyce, I think I just had an orgasm. I would literally sell my fucking kidney for this lasagna."

The kids look as if Hopper had stripped down and started pole dancing on the table. Nancy's little brother makes an unimpressed "ew." Supergirl imitates him, although she doesn't look too sure about why she is doing that. Steve can't help the small smile forcing itself on his face.

"Oh no", Joyce says, "it's Steve who brought the lasagna". The entire rest of the table stares at him (as if he was the one who has fucking mind powers and okay maybe he isn't over everything like he tried to convince himself he is) and he can feel his cheeks reddening.

(Later, the kids give him a self-made "I survived a Demogorgon and all I got was this stupid apron"-apron. He wears it every time he goes into the kitchen)

Unexpected talent #1: cooking

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steviesbicrisis · 2 years

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Steddie with Nurse!steve

I can’t get out of my head the idea of Steve becoming a nurse.

Most likely he doesn’t even see college as an option, so when someone (Robin) suggests becoming a nurse, he laughs it off with “I need college to do that” and “that’s a woman’s job”.

After being kindly smacked for saying that (Robin again), he starts to think about it more seriously.

He does it when he babysits his favorite fifteen year olds, when he helps Lucas out after a minor basketball injury, but especially whenever he’s taking care of Eddie’s battlefield wounds.

He feels a sense of pride and accomplishment every time he changes his bandages, helps him out with simple tasks or relieves him from the pain, but he also grows frustrated when Eddie has symptoms he has not the knowledge to recognize and has to take him to the doctors for check ups.

«Why not a doctor?» He asks Robin one day, completely out of the blue.

«You hate doctors» she replies, after one second of astonishment.

«Do I?»

«Yes??? Don’t you remember how pissed you were when we brought Eddie to the hospital and you kept cursing at them?»

«They were all assholes! None of them cared about him, even if he was half dead! They barely spoke to any of us, and he stayed for like, a month??»

«They were fine, they helped him right?»

«It wouldn’t kill them to be a little kinder…”»

«… like a nurse?»

Steve flips her off and she laughs.

Contrarily to any prediction, he tells Eddie first.

He doesn’t want to give Robin any chance to say “I told you so” before being 100% sure about his choice. He and Eddie got insanely closer since Steve decided to take care of him until he got back in shape, and after that their routine was so entangled that felt more natural to keep it up.

Steve knows they’re weirdly attached to one another, he drives Eddie everywhere, they spend the night at each other’s places, they sleep in the same bed, they talk about the smallest things to their deepest thoughts and fears. Every time his minds wonders about their dynamic, Steve brushes it off as “Platonic with a capital P” like what he has with Robin, but he’s lying to himself.

He doesn’t look at Robin the way he does with Eddie, he doesn’t think about holding hands with her and well, kissing her. But he knows he can’t do any of that, so he buries these thoughts and hides them under the “platonic with a capital P” like he did with Robin months ago.

They will go away, he hopes.

«I’m thinking about becoming a nurse» he says, casually one day. They’re hanging out in Eddie’s trailer, lazily sprawled on the couch.

Eddie sits up, rigid, and looks at him like he has grown a second head.

«Eddie?»

«I fucking hate you» Eddie bursts «do you enjoy making me suffer?»

Steve is absolutely shocked by the reaction «w-what?»

«taking care of me daily like I had a hot personal nurse wasn’t enough?? You want to do the real thing? I bet it’s because of some selfless reasons like “I wanna help others” “think about the kids” and all of that bullshit» he gets up, pacing around the small space as he speaks «it was hard enough to make sure you wouldn’t notice how it made me feel- fuck, you’re going to wear the uniform to? Fucking hell-»

Steve stands up as Eddie is pouring out every single thought he had bottled up, pretty much like Steve Did, probably not realizing fully what he is doing.

Steve steps closer while Eddie is too busy with his stream of consciousness to notice «-just a poor man Stevie, what can I do when you take off my shirt and touch me everywhere? I even dream about it! And I don’t know why I’m telling you this and why are you so close I told you I-» his sentence dies as Steve presses their lips together.

The kiss effectively shuts him up, not that Steve wasn’t enjoying the heated confession, but knowing they feel the same about each other, he doesn’t want to waist one second more.

Bonus:

«are you ready?»

«no I’m not» Eddie groans, sitting on the bed «just come out already»

Steve steps into their bedroom, wearing his nurse uniform for the first time.

«Fuck!» Eddie groans, dramatically throwing himself on the bed. He brings a hand over his heart «help! I’m having a stroke, I need a hot nurse to do CPR on me!»

Steve laughs «there’s so many wrong things with everything you said I don’t know where to begin» but he leans down to kiss him nonetheless.

#steddie #steve and robin #platonic stobin #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve and eddie #random headcanon #stranger things #sbc writes #ficlets

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pollenallergie · 2 years

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18+ only!!

do not interact if you’re under 18 years old!

I personally disagree with the headcanon that Eddie can’t cook. In fact, I think that man passed Home Ec. with flying colors in high school. Most of the Hellfire guys took shop class because they thought it was more manly or badass or whatever the fuck, but not Eddie. Eddie needed to learn to sew because Wayne sucked at it and the old lady two lots over was getting real sick of him asking her to use her frail, arthritic fingers to sew yet another goddamn patch on his vest or his backpack or whatever else he wanted to decorate with the logos of his favorite metal bands. Glenda was a sweet lady, of course, and she loved Eddie like he was her own grandson, but even her kindness had its limits. So, he took Home Ec. Plus, he kind of underestimated it and thought it would be like way easier than shop class.

Turns out it was actually insanely more difficult because while Jeff and Gareth got to spend forty-five minutes a day working on bird houses and toolboxes, Eddie had to learn how to operate a sewing machine, create a household budget, change a dirty diaper, and, oh yeah, make like three different kinds of sauce from fucking scratch. Labor intensity aside, Eddie oddly thrived in that class. I mean, he took to the sewing machine like a champ and he made a mean roux for mac and cheese. Not to mention, Miss Bowman absolutely adored him.

That was her first year teaching at Hawkins High, having just graduated college, so she was already plenty nervous. However, it got much, much worse when the, at the time, 16-year-old metalhead, who smelled like a well-used ashtray, sauntered into her class fifteen minutes late and very clearly stoned out of his mind. Imagine her surprise when that same kid expressed a genuine interest in learning how to keep track of household purchases and sharpen a kitchen knife. Unbeknownst to her, his fascination stemmed from the fact that 1) being able to keep track of financial transactions would be super beneficial for him as a rookie pot dealer and 2) the kid liked sharp, shiny things. So, in her blissful ignorance, Miss Bowman actually kind of developed a soft spot for the misfit, much like a little kid might for a scrappy alleycat.

Not to mention, due to him genuinely wanting to learn how to do some of this shit, Eddie rarely showed up to class late or less-than-sober after that first day. He even began to enjoy that class a little bit; the teacher was nice, she didn’t hate him (which was rare), and most of the kids in the class were pretty accepting of him once they realized that he was pulling a stable A-. In fact, the future head-cheerleader, Chrissy Cunningham, even directly asked him for help with her sourdough starter once; which he thought was pretty cool (and also terrifying).

A couple years down the line, his impeccable home-making skills would come in handy when he finally managed to snag the person of his dreams, you. In fact, your first date with Eddie involved him making an elaborate feast of spaghetti in doused in a delightful, homemade bolognese sauce with a side of homemade garlic bread (Eddie made the bread from scratch and everything) and some wine (that he definitely did not steal from a liquor store two towns over because Eddie would never do that), lighting some candles, turning on some soft music (one of Wayne’s old country records; the only one that Eddie figured wasn’t too twangy), and setting tiny kitchen table like it was a fancy table-for-two at some pricey restaurant in the city. It was perfect and, honestly more than you’d ever expected. When he asked you out, you expected a simple movie date or maybe going to watch some band who was not nearly as good as Corroded Coffin play at local bar together, not an amazing home-cooked meal and a night alone with a shaggy-haired, doe eyed aidoneus. It’s safe to say that the pasta wasn’t the only thing that got saucy that night, if you catch my drift. Eddie gave you a taste of his other homemade sauce, if you know what I mean.

So yeah, Eddie Munson can cook. The man is a fucking wiz in the kitchen.

#why must my brain plague me with random headcanons for edward francis munson instead of letting me sleep???#that being said…#put some respect on his name #the man is a god #can he remember to shower regularly? no #but can he cook a fucking deliciousioso meal for the one he loves? fuck yeah he can #eddie my beloved #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson thoughts #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 4 #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #pol’s greatest hits

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omg-i-think-i-like-you · 1 year

Text

"Love your tuches," Eddie said when Steve got up to get a soda from the fridge.

"Gosh, that tuches of yours," Eddie whispered when Steve sat on top of his lap.

"The most beautiful tuches on earth," Eddie declared when Steve left his trailer to go to work.

It's been happening for a while, Eddie using this unfamiliar word to compliment him, he thinks? Steve was wondering about it during his solo shift on Saturday afternoon. Robin was away with her family and the store was empty and quiet.

"Hello to the greatest tuches owner in Hawkins!" Eddie announced, walking loudly into Family Video.

"Hi, Eddie," Steve smiled. Eddie leaned across the front desk to plant a quick peck on Steve's lips, and then pulled himself over it and landed between Steve's arms, stumbling a little.

"How are you hanging, abandoned by your other half?" Eddie asked, sat on the staff's chair and started swaying from left to right.

"She didn't abandon me," Steve stopped Eddie's repetitive motion and placed himself between his legs, "and I'm fine, thanks." He pushed Eddie's hair behind his ear and stroked his cheek softly.

"Of course you are, now that I'm here," Eddie said with a teasing smile, Steve rolled his eyes and squeezed Eddie's cheeks, and then kissed him on his nose. Eddie moved his face up to meet Steve's lips when the doorbell rang. Steve immediately pulled back and turned towards the door. It was Dustin.

"Steve, Eddie! Great to see you both," he greeted and leaned on the counter. Steve and Eddie both rolled their eyes, and Steve sat back in Eddie's lap.

"What do you want, Henderson?" Steve asked impatiently, his hands crossed on his chest.

"I have to rent a movie," he said, his eyes wide and begging.

"Okay..? That's the point of this store. What movie do you want?" Steve got up and went out from behind the desk towards Dustin, whose eyes lit up. Steve knew that look.

"No." He said firmly.

"Please?" Dustin put his hands together and started going down, Eddie chuckled.

"You two are adorable," he said and grabbed his jacket, "but I'm not staying for this fight, tell me who won, Stevie." He kissed Steve on the cheek on his way out and disappeared into his van.

Dustin was on his knees now. "Please??" Steve shook his head, and Dustin stood up again. "Steve, come on! you know Suzie is coming and I promised her we'll watch a movie!"

Steve blew air out of his nose, and started tapping his foot, "Yes, I know she's coming, you can take any other movie! I legally can't rent you anything from that section. Choose something else."

"But Steve! I told her my friends work at the video store and can give me any movie I want!" He stomped his feet, "Robin would've let me." He crossed his arms, upset.

"No she wouldn't?? Robin is a lot more strict than me," Steve threw his hands, "Have you ever spoken to her?? She's like a police offic- Wait." Steve stopped and fixed his hair, trying to think. "Robin isn't here... Aha!" He exclaimed, and ran back behind the counter, "I have an idea, but you have to keep it between us two, Dustin, do you promise??"

Dustin giggled and put his hand on his chest, "I swear, no one will know of this encounter."

Steve rolled his eyes again, only pretending not to like Dustin's endearing dramatisation of mundane situations, something that always reminds him of his boyfriend.

"Listen, I'm gonna make a deal with you," Steve opened, leaning towards Dustin and lowering his voice, "I will let you rent any movie you want, only!" He emphasized, "If you never tell Robin," he counted on his fingers, "and if you help me solve a mystery."

Dustin's smile grew, "Deal! already promised I won't tell anyone, and you know I love mysteries," he clapped and ran behind the counter before Steve could stop him, "what are we solving?"

"Okay," Steve put his palms together and pointed towards Dustin, who placed himself comfortably on the chair, "So Eddie's been using that word recently, and I have to figure out what it means," He said, and started pacing around.

"Okay? what's the word?" Dustin asked, curious.

"That's the thing, I've been trying to pronounce it but I can't make that sound... I think he uses it as a compliment? maybe it's from your fantasy game?" He wondered out loud, avoiding Dustin's question.

"Steve, if you don't tell me the word I won't be able to answer all your great questions," Dustin said and received a warning look for Steve, causing him to raise his hands, like proving his innocence.

Steve pinched his nose bridge, "I think it's like... too... toohes?" He eventually said, and sighed in frustration, "That's not what it sounds like!" He stomped.

Dustin started laughing, "Say that again!" Steve just looked at him, his eyes burning, and he stopped laughing at once. "Never heard it in my life," Dustin said, shrugging, "Definitely not from DnD, or anything I know Eddie's interested in. maybe it's from a song?"

"No..." Steve shook his head, "I heard his metal enough and I never heard that word before he randomly started using it..." Steve buried his face in his hands, "So you have no idea?" He peeked through his fingers.

"Nope," Dustin said and jumped off the chair, "Now give me that movie."

Steve stood there, defeated, while Dustin picked his movie. He rented it on his own name and Dustin had to rip it out of Steve's hands. He almost fell when he succeeded pulling it.

"Why aren't you asking Robin?" Dustin asked then, hugging the VHS like his life depended on it, "She always brags about how her ears are geniuses or something, I bet she'd know."

Steve looked at him, and almost jumped across the counter to strangle him. "Go away! before I take that tape and burn it." He couldn't believe he didn't think of it himself. He watched Dustin shove the tape in his bag, run out of the store onto his bike, and disappear into the sunset.

---

"Robin!" Steve barged into the Buckley's house approximately 24 hours after Dustin left Family Video. Robin was spread on the couch and stared at the TV, letting the game show run while she was dozing off after a nice and heavy lunch. She jumped when she heard Steve, her heart pounding.

"Steve?! what the fuck, you scared me," she stood up with her hand on her chest.

"Sorry, listen, I really need your ears- I mean help," Steve smiled and walked closer to her, robin's curiosity was awakened.

"My ears, you say?" She raised an eyebrow, "What is this about?"

Steve gestured with his head towards the stairs and started walking upstairs, Robin behind him, "What is this about, dingus??"

Steve entered Robin's bedroom and crashed on the bed, Robin stood above him, "What's wrong with you today? you're acting weird."

"Robbie," Steve raised himself, resting on his elbows, "it's Eddie..." He opened, releasing a sigh. Robin sat next to him.

"What happened?" she asked softly, "Did you fight?"

"What??" Steve chuckled, "Of course not! You'd know if we did. We're madly in love, don't worry," he said with dreamy eyes and Robin pretended to barf, Steve flicked her calf. "It's just... He's been saying that word, I think it's a compliment, and I'm trying to find out what it means, and Henderson," he said through clenched teeth, "after being absolutely no help, suggested I'd ask you, since you have genius ears, or something." He smiled sweetly and Robin giggled.

"I'm flattered, even though you didn't come straight to me," she hit his shoulder, "and I'd love to help, but why don't you just ask him?"

Steve gasped dramatically, "and give him the upper hand?? Absolutely not. I will figure it out. He can't win here."

robin squinted at him, "You do realise it's ridiculous, right?"

"Don't care," Steve sealed his lips and looked away, with a hurt ego and too much pride.

"Gosh, fine!" Robin swallowed another giggle, "I'll help you, what's that word?"

Steve sat up, placing himself in front of robin and held her knees, "Okay, it's definitely in a different language, I can't fully pronounce it but I'll try, okay? And don't laugh," he raised a warning finger, "it's like, toohes? toohhes?" He tried to emphasize the middle sound, Robin had to try really hard not to laugh, "The H sound sounds more like-" He then proceeded to make a sound like he was violently clearing his throat and Robin lost it, bursting into uncontrollable laughter and ran away from Steve's flying hands.

"Please! you need to hear yourself!", she squealed and copied him, making throat-cleaning sounds back at him, Steve pouted.

"You promised you'll help!" He threw a pillow at her and she dodged it, and then sat back next to him, calming down.

"I will, you diva," she smiled, "that terrible sound," she opened and Steve huffed, "sounds like something European, like Dutch, or German," she said, her mind running, "yeah, maybe even Russian?" she asked and they both had chills running down both of their spines, "Do you know if Eddie speaks any of those languages?" She asked and Steve shook his head, "Nope, not that he told me... This is so frustrating!" He dropped his head on her shoulder and sighed, she caressed his head, running her fingers through his hair, "Hey, we'll figure it out," She laid her cheek on his head, "Why don't you ask Wayne? He'd probably know if Eddie speaks more languages."

Steve looked up, a smile growing on his face, "Oh, Robbie," he planted a wet kiss on her cheek, "You really are a genius."

Robin smiled back and wiped her cheek, "I know. Wanna drink something?" She stood up, "Also, you really didn't think of it yourself?"

Steve shot himself off the bed and started chasing her downstairs, his hands stretched forward, but she was too fast, running away in rolling laughter.

---

Steve knocked on the trailer's door three times, and then heard heavy steps coming towards him. Wayne opened, and his eyes seemed confused.

"Steve? good to see you, son," He smiled, "Eddie isn't here, he's with his band."

"Oh, I know," Steve smiled back, "I wanted to talk to you, actually, may I?" He pointed inside the trailer.

"Sure, come in," Wayne moved and let Steve walk into the trailer, "Beer?" Steve nodded and sat on the small couch, Wayne sat next to him a few seconds later with two opened, cold beers in his hands, and gave one to Steve.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Wayne asked and sipped from his beer, and Steve did the same, postponing the, in his opinion, silly question.

"Well," he finally opened, "Does Eddie speak... another language?" He asked carefully.

Wayne lowered his beer bottle, "Why are you asking?"

"Um, he's been saying a word recently, and after some investigation I found out it's probably in a European language, but I can't tell which one..." He fixed his hair nervously and took another sip of his beer.

"Look," Wayne smiled, "I can assure you he isn't fluent in any language other than English, but the boy sure has a wild imagination and a lot of curiosity, so he knows several words in several languages," He released a short laugh, "What's the word he says?"

Steve blushed, "Please don't make me say it," he said, his voice low, "I can't pronounce it... It has that sound in the middle," and did the throat-cleaning sound again, this time softly and quietly. Wayne laughed again.

"Oh, yeah, I know what you're talking about," He put his hand on Steve's shoulder, "You know that Eddie's mother was Jewish, right?"

Steve's eyebrows jumped up, "No, I didn't actually," He placed his beer on the small table.

"Yeah," Wayne smiled, "She was, and there were many Yiddish words she used when Eddie was little, I guess some stuck with him. I hear him going around making those unfamiliar noises, it's Yiddish."

Steve's tapped his fingers on his knees, "Yiddish, you say?" His eyes scanned the room, "and you know the meaning of that word?" He asked carefully.

"Probably not, son," He took off his hand and put his beer next to Steve's, "Eddie never agreed to translate the words to me, I think it's funny to him that he has a secret language he can use behind my back," He chuckled, "I let go of it pretty quickly, it's probably all curse words."

"Well, I hope this one isn't," Steve's smile was bitter, "I truly think it's a compliment, I just don't know what kind of compliment," He laughed shortly and got up, "Thank you, Wayne." He shook his hand and walked towards the trailer's door.

"Sure son, anytime," He smiled and followed Steve, "What are you gonna do now?"

Steve stood in front of the open door, "Don't know," he shrugged, "find a Yiddish-English dictionary?"

Wayne barked in laughter, "Doubt you'll find that in the Hawkins public library," He stopped for a second, thinking, "You know Joyce Byers?"

Steve froze in place, "Yeah..?"

"She's Jewish too, I bet she'll know," He said with certainty.

"She is??" Steve ran his fingers through his hair, "How didn't I know that? How do you know that?"

Wayne smiled softly, "Was with her in school, she was Joyce Horowitz. Trust me, she has the answer for you."

Steve nodded and shook Wayne's hand again, "Thank you!" he ran to his car, "Thank you!" He waved through the window as he drove off, leaving Wayne shaking his head in a soft laugh.

"Really couldn't think of anyone more fitting for Ed," He said to himself and backed into the trailer, shutting the door behind him.

---

Steve knocked quickly on the Byers' door the next morning, Jonathan opened.

"Steve?" He looked behind him, "What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Jonathan," he smiled politely, "Great to see you. Is your mom home?"

Jonathan was a lot more confused now, "Yeah, she is... Mom!" He yelled into the house and let Steve in, closing the door behind him.

"Jonathan, I can hear perfectly without you yelling," She entered the kitchen, "Steve! Hi sweetheart!" she hugged him tightly and took a step back, examining his face, "You look good." She determined, "Do you want something to eat? drink?" He didn't have time to answer and she pulled a cake out of the oven. It smelled like cinnamon. Before he noticed he had a piece in his hand. "Are you here to visit Jonathan?"

Steve shook his head while taking a bite, "This is so good, Joyce, wow," He took another one, "I'm actually here to see you," he said with his mouth full.

"Oh, okay," she smiled, "do you need anything?"

Steve nodded and finished his cake, "This is amazing, what is that?" He pointed at the cake.

"It's my Bubbe's cinnamon cake, felt like making it," she shrugged, "Glad you like it, dear," she smiled again, "So, what do you need?"

Steve sat on one of the kitchen chairs and sighed, looking around to make sure they were alone, Joyce noticed his distress and sat next to him, putting a hand on his leg, "Hey, it's okay, whatever it is, you know you can talk to me," Her eyes were warm and Steve felt like he might cry.

"Um," he opened, "Do you... Do you speak Yiddish?" He managed to ask, his voice quiet and unsure, Joyce's smile grew.

"Can't say I speak," she air-quoted the word, "But I do know a few words. Why are you asking?"

"Well," he laughed softly, relieved to have found the person who might know the answer, "Eddie's been saying that word, and I was going around trying to figure out what it means, and Wayne told me it's in Yiddish. He didn't know what it means, but he told me you might..." His eyes were hopeful and Joyce was beaming.

"Aw, sweet Wayne, I bet he remembers me as Horowitz a lot more than Byers," She reminisced, "He's probably right, what's the word?"

Steve's tongue froze. He knew this is it, this is the moment he'll get the answer, the secret is about to be revealed, he just needs to pronounce it right. He just has to say it correctly and Joyce will unveil the truth, so why can't his mouth move?

"I..." he stuttered, "I can't pronounce it..."

Joyce rubbed his hand, "It's okay, sweetheart, say it, I'll understand. It's America, not Poland, I don't expect you to get all the sounds right." She smiled warmly and Steve calmed down.

"It's... it's like, tuhhes?" He said, really trying to express the sound right, and Joyce started laughing so hard, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him alive.

"Oh, Steve!" she wiped her tears, "In what way was he using it?"

"I don't even know!" He threw his hands, blush covering his cheeks, "I couldn't find any context." He said, frustrated, "What does it mean?"

Joyce's eyes sparkled, "Well, the word is tuches, right? Is that the way he says it?" Steve nodded frantically, finally hearing the word from someone who wasn't Eddie was refreshing and surprising.

"Tuches, Steve, is the Yiddish word for," she hid the side of her mouth and lowered her voice, "Ass."

Steve sat there quietly, his eyes as wide as plates, running in his head all the times Eddie said the word and blush was climbing up his neck, cheeks and earlobes again.

"What??!" he eventually succeeded saying, "You wanna tell me that Eddie has been talking about my butt this whole time??"

Joyce nodded, "And I think he enjoyed it, how often has he been using it?"

"Oh, a lot." Steve assured and got up quickly. "Too much." He walked fast towards the door, "Thank you, Joyce! for everything!"

"Sure! come over more dear!" She shouted after him and smiled to herself.

"Mom? What was that about?" Jonathan entered the kitchen and took a piece of cake.

"Oh, nothing." She waved her hands, "Did you know Eddie Munson is Jewish? We should invite him over for Shabbos."

---

Steve has been spending the past week mastering the impossible sound. He's been saying it over and over again to himself, driving Robin nuts during their shifts. It was entertaining, sure, and she was glad he solved his mystery, but it was annoyingly endless. He did stop immediately every time Eddie walked in, and didn't react every time Eddie came up with a new sentence to weave in his tuches. He was waiting for the perfect opportunity, and it was just about to come.

It was a hot day, and Steve and Eddie were chilling inside the house. Steve lay on the couch and Eddie was right on top of him, planting small pecks all over Steve's face.

"Hey," Steve said after Eddie broke away from his lips, "Wanna get in the pool?"

Eddie raised himself and looked at Steve, "I don't have a swimsuit here."

"It's fine," Steve started to get up, Eddie slowly slipping off, "We'll swim in our boxers."

Eddie shrugged and let himself spill on the floor, and then got up in a jump and started stripping down, throwing his clothes at the amused Steve who was still sitting on the couch.

"The last to jump is a rotten egg!" Eddie shouted while running outside, Steve heard a big splash and laughed to himself, took off his clothes and joined Eddie in the pool.

"Hi Stevie," Eddie clung onto him and kissed him wetly, his hair was dragged down and he looked like a wet poodle, Steve laughed.

"Hi Eddie, love your hair," he smiled with a teasing look, Eddie pushed him away, dove into the pool and swam right underneath Steve, kicking him on his way up, and then flicked his hair and sprayed water all over.

"How about now?" He did a little toss and fell back into the water, Steve shook his head and pulled Eddie up.

"You're lucky I'm a trained lifeguard," He said, holding him tight.

"I sure am, I would've drowned if you weren't here," He smiled sweetly and kissed Steve again.

"You really would've, maybe you should get a time-out," Steve said with a serious voice, "You've been swimming very dangerously, go get us some sodas." He ordered and Eddie chuckled and pulled himself out of the pool, "Yes Sir!" He saluted.

Steve watched him walking away, dripping water, and then shouted, "Nice tuches, you got there!"

Eddie froze in place, small puddles forming around him, he turned around slowly. "What did you just say..?"

Steve got out of the pool and sat on the edge, his body twisted towards Eddie, who still hasn't moved, "I said you have a nice tuches, you disagree?"

"I- what??! You know what this word means??" he now rushed towards Steve and stood over him, hiding him from the sun, "For how long??"

Steve stood up now, "Uh, a week or so," He smiled and held Eddie's buttcheeks, pulling him closer, "I like that word, tuches," He kissed Eddie's nose, "Practiced the sound a lot for you."

Eddie was speechless, breathless, he let Steve hold him there until he succeeded saying, "How..?"

Steve's smile was cheeky, "Well, some investigations, talked to your uncle, but Joyce was the one who gave it away, did you know she's Jewish?" Eddie shook his head, "Yeah, didn't know either, Wayne told me. I also didn't know you are," Eddie raised an eyebrow, "Not that it matters, just nice to know some more things about you." He smiled and pulled Eddie even closer, into a hug.

"If you were so curious what it means," Eddie broke the hug after a few seconds, "Why didn't you just ask me?" Steve's look revealed everything, "Don't tell me you were too proud to admit you don't know!" Eddie laughed and squeezed Steve's cheeks, kissing him shortly on his lips. "I'm glad you know now, and just so you know, I always meant it in the best way possible. I love your juicy tuches." he grabbed Steve's ass with his free hand and Steve giggled.

"Do you know any more cool words in Yiddish?" Steve asked curiously, and Eddie's eyes lit.

"Oh sweetheart, we're gonna have fun today," Eddie said confidently and jumped back into the pool, leaving Steve confused all over again.

#eddie's mom used to call his little butt tuches his entire childhood #my mom did too #i kinda want to write a whole thing of eddie saying random yiddish words and steve trying to guess what they mean #i also wanna write that shabbos at the byers #joyce definitely invited wayne and steve too #also. i dont know the timeline of this thing #i think its in the summer but im not sure what summer #a later summer probably #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie crack #steve crack #crack fic #ficlet #my fic #maybe I'll write a purim fic too #if you too wonder how to pronounce tuches. and dont have joyce byers available. google says it beautifully #i also just realized how dramatic i made everyone #oops lol. chaos and drama- might as well make it funny..?#JEWISH EDDIE #jewish eddie munson #these are the most important tags im tired #established steddie #i keep remembering tags i wanted to use sorry

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unclewaynemunson · 1 year

Text

Rituals

(AO3 link)

The day after Thanksgiving, Eddie woke up at an unfairly early time because Steve was stirring next to him in bed.

'Whatayadoin?' he mumbled into his pillow. It sounded more like a groan than like an actual phrase, so he was kind of surprised when Steve actually replied to it.

'Can't sleep anymore, just gonna start my day early. You keep sleeping in, alright?' Steve moved to press a kiss onto his temple, and Eddie could smell his morning breath, which should probably be gross, but wasn't – not when it was Steve.

He drifted off almost immediately after Steve had quietly slipped out of the room, leaving him in the darkness. It wasn't anything odd; Steve was much more of a morning person than Eddie. Usually, on days they could both sleep in, he'd keep Eddie company while the sun crept its way upwards into the sky and Eddie kept dozing off and half waking up until around noon; he'd be reading a book – or attempting to do so – or listen to some music through his headphones. Sometimes, he'd just spend his morning watching Eddie sleep, listening to his deep and steady breathing or his soft snores, perfectly content doing nothing. But every now and then, there would be days when he'd get too restless; on those days, he'd get up to spend his morning hours working out and making sure there was an extra delicious breakfast ready for Eddie when he'd finally get out of bed.

This time it was a little bit different, though. It felt like only a few moments after Steve had left the room, when Eddie heard music coming from downstairs. That wasn't like Steve, ever mindful of Eddie needing his silence in the mornings. And it sure wasn't like Steve to listen to this kind of music. It didn't sound anything like the poppy top40 stuff he'd usually blast; it was too far away for Eddie to make it out properly, but he thought he heard violins, playing some chipper but clearly classical melody.

He rolled over to his left side and saw on the clock that it was only slightly past 7. With a groan, he turned around to his other side, trying to catch some more sleep and leave Steve doing whatever the fuck it was that he was doing downstairs. But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off – that something might even be wrong – so after only a few minutes, he decided to let his restlessness get the best of him and got up. He put on Steve's letterman jacket over the washed-up tee he used as pajamas and descended the Harringtons' staircase while rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He still had to get used to this big, fancy house; they didn't spend enough time in the place to make it feel like a home to Eddie, both of them preferring Wayne's cramped old trailer over the creepy desolated rooms in the big house.

Eddie followed the sound of the music until he came into the living room, where he encountered a kind of chaos which he was used to from himself, but definitely not from Steve.

'What the fuck?' he mumbled under his breath.

Cardboard boxes were scattered all around the room as if Steve was planning on moving away, while Steve himself was nowhere to be found.

Just when Eddie was about to peek into the box closest to him, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around to see Steve emerge from the door that went down into the basement, with another two big boxes balancing in his arms.

'Shit, sorry, did I wake you?'

'I heard the music,' Eddie admitted.

'Fuck, I'm so sorry Eddie!' Steve seemed a little bit more distressed about it than necessary and placed the boxes on the floor to turn down the classical music, even though that obviously wouldn't make much of a difference now that Eddie was already out of bed anyway.

'No problem, don't worry 'bout it,' said Eddie. 'But what the hell is going on here?'

Steve walked towards the window and looked out over the garden with his hands on his hips. It was looking kind of gloomy outside: the sun hadn't fully risen yet, wrapping everything in dark shadows, and the gray fall weather gave the mostly dead flowers a ghostly appearance.

'You can go back to sleep Eddie, it's fine. I didn't wanna bother you.'

Eddie took a few steps towards Steve, the fluffy carpet tickling the soles of his bare feet. 'You're never bothering me,' he said, while resting his hands on Steve's shoulders. They felt tense under the fabric of his jumper. 'And I'm already wide awake anyway.'

Steve still didn't look quite into his eyes. 'It's just... It's stupid, really.' He combed a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was nervous or something was off.

'We always used to start decorating first thing in the morning after Thanksgiving – my mom and me, I mean. She'd put on the music and we'd get all the boxes from the basement while dad was God knows where, and it was – we were happy, the two of us together. She'd make me hot chocolate and watch me to make sure I wouldn't fall off the chair I climbed to get the lights up high. It was always ours, that morning after Thanksgiving – until she started following my dad around on all his business trips and forgot that she had a son waiting for her at home.' He grimaced and shrugged, as if he felt guilty for being bitter about it.

Eddie could picture it clear as day: a much younger, smaller Steve, with a bright smile on his chubby face as he disentangled a string of lights while his mother hovered around him, for once in a year succeeding in making him feel like everything was okay, like it was normal that his dad wasn't there with them.

'I know you don't celebrate Christmas,' Steve continued, 'You don't even like that shit, so I didn't wanna – I don't want you to feel obliged to help me with this. But I just – I still need to do it, every year, like I did it with her. The Messiah on full volume, getting all the boxes from the basement, hanging the lights everywhere... I'm sorry. I know it's pathetic.'

'Stevie...' Eddie took another step closer, wrapping Steve's hands in his own, until Steve finally looked into his eyes properly.

It broke Eddie's heart, thinking about Steve all alone in that house year after year, hanging the lights by himself, listening to music that wasn't his, trying to cling to a time that had long passed.

'Is that why you insisted on sleeping here last night?'

Steve nodded, still looking like he was ashamed.

'I know it seems weird and sad, but I – I actually love it. It's kinda cathartic, you know? It's like, my own stupid ritual.'

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's waist to pull him closer.

'You wanna decorate together?' he asked.

Steve huffed. 'I know you don't care about that.'

'Don't say that, man,' Eddie protested. 'I care about it if you care about it. I like all your weird rituals, okay? I wanna share those things with you. And I don't want you to be decorating all by yourself. I wanna do that shit together – it'll be fun, just like when you helped me and Wayne prepare for Sukkot at the trailer and Wayne wouldn't shut up about history and symbolism and all that shit.' He smiled fondly at the memory.

'So why don't you blast that – what was it called?'

'The Messiah. It's Handel.' A hesitant smile was starting to soften Steve's features.

'Blast your Handel. Let me help you untangle those lights. Put that tacky reindeer together while I make us some hot chocolate. And tell me all about how you used to decorate with your mom. 'Kay?'

'Are you sure?'

Eddie placed a kiss onto Steve's soft lips. 'Sounds like a perfect morning to me.'

🎄

From that year on, they always decorated the house together, when the first sunlight crept over the horizon on the morning after Thanksgiving. After a few years, they stopped decorating the Harrington home, and instead filled their own place with lights and tacky reindeer decorations. Steve got Eddie a huge Menorah to make up for the abundance of Christmas crap, and Eddie bought something new to add to their collection every year – he made it a challenge to find something even uglier than the last time each year. One time, Steve got both of them matching Christmas hats, which became a recurring obligatory wardrobe item for their yearly decorating sessions. And every year, without fault, they blasted the King's College Choir's rendition of Handel's Messiah, until Eddie could hum along to the whole thing without even thinking about it. They managed to take the good memories of Steve's childhood and add something to it that was their own, making it even better. And Eddie loved it. He would never become a Christmas fan, but he loved this new ritual that was theirs. And maybe, one year in the future, he would dare to give Mrs. Harrington a call and invite her over for Christmas.

#strangerthingsfestivefun #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #christmas #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #fruity ficlet #edit: i have no idea wtf happened with the lay out but i think i managed to get most random extra spaces out #sorry if that was annoying to read idk why the hellsite does this

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livingininsomnia · 1 year

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“Close your eyes,” Silver murmurs next to your ear.

Tears gather at of the edges of your eyes. Trembling, you shut them as he noses along a vein, just barely touching your neck.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stuck here. With the darkness of the windowless room, it could be weeks, counting by the meals he serves you, all tainted with the copper tinge of blood.

“You smell so good,” he says as you tremble, like a rabbit under the stare of a wolf.

He presses close to your jugular, nose flaring as he inhales against your skin. His hand, on the back of your head, presses you close.

Every night he comes to your room with dinner, and at the end of the meal he presses close.

“Not yet,” he says regretfully.

Every night you dread it, nerves shot, ready to collapse. Not yet for what?

You can’t bear it much longer.

#silver x reader #twst fic #reader x silver #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #ficlet #twst ficlet #twisted wonderland fanfiction #random prompt for vampire today. fitting as Lilia’s son #I swear Lilia’s a vampire Fae. is it a thing in twst? it is now.

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lioniheart · 10 months

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Steve was the strongest guy he knew. The bravest, too. After everything that happened during spring break, Eddie may or may not have placed him on some sort of pedestal, seeing the former King of Hawkins High as an unwavering, untouchable hero. No one could really blame Eddie for that, Harrington literally dragged his bruised, barely breathing body out of hell, which granted him at least a couple hundred points in the Munson Doctrine.

All that to say, the metalhead was quite shocked when, while trying to find the bathroom in the labyrinth that was the Harrington’s house (house, not home. There wasn’t enough personality in there to be considered a home), Eddie stumbled upon a sniffling, tear stained Harrington, staring down at a desk phone in what looked like a home office (and definitely not a bathroom, fuck).

Steve’s eyes slowly looked up at him, lips parted and eyes wide, and Eddie had no idea what to say (he briefly considered running out of the room to get Buckley but that probably wasn’t the best call). They weren’t really close, hanging out only on the Party's mandatory movie nights, and that was the first time he saw the other man shed a tear. After what felt like an eternity, but in reality were just 30 seconds, Eddie gave his best shot:

“Heey there, big boy, everything alright?”

#plot bunny in my head right now #random steddie scenes #lioni tries writing #was working on my essays and this popped up #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet

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theflyingfeeling · 5 months

Text

hi yes it's me writing another Olli/Allu shortie, inspired by the tags in @xgiuliawrites' latest fic (which y'all should go read immediately if you haven't), particularly I was intrigued by the tags sauna, masturbation, and accidental voyeurism 😳

~*~

Aleksi had not meant for it to happen, because of course he hadn't. He hadn't planned to let his imagination run quite so wild, too wild, while sitting next to Olli in the sauna just moments ago, trying to look everywhere else but Olli's happy trail, trying hard not to imagine the salty taste if he was to place a hungry kiss there (he blamed Porko's stupid playlist which had Olli humming a song about pouring tequila in one's belly button in between throwing more water on the stones, pushing Aleksi's agony to the brink of his sanity).

Likewise, he had not intented to grow a semi while washing himself, the knowledge that Olli might have been staring at his bare backside the entire time exciting Aleksi as much as intimidating him (he blamed the wonky reflection on the shower tap the revealed Olli's eyes travelling up and down his body as he showered).

Even less so, his intention being to get out of the changing room and in the cold winter air as fast as he could to kill his budding boner before it would become a problem, he most certainly had not forgotten his toiletry bag on the changing room bench on purpose. Yet, there he was now, mouth hanging open at the sight he was witnessing through the tinted glass door of the sauna, the toiletry bag and his plans of cooling down long forgotten (for which he only had himself to blame, let's face it).

With his long lashes resting against his cheekbones, it was clear Olli had not noticed Aleksi's return, otherwise he obviously wouldn't have ended up in this situation. That was why he should've turned back the second he had realised what was happening on the other side of the glass door separating the sauna and the changing room, as that's what a good friend and a decent person would've done, immediately and with no hesitation. However, as the past week had proved, Aleksi was not a good friend; verily, he was a horrible, useless, and immoral friend who had gone and started having sexual fantasies about his hot, funny and super cute bandmate late at night while sleeping next to that very bandmate on their song-writing camp combined with a winter holiday (even if no one could hardly blame Aleksi for it, because who wouldn't start lusting over the divine being that was Olli Matela, especially when one got to lay beside his gorgeous naked body at night).

Indeed, there was no denying Aleksi was no decent person either, not with his eyes nailed to Olli as he pleasured himself in the heat of the sauna.

The soles of Olli's feet were pressed against the foot rail, which was exactly how Aleksi had left him, but while Olli's knees had then been close together with his arms relaxed on them, they were now wide apart to fully expose Olli's cock, pointing towards the ceiling with his hand stroking it at a leisurely pace. The hardness of his erection, standing proudly while Olli's fingers slid up and down the length, was a dead giveaway that Olli had wasted no time since Aleksi had left – either that, or he, too, had felt the strange, steamy tension during their shared sauna moment.

While Olli's right hand was devoted to rubbing his erection, his left one was free to roam all over his sweaty torso, which did nothing to ease the building pressure in Aleksi's pants. Aleksi let out a lustful sigh as he watched Olli's hand caress his own abdomen, fondling the happy trail Aleksi himself had lusted over just a few moments ago. When the hand moved up again to massage Olli's chest and to tease a red, harneded nipple, Aleksi had to sunk his teeth into his bottom lip to stop himself from whining out loud. He craved to replace Olli's hand with his own, to be the one giving Olli such bliss that had his head thump against the sauna panelling and his stomach sinking in a deep, euphoric sigh.

Only then – hearing the thud of Olli's head resting against the wall behind him – Aleksi could bear to leave the sight of Olli's body and look up at his face instead. There, Aleksi found a small smile, only barely visible through the coloured glass door, but it spoke volumes of how much Olli was enjoying himself. Aleksi wished he could've joined Olli in his pleasure, perhaps even be the reason for it, but for now he had to settle for palming himself through his trousers to give his own aching cock some much-needed relief. Shortly after, guilt forced him to remove his hand and dig his nails into his thighs when he felt himself getting close to coming embarrassingly quickly.

He should leave. He should throw himself in the snow and let the blizzard bury him, or whatever it would take to reboot his brain and erase all the images of Olli sitting on the sauna bench with his legs spread and his hand pumping up and down on his long, rock-hard cock, because there was no way he would be able to look his friend in the eye after this, let alone sleep next to him under any circumstances.

Just when Aleksi had convinced himself to make his silent escape and perhaps drown himself in the hole Tommi and Niko had sawed in the ice for some post-sauna ice swimming, as that was the least he deserved for being such a pervert, a low moan from the sauna nailed Aleksi's feet to the floor.

His eyes found Olli's erection again to immediately notice that the earlier calm, almost lazy pace of Olli's hand had now been replaced with a much quicker one, one that was determined to take Olli closer to his release with each long stroke. His left hand had abandoned his nipple and was instead fondling his balls, which seemed to bring Olli a great deal of additional pleasure, if the ecstatic expression on his face was anything to go by.

"Aaahhhh... aaaahhhhhh..." Olli's grunts went straight to Aleksi's cock that was twitching inside his boxers as if to poke at Aleksi for his attention. He didn't dare touch himself again, though, having decided he'd rather freeze his own penis by sticking his hard-on in a bank of snow than walk through the living room with jizz in his pants.

As Olli's moans grew louder and more frequent, Aleksi realised he wouldn't probably even need to grab his cock to come undone in his pants from just looking at Olli, at his hardened bicep, at his hair-covered chest expanding and sinking rapidly, at his glistening cock inside his fist that hastened its movements by the second until streaks of white fell on Olli's stomach with one last moan (more like a whine (more like the sweetest single sound that had ever blessed Aleksi's ears)).

Aleksi ignored the throbbing in his pants as he devoured Olli, who was now relaxing against the wall completely, his fingers but resting on his still hard member instead of gripping it in search for an orgasm.

A satisfied, laid-back smile spread on Olli's lips, and all too late Aleksi understood what for. All too late, Aleksi realised he had missed his cue to cut and run in shame, when Olli opened his eyes to look straight into his.

Olli's smile didn't falter, and there was no sign of shock or embarassement in his dark gaze. If anything, the smile widened, and the already horny look in his eyes grew ever more lewd as it flickered between Aleksi's face and his crotch, Aleksi's hand doing a poor job hiding the tent on the front of this sweatpants.

Olli raised an eyebrow and nodded towards it.

"Need a hand with that?"

#random tumblr ficlets by theflyingfeeling #i'm so sorry it's such pwp but i couldn't be bothered to come up with a deeper plot lol #imagine this all takes place in a similar situation as giulia's fic but not the exact same AU #and the song olli is humming in the sauna is 'tequila' by vesala which i spotted on sinking-into-mist's olli/allu playlist 💖#btw it's the kind of sauna where the shower is _in_ the sauna btw. it's a thing i swear lol i've experienced one myself #not my best work so idk if i'll be adding this on ao3 #(just wanted to get this out of my head and give y'all the mental images i've been torturing myself for the past days lol)#blind channel rpf #blind channel fanfiction #ollixallu #edit. ugh so many typos 💀

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zmediaoutlet · 2 months

Text

Well, Sam wasn’t wrong. The panic room wasn’t any kind of paradise to be locked in, no matter how much the occupant needed it. Cot’s a piece of crap, too. Dean knows Bobby doesn’t go for the softer things, much, but man. Given that being shut in here had a pretty decent chance of turning into your last night on earth, he could’ve at least sprung for a mattress pad. A decent blanket. Something.

Dean sits on the edge of the bed. He turns his wrist against the handcuff and looks at the underside, the blue veins. Knows he could pick it if he had any damn thing left on him to pick it, but Sam didn’t leave him much but his boots. Knows he could pull, and bleed, and dislocate or even break his thumb and force his way out that way, but Sam’s locked him pretty tight and he’s not positive he could drag his way out, and if he screwed it up then he’d just be in a bunch of pain, and Castiel’s probably too mad at him to heal it. He could just bleed out. He turns his wrist in the cuff again, grips the edge of the mattress with both hands. Easy to imagine. The blood sluicing down—and it’d take a while, unless he hurried it along somehow—snapping a spring off the bed and making the wounds jagged and wide and red—making the world slow and slide and shut down, hopefully permanently, so he wouldn’t have to bear it anymore. So Bobby and Cas and everyone who ever relied on him wouldn’t have to bear it, anymore. Except of course it wouldn’t be a solution because he can’t. Everything he was ever taught flooded up against that last lead door and stopped. More’s the pity.

The panic room door opens, creaking. He keeps looking at the floor.

“You want some water, or something?” Sam says.

Dean smiles at the iron between his boots. “I’m good.”

Drag of metal on metal—Sam pulls the desk chair over, sits a yard away from Dean. Not far enough away that Dean couldn’t grab him, if he made the lunge. If he wanted to. He doesn’t know why Sam isn’t worried about it.

“What’s in the box?” Sam says. Dean smiles at the floor. “Don’t make a Brad Pitt joke. The box you had, in the motel in Cicero. I put it in the trunk before I drove the car back up here.”

Dean looks up. Sam’s watching him. Small frown but he’s not mad. He doesn’t even seem disappointed, even if Dean’s been—everything he’s been.

“What I had,” he says. His voice is rough and he clears his throat. “Just… stuff. I thought maybe you’d…” He shakes his head. “Feels stupid. Talking about, you know, crap maybe you’d remember me by, except here I am. Just stuff. Dad’s jacket, my gun, my keys. Wrote a letter.”

Sam raises his eyebrows. “A letter.”

Dean shrugs. “Doesn’t matter, now.”

Sam looks like he’s not sure about that. Dean wishes he hadn’t mentioned it. Imagines Sam ripping off the duct tape and reading the stupid crap he’d written down and thinking that it was all Dean had wanted to say. Felt too messed up to leave without even a note but he couldn’t—formulate it, not out loud and not in writing either, turned out, especially if Bobby or someone else might see it too. How much he loved Sam and resented him and needed him and how this hole in the center of his gut that had started who knows how long ago had just gotten bigger, and bigger, and he’d worried that what he felt for Sam would fall into it and get lost but it didn’t seem to work that way, somehow. The hole got bigger and what him-and-Sam meant got bigger, too, and stranger and stronger and more unwieldy, until there were days that Dean thought he’d suffocate under it, or drown maybe, or that he’d lose his mind with worry, or that he’d—start to hate Sam, maybe, for making him this terrified. For being this thing he couldn’t stand the idea of losing and yet that had been lost to him over and over. Until the hole felt like it took up all of him, just this absence held vastly empty under the barrier of his skin, and what him-and-Sam meant was going to destroy the whole planet, and it felt more right to just—simplify the equation. Subtract the thing by half and maybe there’d actually be something left, afterward. Even if Dean weren’t around to see it then at least there’d be something.

“I wish I could make you believe it,” Sam says. Dean refocuses. The spinning shadow of the fan above cuts random light over Sam’s face. His mouth tucked up on one side, sorry. “I don’t know how. There’s not any—evidence I can show, or logic. It’s not a case. It’s just something I know and I can’t make you understand.”

“Guess I shouldn’t have dropped out,” Dean says, and Sam smiles in this weird flat way that doesn’t look like smiling at all, and Dean can’t make him understand, either, how sorry he is, and how little it matters that he’s sorry. That he has to say yes to Michael because there is no other way he can think of in the world to save as many people as they can but also to save Sam, from Michael and from Lucifer and from himself, most of all, and to save Dean from having to see that, too. He’s thought about how it’ll go. When they got to talk to Jimmy Novak he explained that being possessed by an angel was like being chained to a comet: terrifying, absolute, a blaze of blinding light, and Dean thinks—hopes—that that’s true, that with an archangel it’ll be worse, that he can close his eyes and sink into it and there’ll be pain, he’s sure, but he’s been through hell and pain’s nothing he worries about, if he won’t have to see his brother fall.

“I’m kinda jealous Cas got to beat you up,” Sam says. Dean snorts. Then Sam leans forward, quick, takes Dean’s face in both hands. Dean stiffens but Sam doesn’t—hit him, or choke him, or kiss him. All equal possibilities considering the day. Sam only looks him in the eyes, with this expression like—he’s five years old and wishing for answers Dean can’t give. Dean reaches up with his uncuffed hand and grips Sam’s wrist. His pulse fast under Dean’s thumb. Sam takes a deep, shuddery breath in, closes his eyes tight. When he opens them they’re damp but he doesn’t look five anymore. “We’re going to save Adam and you’re not going to say yes. I don’t care if you don’t believe it. I know.”

This year’s been too terrible for the empty pit in Dean to feel any smaller. “Okay, Sam,” he says, because it’ll get him out of this room. Sam nods and stands up and goes for the keys. Dean watches him, tall and broad and beautiful, and wishes he had faith.

#happy wincest wednesday #my writing #ww lottery #a random ficlet for episode 100 #and what an episode it is #dean's ultra turbo mega depressed #and who can blame him honestly #but sam's an absolute hero through this thing #...he sounds like an idiot every time he talks to adam #but otherwise. hero.

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