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moneymartin · 2 months

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・❥・- one more?

summary: kate comes home tired and needy :( part two to this fic. build up drabble to part three

warnings: none! fluff cause its kate :3 this is kinda shorter than the last one soz. again, every divider is a skip. most are constant cuz im lazy. didn’t know how to end oops!!!

rpf dont read it if ur uncomfy thx

a/n: all yjs reqs r still itw soooo they’ll be out soon poopies 🙄 also my single part drabble for kate is lowk marinating in my drafts and i don’t have the motivation to finish it…

its been 5 months since you and kate finally ended up together. pretty long, right? but you two never really got the hang of this thing, especially after remembering how long those feelings between you two had been brewing up for. it was still hard for you to show up to her games and practice due to soccer season, and the second it ended, you showed up to nearly every single one of them.

“i really can’t come this time, baby, i told you!” you grumble while kate drags you across the dorm. they had their practice game at carver today but you couldn’t make it, which made kate upset. “dilanni is gonna kill me if i don’t show up.” your soccer team needed to show up together for this fundraiser, and it was during the offseason. fucking lame. you hated letting her down all the time but some things like this just needed to be done.

kate’s fingers grip at your sweater sleeve, her eyes soft, and lips slightly pouting. “can you please just say you feel sick!? you’ll finish quicker than i will and it’s not like they won’t let you in.” she begs and tugs a little at it. her height makes you a little overwhelmed but she’s slightly bent at the knees and trying to make herself seem smaller than she really is. “kate, its just practice. its not like its the final fours yet.” you sigh and make her stand up straight. your eyes dart to hers and you bring your hands up to cup her face. the way she leans into your touch makes your face flush up like never before.

“yeah, but you always show out! i know we’re still trying to keep this on the down low still but i love pointing at you in the crowd before i make a shot during our practices.” she complains, trying to pull her head away from your hands but you keep her in place like a vice. your thumb brushes up against her face and she sighs under her breath. all those shots that she makes have all been for you ever since. and you didn’t even know that. everything she did on the court was meant for you. “i’ll make a deal with you, okay?” your words make her feel a little bit better and she nods ecstatically.

“when you get back we can do whateverrrr you want to make you feel better about me not showing up. does that sound good?” you propose, the idea crossing your mind after you realize that she just wants to spend that time with you while her teammates try to piece together this big puzzle. none of them know other than caitlin, and they’re completely unaware of you and kate’s relationship. “yes! okay, deal! deal deal deal…!” she blurts out and smiles stupidly, leaning her head towards you again as a sign that she wants a kiss.

you give it and let go of her face, wrapping your arms around her waist quickly and pressing another big kiss to her cheek. “don’t work yourself too hard out there.” you breathe out and pat her back before letting go of it. “this fundraiser should only be an hour, trust me.” kate just shrugs and smiles again, less big but you still know that she’s pretty happy at your little proposition for when she gets back. the moment you walk out of that door, her face drops and she rubs awkwardly at the back of her neck. she’s alone now, and doesn’t know what to do. you’ve been with her for every game and every practice so she’s lost most of her motivation to go. “aw, dang it..”

after your little fundraiser, you come home exhausted and dreary when you realize kate is gone too. you two are exactly the same person, lost without one another. it’s cute but sometimes it’s hard. this whole relationship thing is such a different concept and it makes your head hurt. the lock clicks on the door and you dig through your closet, finding a pair of pjs and some small shirt kate likes seeing you wear for ‘some reason’. which is what she says every time you ask.

a quick change and your casual clothes scatter across the floor before you basically face plant into the pillows. a warm feeling fills up your body while you fall asleep, a feeling that seems different still without kate. you two always sleep and take naps together so this is another thing you have to get yourself used to.

the stupid fundraiser ran longer than it should have. at least another 30-45 minutes extra and you weren’t very prepared for it. kids were all over the place too and you were somewhat on babysitting duty? according to your teammates. you stood with all the kids for at least an hour and the questions they asked you were probably the stupidest things ever.

the sound of the door opening is what wakes you up, fingers instinctively rubbing your eyes and sitting up. you’re met with the sight of kate rummaging sluggishly through her backpack and taking out clothes. she mumbles out a small ‘hi’ and yawns, walking into the bathroom. the sound of the shower hits your ears and you just lay back down, trying to keep yourself awake to fulfill that proposal you made earlier.

a few moments after the shower turns off, the bathroom door opens and your mattress shifts in weight, a few drops of water coaxing you to open up your eyes. kate is sitting on the edge of the bed and she tucks herself in, burying her face into your neck. “how was practice?” you mutter, moving her wet strands of hair to sprawl out on the bed. she grumbles into your neck instead of instantly responding. “tiring, huh?” you ask.

“extremely.” she whispers breathily and looks up at you. kate’s eyes are slightly droopy and her lips are pursed. your arm wraps itself around her back and you tilt her head up with your hand, making her look up at you as you start rubbing her temples gently. kate’s eyes are opening and closing continuously while your fingers continue to massage her head and she huffs heavily a few times.

you push kate’s head into your neck again and slide your hands onto her shoulders, patting them gently to make her fall asleep easier. she doesn’t though. instead, she hoists her head up and quickly locks her lips with yours, grabbing your waist and holding herself up with her arms. her fingers are gripping at the bedsheets tight and she’s kissing you a little bit too hard. not that you mind, of course. “mmmf.. hey?” you pant and pull away from the kiss, making eye contact with kate and realizing where she’s placed her hands.

“i’m just kissing you.” kate mumbles and doesn’t even bother waiting for you to finish catching your breath. she kisses you again, propping herself up on her elbows and grabbing your arms to wrap around her waist. “y- yeah! but like… let me get a breather at least.” you laugh quietly. you’re still trying to catch your breath and the more you try to get away, the more persistent she becomes. “c’mon. you’re just sleepy, baby. get your butt to bed and you’ll be alllll good in the morning.” you smile and push her shoulders down.

kate ends up falling onto your body and her nose brushes up against your cheek, her lips running up and down your neck as she starts kissing all over it. “one more..” she rasps out and slides her hands underneath your shirt. she starts to claw your back a few times, whining into your neck when you try to push her away. “kate, please.” you grunt and pull back, nearly falling off of the edge of the bed.

her face is the same one as earlier. her big, pretty blue eyes going soft and her lips pouting. she looks like a sad puppy and you hate it. you hate how you can’t say no to it. “just one more! this is the last one and i’ll sleep, i swear.” kate spits out and tilts her head to the side. she yawns, her eyes getting watery and now you know that it’s basically over for you. “i can’t.” you mutter. “yes, you can. it’s just one more kiss, babe. please?!”

“all you have to do is give me one, and i’ll sleep!”

“you say this all the time! you’re gonna say that you’ll ‘sleep after’ but the second my lips land on yours, you’re gonna act like an animal.”

“that’s not true.”

“oh, yeah? watch.”

you cup her cheeks and she grabs your waist gently, your lips going in for one quick one. when she feels how warm you are and how much you’re trying to really prove a point, she just helps your claim anyways. kate’s lips are against yours again, kissing hungrily.

i mean, she’s practically eating away at your face.

#um this is so bad.#bye #kate martin x reader #wcbb x reader #wbb x reader #that pic of her is so cute

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itscometothis · 3 months

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Opening Lines

Tagged by @pia-bartolini! thanks babe :)

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

erm, one has a prologue so i'm including both because technically, the prologue is first but it feels like its own entity?

OLD AS YOUR OMENS: His throat burned, his shallow breaths causing sharp pains to rack his body as he flinched away from his mother and the poison she poured down his throat. (le prologue).

Regulus was positive he had ceased to exist. (le chapter one)

2. DRUMBEAT OF THE DAMNED: It didn’t happen all at once.

3. ALL THE STOPS: Harry wearily sank onto one of the barstools at the Leaky, joining the stragglers mostly known as the Pathetic Sods Who Have No Where To Go For Christmas.

4.. THE MAGIC OF MACARONS: Draco Malfoy eyed the cookie in front of him with narrowed, skeptical eyes.

5. IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE: “I’ll need you to repeat that.”

6. WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE PARIS: Hermione Granger, in order to avoid Azkaban, stalked her way down the streets of muggle London so she would not murder Rita Skeeter.

7. A DIFFERENT SORT OF DREAD: Minerva McGonagall would never admit to having a favorite student.

8. THE PLAN: Hermione Granger had had enough.

9. THE KNIFE: Merlin, this was awkward.

10. DARLING!: Kingsley Shacklebolt was a friend, Hermione reminded herself. She had to keep repeating this to herself as for some reason, Draco Malfoy was seated in the armchair across from her in the lounge next to the Minister’s office.

So I left a couple things out: drabbles from LDWS, because they feel qualitiatively different as a style, and one of my fave fics of mine, Crime & Punishment, solely because the opening is a recitation of Draco's crimes in transcript form and it's a lot and played with medium. Innocent Monsters was, by that counting, number 11! That's wild, it doesn't feel like I post that much, but it's been 2.5 years since I posted that lil guy.

They're a bit all over the place, but I think the unifying theme here is I usually am trying to establish character/relatability pretty quickly. Relatability and character aren't precisely separate: Hermione is trying not to commit murder, I mean, who hasn't, right? Hermione's at her wit's end. Dying of awkwardness. It strikes the tone and the character's mood while revealing a bit about them.

But, as you move up the list to my two most recent - these are a bit different. I know, as a writer, that I was trying to evoke something of Peter and his betrayal with, 'it didn't happen all at once.' In that sense, it's on brand. This is the tricky thing about fanfic - if itw as OF and we didnt' know anything, it's just a reaction of 'what didn't?' and maybe 'and why do i care that it didn't?" but in fanfic - WHY did this SOB turn from Marauder to Death Eater? And it's Peter's conversational tone I keep throughout.

OaYO reflects its genre - action! - in the prologue. In the opener of Chapter One - a bit of an insistence that, at least from Reg's POV, he really thought he died. (and he did, not a spoiler, it's on the tin of the fic), but it confirms that Regulus thinks so too. It also, I hope, hints at the confusion/disorientation of his return.

Tagging @orangecoluredsky @acanadianmuggle @thebemoon @alptraumdaydream and anyone else who wants to play and hasn’t, already :)

#how do i tag

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remember-before · 2 years

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A Very Brief and Very Sectional Look At Fandom History With Reguards to Central Archiving With TK

Fact 1: We're starting with a time in fandom when I was 8 or 9

Fact 2: There are some amazing, extrmely well fact checked fandom histories already out there

Fact 3: The internet is forever and so are all your fandom sins.

Pre FF.N days were weird and rough. Star Trek had been the predominate fandom through the 70s, though fandom goes back hundreds of years (see: Sherlock Holmes). Pre 90s was the time of zines and cons and letters. Mid 90s, thanks to the now-much more common place home internet fandoms like DragonRiders of Pern flourished.

In the beginning, creators tried to be very involved in their fandom. Some, like Tamora Pierce were on the peripheral due to their fears of copyright issues (ie they'd accidentally borrow an idea from fans and then somehow need to credi them) and others, like Anne McCaffrey and Anne Rice were significantly more involved.

Redwall was my first fandom. While now I would never say there was a safe space for kids in the single digits to hang around online in, this was actually true statement then. Jaques had safe sites listed on his website and the fandom was a strong one. ITW (rip :(((() was still the primary message board system and most sites were hosted on netscape or angelfire. The death knoll for this fandom was the fall of ITW, there was just too much lore lost when it went down.

As Redwall waned, Anne Rice was cooking up her bullshit. There's some really well done Anne Rice Bullshit fanlore histories, but basically she used actual lawyers to send fans writing fanfic C&D letters and went after websites and fan content. It was horrifc. Some amazing people fled fandom forever, starting in about 1995. This picked up steam in 2000 when she absolutely wrecked her way through her own fandom.

Anne McCaffrey was, at the same time, on some other bullshit. She approved of and liked her fandom, but she was horrifically homophobic and if there was even a hint of gay anything, she'd throw a fit. She also didn't want anyone writing or RPing women in leadership roles (Bronze and Brown riders for those who read the books) and at some point in… 1999? She put a ban on it and would attempt to get your website taken down if they were rolled.

FFN started in 1998, which feels like it was late to the party. It started as an 18+ archive but by 2002 when the greatbreak happened (your sister is your aunt, hey fam) some ⅓ of their accounts self IDd as under 18. At some point they lowered their age to 13+ which is inline with industry standards.

Before FFN central archiving was done fandom by fandom. FFN didn't take this away. Some of these (SG1, LOTR, HP) were hosted on their own domains, but many were hosted on sites like Geocities (rip). Every time a service like ITW or geocities went down, a ton of fandom was lost forever. This was a high flux time, when fandom archives for even huge fandoms like HP were coming and going faster than you could upload your fics and each archive had it's own politics. What ships did they allow, what genres, what ratings… It varied based on who paid the bills.

FFN was a novel concept, and many fans flocked to it. Having a central archive? For all our fandoms? Glorious.

But what one must remember is that this was also a very weird time for media and the portrayal of gay people (mostly men). Anything involving a m/m relationship was basically two ratings higher than it would have been listed if the couple was het. Entire archives banned it (there was an epic two year long fandom battle in the HP fandom about including m/m relationships in archives not explicitly for m/m relationships).

Which of course led to most m/m fics having explicit or at least an R rating.

Several things happened in a quick timeline in the fandom world in the early 2000s.

1) LOTR came out and took over the known universe. And because there weren't a lot of women in LOTR, there were a lot more m/m fics suddenly. And movie studios were seeing that fandom was Big and Exciting and that Geeks Can Make Us Money. They attempted to put up a monetized website run by the studio to host fanfiction but once added to it, you lost all rights to your work and they could republish it, edit it, or utilize the idea however they wished without crediting you.

Needless to say, this went over like a lead balloon and their submissions were…. Choice.

2) FFN got sued or something and all of the sudden Xi cared A LOT about the content of their site. In september of 2202 they pulled all NC17 fics from their site, all RPS, and most m/m content. The NC17 and RPS stuff was sudden, just entire sections gone, but the m/m stuff was slower and more insidious. They had mods of a sort reading through fandoms looking for "violations" and pulling down fics, and the general public could flag your fic and have it yanked without review.

You can imagine how fandom used this exactly as intended and never used it against people they didn't agree with or pairings they didn't like. Somewhere in there FictionPress also started and all original stuff got yeeted to a new home. Adultff.n came into existence around the same time, but was not run by Xi, had the world's shittiest layout, and required archival permission at one point, meaning you submitted stuff for approval. It wasn't great.

Also let us not forget the MPAA sued them because their ratings are proprietary. Yeeeep.

(also note that search functions within categories didn't exist on FFN at the time, not even based on completion status, word count, or pairing)

This was the birth of AO3. I don't remember where the OG idea came about, but there was a whole lot talk about this idea on LJ. At some point, Brad sold us out to the Russians to Six Apart and LJ was lost, and while many platforms tried to capture the soul of LJ, it just never managed to do so. DreamWidth, Tumblr, JournalFen, etc.

Another thing to remember, is that fandom had been predominately male, even on IIRC days, but FFN and LJ fandom had become a predominately female fandom space. There was an absolute ton of back and forth about this, written by a lot of people who were way more eloquent than I was in 2005, but there is a lot to be said about the regulation and pushback against spaces where men have to ask for a seat at the table, instead of being offered one. Remember that, for good or for bad, slash fanfic is predominately written by and consumed by female fans.

Which is where we come to today and the central archive we know and love that is AO3. And why when asked by AO3 allows ANYTHING GOES on their website, up to and including things you personally find immoral and DEAD DOVE, we have to recall that AO3 was built as we were being censored and fandom was being ripped from our hands. We have to remember that, at one point, just your basic slash pairing was being pulled down from sites because whoever hosted it didn't like The Gays.

We have a decently detailed history of all fandom kerfluffles from 2002-2015, many of which these incidents were involved in, on FandomWank. Many FandomWank details have been archived in wikis and other timelines. Some have not. Wild Award Mentions go to: LimeyBean, MrsScribe, HP Shipper Wars, WIKTT's Pawn2Queen wars, and anytime SPN ever got mentioned ever. But none are as great and incredible as the saga of Limeybean.

#old fandoms #fandom life #ao3 #ffn #fandom history

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

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I am so confused you posted ITW Clouds like 2 hours ago n yet as I was reading it istg i was like “huh? Haven’t I read this already?”

Like do I have deja vu, have I been reading too much fic recently?? Im so confused 😭😭

Really enjoyed the chapter tho lmfao itw is 100% one of my favorite couples :>

Noooo like mentioned I forgot to delete the draft in my notes and didn't link the 3rd part so I thought I didn't post one but I did and now I fucked it all up because some reblogged that other part I now deleted I feel so embarrassed rn I swear-

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knivestothroats · 1 year

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so obviously i don’t do any nsfw whump/noncon fics on this blog bc whatever personal choice but like just out of curiosity if i had a pair of itws au where fletcher was a little bit meaner to buck in certain ways so to speak. would anyone be interested in that hypothetically or should those just stay in the bunker. hypothetically. out of curiosity.

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

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girl,,, how dare you im still processing itws latest chapter and now you drop this bomb on me?? a Javi fic?? a dbf!Javi fic?? a grumpy x sunshine JAVI FIC??? im so not surviving this. that synopsis made me SCREAM do you perhaps live in my mind? cuz its sound to me like you are about to publish the fic of my dreams!!! im not ready 😫 i just now the slow burn it's going to kill me AND THE AGE GAP oh sweet jesus im gonna need divine help to go through this,,,

Omg anon I am so sorry but I just like keeping you all on your toes lmao 🤣 I hope you enjoy it when it releases! First chapter drops in 3 hours! 👏🏼 I’ve missed this man more than I can express

#panda answers

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rosewaterandivy · 23 days

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i. aconite

Summary: there are strange things that go bump in the night, and then there’s steve harrington and his inexplicable nailbat.

Pairing: s.h. x f!werewolf reader

W.C.: 5.5K

Warnings: supernatural elements, questionable bodily substances in the adults only section of Family Video, steve gettin’ the heebie-jeebies

A/N: the thing that has been scratching at the back of my head for months tbh.

m.list | playlist

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

And if he’d only listened to Munson, he wouldn’t be out here in the middle of the night with a nailbat and a flashlight.

But Steve wasn’t in the habit of heeding the advice of the harbinger of Hawkins from the wrong side of the tracks.

Not when there were things afoot that tended to go thump in the night. Not when Munson’s girl wound up bruised and unconscious on his doorstep.

There had to be a logical explanation, right?

Unfortunately for him, these woods had secrets to keep and you had miles to go before you would sleep.

The moon shone low and lonely in the night sky, illuminating the man in front of you— his coif of hair and lazy swinging of the bat.

The weak yellow beam of his flashlight cast about this way and that with every step he took further into the woods past his house.

Picking your way across the pine needle-ridden forest floor, you trailed him at a leisurely pace. Senses heightened, you could hear the dry snap of twigs under his feet and the soft whistle from his lips; could smell the sweat beading on his brow, his cologne giving way to salty musk beneath.

Even in your sleep, you could track him— never mind how much you wish that weren’t the case.

Not, of course, that he knew any of this. Eddie had seen to that. And yet, despite the warnings, here he was: Steve Harrington ambling about the woods on the night of a full moon, seemingly without a care in the world.

And it fell to your lot to see that no harm befell him, even though he’d cast his crown aside long ago and traded it in for a rowdy bunch of kids and shifts at Family Video.

None of that mattered in the end, because King Steve or no you’d run until your feet were bloody if it meant keeping him safe.

That’s what you’d been born, cursed as you were, to do— protect.

Kill, if the occasion warranted it.

Though, it would help matters if he didn’t get himself into so much trouble.

But hey, we can’t have everything, right?

The first time it happened, it was a coincidence. The house did back up against a forested lot afterall.

The second time it happened, it was an accident. Cutting it too close to daybreak and utterly exhausted from activities hidden under a blanket of darkness.

The third time though…

The third time signified a pattern, and not one you could necessarily recognize.

Because when it happened, the wolf, the beast, the curse, what have you, the world narrowed to a singular point of focus.

Loping in the underbrush of the dense forest, pure instinct called you to follow a scent you couldn’t quite name— sharp, salty, with a tang that lingered on the tongue. Warm like the sun, and beckoning like a raging fire.

Mine, the beast purred from the depths of your throat.

In this form, the rational and logical part of you fell by the wayside as the beast unfurled and stretched to fill the caverns of your mind.

Retaining just enough of your waking self, you paused at the edge of the forest ears attuned to the sounds of the evening air. Radio frequencies, TV static, car engines turning over, water rushing through pipes.

Yet one sound soared above them all.

Stay, the beast hummed as you sat back on your haunches.

Foolishly, a part of you hoped to hear the bright sound once more, to have it fill the well inside of you and overflow into your veins.

A laugh.

“Robin, knock it off!”

The beast sighed as you settled against the underbrush, chest and stomach to the earth.

A surge of longing threatened to pull you under, a low whine eeking from the cavern of your chest. Laying your head down on the cool ground, you swallowed thickly around that hollow feeling.

Wait.

The last full moon had found you alone and waking up in the back of Eddie’s van as he drove down the quiet suburban streets of Loch Nora.

”Again?”

Your voice was barely a rasp, sore from disuse in its normal register, striking a muddled alto in the otherwise silent morning.

Eddie just sighed and reached over to toss an old Hellfire shirt and some boxers your way.

Shrugging off his jacket and the musty blanket he laid on you, you tugged on the worn raglan and shimmied into the plaid shorts. Once decent, you clambered over the console and tumbled into the front seat.

Your body, while sore and aching, didn’t audibly complain. Far used to rougher treatment by now, especially after a full moon.

He lights up a cigarette, not bothering to crack a window or look your way. Just simply and calmly states, “I told you so.”

Fuck.

The chains and aconite were supposed to be enough, that’s what all the books said. At least, all the books you could scrounge up in Hawkins.

A dull ache radiated from your wrists, telltale bruising from the shackles that were meant to contain the beast.

It was you, you were the beast— as if you could ever forget.

Lycanthropy by way of puberty, what a welcome into womanhood, huh?

”The chains are shot,” He says, turning onto the main drag. “Drywall too.”

You rolled your lip between your teeth and slumped down into the seat, heating in embarrassment.

”I’ll pay for the repairs.”

Eddie grunts and takes a long drag from the cigarette. He exhales slowly, rolling through a stop light before pulling off toward Forest Hills.

Silence from your best friend was never a good thing. All it signaled was a prelude to the inevitable rant driven by sheer boredom or hunger. But maybe, he was just tired.

You certainly were.

He parks the van and swings out of the door, loping onto the ground with the grace of a beleaguered old man, his knees cracking and popping like a bag of marbles. You follow shortly after, and no worse for wear, in spite of your bruises.

The comforting scent of tobacco and coffee hits your nostrils and the tension of your body melts away. Wayne left a warm pot on before passing out on the couch, and you tip-toe your way across the trailer as silently as you’re able.

You take a deep, bracing sip from a mug heralding Roswell as the ‘UFO Capital of the World!’ as cinnamon dances across your tongue.

Good ol’ Wayne.

Eddie is in his bedroom, cigarette dangling from his lips as he throws your backpack over his shoulder and eyes you up and down.

“Pants and shoes would be good,” He suggests, brushing past you on his way out the door. “We’re leaving in five.”

Setting the coffee aside, you scramble through piles of clothing, their cleanliness questionable, searching for anything that doesn’t scream ‘freshly fucked by Eddie Munson.’

You chug the coffee on the way to school, the sounds of Dio doing absolutely nothing for the throbbing pain behind your left eye. The van squeals into a parking spot just as the tardy bell trills.

Eddie’s hand braces against your chest, halting your exit from the vehicle and ensuring a pink slip from a hall monitor. The morning cigarette seems to have settled him, his gaze now concerned rather than annoyed.

”I’m sorry,” you say glumly, carding a hand through your tangled hair and tying it up in a loose bun. “I thought it would work Ed, I really fucking did.” Hands scrub down your face, desperately trying to hide your shame.

He pulls you toward him in a loose hug, his chin tucking over your head as it's buried in his chest. Soft, warm, familiar, his scent burrows its way into your consciousness calming the racket of your heart.

”We’ll figure it out, kid.”

And you’re about to laugh, can feel it wet and thick, currently lodged in your throat, when a maroon BMW swings into a spot not five paces away.

Tension cords the tendons of your body, a breath escapes you, as if it’s been forced from your chest. Pulse accelerating, you squeeze your eyes shut and try to just breathe.

Safe with Eddie. Safe with Eddie. Safe with—

A discongruent note of citrus and musk tinges the air. The sound of laughter, a euphoric baritone against a sputtering, higher-pitched explanation churns like magma through your veins.

You shudder in his hold, but it’s enough.

He tugs you closer and drops an affectionate kiss to the crown of your head before saying, “Okay, fuck this.”

The engine roars to life.

Before Eddie can hightail it out of the parking lot, your head swivels back to catch a glance from warm hazel eyes, and you can’t help the pathetic whine that eeks up your throat.

”So,” He clears his throat, hands fidgeting on the wheel, “It’s getting worse.”

Facing forward once the school is out of sight, you draw your knees into your seat and rest your head against them.

”Yeah,” you say glumly, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Later that week, when Steve and Robin are drawing straws for who has to wipe down the 'ADULTS ONLY' room and the crusty questionable remnants found therein, she asks:

”So, anymore of those weird dreams?”

Steve takes his time picking his straw, moving left and then right to gauge length before taking a step back and cocking his head.

Robin has her fingers curled in a tight fist, making it difficult to assess which straw is the shorter of the two. And Steve braved the room behind the little red curtain last week, so he’s not terribly keen to see what fresh hell is back there now.

”Not since I told you last time, no.”

Surprisingly, there is rather a bit of time to kill after the evening rush on a Friday night at Family Video. The girls coming in for candy and movies at their sleepovers, toddlers absolutely wrecking the shelves as they sweep through with abandon, harried mothers trailing in their wake.

As such, Robin has pitched herself as a quasi-dream interpreter after reading some book about the subject, much to Steve’s chagrin and her entertainment.

”Seriously, nothing?” Her eyes blow wide, eager for anything to alleviate her boredom.

Steve assesses his options, eyes narrowing and biting his lip as he goes in for the kill. He pulls a straw from Robin’s grasp just as the bell on the door chimes, signaling a new customer.

”Welcome in,” Robin chirps, unraveling her fingers to reveal her straw.

”Let us know if you need any help!” Steve adds on automatically, holding his straw to hers for measurement.

She groans when she realizes that she’s drawn the short straw, eyes rolling in distaste while Steve pumps his fist into the air in victory. Robin grabs the gloves under the cash register, a spray bottle of cleaning fluid, and a rag.

”If I’m not back in ten minutes…”

”Call the NRA—“

”EPA!”

”Yeah, yeah,” He smirks at her indignant squawk, “I know.” And waves Robin off to the back of the store with a lazy hand.

Steve leans against the counter, hand falling to a slinky resting on the laminate. He props himself up on an elbow, cupping his jaw with one hand, and wraps his fingers around the glorified silver spring.

He nearly forgets there’s a customer in the store until someone softly clears their throat. Letting the slinky drop with a metallic ching, Steve looks up to find a familiar face.

“Hey,” he greets as you slide the tapes across the counter, “Find everything okay?”

You nod, pulling out your wallet out of your pocket to count some bills as he tallies up the total.

It’s quiet, save for the rattle of the air conditioner and sound of plastic as Steve runs the tapes through the machine to unlock the cases. He can see you worry your bottom lip in between your teeth, the raw red of your lips a stark contrast to the white of your teeth.

And it’s not like he’s staring or anything; Steve’s mindful to keep his gaze moving, not landing in a particular spot for too long. That is until your eyes meet his and he drops a tape onto the floor.

“Shit,” He mutters, kneeling down behind the counter to reach it.

Your eyes aren’t normally that bright, are they? It’s just a trick of the light, surely.

He returns, momentarily baffled to find Eddie at your side, because he didn’t remember hearing the bell chime from the door.

Steve nods to Eddie in greeting and slides the case through the machine. He keys in a code on the register before asking, “Weekend rental?”

Again, you nod. Lip popping plump and full as your teeth retreat.

“Okay, so, Sunday night return,” Steve says and rattles off your total.

Sliding the bills across the table, his fingers brush yours just barely, and you retract your hand as if it’d been burned.

The register drawer dings open and before he can give you a receipt, you’re gone.

Eddie stands at the counter, the door swinging in the wake of your exit.

“She had to, uh—“ He begins to say, fingers drumming on the laminate. “Y’know what? It really doesn’t matter.”

He takes the receipt from Steve and shoves it into his pocket, leisurely backing toward the door.

“Dunno if you heard,” He says, voice raising just slightly as his back pushes against the glass and metal. “But there’s a party out on the lake, if you’re interested.”

”Yeah?”

He nods as Robin, dramatically shoves the velvet curtain open, the screeching metallic sound jarring as she stumbles toward the counter.

Eddie raises his brows in interest and bemusement, while Robin peels the yellow gloves from her arms and plops them into a nearby trash can.

”Yeah, some bonfire thing.” He kicks his foot back, the bell chiming as Eddie exits the store, “You should come by, if you want.”

Robin glances between Eddie’s retreating back and Steve, curiosity evident in her gaze.

”What was that all about?”

Steve shakes his head, momentarily transfixed at the memory of your eyes— so bright, they were nearly phosphorescent. Fascinating in the way they captivated him, both alluring and haunting.

He couldn’t recall seeing a color or hue quite like it, except for in his dreams.

The bonfire had been burning for a little over an hour by the time you and Eddie arrived on the scene.

You’d killed the time by categorizing the little baggies of his lunchbox, under the guise of double-checking that he had enough stock from Rick for the evening’s business. When, in reality, you were making sure none of your wolfsbane had made its way into tonight’s offerings.

Not that there would be much of the dried blue petals left to do much of anything to the average American teenager. You’d been pounding the stuff all week, as if it was going out of style.

Anything to keep the beast in its slumber.

Following Eddie as he made his way through the crowd of drunk or on their way to it teens, you pondered the recent uptick in Wolf-like Incidents you’d had to deal with.

Because, while incredibly annoying, the beast used to be reliable. Every full moon, like clockwork, you would up your intake of aconite in the days leading up to it.

And it used to be enough to quell the ache in your bones. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you wouldn’t even transform at all. Just wake the next morning feeling like fresh road kill.

But recently things had been… well, worse, for one.

The tinctures and teas didn’t cut it any more, so after copious research you had added chains to the equation. That helped, for a time. And that time was quickly coming to a close.

Now, even without the ticking time bomb of a full moon, you felt the throb of your canines pushing underneath your gums. You had blood in your mouth, more often than not. And your senses seemed permanently heightened— scent, sound, touch.

It made day-to-day life an over-sensitized nightmare that you couldn’t wake from.

At least under a full moon, the preternatural senses were a boon rather than a burden.

Catching your gaze, Eddie nodded before slipping off with a few customers on the outskirts of the group. You kept your eyes trained on them as they walked further into the woods, even though he said he could handle himself.

Yeah, you could count on one hand the amount of times Eddie had successfully “handled” it. Settling your back against a tree trunk, you cross your arms and wait.

Robin is still fixing her hair when Steve kills the engine of the beemer at Lover’s Lake.

“Seriously, you look fine,” He says, opening the car door and shoving the keys into his pocket.

He can hear the thump of the music and see the golden and amber flames from the fire a ways away.

Robin shuts her door and Steve crosses the hood of the car to sling an arm around her shoulders.

“It’ll be fun,” He promises, breath tickling against her cheekbone.

They shoulder their way through the crowd leading up to the keg, where Steve watches with a smirk as two linebackers haul out a replacement keg.

They stare at each other for a minute, brows furrowed as to how the beer possibly escapes a sealed keg while the line behind them grows restless.

Steve sighs and extricates himself from Robin, “Where’s the tap?”

”What?”

He rolls his eyes, “The tap? The plastic pump that makes the beer come out?”

The linebackers nod and make a show of looking for the elusive tap. After a few minutes of frantic searching, there’s a victorious crow from the crowd when the tap if finally held aloft.

But still, the linebackers seem puzzled.

Steve, having quite enough of their bullshit, takes the tap from their grasp and slams it into the keg, twisting until a soft hiss sounds.

”Great,” He says, taking a step back. “Now, get to pumping. If I’m back in two minutes and you dinguses haven’t figured it out—“

Robin drags him away before he can finish the thought.

They tramp through the woods, twigs breaking underfoot, as Robin drags him along by the wrist. Beer cans skitter with a metallic clink as their shoes kick them along.

Once at the outskirts of the crowd, Robin drops his hand and turns to him with an incredulous look on her face.

“What is with you tonight?”

Her arms are crossed, a sure sign that she’s peeved, and he must be really in for it. She taps her foot impatiently awaiting his response.

“Nothing.”

She balks, “Yeah, sure. Then why the sudden emergence of King Steve, huh?”

“That wasn’t—“ He sputters, carding a hand through his hair.

He fails to string together any semblance of a response. Has no reason or excuse for how keyed up he feels right now. Itchy as if his skin is too tight, an impatient feeling skittering underneath the surface. Something is off, but he doesn’t know what. Which makes him frustrated, hence the scene at the keg.

The dull sounds of the party drown out the strained silence between them, the timber cracking from the bonfire loud enough to startle.

Steve starts to think that maybe, this wasn’t a good idea. But then, Robin’s eyes light up at something behind him. Steve turns to look and sees the copper flash of Vickie’s hair in the firelight.

He huffs a laugh and turns back to Robin with a smile, he jerks his head behind him and says, “Go.”

Robin pulls her lip between her teeth, “Y’sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

A smile breaks across her face as she pulls him into a hug, “You’re the best, Stevie.”

Steve sighs as he watches her go. Luckily she refrains from her typical idiot run— all gangly legs and spaghetti arms— and sends Vickie a shy wave as she skirts the bonfire and makes her way over.

Something tugs low in his gut, snapping like a rubber band. It’s an odd sensation and not entirely unpleasant, and Steve finds his blood thrumming just under the surface.

A languid breeze passes through, carrying on it a smoky woodiness and subtly crisp scent.

There’s something comforting in it, something familiar.

A sudden note of pine and rain steals the breath from his lungs. He exhales as if it was shoved from his chest, a dull pressure on his ribs and something akin to nausea swaying beneath his lungs.

He stumbles back, bracing himself against a nearby tree. Takes slow, deep breaths as the world shifts incrementally.

Steve blinks, his vision going fuzzy at the edges. The glow of the fire seems very far away, the sounds of the party even further.

Stay, says the voice in his mind.

And he readily agrees, swaying slightly as he sinks to the forest floor.

Under the dull roar of the crackling bonfire and whoops and hollers from the party, there’s a distinct sound of heavy breathing.

Your head turns to the left, closer to the party, and you narrow your gaze.

A body falls maybe a hundred or so yards away.

You’re on your feet before you can think twice about it, heart beating a tattoo in the cage of your ribs. Keeping your footfalls soft, you slow to a stop just as Robin’s mouth falls open in a soft gasp.

“Steve.”

He’s conscious but somewhat slumped against the trunk of an old oak tree.

Part of you knows that you should give them space, it is the polite thing to do, after all.

But a larger, territorial part of you snarls to say, “Stop,” as you stalk over to where he is.

Robin, curiously, does what she’s told.

He looks up at you, squinting eyes and furrowed brow, but says nothing. He takes deep breaths in and out, his chest rising and falling in equal measure, while your eyes rove across him.

There’s no copper tang in the air, and no broken skin that you can see.

Steve sits up a bit, appearing more alert than he was before. He scrubs a hand down his face and sighs, cheeks growing pink under your assessment.

“I’m fine,” His voice is syrupy thick and sends your blood surging. “Jus’ light headed is all.”

Robin hesitates stepping forward, eyes falling on you, as if for permission. You nod, not trusting yourself to snap at her, and watch as she crouches next to Steve.

Clenching your fists, you will the burning in your chest to subside.

Everything is fine, you try to reason, Robin’s just helping Steve get to his feet. She offers her hand to him and pulls him upright. He leans back against the trunk of the tree, eyes dreamy and hazy.

His lips kick up in an easy grin at the sight of you. Turned toward him, the firelight illuminates one side of your face, the other cast in shadow. Crossed arms, stiff posture your entire vibe screams ‘fuck off’ yet here you are.

Steve didn’t even realize a rager at Lover’s Lake would be your scene, but then again, where Eddie goes you tend to follow and vice versa. A lot like him and Robin in that respect. Still, it’s a nice surprise to see you there, lip worried between your teeth.

He wishes you wouldn’t do that, has half a mind to pull it from your glorious maw himself. Steve shivers and blinks owlishly at the thought.

“Thanks for uh…” He worries his thumb at the nape of his neck, searching for the words.

“Don’t mention it.” You say, incisors gleaming in the firelight.

Steve swallows, audibly. Blood rushing straight down at the sight of your pretty face, lips flushed, and eyes bright. God, he really shouldn’t have worn the Levi’s tonight— there’s no fucking give in these things.

He coughs and catches sight of Robin’s smirk. As you look back toward the crowd, she takes the opportunity to waggle her brows mischievously. Steve’s about to mouth something like ‘fuck off’ back to her when you turn back toward them.

“Robin!”

She turns and waves at Vickie who has two solo cups in her possession. Her eyes light up at the sight of the redhead, and it’s fairly obvious what’s about to transpire when you clear your throat to say:

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Buckley.”

“You sure?” She looks to Steve, questioning.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

You snort, “Right, sure.”

Robin’s pointy elbow lands in a patch of soft tissue on his side, just between his ribs. “That’s so nice of you!” She says brightly, “Isn’t that nice, Steve?”

“Uh huh, nice.”

“Be good,” She calls over her shoulder and melting back into the crowd.

An awkward beat of silence passes between you. Steve toes at the pine needles riddling the forest floor and grumbles, “I really don’t need a babysitter.”

“Well,” You say with a casual shrug. “I don’t see any babies that need sitting on at present so.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Mmm, clever.”

“I try.”

Joining him, you let your back rest against the oak tree, posture much more relaxed than when you first arrived. He can feel your breath as you exhale, the puffs of air brushing against his arm.

It’s a welcome distraction.

Because, let’s be honest, it’s not as if Steve really knows you. He remembers you, fleetingly, from the halls of Hawkins High— you and Eddie, bundles of frenetic energy careening from class to class. Loud, boisterous, and with an ever-present smile.

He remembers once overhearing the tail end of a conversation between you and Higgins about your “less than satisfactory” attendance. He’d been in the office with a doctor’s note or something, bargaining with the attendance clerk.

Higgins has his usual disdain written across his face, the stern line of his lips and arms crossed against his chest. You, however, were less than concerned. You shrugged on your backpack and left his office with a sarcastic salute.

“Aye, aye, cap’n!”

“Chief Hopper will be hearing about this, young lady!”

You turn, incredulous, “Oh," You lob back at him with mock sincerity, "Rest assured, sir, I’m shaking in my boots.”

And before Higgins can go postal on your ass, you dart past Steve and out of the office doors with a swiftness he could only envy.

So, yeah.

Steve and you had exchanged a grand total of maybe a dozen words the entire time you’d known one another. It’s not exactly a ringing endorsement for making any overtures of friendship.

Besides, you’re Eddie’s girl.

Everyone knows that, what with the way you’re attached at the hip most of the time. Your wardrobes are so intermingled by now, that Steve would bet good money you’d be hard-pressed to find a shirt that Eddie hadn’t wormed his way into.

He sighs, it’s better left alone.

Steve figures Robin will hitch a ride with Vickie or some band nerds whenever she’s ready to go and pulls his set of keys from his pocket. Before he realizes it, you’ve snatched the keys from his hand.

“What the—”

“Looks like I’m your chauffeur for this evening, Harrington.” Your tone brokers no room for argument as you twirl them in warm yellow light. “Where to?”

He trails after you, and your strides, oddly, rival his own.

“I really am fine,” Steve points out. “Seriously!”

You round the car and slide the key into the lock on the door, flicking your wrist to unlock the front cab. One hand catches the window of the door, resting casually as you wait him out.

“Sorry man,” You offer a non-apology with a shrug. “I’m not in the habit of distressed damsels driving themselves home.”

Steve colors at that, can feel the heat radiating from the tips of his ears.

“‘M not a damsel.”

“Really?” You drawl as you slide into the driver’s seat and slot the key into the ignition. “You nearly passed out a party, princess.”

And oh, hearing you say that should be illegal with the way it has his traitorous blood flowing due south.

He petulantly joins you in the car, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

“If that’s not damsel behavior, then I dunno what is.”

The car roars to life, stereo playing a tinny version of “West End Girls” by the Pet Shop Boys as you navigate out of the makeshift parking lot. The sounds of the party fall by the wayside as you pull onto the country road that’ll lead back into town.

Steve resigns himself to his fate and lets his head fall back against the seat.

It’s dark on the outskirts of town, no street lights until you’ve passed the Millers' farm and enter into Hawkins proper.

Your fingers drum absentmindedly against the steering wheel as you drive, the chipped nail polish of your fingertips barely visible in the dim light.

And you’re not… unattractive. You’d just never really crossed Steve’s radar until recently, but that’s probably more to do his own headassery than anything else. You weren’t really his usual type— all closed off with stiff posture spliced and the chaotic stylings that come with being around one Eddie Munson.

Like a shower where you had to move the taps just so for the perfect temperature; sometimes you’re too hot, then in other moments too cold.

Steve could never really get a handle on that, how your demeanor could change in the blink of an eye. There was something more appealing about looking at someone like, say Chrissy Cunningham with her bubbly personality and kind eyes, than catching you in a mood, which can feel something akin to a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He can’t be bothered to make heads or tails of it as you roll back into town, the streetlights flickering through the windows of the car.

It’s there in an instant and gone in the next, and he’s positively sure that this isn’t some trick of the light.

Your eyes shift from their local color to something otherworldly, and he wouldn’t have caught it if not for the streetlight from the next house over.

“What?” Your tone is light, curious and absolutely nothing to be frightened of.

But watching as they shift again, from that luminous phosphorescence back to your normal eye color. It does something to him.

He slams the passenger door shut a little too forcefully and a bit too quickly. You raise your eyebrows at him over the roof of the car, tossing him the keys.

“You okay there, Harrington?”

He clears his throat and smiles outwardly.

“Yeah, totally.”

Because what is he supposed to say?

Actually no, I’m not fine because your eyes just like, changed in front of me? That’s not something that just happens, right? And how did you find me so quickly back at the bonfire— I couldn’t see you anywhere near me. Why is it that you smell so good, kinda how it smells outside after a rainstorm? And why is every instinct telling me to run?

“If you say so,” You nod and step silently from his drive, pink tongue gliding against a pronounced canine with a predatory glint in your eye.

Internally, Steve is both screaming and oddly turned on.

None of which, by the way, goes to explain why it is exactly that Steve is wandering the woods alone on the next full moon.

What could have possibly compelled him from the relative safety of his warm bed and into the cool spring night?

You, unfortunately enough.

It’s all your fault.

Because in an attempt to explain away the bruises braceleting your wrist to Robin, of all people (another go round with the new chains and repaired drywall in preparation for the full moon that weekend), you had settled on the completely rational response of:

“Oh, I sleepwalk sometimes.”

Her blue eyes blow wide, “Like, alone, at night?”

You nod and try to focus on the equations on the chalkboard as Mrs. G. drones on about something or other.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie chimes in from behind you, “Should put a bell on her or somethin’.” And his smile is that annoying one you’d like to smack off of his face, “Like a cat.”

And that was that.

Or, rather, that should have been that.

But Eddie and you were none the wiser as Robin relayed all of this plus the goings on of the band kids to Steve as he picked her up for work that evening.

“Yeesh,” He says, pulling into his spot behind Family Video.

“Yeah,” Robin says stepping out of the car. “And she was so normal about it. Like rambling around at all hours of the night completely unaware of your surroundings is a perfectly fine thing to do!”

Steve locks the car and follows her through the employee entrance to the store. He twirls his keys absently, trying to remember if he noticed any bruises on you at the bonfire last month.

She chats with Keith as he clocks out for the night, and shucks her bag on the sagging couch against the wall.

“What if they’re like, wolves out there Steve?”

So, yeah. In the end, he really has no choice about it.

Because there is definitely something out there.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #fic: itws #werewolf!reader

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