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lucciolaaaa · 7 months

Text

Silent treatment

Pairing: Theodore Nott x reader

Author's note: Hiii! This is the first ever fic I've written and English isn't my first language so be warned :)

Summary: Theo and you have been best friends since you could remember until he randomly starts ignoring you, maybe he just needs to work on his communication skills.

Warnings: Very small amount of swearing, kissing (but not graphic at all), I guess angst with happy ending, friends to lovers, probably grammar and spelling mistakes sorryyy, reader is implied Slytherin and pureblood

Theodore Nott was a man of few words. Even when he was with his friends he mostly listened to his rowdier counterparts, never feeling the need to be the center of attention in any way.

No one was surprised when he sat on the train on the first day of fifth year and didn’t say much, just a quick greeting and some strange sounds only his friends understood when they asked him something. It wasn’t weird to them, but it was weird when you sat down beside him and he barely even looked at you.

You and Theodore (or Teddy as you called him) have been close since you could remember. Your families being close always meant you were at the same boring events that he was obligated to attend. Ever since you were five years old and you bumped into each other on the balcony at some tedious christmas dinner you had been inseparable, it was hard to find one of you without seeing the other. When you turned 12 your parents had started to tease you, claiming there was love in the air and promising the pair would wind up together at some point. You would always look at each other and laugh every time someone mentioned this, how could you ever be in love with your best friend?

You hugged the boy expecting something in return, but you were disappointed when he barely even moved. You felt your heart break a little bit but chose to ignore it, maybe he was just tired or something. Even if he didn’t hug you there was no reason to ignore him.

“How was the party yesterday? Sorry I couldn’t go, my mom wouldn’t let me until I finished packing my bag and you know how long that takes me” you said with a giggle. Theo looked at you and gave a thumbs up and a tight lipped smile. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had given the answer to anyone else but he was never like that with you, all of your friends were surprised, looking at you expecting a better answer while Theo turned towards the window. You decided to turn and talk to Pansy, if Theo doesn’t want to talk why would you make a one-sided effort?

It had been two weeks since fifth year started and Theo still wasn’t talking to you. You were extremely hurt, you had been fine, you hadn’t had a fight, you’re wondering if you did something wrong but can’t remember anything, no one understands his sudden change towards you. Pansy was mad at him, she had spent a lot of time talking to you and comforting you at night. Mattheo has asked Theo multiple times what his problem is but he wouldn’t give a straight answer.

You thought your friendship was over, your dearest friend was ignoring you and it hurt, it hurt more than anything. You had given up hope, tired of giving and not receiving. You were sat at your desk finishing some potions homework when an owl flew through your window and dropped a note on your desk. You were surprised not expecting anything at this hour of the night.

When you opened the not you were surprised, you could clearly tell it was Theo’s handwriting. ‘Meet me at the astronomy tower’ the note read. You quickly put on your shoes, willing to be caught by Filch it didn’t matter at the moment. You told Pansy you were leaving and then quickly left your room.

You rushed to the astronomy tower, you were out of breath with how fast you were running up the stairs and the three times you almost tripped on your way here.

“Did you run a marathon on your way here” Theo snickered after seeing he state you were in.

You resisted the small smile that wanted to break out on your face after hearing him joke like that again. “I’m not in the mood for jokes Theodore” you managed to say with a straight face even shocking yourself by using his full name.

“Wow, are we back to full name?” He tried to joke again, but after seeing your face he stopped “Sorry, no more jokes”

You looked him directly in the eyes, fighting back tears that you couldn’t tell if they came from hurt or anger. “I’m glad you’re done ignoring me but what do you want”

Theo looked a bit shocked at how serious you were but understood why you were acting like that “Look I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you” he said while walking closer to you.

“Sorry isnt really enough Theo, you’ve ignored me for two weeks without any reason” the tears you were trying to hold back were threatening to spill “Did I do something wrong?”

“No no no, you didn’t do anything wrong” Theo quickly responded, feeling guilty he was the one making you feel like that, he was used to comforting you instead. “I promise you did absolutely nothing wrong, its just me” after a pause he added “I don’t really have any reason to give you, I’m just terrible at expressing what I feel, I’m really sorry” his eyes bouncing around the room while he talked, not being able to make eye contact.

“What do you mean? Talk to me, I’m supposed to be your best friend not someone you ignore” Your voice cracking at the end.

Theo looked at you opening his mouth a few times but never finding the right word to start with. “I don’t want to be your best friend anymore, I can’t handle just being that” he looked at you and your confused expression “I want to be more, I really like you and I have for a while. I can’t stand when you talk to me about another guy because I need you to be mine. I preferred ignoring you than feeling the pain on not being enough for you” he said quietly finding your glossy eyes at the end.

“Theo you are so fucking dumb” you scoffed while he looked at the floor “How could you ignore me just because you like me, huh? You should have talked to me, I know its hard for you sometimes and I don’t blame you but you can’t just run away because you assume I don’t like you back when I clearly do”

“You like me back?” he looked back up at you with a smile

“Is that really he only thing you took out from what I said?” you said with a laugh, that beautiful laugh that Theo had missed for a while now. “You have selective hearing don’t you?” You asked while closing the space between you and looking into his eyes. “I really do like you Teddy, but you have to promise you’ll talk to me from now on, I will not stand being ignored, I’m here for you for whatever you need”

“Yeah, I know” his hands moved automatically, one hand towards your cheek and the other behind your neck “But I really do mean it, I want you to be mine”

You just smiled and leaned in connecting your lips your hands wrapping around his shoulders “I guess I can be yours Nott” you whispered before going back in for your well deserved kiss.

Maybe Theodore Nott was quiet and it was hard for him to express his emotions but in the end your parent were right, you would find your way to each other no matter the circumstances and hardships.

#theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott fic #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott fic

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pedge-page · 1 month

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I really love and laugh over your Joel and Preggo. I was wondering about Joel and his mother-in-law. How does Preggo get along with her mother? Maybe mother-in-law who lives out of town comes for a quick visit ? I leave to you what the dynamics or what directions “the mother-in-law” could be!

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Mother-in-Law

^some inspo photos of Pedro with friend or his family. Momma is touchy but it's nonsexual. He's just eating it up.

Warnings: angry sex turns soft, brief oral F receiving, getting caught (not sexy), favoritism war

18+ ONLY

- - - -

You remember when your parents used to hate Joel. From the moment you announced your engagement, they frowned. Why not someone who has a more stable job? Went to college? Doesn't have white in his beard already in his 30s?

But when you refused to back down, they begrudgingly put up with him. And he went above and beyond to impress them. Gifts, kind gestures, helping around their house and treating them to nice dinners.

But oh boy, the SECOND your Facebook friends let it slip that you were expecting, your parents flipped on a dime.

Joel was now their favorite child.

And your mom was—

“I hope she makes that famous apple pie of-hers,” Joel says, a bounce in his voice as the two of you drive to your Mom’s house for the weekend.

Your upper lip gets caught on your teeth as you scowl at his more-than-she-deserves giddy smile. “What about my apple pie?”

“You don’t make apple pie.”

True. "Well. If I did..."

“—Then it would be the best.”

“You’re just saying that because I expect you to. You probably would hate it.”

Joel opens his mouth but hesitates for a moment. “I don’t know how you want me to respond here. We’re talking about a fictional pie you’ve never made.”

Grrr fuck this man and his logic.

He tries to alleviate the subject—maybe you wanted to give baking HIM an apple pie a go? ”She did buy me that Kitchen-aide mixer..."

You shake your head. Not this again… “No, she bought it for me!"

"It was my Christmas gift she gave me.”

"Why would she get you a NICE kitchen aide thousand dollar mixer, when you don't even BAKE??? PLUS I'm her actual DAUGHTER??"

Joel just shrugs. It pains you but you will never admit it's most likely true. Your mom bought it for HIM and you got breast pumps and a barf blanket. She used to get you the over the top nice things, and Joel would get socks. But now…

Your mom always loved you, probably a bit more than most. Sometimes it was overbearing, but that’s how she is. She’s nurturing, caring, always cooking and taking care of everyone, running a million miles a minute yet still having time to tell you everything is going to be ok after you stubbed your toe and cried about a broken nail.

Though, she also expected to be treated like royalty by Dad. Momma knew her worth, knew her value to the family and Dad would grovel if he didn’t give her exactly what she wanted the moment she wanted it.

You’re glad that Joel doesn’t have to deal with a nagging wife who needs to tend to her ridiculous wants and emotional turmoil whenever it falls over less he be beheaded for his insolence.

You narrow your eyes at your bopping himbo Joel now, completely unaware of your thoughts as he jams to the radio.

What a lucky guy he is.

When you pull up outside the old ranch home, Joel hops out and smells the air like it’s the Bahamas.

He helps you down from the passenger side of the truck before you both jump at the sound of your Mom screeching from the porch.

“JOOOOOEEEELLLYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”

His eyes crinkle in a warm smile as the little yet fiery woman you call Mom comes rushing towards you two like a marathon speed walker, pumping her arms at a whopping 1 mile per hour.

He opens his arms and as your mother wraps herself in his embrace. “Hey you!”

“Oooooh! Ohhh you’re so thin!”

You raise your eyebrow. Joel’s no heavy weight champion, but he’s got a dad bod ready to rival any of the neighbors—a body that you LOVE more than anything else as it is.

Finally seeing you behind him, she shoves Joel aside and wraps you up in his warm hug. “MY BABYGIRL!!!!”

That’s right, let’s remember the pregnant one here please!

Your mom is the same height as you, but that doesn’t stop her from getting on her tip toes to kiss your forehead like she always did since the day you were born. She marvels at the size of your belly, filled with excitement and wonder and familiarity. “Oh my gosh look how much you’ve grown already, are you sure it’s not twins??? I have twins on my uncle’s side so its entirely possible—oh my gosh you’re so—“

Please don’t say fat please don’t say fat…

“SKINNY! JOEL! Have you not been feeding her????”

You snicker and throw your arm around her shoulders. “That’s what I’VE been saying. Momma, he’s been limiting snack time.”

Joel rolls his eyes. The two of you ganging up on him wasn’t in the cards just 5 seconds ago when he was sweet Joely.

“My poor starving baby starving my baby’s baby!” she muses, forces Joel to bend at the knee for her fat wet kiss on his scruffy cheek before rubbing her kisses into your head on the other side.

“Come, come in! I’ve made—“

“Pie?” Joel pipes up, his eyes tilted eagerly towards the overly touchy woman suffocating you both.

You roll your eyes, already smelling the apple and cinnamon in the air. Of COURSE she would make his favorite pie. She runs inside to set the table.

Joel starts unpacking the truck but you cross your arms and tap your foot.

“What?”

He towers over you with a duffel slumped over his shoulder. “—Not that shit."

“I'm just saying, she’s nice to you all the sudden. It’s weird—“

“Don’t start.” He interrupts, slamming the trunk with a startling bang. Those biceps look fucking delicious rippling under his tight tight shirt— "Just want her to think I'm good for ya. Not tryin' to replace you."

You scoff him, as if anyone else could pull a man like that except you.

But Joel can still feel that tension radiating off you, knowing you won’t truly acknowledge what’s bothering you until it blows into something ridiculous.

“Jooeellyyyy?” your mother shouts from the kitchen window.

“JoElLeY” you mimic with annoyance. “I used to be the only one with cute nicknames, ya know. You used to just be ‘J guy-my-daughter-is-dating’. And that even AFTER we got married.”

He chuckles before giving you a peck on the lips and guiding your waddling self inside. Joel doesn’t want you thinking that he would ever choose your mom over you, of course not!

Just, for the now, being on her favorable side was something he had been working towards for years. You would just have to put up with her lipstick stains on his cheek and endless praise from his mouth of her fabulous cooking for this the weekend.

Your mom zips around the kitchen, going off about the new nail salon down the road, the garden beds that can’t keep the chipmunks away, and how your old ultrasounds to compare baby sizes.

Joel watches the way she waddles. It’s EXACTLY as you do, and he starts to think maybe it’s not the pregnancy that is giving you such a signature walk. You both sit down at the table together and sigh, biting into a cookie and making a nasty face before putting it back on the tray.

Oh.

Oh wow.

Joel has to hide his smirk. You claimed so often how you were NOTHING like your mom. Your mom was pushy, demanding, filled to the brim with extra energy that would come out of no where—ironically all the things that defined you but obviously was not obvious to his wife yet.

Maybe it’s the slight difference between you two is exactly how Joel can relate to Momma—showing love through acts service. Your mom is constantly working around the kitchen, cleaning, cooking, and it has nothing to do with expectations. He can see the little smile on her face, the skip in her step—she loves taking care of her people. She likes that you whine because only she can make your favorite coffee cake the exact way you like it. That you credit your own excellent laundry folding skills thanks to her methods that prevent wrinkles without ironing. How she always had the BEST soups for when you’re sick as if they cured like medicine itself, even if its just poured from a can—its done so with love.

There’s a unique bond between mother and daughter that Joel gets to witness. It’s not self serving either. There’s a sense of personal gratitude in being able to care for someone that makes their world worth living in.

Other times you can be a total bitch but honestly? That’s just pregnancy talk.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it? Grandmother’s just know these things—“

“Mom, I called you a few weeks ago and told you it was a girl. You didn’t just guess—“

“Just as you had predicted!” Joel jumps in. “Grandmother’s intuition is a real thing, and this sweet }Cookie’s got it.” He winks towards her and sips the lovely tea she had made him.

Your mom begins to favor his conversation over yours. “And names…?” She asks expectedly.

“We’re—“

“Yours is definitely in the mix!” Joel boasts.

She clasps her hands together, not seeing the deathstare you were giving him. Momma’s name was only in the mix for MIDDLE names, not firsts. You both had agreed you wanted your baby to have her own unique first that belonged to just her.

He ignores you for now, hoping you can see the ‘please forgive me’, in his pupils as your mom goes to hug and kiss his messy hair like a bird feeding its young in the nest.

You clear your throat, eager to get her hands off your man and back on to the one actually giving her the grandbaby. “I think it’s time we settle down in our room. Right Momma?”

“Oh, you know your way up, I wanted to show Joel some of my new kitchenware—I just couldn’t decide what to buy so I got everything, knowing you’d be by this weekend! Come on, you can pick the ones you like.”

She grasps his hand and guides him, side to side with her piddled feet, into the next room and leaving you alone.

The blunt edges of your chewed up nails dig into Joel’s meaty chest. there are wrinkles in your forehead from how tightly concentrated you are at riding back and forth on his cock, your belly dragging along his and hips slamming down aggressively as you ride him with the pent up fury of the day.

Joel’s got a mix of emotions: your tight pussy sucking him in, kissing your cervix with each swallow, deep and delicious in that tight heat, plus the sheer feel and sight of you so pregnant yet fucking him so furiously while he lies back and takes it all in, trying not to cum too soon—but also knowing you’re more angry than you are thinking about the sex you’re having, and you’re going to injure yourself by all this energy not driving you anywhere closer to an orgasm, and he knows he has to works out the knot in your brain before you can let the knot in your tummy snap.

“Why are you so upset?” He asks as his head rubs up along the pillow from each bounce of your body atop him.

“M—m not—upset,” you stammer, your fingers gripping his flesh even harder and slamming yourself down on his cock like you want to hurt it.

You’re sweating, visibly aggravated and probably in pain but refuse to quit.

Maybe you need this, but as he glances down at your bulging pregnant belly that is also being shaken up like a martini, he decides that his unborn baby doesn’t need brain damage too from your furious fucking.

Joel’s hands glide up along your flexed arms until he’s cupping your cheeks gently, wiping the tear that is building along your eyelashes. You slow your pace until you’re just sitting on top, impaled on his cock and letting out an exhausted huff.

“So why are you upset?” He asks calmly.

“You’re MY husband,” you say, and though your voice is full of confidence at the statement, it quivers just a bit at the end.

Joel knew you would be pent up. That your mom was too touchy with him, and in his good faith to keep her good favor, he leaned in and let her butter him up, gave her the attention and kisses and hugs she asked for, and now its getting to you, and you’re jealous of your own mother—

“--and I’m HER daughter. But now she’s acting like you’re her favorite child too, even though I’m the one giving the grandbaby here, I used to be her favorite kid! Just me! I used to be the one BEGGGING her to give ya a chance but now suddenly she’s also loving you, out of the fucking BLUE, like you’re all special when IT SHOULD JUST BE ME—.”

He blinks for a second, and you squeeze your walls around him as if signaling you’ll cut it off if he dare try to act confused.

“Wait, are you jealous… of me?”

Your eyes drift away, just in time for Joel to have the worst fucking reaction by chuckling so hard that the two of you are rolling over to your side.

He wipes his reddened face and calms his breathing so he can talk.

“That why you’re fuckin’ me like you wanna break me?”

Maybe you did want to make a point to anyone who might be in the house about the hierarchy over who’s got right’s to loving Joel…specifically, to make that clear TO Joel himself.

He scootches as close as he can, despite the big baby between your middles, and rubs his nose along yours, his palm brushing your cheek and centering your focus entirely on him.

“I’d shoot myself if I had to spend more than just this weekend with your mom. She’s nice, but I couldn’t EVER stand around bein’ pinched in the cheeks like that. Always doting on my ass all day, tryin’ to service me and make me feel like a spoiled porcelain doll that needed nurturin’ like a baby 24/7. I’d feel like a useless fuck. I think she n’ I are kinda alike in that. Wantin’ to take care of what’s ours.”

You snort in the boogers pooling in your nostrils.

“Look, It’s nice gettin’ praise, THAT you could give me more of.”

“I don’t wanna talk about my mom when you’re inside me.”

“Then lets talk about you being a momma while I’m inside you.”

“Yeah… but I liked being the only one she adored. Now I gotta share?? With you????”

You nod shyly but agree. “I do appreciate you. I’ll try better to show it.”

“Nah, don’t want you to change. N’ I need you to listen to this because I know you’re gonna leave some details out intentionally when you go tattlin’ to Maria—but being pregnant with you has been the best adventure we’ve been on so far. You keep me on my toes and keep life interesting. I like the smile on your face when I give ya something only I can give. The dance you do when you get your little cookie dough milkshake thing, and the pout you make when I tell ya no, and you get all cute on me and do some ridiculous shit that I can’t deny you anymore cuz fuck, I want you happy sooo bad, and I wanna be the one that does it. YOU make me feel special.”

He smiles, stroking the hair away from your eyes. “Think of it this way: when did she suddenly start showin’ me some special treatment? When I put a baby in your belly. That’s it. She’s happy to be getting a grand kid, and she knows I’m officially stuck with you so might as well get used to it. I’m here to stay. “Ya spent so long tryin’ to get her to like me. She does now. Job well done! You don’t have to stress anymore. No need to get all greedy, baby though I know that’s just your thing,” he teases, rubbing his knee along your thighs to part them again.

You furl your lower lip out in a childish pout. “I think the baby is making me possessive over my belongings.”

“Oh? I’m a belonging now?” He wiggles his eyes brows. Slightly more relaxed, he takes advantage and smoothes his palm down your arm, behind your waist to squeeze your ass.

He’s about to pull you in for a victory kiss when your eyes shoot open.

“Wait… am I… the useless spoiled porcelain doll that needs nurturing 24/7 that you have to dote on all day??????”

“No! No you’re not useless!”

He’s offering a sweet smile, rubbing your shoulder with encouragement as a pregnant pause fills the air.

“…you got anything else you wanna deny in that or just that one part.”

He licks his lips before flipping you on your back and sliding down between your legs.

“You know what the BEST pie is?”

T h e o n e b e t w e e n m y l e g s, you mouth out into the air, your belly conveniently keeping your lips out of frame as Joel spread your pussy and blows cool air on your nub.

“S’the one between your legs,” he whispers sensually against your thigh, nipping it and growling before dragging the tip of his nose through your slit, inhaling your scent.

You smile and cover your face with both hands. He’s cheesy, but he’s a keeper.

and maybe, just maybe, worth sharing the love with.

The love that is quickly about to be snuffed out for the both of you as your mom opens the door and begins asking "Joel did you want the red one or the blue--AH!"

Joel and you both frantically cover your lower half, his head accidetanlly bumping into your belly at the same you to strain your back trying to sit up.

"MOM, SERIOUSLY!?"

she slams the door closed but calls out through the wood: "Oh that is NOT appropriate for the baby!" before stammering away.

Joel just chuckles into your breasts. "How does she think I got the baby in you?"

You shake your head and smack him, trying to feel more ashamed then amused right now.

- - - -

More Momma in Law and Sarah

Taglist:

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469 notes · View notes

widowmaxff · 3 months

Note

if you wanted to, could you please write an angsty oneshot of moms!wandanat and reader where they get into a a bad argument which results in reader running away to yelena’s? ending could be happy or sad- up to you overall!

proud

pairings: parents!wandanat × daughter!reader | yelena × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, argument, crying, insecure reader (?), happy ending!, steve × reader (platonic) at some time of the one shot, bad writing

a/n: i finished this crying because a cockroach attacked me, so thats why the ending was kind of bad writing sorry :P anddd tysm for your request <333 i loved writing this

You were never sure when it started, but it was probably a long time ago. When you learned that having parents who fought the super villains in the world wasn't normal, you realized that your life wouldn't be normal either. But even though you liked seeing your mother training with her red powers or running and being able to do whatever you wanted through the great corridors of the Compound, you still missed having a 'normal' life.

Being able to go out on the street without worrying about some evil man who hates one of your mothers kidnapping you or even being able to make friends at school without them being people who just wanted to meet your uncles, were things you wanted so much to experience. But that wasn't the only thing that made you feel bad in your daily life, having mothers who were superheroes also made you barely see them in weeks.

Even though most people your age didn't want anything to do with their parents anymore, you still missed the comforting and long hugs, the nights you had a marathon of your favorite movies and even when you still had dinner together as a family. But now, either they were too busy with work, like missions and paperwork, or they just didn't want to deal with a teenager.

And even then you tried to get their attention in some way. "Mom?" You knock softly on Natasha's office door, hearing a quiet response for you to enter. "Can you help me study for my test of the next week? I really don't understand this." You chuckle seeing your mother's eyes continue on the papers on her desk.

"Can't you look up the answer on the Internet or something? I'm really busy here, Y/n/n." You knew that Natasha would dismiss you somehow, but deep down you still hoped that she would look at you.

"Yes, but- I wanted to understand how to solve it and not just research it." You whisper, watching your mother write something down in the corner of the paper.

"Wanda can help you." She says, her eyes unable to take the words from her face for even a minute.

"Okay- um, thanks anyway, Mom." You only hear a mumble under her breath, making you wonder if there was something wrong with you. You close the office door with a little less hope this time. Your other mother was always a step ahead than Natasha in terms of emotional comfort, so maybe she would help you in your task by remembering your daily difficulties with that kind of thing. "Mama?"

"Yes?" Your mother murmurs, you barely listening. Wanda was sitting on the sofa at the Compound while devouring herself with a book in her hands.

"Can you help me study for my test of the next week, please?" You sit next to her while Wanda flips through another white page of the big book.

"Now?"

"Yeah. If it's possible."

"Can I help you...tomorrow?" Wanda finally looks at you from above her book. "Today is my only day off from the week's missions and paperwork and I'm really tired right now, my love." Your eyes fall to your hands in your lap, it was obvious that deep down you knew she was going to promise you something and maybe she would deliver. But by the time the next day passed, and then the next, and then the next... and Wanda didn't talk to you about it, you knew she wasn't going to help you.

And when you felt your head hurt just looking at that big red note in the corner of your test, you knew your mothers' wouldn't react so well to it. Maybe before they started spending time apart from you, they wouldn't get mad or anything like that because of your grade, but now you were sure that wasn't what would happen.

Stirring your fork on the plate still full of food, you go over the things you would say to your mothers' about your school grade. You travel between words and don't even notice when someone enters your field of vision. "Is everything okay, Kid?" It was your Uncle Steve. He sits in front of you watching you think about what to say to him.

"Yeah, it's just...school stuff."

"Is someone picking on you?" You knew that Steve almost saw you as a daughter, and you also knew that he was aware of how your mothers would rather be busy than deal with a teenage girl going through puberty, and that maybe now is the time when you needs them the most.

"Not like before, but that's not it." You leave your fork on your plate before sighing deeply. "I just got my test and I didn't get a very good grade," Murmuring you hold back the tears that sting your eyes. "now I don't know how I'm going to tell my mothers this."

Steve sighs. "I'm sure they won't fight with you, Y/n/n. Your mothers' will understand what happened and a grade doesn't define who you are, okay?" Your uncle didn't have much certainty in his voice but you tried to believe him anyway. You nod and put a small smile on your face, as a gesture of thanks.

Steve ruffles your hair, getting up from the chair when he hears the loud and unmistakable footsteps of your mothers' approaching you. He sends you a smile to try to reassure you that everything will work out, and with each step closer to you, your heart starts to accelerate. Your mothers' had a neutral expression, even if Natasha seemed angrier. "Aren't you going to eat?" Wanda asks, walking past you and heading towards one of the closets.

Completely ignoring the question, you take a deep breath and swallow hard. "I received the grade for that test in which I asked you to help me study." You mutter as you saw your mothers still facing away from you. "I got a D." Your voice was low, but even so, the two stopped what they were doing and looked into the depths of your soul.

"You got what?" Natasha seemed to finally understand that you were there. Her arms crossed as she walked towards you.

"I-I asked for help and-"

"Now you're trying to get out of this by blaming us for not helping you?" Wanda cuts you off making your eyes focus on her.

"I'm just saying- I tried, okay?!" It could be said that you got anger issues from your mom genes, or that you were just overwhelmed and your patience was running out. And when your tone of voice increased, you knew Natasha's anger would increase as well.

"Hey, don't talk to your mother like that!" Natasha slams her fist on the table in front of you, making you almost jump out of your seat.

"Well, you shouldn't be talking to me like that either." You didn't know where so much courage came from to fight back against your mother, but when you realized it, the damage had already begun.

"I'm your fucking mother, I talk to you however I want!" Natasha had never made you feel as scared as you did now, but it seemed like now that the words started to come out, they wouldn't stop.

"Ah, you haven't even been acting like a mother these past few months. Hypocrisy, huh?" When you finished speaking, you saw Wanda's eyes want to turn red like her hair. She approached the two of you quickly with the angriest expression you had ever seen.

"What's your problem, Y/n?!"

"My problem?" You get up from the chair and cross your arms, anyone who saw you in that position would notice the similarities in anger between you and Natasha. "You tell me! I'm not the person who would rather spend time anywhere else than with her own daughter. I'm not the one who forgets that she still has a daughter to raise!"

You screamed so loud that you were sure the entire Compound could hear that argument and that they could probably feel the tension in that environment from afar. If you were in a cartoon, you could see smoke coming out of Natasha's head and definitely Wanda's eyes catching fire. "You're being so selfish right now, Y/n."

"Am I?"

"Yes, you are! Just because your mother and I work all day to give you a better life, you think that we don't pay attention to you?" You had never seen Wanda like that, screaming and looking like she could kill anyone who came in front of her.

"Ah, yeah. Because last week when you weren't working you preferred to spend the whole day with Peter than with me just because he got a good grade!"

"Yes, because he always made us so proud by passing all the tests he had, unlike you!" Natasha spits the words out of her mouth without even thinking about what she was saying. And when they passed your ears you could feel your heart breaking.

Hearing that your mothers were more proud of a teenager who worked with them than they were of you made you feel like a gunshot was slowly passing through your chest. Natasha and Wanda knew how insecure you felt in your daily life, mainly due to academic validation, and now it seemed like all those days they had to spend helping you feel better about yourself were going down the drain.

Natasha sighs deeply when she sees your eyes widen, holding back tears that would fall at any moment. Wanda didn't seem any different when she heard the same words coming out of her wife's mouth. She never imagined that an argument of that size would ever happen between you, and Wanda could have sworn that she felt her heart stop beating out of disgust at the thought of how bad you must be feeling right now. "Y/n, I didn't mean-"

"It's okay." You murmur, uncrossing your arms. Two tears fall from your eyes and you make sure to wipe them away quickly. Your eyes were anywhere but on your mothers, because you felt so disgusting knowing that they were more proud of Peter than they were of you, that you couldn't even look at them.

Neither Wanda nor Natasha say anything when you turn and start walking out of the kitchen. You seemed to be walking automatically, your eyes blurry and your mind foggy, just going through your mother's words, over and over. But when you realize it, you're already outside the Compound, a few blocks away. You remember only one person who could help you outside of that place, and who wouldn't mind if you showed up suddenly.

And that's how you found yourself in front of Yelena's apartment, your aunt. She had found a place to live close to Natasha's house when she reconnected with her years ago, and especially when she discovered that she had a daughter, you. "Y/n?" Yelena seemed confused to see you there, with your face soaked and red, looking like an abandoned puppy. "Hey, what's wrong?" She didn't take long to have you in her arms.

"M-Mom and Mama h-hate me." You finally managed to murmur after some time sitting on the sofa in the apartment with Yelena stroking your hair and saying affectionate words.

Anyone who saw her doing this wouldn't believe it. Yelena wasn't the type of person for physical touches and especially sweet words, but when the subject was you, she became another person. "Why do you say that? They love you more than anything, Y/n/n."

"No, they don't."

Yelena had never seen you like this, not when you cried for days when you saw your favorite character dying, not when your mothers had to leave for a long mission. It was strange to see you crying almost as if there was no air in your lungs, your aunt wondered what happened to make it look like you had a bullet in your body and you were begging her to take it out. So, when you fell asleep crying on the couch, Yelena didn't wait a minute to call Natasha and insult her in every way possible. "What the fuck did you do?"

"What?"

"Y/n showed up at my door, I've never seen her crying as much as she does now." Yelena looks at you from the apartment's kitchen, you were curled up on the sofa with a blanket covering your body.

"Are you with her? Wanda and I were looking for her throughout the entire Compound." Natasha seemed to be relieved on the other end of the call, but even so her voice still sounded apprehensive about what had happened. "We're going to your apartment, I'll answer your question when we get there."

"You better!"

[...]

"She's sleeping on the couch." Yelena says when she sees Wanda and Natasha's eyes follow behind her, trying to find you. Yelena noticed Wanda's red eyes, not as if she wanted to cast circles of magic through her hands, but as if she had cried before arriving at the apartment. Your aunt knew that Wanda was sensitive, especially when it came to the topic of you and that you probably inherited that from her too, but for you two to cry so much like that, something really happened.

"Tell me what happened before you look at my niece again." Yelena has always been very protective of you, for example the time two girls made you the target of jokes in your school, and your aunt didn't wait a second to go to each of their houses and have a word with them.

"I better show you." Wanda says getting closer to Yelena, moving her fingers that came out red magic towards her mind - Steve messing up your hair, Wanda opening cabinets, red grade, Natasha screaming, you screaming, not being a mother, Wanda screaming, Peter being mentioned, not proud, disgusting feeling, you crying, you leaving the kitchen.

"Jesus." Yelena sighs deeply, running her hands over her face. "I really don't know how you're going to fix this, but I'll warn you: the hole is deeper than it looks."

"What- what do you mean by that?"

"Look, I'm sure you didn't want this to turn into a big snowball, but Y/n been feeling neglected for so long that after today it might take a while for things to get back to normal." Yelena says leaning on the front door frame.

"We didn't-"

"Yes, you did this to her. Today wasn't the first time she's shown up at my door in the last few months, but she's worse than the other times." Yelena crosses her arms and closes her eyes trying to calm down. "I had to listen to her talk about how you hardly talk to her on a daily basis, how you forgot to go to her presentation at school and didn't even apologize, how there were days when you forgot to pick her up and she had to walk in the rain to my apartment because it was closer, how she cried because you never had movie nights again because apparently now you have movie nights with Peter." Yelena's voice got louder with each thing she remembered you saying to her, and there were countless things. "I don't want to hear what you have to say, I want you to talk to her, apologize."

Natasha was so embarrassed to hear all those things from Yelena that she preferred to remain silent. Wanda had started to cry again, but it was silently, digesting all those things they did and didn't do to you. She had always dreamed of being a mother and now that she wasn't acting like one made her want to vomit over her own actions.

"Can we see her?" It was a stupid question coming from them, since they were your mothers and have the right to see you whenever they want. But they knew that everything was messy and bad for you because of them, so the least they had to do was respect your space.

Yelena just nods and gives Wanda and Natasha space to enter the apartment, taking light steps towards you. They bend down in front of you and see your swollen eyes and your red face with dried tears. Your mothers could cry just to see you in this state. Wanda starts to caress your face trying to make you wake up calmly, it was something she used to do when she went to your room in the morning every day to wake you up. And when you felt that you quickly knew who it was. "Mama?"

"Shh, yes it's me, my love." Wanda says with a small smile on her face when she hears your voice. You seemed lost for a few seconds but when you looked around the apartment you quickly remembered, throwing off the blanket and quickly sitting down on the couch. "Hey, it's okay."

"What are you two doing here?" You murmur, looking at your mothers' faces, who seemed sorry for everything that happened.

"We... came to talk and apologize, is that okay for you?" Natasha says, you could see in her face that she felt just as guilty as Wanda, because most of those horrible words were said by her. "Yeah, I guess." Wanda sighed in relief at your answer and felt some of the weight leave her body.

"I know that just apologies won't be enough to make you want to be around us for now, but your mother and I are completely sorry, my love. We were so stupid about leaving you aside these last few months, we didn't even realize what we were doing to you and it's really fucked up." The swear word made you laugh briefly, putting a smile on your mothers face. "And maybe you don't want to forgive us and that's definitely okay, but know that we're going to do everything we can to get things back on track, okay?"

Natasha agrees with Wanda's words and takes a deep breath before starting to speak. "We love you very, very much, sweetheart. And you are our greatest pride in our entire lives. I know you may not believe this, but you can be sure that me, your mother, your aunt and all your other uncles feel most proud of you, okay? You're our little star and our little agent."

A genuine smile appears on your face when you hear the sweet words that came out of your mothers' mouths. "First, you guys are literally the only people I want by my side and that's the only thing I've wanted these last few months. And I'm really grateful that you guys are sorry about that, even though it's probably going to be hard for things to go back to normal." They nod their heads when they hear your words in your low voice. "And I... forgive you. Not completely but until I can feel good again, but I think hearing you say sorry is a start."

"Okay, yes, that's okay." Wanda leaves a kiss on your forehead and strokes your hair affectionately. "We love you so much, dear."

"Love you too." You say, hugging the two women in front of you, finally feeling maternal affection after feeling neglected for so long and wondering what you had done wrong. Even though it took a while to get used to it all again, you were definitely happier than ever just hearing the words that they were proud of you. "Now I finally don't need to come to talk to Auntie Yelena anymore."

"Hey! I heard that!" Yelena shouts from another room in the apartment making the three of you laugh. You loved making fun of her, but even so, you will always be thankful for all the things she did for you. "Wow you're so ungrateful, Mini Romanoff."

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moralesmilesanhour · 11 months

Note

My second time writing a request foe someone rlly nervous lol

Can you do a

reader x earth 42 miles

Where reader wants to buy things for themselves but miles keeps buying stuff for them like anything we look at or love next thing Yk he’s buying it?

I rlly hope you can understand this bc im not sure if it made sense 💀

-sincerely sorry miller

Oh don't be nervous I understand perfectly fine!! (Under the cut as usual)

"See you, Carol!" You wiped the sweat forming around your hairline as you untied your apron with haste. You had taken extra shifts at the diner this week for extra spending money, and it had you counting down the days until Friday.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, the bell jingled as you pushed open the glass door with a grunt.

Right next door to the run-down diner was a small clothing shop, one of the few that managed to stay open. You had made it a habit to check the window for the mannequin that had your jeans on: A flaired, denim number that was optimal for weekend block parties.

"Come Friday, you're mine, baby." You say to yourself with a hand on the plexiglass display.

"I thought I was already yours," a familiar voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.

Miles' footsteps could almost never be heard, you swore he was a ninja in his spare time.

"Don't fuckin scare me like that!" You whined, smacking his shoulder as an amused grin spread across his lips.

He ignored your outburst and pointed towards the mannequin. "You want that?"

You gave him a warning look. "I'm gonna go shopping this weekend. When I get paid."

"You didn't answer the question."

"No comment," you said, spinning on your heel to walk away with Miles' gentle laughter following behind you.

When you don't stop, he jogs after you and traps you in a bear hug.

"Fuck off, Miles!" You laughed, fake struggling to escape.

"Alright, tell me what I did."

"Nothing!"

He let you go and opted to walk next to you, his long legs making it easy to keep up with you.

"Okay look, whatever you're mad at me for, I got a surprise waiting for you," Miles poked his head in front of you as you both walked, twin braids dangling over his shoulder. "Come over?"

You sighed, "Fine."

He gently took your hand and started tugging you along, presumably in the direction of his mom's apartment. "Thank you."

Miles' brow furrowed as he fumbled with his keys a bit before quietly unlocking the door. He turned to you and placed his index finger over his lips, and you nodded in understanding.

The familiar smell of yellow rice and scented candles engulfed the both of you when you entered the empty apartment. Rio was at work, and Uncle Aaron was likely napping in the living room, as it was only the late afternoon.

"So, where's the surprise?" You whispered.

"My room. Been up there for about a week."

You rushed up the stairs as quietly as your feet could carry you to catch up to your boyfriend, who was already halfway there and glancing down at you with an impish grin. You roll your eyes playfully. Typical.

"Lemme take that," Miles stuck his hand out for your work bag as he removed his sneakers.

Deeply inhaling the cool air of his room, you let him take it off your shoulders. You were sure that thing was starting to leave a mark from carrying it on the same side every day.

Miles sat on his bed for a moment to rummage through his black knapsack, and produced a small, pink plastic bag no bigger than the hand that held it. This confirmed one of your suspicions, and you gave him a tired smile as he stood to place it gently in your palm. He was a funny sight, hands clasped together in anticipation like a parent at Christmas.

Inside the bag was a little white box, which held a small necklace cushioned in the middle. You recognized the teardrop pendant from the mall. You had practically dragged Miles along, looking bored and scrolling through his phone the entire time. Or so you thought.

Now, he looked about ready to run a marathon from here to Manhattan as you removed the delicate necklace, the silver chain catching the little light that Miles allowed into his room in shiny strips.

"Thank you baby, I love it," you bit your bottom lip, "It's just that-"

"I could put it on you?"

You sighed, and held out the necklace. "Of course."

He damn near snatched the piece of jewelry from you to unclasp it, rushing to get behind you.

"Miles, if you break it-"

"I won't, relax!"

The cool metal settled on your skin as he gently draped it around your neck, and fastened the clasp.

"How does it look?"

Miles moved your braids back and planted a kiss on your cheek. "Pretty."

"I know you know more words than that, sir," you teased, "try again."

"Alright, breathtaking. Stunning. Effervescent."

"Now you're trying too hard."

"I'm about to take this necklace back," he muttered, earning a short outburst of laughter from you.

When the laughter subsided, you turned to face him. He let your braids slide across his hands before they fell back at your shoulders.

"Miles, I need you to do something for me."

Worry settled over the boy's soft features. "Such as...?"

"Don't buy me them jeans," you said, arms crossed but still smiling.

His brows shot up. "Why, you don't like 'em anymore?"

"I do," you draped your arms around his neck, "which is why I've been saving up to get them myself."

You watched Miles' eyes dart back and forth in thought before settling back on you. He was silent, imploring you to explain further.

"If I wanted everything gifted to me, I wouldn't have gotten a job."

Miles nods, and something seems to slot into place for him.

"So no more surprise gifts?" He says, pouting exaggeratedly.

"For at least another two weeks."

Miles winced, taking a nervous glance at his knapsack, "Damn."

Following his line of sight, you noticed the white plastic bag poking out from it.

Your jaw drops, and you give him another good smack on the shoulder.

"You bought it, didn't you?"

He smiles tightly. "Hypo...thetically?"

"Miles!"

A/N: idk why the hell that took me so long to write but it was fun! Happy reading!

#miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #moralesanhour #miles g morales

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formosusiniquis · 1 year

Text

inspired by this post by @ruelogy

ao3

Eddie knows he got to Hawkins a little later than everyone else. He wasn't born and raised in the six miles of town with the same eight people his whole life. There was a whole social services kerfuffle that meant he didn't land in this small town hell hole until he was the ancient age of thirteen. He knows he's destined to forever be the freaky new kid with the shaved head and the group home eyes who joined in the eighth grade. But even without all that he is fucking positive that there was no Henderson in any of his three graduating classes.

Yet here Henderson the supposed younger sits painting him a mystery week after week. Steve said this, Steve did that, Steve may very well be a delusion if the way the others giggle and sigh every time he gets brought up is any indication. Cause it goes like this: Henderson comma Dustin is a fellow Hawkins transplant. Son of a single mother -- divorced or widowed, Eddie knows enough now to be sure that fueled the Hawkins gossip mill for weeks -- who brought her young son with her. Son, singular. Dustin joined the first grade class of Michael Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, and William Byers and that is as they say history. If there had been sons, plural, this mysterious older brother should have by all of Eddie's figurings joined Hawkins junior high right around the same time as a miserable Eddie. There should have been whispers about two new kids, there should have been someone for him to commiserate with, befriend.

Yet week after week young Dustin sits at Hellfire spinning yarns of a brother who was, what, homeschooled? Sent to a private military academy? Boarding school? Stayed at home with the mysterious father that Dustin doesn't mention -- and Eddie knows enough about fathers that go unmentioned not to break the silence -- but suddenly decided after he graduated to come join his mother and brother in Hawkins? Cause the thing is, Hawkins isn't that big. If pressed he's pretty sure he could name at least 90% of both of the classes he was supposed to graduate with and at least 75% of the group he's stuck with this year. He'd at the very least recognize them on sight, and not just cause he's dealt to the greater portion of the high school. Eddie pays attention, there are only like 400 students at the high school at any time, he should by all accounts be able to say, "Oh yeah that scrawny, bespectacled loser is Steve Henderson."

Except maybe there is no Steve Henderson, he's already faintly sure there's no Suzie so what's one more fictional friend from Dustin Henderson. Maybe this Steve is just the product of a fractured mind brought on by too much hands on parenting. Eddie knows people think all of his bad behavior is the product of underparenting, but if the opposite causes imaginary siblings he'll take the hand he got thank you very much.

Cause, sure he's doing his best to be third time lucky with this whole high school thing. He does know that compared to the should be starry eyed, but actually unsettlingly wary freshmen he is an ancient being of chaos. Yes, he feels every ounce of the five year gap between 19 and 14 when he speaks to them. But beyond all of that, he is still young. Still capable of swooning now and then; and the now is when Dustin describes his big brother and the then was all the other times Henderson the older has been detailed.

"Well that's cause I'm not really sorry, Mike," Henderson is on a tear already when he makes it to Hellfire, "I told you I have plans already."

"It's not that big a deal," Lucas placates, "we can do it another day."

"My parents won't be out of town another day," Mike sneers, "Will, you wouldn't ditch out on an all night Nintendo marathon for a date with Steve would you?" He says it like Will is the voice of the populace or something.

Maybe he is, and going by the way Will flushes a bright pink up to his bowlcut the voice of the people would in fact rather go out with Steve Henderson than hang out in a basement playing video games.

"It's not a date, he's my brother, and yeah dude I'm gonna skip out on watching you scream at Mario to go to an all night Stephen King movie marathon." Dustin says.

And swoon. That sounds like a dream.

"Like Steve would ever do something that cool, you can just say your mom won't let you come over cause my parents aren't gonna be home." Mike is surlier than usual, a trait he has noticed happens a lot when Henderson the elder gets broached. Eddie's theories range from misplaced sibling jealousy to repressed queer crush on Steve.

"C'mon kiddies save the tantrums for your mommies," he doesn't have a taste for it regardless of the answer, puberty is a bitch he's glad to be seeing the back of and Wheeler can go from being an angel to the kind of brat you do want to narc on just a little. "The rest of us have hoards to slay, maidens to save, things that don't involve listening to your play date fall apart."

He desperately wants to ask Henderson where they're movie night is taking place, because it sounds amazing and not at all because he wants to finally see this mysterious brother.

“It wasn’t even mine!” Henderson is moaning by the time Eddie makes it from O’Donnells to the cafeteria. He wasn’t that late, five minutes to plead his case for his grade at most, but Henderson could monologue with the best of them and it took about as much to get the kid going as it did Eddie, which was saying something.

“And you and Erica made fun of what was under my bed.” Lucas says with a smirk and a roll of his eyes.

“What was under your bed?” Will asks.

“We are not going to let Dustin get out of the fact that his Mom found his Star Trek porn that easily,” Mike shrieks, he sounds like he’s trying to mind his volume but it’s still too loud for a public venue, “You gave me shit for weeks about that Penthouse you found under my bed.”

“We gave you shit because you stole it from your dad,” Lucas corrects, not that anyone but Eddie hears it.

Cause as Lucas speaks Dustin is shouting, “It wasn’t fucking mine! It has to be Steve’s but try telling my mom anything about her favorite son.”

Three sets of disbeliving eyes look over at Dustin, but it’s Mike who says, “There’s no fucking way anyone is gonna believe it was Steve’s dude, just give it up.”

“I don’t even like Star Trek that much!”

Eddie has been having dreams of a mystery boy with a gorgeous head of hair and Dustin’s sweet smile. He likes horror but will pretend to get scared so he has a reason to hide his face in Eddie’s neck, and when he gets there he’s a biter. “Now, now Henderson, what kind of self-respecting nerd doesn’t enjoy the dulcet tones of Mr. Spock.”

Henderson wrinkles his little nose, what a twerp or maybe he’s thinking of his brother’s zine again, “It’s okay, but who goes to sci-fi for philosophy when you could watch space battles and deathstars.”

Eddie spares a prayer for Dustin’s English grade. “Well at least one Henderson has taste.”

He’s never had a younger sibling in Hellfire before, Gareth and Joey are only children and Jeff is way older than his miracle baby sister, so it is a treat to watch the way Henderson goes red, white, and then green as he cycles through a series of emotions surrounding his brother so fast it gives Eddie a headache.

“Dude, he probably bought it for you not knowing what it was,” Mike says, “it’s not like Steve is watching Star Trek.”

"You didn't see it."

"Maybe it was a prank?"

Eddie tunes them out, returning to the Steve in his imagination. They're slipping out of the movie they just finished, the one they bought tickets for, Steve giggles -- Eddie thinks he'd have a nice laugh, thinks he makes his brother laugh a lot -- and tugs him into The Voyage Home. "You gonna think of your favorite captain while we hide in the back row, Stevie?"

"Kirk is an Admiral now, he has been for three movies. Some fan you are."

He wonders if it’s creepy, this mental file he’s compiling on Henderson’s brother. It’s not like he knows the guy, truly a backwards fucking miracle in this two stoplight nothing of a town, but Eddies’ always liked something that he can sink his teeth into and pull apart. That’s what Steve Henderson feels like to him, like if a rubix cube was also a steak. He’s lost track of the metaphor in his own head, it’s whatever.

Cause Steve Henderson loves horror movies, but watches sappy romance flicks with his mom when they both have the same day off. Steve Henderson’s favorite color is yellow, but he only wears it on days that he can barely get out of bed; Dustin says that like it’s a warning sign for the others “Steve has his yellow sweater on today,” explaining away his absence at the arcade that afternoon. Steve Henderson could have any girl he wants -- this factoid Eddie takes with a salt, lime, and tequila -- but he never goes on dates anymore and only hangs out with his best friend and coworker. Steve Henderson baked a brownie so good Jeff moaned in the middle of Hellfire but can only over or undercook pasta when he tries.

Dustin loves his brother. Dustin thinks he’s the worst person to ever grace this side of the planet.

That Eddie thinks is at least typical for siblings, barring the Byers who seem to be so close knit they’d put the Bradys to shame.

“Henderson, my man, why the long face? We’re about to begin the most dangerous leg of your quest yet!” Hellfire was getting a delayed start -- the drama club was actually using their prop closet, go figure -- it was just him and Henderson lurking outside so Eddie did have to find his fun where he could get it.

“Steve and Robin went up to Indianapolis and they’re gonna be gone the whole weekend.” And yeah, he probably could have guessed it was about big brother Henderson. Dusty has the cutest case of hero worship when he wasn’t wishing big brother dead. “They say they aren’t dating, and it’s just for her birthday, but a weekend trip seriously it screams romance.”

“And you’re mad they didn’t bring you?”

“I could have been out of the way! Do you know the kind of specialty tech shops they have up there? I need some things you can't get in Hawkins to improve Cerebro and it's twice as much to get them mail order. I could make myself scarce for a couple hours so they can get it on.

He smacks the bill of Dustin’s cap, knocking it down over his eyes, but nobly refrains from giving him a noogie, “Dusty if you ever want to pop your little Mormon girl’s cherry, maybe don’t say shit like ‘get it on.’”

“Suzie is an angel, don’t be crude, man.” Dustin’s hands are quick as they smack him away, that must be another little brother trait.

“An angel, huh, another point in the ‘girlfriend isn’t real’ category. How many imaginary friends do you have, kid? A girlfriend in Utah and a brother that no one but your party has seen.”

The rest of Hellfire starts to trickle in, having used their time waiting for their table more wisely than Eddie has. Dustin’s comment is delayed only momentarily as he says hi to the rest of the freshmen that he definitely saw only a few minutes ago. “For the record, Suzie is very real. And you…” It’s the way he trails off that makes Eddie nervous, the way a light goes on in his eyes that sets the hair at the back of his neck on end. His danger instincts are finely honed and that's the same, 'I'm smarter than you look' Henderson was wearing when he managed to sniff out half the traps Eddie had laid out last session. "You should meet Steve, I bet I could get him to pick us up next week instead of Nancy."

He thinks this must be what the raccoons behind the trailer park feel like. The obvious trap of the shiny silver cage that's been baited so sweet it's hard to resist walking in anyway. "Sure, Henderson, tell the mysterious brother to stop by. Have him bring one of those zines that definitely belongs to him."

Dustin is especially vicious as dispatches with every creature that Eddie throws at him that day. It’s hard to be that upset, he’s feeling pretty fat and happy sitting in whatever animal control rodent trap Henderson thinks he’s got him in.

The next week’s session comes in a haze of vague daydreams and intense session prep. He’s had Steve Henderson on the brain for so long that he all but forgot about his little tête-à-tête with Dustin the week before. Forgot if not for the way that Baby Henderson is vibrating at the Hellfire lunch table when Eddie arrives.

“Steve is coming to get us from Hellfire today!” Eddie personally thinks this doesn’t quite deserve the level of reaction that it’s getting, but Henderson is so worked up no one even needs to prompt him to keep him going. “He had to leave right after his weekend trip to go deal with lawyers and shit.”

“Are they still..?” Lucas trails off, he’s clearly concerned but for all that Eddie hates that the kid is looking down the barrel of jock life he is extremely emotionally adept.

“Mom and Steve both said it was handled now. They won’t answer me when I ask any questions.”

Ominous, everything about Steve Henderson was so fucking weird. A kid who didn’t exist all through high school, that he’s never seen in town, who has lawyers now?

“Maybe Hop could,” the kid started to ask, hopeful.

“Mom says that it’s Steve’s business and we should all stay out of it unless he asks for our help.” Will responds by rote, something he’s clearly already tried before.

“So the infamous Steve Henderson is going to grace us with his presence today?” Eddie knows the answer already, but like most of his vices he can't resist indulging.

"He's taking us all out for ice cream after," Dustin agrees, "you could come too Eddie, I'm sure Steve wouldn't mind!"

"Steve minds everything," Mike grouses.

"Steve always buys your triple scoop sundae."

Eddie thinks Steve Henderson would have elegant fingers. He thinks about how they might toy with the straw of his milkshake while he smiles, coy and teasing, at Eddie, who he's charmed by. This Steve lets Eddie snatch the cherry from his drink, blushes when he gets his stem returned tied in a knot by Eddie's tongue.

"Well if Steve is buying, who am I to refuse an invitation?"

He does not end Hellfire early because Steve Henderson is coming.

He does, by pure coincidence, need to piss 15 minutes before things are set to wrap up. If that gives him enough time to clean himself up a bit that's just luck. This isn't for Steve Henderson.

His bathroom break, and definitely not pre-date primp session, puts him at the back of the pack when Steve Harrington's maroon beemer pulls into the lot. It feels a little bit like sophomore year again. When his hair was in another awkward stage of growing out and curled around his ears, he didn't have his mom to help him with the curls anymore and he didn't know what to do with them now that they seemed to twist and turn in new directions post-buzz. He caught the sweetest looking boy with puppy dog eyes staring and he'd been so embarrassed about getting caught he'd touched his own locks. Hairsprayed into oblivion and locked firmly into place the touch was ripped away and a shy, 'what can you do' smile was shared between the two of them. It feels a bit like junior year when Steve Harrington broke the keg stand record as a sophomore. Rounding the corner from tipsy into drunk or maybe bypassing it altogether for blackout, he wandered over into Eddie's domain. He had that same shy little wave, but a stronger confidence. He sidled up to Eddie and wrapped a curl around a finger. He tugged, just a bit, the way kids do when they want to see if it'll bounce back. "Yknow you'd be pretty if you were a girl." The slip slide of his definitely drunk tone didn't take Eddie out at the knees any less.

The car curves up closer to the front steps and Henderson is shaking like a rocket leaving Canaveral. He actually starts to take a step toward the still moving car when four hands clamp down on him saving Steve last-name-to-be-determined from a vehicular manslaughter charge. Eddie is the last to release him when he hears that car slide into park. The engine has barely had time to rumble to a stop before Steve Harrington is out of it. A toothy smile splits his face and, hidden behind Byers and Wheeler, Eddie watches as Steve Harrington proceeds to engage in the nerdiest fucking handshake he's ever seen. Steve Harrington finishes dying by what seems to be lethal lightsaber disembowelment and waves at the other three teens.

"Alright let's rock n roll if you twerps want ice cream before I drop you off. Joyce will kill me if you're late."

"Steve, can Eddie come with us?"

As Henderson asks Eddie now sees the exact size and shape of the trap he is in. The actually dweeby, dungeon master and drug dealer forced to watch the hot, once cool older brother bow to the obligation of Midwestern courtesy now that he's been ambushed with Eddie's existence. Or worse he'll have to stand there and pretend to be unbothered while King Steve shoots both Hendersons hopes and Eddie's dreams in the face with one curled lip.

He never could have imagined the furrow of confusion between his brows. The way lips wrap themselves around his name, tasting it. He hadn't, in his many fantasies, pictured golden brown eyes though he often thought of them snapping up to him like they were now.

A rosy blush blooms across Steve's face. He has the same shy finger wave he did as a freshman. "Depends, Dust, are you gonna give up your shotgun dibs or are you gonna make your troop leader sit in the back with the rest of the Party.”

He watches as if in slow motion as Henderson lunges for Steve, the elder is laughing as the younger wraps his arms around his neck. There is something very intensely attractive about the lingering jock of it all. How Steve is still upright even as his teenage brother dangles from his neck. “You know it’s Dungeon Master, you get it right with Erica!”

“I have a lot of respect for Erica, the things she does with goblins and kobolds is masterful. You asked me about the lead up to a trap so obvious it felt like an eagle scout showing his little cubbies poison ivy." It's bitchy and nerdy in all the best ways, and then Steve H- Steve looks up at him and winks, "No offense, Munson."

"None taken, Stevie." That seems to catch them both by surprise, the lack of a certain last name to fall back to -- and weeks of imagining what it might be like to interact with the guy who is and isn't right in front of him -- has Eddie overly familiar. "I drove here though." His van stands like a monolith alone in the middle of an empty parking lot.

"Oh."

"But I could meet you there? Are you going to the Dairy Queen by the library or the haunted one?"

"It's not actually haunted," Byers pipes in with frightening sincerity.

"But yeah, the haunted one," Steve says with a boy next door grin.

"Then I will meet you and your charges there Sir Henderson." He bows and only immediately regrets it, now that the once Harrington lord of the school is out of his line of sight. His brain feels like it could short out, faulty wires sparking against memories and daydreams and general hormones.

A sheepie he saved from the slaughter snorts, another - probably Mike - whispers "Gross." There's a grunt that Eddie hopes is the traitor catching an elbow from one of the others.

But it doesn't. fucking. matter because Steve Whatever laughs, practically giggles at Eddie and his antics.

And Dustin's rocket has come in for a rough landing, "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

Steve's hand envelopes the top of Dustin's head, he nearly palms it. It's not quite a noogie, more like he shakes his head for him. "Dusty-bun, why would you regret introducing me to your Dork Mother?"

"I'm gonna tell Ma you're being a bitch again."

"She won't believe you, I'm her favorite." He shoots another wink toward Eddie, a joke he's being allowed in on.

Level headed Dustin Henderson, who explained to him, in depth, how getting overly emotional impairs higher level critical thinking, stomps his foot. "You're so full of shit."

"I am. She chose me, she got stuck with you."

"Steve!"

He laughs at the despair he's caused, ruffling cap covered hair again until Dustin stomps out of reaching distance to climb in the Beemer with the other boys. Brown eyes are bright with mischief when he looks to Eddie, and he's struck by a thought. He was right, he hadn't ever met Steve Henderson before today. This is not the same boy who sat in the cafeteria with a closed mouth smile listening to Tommy H. and Carol. "Let me walk you to your car?" He asks.

"It's right there, Stevie, and do you really want to leave that band of miscreants alone with your car?" He's playing with fire, but the fear of getting burned has never stopped him before. He leans in close, whispers, "They might steal it."

Steve pales, a haunted look in his eye. He shakes it off, squeezing his eyes shut tight, and that soft smile slips across his face again. "Let me watch you leave then." That smile slides into a smirk, as he looks Eddie up and down.

He was right about getting burned, his face feels like it's on fire as he flees the scene. His tail is definitely not tucked between his legs because Steve is absolutely staring at his ass right now. He doesn't remember how walking is supposed to feel, but it's probably not like this. It would be embarrassing, the fact that he probably looks like a baby deer discovering he has knees for the first time, if it weren't more important that he makes sure each foot is planted so he doesn't acquaint himself with the ground below him. Safely encased in the van, he chances a look through the windshield and confirms that Steve is watching him.

He waves, and yeah it is gratifying to see the guy who at one point had half the girls in school fawning over him duck his head like he's embarrassed at getting caught staring. Sinclair leans up from the back seat, Eddie watches him clap Steve on the shoulder and make a comment on… something, probably him. It makes the rest of the car laugh and Steve thunk his head down on the steering wheel. The horn sounds, an echoing burst of noise that cuts off just as quickly as it starts when Steve jumps in his seat. The seat belt stops his jump short, and he sends another flustered wave Eddie's way when he notices him still watching.

Maybe he'll mention this to Little Red, his new neighbor has mentioned stealing young Henderson's brother and making him a Mayfield instead. A joke that makes a little more sense now. Sinclair has been making moon eyes at her and baby Hopper at lunch for the last week. That will be a better punishment than anything Eddie could do to him at the table.

He waves back at Steve, gives him his most winning smile -- the one he practiced in the mirror for charming pretty boys if he ever got out of the armpit of Indiana. Mimes driving like he's in a bad movie. Across twenty feet and two windows, he can't hear Steve laugh, needs to get to somewhere where he can. He can see the smile though, the dorky thumbs up.

He lets the Beemer pull out in front of him, watches it for just a moment as reality sets in. Reality. He's going to meet Steve Henderson for soft serve. It's a dream come true.

Arwen shifts into gear, and he slides out behind Steve and the sheepies. A whole new world of daydreaming unlocked.

Maybe next week Steve Henderson will let Nancy pick the kids up next week. He'll slip in the back doors of the school, unnoticed by everyone. Stealth bonus obscene for a fighter class. Eddie is moving slow as he moves minis and graph paper maps into the tackle box Wayne gave him, back to the door he misses his rogue slip through the door until he's already grappled.

"Was it a good game, Munson? You win?"

"It's not like one of your sports, Henderson, the wins aren't as clear cut."

Hands start to wander, "Isn't any time you pull one over on the Party kind of a victory?"

"In which case I do stand victorious, your sweet baby brother lost his brand new axe to a mimic."

"Hmm, you know what we used to do after a victory in my 'sports?'"

A hand has migrated to an especially interesting place. "What?"

"We'd hit the showers."

Eddie shakes himself out of the daydream, easing just the smallest bit harder onto the accelerator. He needs something to cool himself off with. He also really wants to see Steve again, to make up for lost time.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #steve henderson #eddie munson #ruelogy #inspired by another amazing tumblr ficlet #it put worms in my brain and then this happened

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serevena · 6 months

Text

Gf!Ellie on Halloween

a.n - Happy Halloween everyone!! Needed to post this because Halloween is my fav ever..hope your Halloween is good!! Enjoy <3 🎃

warnings - provocative language, fluff, Ellie being a dork and scared of everything, kissing.

; I

Ellie was never the type to celebrate holidays. Her peers would be lucky if she accepted a cake on her birthday.

But you changed that, persistent that Ellie get dressed up and went out with you for Halloween. You went all out and made her close her eyes, grabbing a costume you bought for her a few days prior and holding it in front her.

“You can open ‘em.”

“Holy shit!” Ellie muttered, her brows raising as her hands went to her knees, rubbing them over her jeans lightly. And you could slowly see her crack a smile on her chapped lips.

“Do you like it?” You asked, already knowing the answer. The helmet; which was admittedly the best part to the beloved astronaut costume was still in the closet, and you smiled at the thought of Ellie’s reaction to that. Ellie nodded and felt the fabric of the costume before kissing you, quickly pulling away to look at it again.

“It’s fuckin’ sick!”

; II

Throughout the month of October, you’d been practically forcing Ellie to partake in any Halloween events. Haunted houses, pumpkin carving, pumpkin patches, you name it, the two of you did it.

She most definitely did not agree to the haunted house at first, scared shitless but she’d never admit it.

And god, it was like hell on actual earth when the two of you arrived. Ellie let out something of a scream-groan when the two of you were waiting In line, a man sliding over to the two of you. You laughed, not only finding it cool but also at Ellie’s reaction. She covered her face and squeezed her sweaty palm onto yours.

And let’s not get started on when the two of you actually went inside. She insisted you go first so the scare wouldn’t be as bad for her, but she somehow ended up in the front halfway through. She jumped and practically squealed every time someone popped out, a gush of wind hit the two of you, or a light would make a weird noise.

By the time you and Ellie left the haunted house, she was out of breath, sweaty, and half dead.

“Never. Fucking. Again.”

; III

“That’s for like, five year olds.” Ellie muttered.

“Right, because parents trust a five year old with a sharp object.” You laughed, wielding a carving tool in your hand with two pumpkins on the counter in front of the both of you.

“You never know.”

“What’re you gonna make?” You questioned with almost a devilish grin, knowing Ellie did not wanna do this. “I don’t know yet..”

…

She turned her pumpkin around with a tiny smile on her face, and you glanced down at it, caught off guard. She made a portrait of Joel, and god was it good.

“You should make that into a profession..” you mumbled, glancing down at your pumpkin. It was a stick-figure Ellie that you knew she’d make of you for. Onto to the next one.

; IV

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” You asked, throwing a piece of popcorn into your mouth. Ellie shrugged from the corner of your eye and sat up. “I thought we were watching interstellar.”

“Ellie, we’ve seen that movie like 10 times..plus it’s Halloween, we should have like, a marathon or something.”

She immediately sat back, defeated. She let out a long sigh which caused you to smile and roll your eyes. “Drama queen.”

You could see Ellie’s mouth widen at your words as her brows furrowed, but she again, was defeated. So she stood silent.

Eventually, the two of you agreed on the movie ‘Saw X’, and you glanced over at Ellie who glanced over at you a few times.

Safe to say the night ended with Ellie in your arms, half asleep, drooling on you but also refused to sleep since she was convinced she’d have a nightmare about the movie.

“It wasn’t even that scary.” You said, caressing her auburn hair.

“You’re so full of shit.” Ellie said, smiling a bit once she heard you laugh in response.

#castasplla #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie x y/n

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rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months

Text

just friends

words: 3.1k

warnings: drinking

“hey rafey.” you call, bouncing into the room and giving him a kiss on the very top of his head.

rafe eyes kelce and topper immediately. “only she gets to call me that.” he says sternly, and they both nod, knowing he’s not kidding about that.

“what are you doing, y/n/n?” rafe asks as you start to rifle through the cabinets in his kitchen.

“getting something to eat.” you say with a shrug, frowning when you can’t find any snacks you like.

“here.” rafe stands up from the stool he’s sitting on and pushes it back under the counter, rounding it to place a hand on your back and guide you to the pantry. he opens it and grabs your favorite bag of chips, knowing exactly what you prefer after 15 years of friendship.

“perfect!” you say happily, giving rafe a dazzling smile, pouring some in a bag and handing rafe the bag back to put away. you head out of the room, going to eat in front of the tv. rafe watches you leave before returning to his spot between topper and kelce.

“why aren’t you dating her again?” kelce asks, making rafe give him a slap on the arm.

“she’s my best friend.” rafe clarifies. you’re the one good thing he’s managed to keep in his life, a light in the darkness, his only source of joy some days when his dad is being particularly cruel or the pain of missing his mom gets too great.

“hey rafe, i was wondering if you were gonna miss family dinner.” your mom says, giving him a quick hug.

“and miss your cooking? never mrs y/l/n.” rafe smiles, always putting his charm on when he’s around your parents, despite them already loving him like he’s her own son.

“y/n is outside on the daybed, i think we’ll eat outside since it’s such a nice day.”

“that sounds perfect.” rafe heads towards the door before turning back to call, “let me know if you need any help!”

you look up from your phone when rafe comes out onto the patio, smiling at your best friend. “come hereeeee, rafey.” you say, dropping your phone and opening your arms to him.

rafe joins you on the daybed, resting his head on the pillow next to you as he lays down, pulling you into his hold. you grin as you snuggle into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the familiar heartbeat against your cheek.

you don’t even need to speak, simply relaxing and enjoying being around each other, rafe rubbing his hand up and down over your back, you tracing shapes on his torso.

your mom carries the dishes to the outdoor table, with the help of your dad who just got home from work. “do you think they’re finally going to realize that they’re in love with each other now that they’re older?” your mom asks with a sigh, wiping her hands on her apron as she watches the two of you.

“i’m sure they will soon.” your dad says, placing a hand on his wifes back, “on their own time.”

rafe grins as you walk down the stairs and into the dining room, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. your hair is a mess of curls, sticking out in every direction from your scalp.

“why-” you say, flopping down on the seat next to rafe, “do you look so awake right now?”

you thought you were getting up early when you dragged yourself out of bed at 10 am after a movie marathon with rafe that lead you far too late in the night.

“you know i always sleep best when you’re in the bed with me.” rafe says, offering you his bowl of cereal, knowing he can get more later, wanting you to eat as well. you accept it, talking about the movie as you finish off the honey nut cheerios.

“hey y/n.” wheezie greets you, also still in her pajamas, but you’re so comfortable with each other that she doesn’t mind, it’s nowhere near the first time.

“hey wheez.” you say with a smile.

“did you sleep over?” she asks.

“mhm!” you hum in response. “do you wanna do something today wheez? i can take you shopping if you want.” “oh yeah!” wheezie says. “let me get dressed.” “woah, woah, slow down! eat first then we can get some starbucks, okay? besides i still have to shower.” “okay, thanks y/n/n.” wheezie says, rushing out of the room.

“i can’t believe my little sister is stealing my best friend from me.” rafe pouts, crossing his arms.

“oh shush.” you say, standing up and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“ugh!” you shout, watching the liquid fall down the front of your dress, soaking the material. your bottom lip quivers. you felt so beautiful tonight, your hair and makeup came out perfectly, but now the beer spilled down your front is ruining that completely.

“i’m so so sorry-” the man begins to apologize, but rafe is already hovering over you, giving the guy a look that his him almost shaking in fear.

“get. out.” rafe manages to say through gritted teeth. the man backs away, heading out of the party.

“rafe, you didn’t have to make him leave.” you say with a pout.

“but i did, he ruined your pretty dress, baby.” rafe hates the look on your face, would do anything to make you smile again, to make you feel better.

you sniffle at the mention of your dress. rafe completely forgets that he’s supposed to be hosting this party right now, taking your hand and tugging you inside of the house and up the stairs.

“come on, sarah wouldn’t mind if you wear something of hers.” rafe says, directing you into his sisters room. you know he’s right, you’re practically a big sister to sarah with how much you’re around. you’ll send her a text promising to give the dress back clean and take one out of her closet.

rafe waits outside the door as you change, taking the dirty dress and tossing it into the laundry room to deal with later.

“i’m so sorry, bunny.” rafe says, using the nickname he gave you originally in third grade when you would come over just to bounce on his trampoline, until you begged your parents enough that they got one as well.

“it’s okay.” you say, shoving him away from you once you get downstairs, “now go get more beers, i’m sure we’re running low.” rafe nods, letting you boss him around, the one person who can tell him what to do and he’ll actually listen.

you head back out to the party, your friend coming up to you and handing you a drink. “thank youuu.” you coo, taking a sip of the bitter liquid.

“you know, nobody believes you guys are just friends.” she says with a laugh.

“huh?” you ask, only half listening as your eyes scan the party.

“you and rafe, everyone thinks theres something more going on.” “oh my god.” you roll your eyes, sick of this conversation surrounding yours and rafes relationship. “we are just friends! just really good friends!” you say.

“uh huh.” your friend says, and you can tell that she absolutely does not believe you.

“rafey, i’m cold.” you say, tucking yourself underneath his arm, giving a tug at the sweatshirt covering his waist.

“i told you to put something warmer on!” rafe says, taking his eyes off the football game you’re watching to tug his sweatshirt off, hanging it over to you without a second thought.

“you also said you liked my shirt, so you’re sending a lot of mixed signals here.” you say as you pull the sweatshirt over your head, making rafe chuckle.

you make sure he’s not going to get cold himself by wrapping your arms around him, keeping your body close together to share your heat. you breathe deeply into the collar of his sweatshirt, loving the comforting scent.

“this is exactly what i mean.” your friend says when she rejoins you after getting a pretzel from a snack vendors.

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“nobody believes you’re just friends.”

“i’ve literally-” your declaration is interrupted by a loud hiccup, “never been drunk in my life.”

“me either.” rafe says, pulling you onto his lap, head lolling forward against the back of your neck, pressing his lips to the skin there that’s exposed by your bikini.

“you guys went ham.” topper laughs from the other side of the boat, also now just chilling on the sofas after the boat was brought back to the dock and most of the people got off, signaling the end of the party.

“i don’t think i can move.” you manage to slur out, turning to sit sideways on rafes lap so you can rest your head against his shoulder.

“you’re more than welcome to sleep on the yacht.” topper says, “my parents won’t be back until monday.” “mmkay.” you say, tracing your fingers over rafes jaw. “thanks top.” rafe looks down at you, an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes, one he usually hides from you. it makes you sit up straight, turning to fully face him now, straddling his lap.

“kiss me.” you say, taking his cheeks into your hand and squeezing them slightly, even as your head spins from the amount of alcohol you’ve taken in over the course of the evening.

“yeah.” rafe nods, pulling you tight against him, keeping his hands on your waist as your mouths connect in a sloppy, messy drunk kiss.

“hey, hey.” topper is suddenly pulling you guys apart. “you’re way too drunk for kissing.” he’s thankful that he opted to drive the boat, meaning that he’s not as insanely drunk as you two are.

“n-no.” rafe says, trying to go to push topper away, but his arm falls before he can even raise it halfway up.

“let me kiss rafe, top, please, i love him so much.” you say, pushing your mouth back against rafes,

“no, you’re best friends, remember!” topper says, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off of rafes lap, ignoring your whines at being separated. “now, y/n, you come with me and you can take the main bedroom, rafe can sleep on the couch.” “noo, i want rafe, i want him.” you whine, but the minute your head hits the pillow, you’re out like a light.

you and rafe don’t remember anything from after the party, and topper decides not to tell you about the drunken kiss, not wanting you to feel regret.

“what do you want?” rafe asks, knowing you don’t like to order and prefer him to do it.

your hands are firmly grasped together as your eyes look over the options. “umm, two scoops of chocolate chip cookie dough.” you say.

“in a bowl? with sprinkles?” rafe asks, knowing that’s usually what you prefer.

“mhm.” you nod, “thanks rafey.”

you let him order his own ice cream and then your own, swaying your hands between your bodies.

“you two are cute together, how long have you been together?” the woman behind the counter asks.

“oh no.” rafe laughs, handing over the cash for the ice cream. “we’re just friends.”

the womans eyes drop to your conjoined hands, and you realize how it looks, letting your hand open and drop away from rafes.

“suuure.” the woman nods, stepping away from the counter to prepare your ice cream.

you watch in silent anger as rafe dances with the girl, whose name you think is stephanie but you can’t be sure.

“just go over there, he’s just having fun with her, he only has eyes for you.” topper says, seeing the sad look on your face.

“what? no.” you shake your head, forcing a laugh out. “i’m fine.” “you certainly don’t look fine. you look heartbroken.” topper says.

“come on, you know he’s my best friend.” you say, forcing your eyes away from the dance floor to look at topper.

“dance with me then.” topper stands up, offering you his hand. “just for fun, i know you don’t have feelings for me.”

you smile at your friend, often forgetting that while you and rafe are extremely close and have been for years, that topper was also there with you for a lot of the time.

“okay.” you place your hand in his, letting him pull you off your seat and towards the edge of where everyone is dancing. you move stiffly at first, unused to the feeling of someone other than rafe touching you, but eventually you get into the rhythm, laughing as topper twirls you around.

you’re not even really dancing to the beat of the song, just letting topper move you as he pleases. you let yourself get lost under the colorful lights, your hands coming up to make movements in the air as toppers hands grip your waist, moving his body behind yours.

you close your eyes and grind your hips back against his, until you’re suddenly pulled away, making your eyes snap open.

“rafe!” you shout as rafe holds you against his body, shoving topper away from you. “what are you doing?”

“it’s fine, y/n.” topper says, knowing the look of jealousy in rafes eyes.

“no, it’s not fine.” you cross your arms, stepping away from rafe. “don’t be mean to top, you can’t get upset that he’s dancing with me when you’re off with another girl.” you turn and walk away from rafe, knowing he’s on your heels as you head up to his room.

“y/n!” he shouts, slamming the door shut behind you.

“no, it’s not fair.” you say, flopping down on his bed that you practically treat like your own. “it’s not fair that you get to go have fun, hook up with girls, but the second i even dance with our friend, you pull me away?”

rafe sits down on the edge of the bed, his back to you. “you’re right.”

“i am?” you ask, surprised that rafe conceded so quickly.

“it’s not fair that i get jealous but don’t expect you to be.” rafe moves so he’s laying down next to you, face to face.

“there’s nothing to be jealous of anyways, rafe.” you say, placing your hand on his face, stroking your fingers over the smooth plans of his cheek. “i was just having fun with top, he was making me feel better because i was upset watching you with a different girl.” rafe nods, pulling you in tight to his body. you sigh softly at being in his hold, knowing you’re the one at the end of the day who gets to be with him.

“i love you.” rafe suddenly says. he’s said it before, a million times, but you can tell that this time is different.

“rafe-”

“no, i love you. let me say it.” rafe says, opening his mouth to talk more but your ears seem to stop working, tuning him out as your mind starts to race. years of friendship, years of being by each other's side.

“i-i…” you shake your head, jumping out of bed and running down the stairs, out of the house.

“it’s been an entire week since you’ve seen rafe, why don’t i call him and have him come over?” your mom asks, rubbing your head as you pull the covers up even further. you have barely gotten out of bed since rafes confession, ignoring all the times he’s texted and called you.

“mom, he’s the problem.” you groan. “i don’t want to see him.” “mmm.” your mom hums.

“please, just let me sleep. i’m tired.” you say. you haven’t been able to sleep properly, like your body knows that something is wrong, that the balance is off.

“okay, honey.” your mom drops a kiss to your forehead, closing the door behind her when she leaves.

“he’s never missed a family dinner.” you hear your dad whisper to your mom.

“i didn’t invite him.” you say, making them jump, not realizing that you were listening from your seat in the dining room.

“he doesn’t need an invitation.” your mom says, returning to stirring the pot.

“mom, stop-” you pause when you hear a knock at your door. a familiar knock, a pattern you recognize instantly.

your mom gives you a pointed look. “you let him in or i do.”

your hands are shaking as you head toward the front door, opening it to reveal rafe standing there, hands in his pockets. “i’m sorry.” rafe says, eyes on the ground. “i shouldn’t have said anything.” you step out onto the porch, closing the door behind you so your parents can’t eavesdrop. “aren’t you scared?” you ask, making rafe blink up at you.

“aren’t you scared that we might not work? we’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. what if we throw all of that away be-because we try- i don’t know rafe!”

“shh.” rafe says, taking your face in his hands. “you’re overthinking it baby.”

you shake your head in confusion, trying to turn away, but rafe pushes you against the wall, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. “i love you. and you love me, i know it.”

your traitorous eyes drop to his lips, how close they are to your own. “i do love you.” you whisper, and that’s all rafe needs to hear as he presses your lips together. you melt into the kiss, letting rafe deepen it, his hands keeping your head in place while yours clutch at his shirt, not letting him pull away, not after wanting this for so long.

“i love you.” rafe whispers against your lips, giving you another kiss.

“i love you too.” you say with a giggle, letting rafe lift you and spin you in a circle.

“oh my god, wait until your parents find out.” rafe opens the door, tugging you inside. you follow him happily, head dizzy with love.

“rafe!” your mom says happily, both of your parents eyes looking at the way you’re wrapped around each other.

instead of speaking, rafe drops his head and presses his lips against yours, to the backdrop of your parents cheers.

“oh topper.” you sing as you skip to sit between him and rafe.

“hey, y/n.” he says, giving you a friendly smile.

“i have something to tell you.” you say, linking your hand with rafe. topper looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak. you just raised your joined hands with rafe and give it a shake, hoping he gets the message.

“what?” topper asks.

you laugh, obviously holding hands too much with rafe before you starting dating that it’s nothing telling to topper, so you turn and bring your knee over to the other side of rafes lap, smashing your lips together in a kiss. you pull away after a second to look at topper, “oh, thank god you’re not drunk this time.” he says, pressing a hand against his chest.

“wait, what?” you are rafe say in unison.

#reupload!#rafe fic #rafe fluff #rafe x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot #obx fic #obx fanfic #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfic

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starry-bi-sky · 2 days

Text

Danyal Al Ghul: Incorrect Quotes and Miscellaneous Thoughts

Incorrect quotes-style snippets specifically for my danyal al ghul au here (which i really need to come up with a unique au name for atp). Because I thought it'd be funny. And also some miscellaneous headcanons thrown into the mix. Some context for the au: - Danyal is 5 years older than Damian (so 10 and 15) - Danny faked his death when he was 10. Talia knows and helped him with it. - Jazz, Sam, and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin.

-------- Snippet 1

Danny, dryly tapping his temple: I have, as the Americans say, irreparable psychological damage, right here.

Jazz, an older sibling first and foremost: well, it's good that you're self-aware.

-------- Snippet 2

Danny, aged 10, in the American foster planning to just age out of the system: *emanating Bad Vibes. Pure, Little Orphan Tom Riddle Energy*

Jazz, aged 12, coming in to adopt a new sibling with her parents: Him. This is my brother now :)

Danny: ...what

--------

Lilo and Stitch is Danny's favorite Disney movie. He watched it when he was 11 with Jazz when she was attempting to connect with him, and by this point Danny was becoming receptive to her efforts. They had a movie marathon in the living room one night.

Safe to say? It resonated with his little 11 year old heart strongly, and he related very strongly with both Nani and Stitch. He got unexpectedly emotional and hid in his room for the rest of the night. Jazz felt really bad, but it had the intended (but kinda unexpected) effect of him trying to be nicer to her afterwards.

-------- Snippet 3

Dash, aged 12, causing trouble again and getting intercepted by Danny: *scaling up a desk* AHHHHH! GET YOUR LITTLE FREAK, FOLEY!

Tucker: Hey! Danny is not a freak!

Dash: GET HIM TO BACK OFF

Tucker, was the kid Dash was messing with: ....whats in it for me

-------- Snippet 4

Danny, saying some questionably immoral shit: What. Why are you looking at me like that.

Tucker: Bro. I mean this as kindly as possible; what the fuck?

Sam: yeah, I'm with Tuck on this one.

-------- Snippet 5

Danny, ranting about Vlad: if it weren't for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered him

Sam, painting his nails black: I'm pretty sure you'd slaughter him regardless of the laws of the land -- and quit moving, you're gonna mess me up.

Tucker: we've literally seen you debate yourself about this, Dan

Danny: ...you are correct, but it is the principle of things.

-------- Snippet 6

Vlad: I have experience my child, and the money and power attained through using those powers for personal gain, you say. I could train you, teach you everything I know! And all you have to do is renounce that idiot adoptive father of yours.

Danny, was already contemplating committing a Violence: ....

Danny, internally: I'm going to stab him *turns into Phantom*

--------

Funny contrast I realized between Danyal and Vlad that iirc I haven't pointed out yet is that imo, Danyal doesn't rely on his powers nearly half as much as canon Danny does. He falls back instinctually on his League training, and thus sometimes forgets to use his powers in battle. This was prevalent especially early on when he was still getting used to the whole 'halfa' thing.

He incorporates them more often after a year, but still for the most part relies on his own physical hand-to-hand combat. He trusts those skills much more than he does his powers. I'm not sure where he is on a technical level compared to canon, but just to stay safe I'll say he's similar in power skill as canon Danny. Perhaps a little more finessed than him because his League training would probably have him trying to figure out his powers as soon as possible.

But in summary? Danny is strong in hand-to-hand combat, weak in powerset.

Meanwhile Vlad is the opposite. I can't recall if he even knows hand-to-hand in canon, but it makes total sense to me that Vlad Masters wouldn't because he's so confident in his monetary influence and ghost abilities that he sees no need for it.

And he's kinda got some merit behind it. He's very powerful and has 20 years of experience to experiment and fine tune his powers. He's got bite to follow up his bark. He's perfected long-range combat and his ability to phase through walls makes it impossible to corner him, but if you can manage it, then one good hit could probably knock him on his ass.

So in summary, Vlad is strong in powerset, weak in hand-to-hand combat.

And it casts a good contrast between the two of them in that regard. Danny, as a fellow halfa, can follow Vlad when he phases through walls and is fast enough to land a hit on him. His league training as an assassin, albeit rusty, is still deep ingrained enough in him that he can hold up as a rather veritable threat against Vlad without needing his powers.

But Vlad can force Danny to use his powers more often through use of his own. The duplication is the first thing to come to mind: Danny's fast enough to dispel them on his own without powers, and smart enough that he could figure out who the real one is if given a few minute. But that's not always efficient enough.

Good foils for each other that way. Also Vlad's Plasmius design mimics Ra's juuust enough that he looks like Ra's knockoff loser second cousin no one talks about, which only fuels Danny's hatred.

-------- Snippet 7

Danny, ranting about Vlad for the first time: --and it's only made worse by the fact that the little ingrate resembles a cheap knock-off of my grandfather!--

Sam, choking on her water: he what--

Tucker, doing a spittake: HE DOES?

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #danyal al ghul au #i have a doodle of that little scene with vlad actually. its in my notebook lmao.#danny gets *furiously* shakespearan when he's insulting someone. sam and tucker have recorded some of his rants #and they are just pure gold.#sam and tucker calling danny 'dan' as a nickname 2024.#which reminds me about how TUE would even happen. someone in my ao3 comments made a good point about how they weren't sure if my danyal #would even have a TUE occur because he's not the cheating type. i've seen clips of how he got his hands on the test answers but i'll need t #watch the episode to gauge if Dan is even feasible. and if he is what changes to make him happen. hmmm. much to think about #don't think danyal would stay with vlad even in the midst of his grief. hmhmhm #dpdc

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abibliophobiaa · 1 month

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right where you left me

chapter three: you can hear it in the silence

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut - r is inexperienced; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; time skip, where r and steve are parents, purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series.

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist

——

Steve kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times before. He kisses you and it feels like kismet — like pieces of a puzzle shifting together. He kisses you, and you feel like you could take to the sky, run a marathon, or leap into the unknown with only his arms as safety.

And you soak up every moment. Every precious second as his lips move over yours, fingers twining around your hips, tugging you flush against him. It shifts, the atmosphere changing, the intensity of his kisses deepening. Heat rises in the room and it has nothing to do with the fire burning in the fireplace. You soak up every soft breath from his lips as you swipe your tongue over his — soak up the breathy moans that pour from him when your fingers glide over the planes of his abdomen, over the softness of his stomach, the hardness of his cock in his jeans.

And it’s there that your experience falters. That nervousness creeps in, because when you jolt back at the unexpectedness of it kicking up in his pants, he presses your palm harder, seeking friction, whispering that it’s okay. That you’re doing everything right.

The nerves ebb. “I - I want it to be good for you,” you say, breathless, “I just - I don’t —”

“It’s already good for me,” he whispers against your collarbone, tugging you down onto the couch, his body hovering above yours. “Pretty sure I’ve never been so hard in my life. But I really just want to make this good for you. Do you trust me?”

With your life. “Yes.”

“Can I take these off?” He slides a palm along your leggings, index finger toying with the band that rests high on your waist.

“Please.”

Deft fingers curl and tug. Slide them down your thighs, baring naked skin. Those same fingers glide over your ankle, up the curve of your leg, the glide of a hip. They toy with the edge of your panties; simple black lace, which you blow out a grateful breath for choosing that morning.

“Still with me?” he rasps, fingers stroking over your lower abdomen, your muscles dancing under the touch.

Hazel eyes, nearly molten honey now in the firelight, meet yours. Flickering with a look you’ve never seen within them before. Lust — for you. At your slow nod, eyes fluttering at the feel of his fingers sliding over the edge of your panties, he pushes the flimsy fabric to the side. Exhales shakily at the first brush of him, robbing your air straight from your lungs.

He drops onto one elbow, palm cradling your head with the softest of touches, lips molding to yours as he slips the first finger inside, your back arching up against the delicious intrusion.

Reality spins around you. Turns on its axis as Steve’s lips move to coast along your abdomen, against hip bone, the inside of your thigh. As your best friend slowly, carefully, reverently slides your underwear down your thighs and whispers a question that has you sighing a soft ‘yes,’ just as your panted breaths turn into cries of his name into the living room. As your heart races when his tongue glides over your clit just so — as he licks at you like it’s his job, a dream come to fruition at last, something he’s wanted to do all his life.

“I - I’m —”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing at your thigh with his free hand, “it’s just me. You can let go.”

No one has ever touched or kissed you like this. And you’ve never…never spiraled like this either. Never felt so close to the edge of pure, endless pleasure. Never seen the peak, never skirted over the edge, crying out another’s name.

Until now.

Steve knows this. Soothes you through it, crawling back up your body to brush at your cheek as you clutch his shirt tight, gasping breaths warming his flushed skin. As you float back to reality, a hazy mass of trembling limbs, he cups your chin and kisses you soundly, tongue gliding over yours, tasting yourself on him.

“We can stop,” he manages to get out before your fingers slip to grip at the hem of his top, tugging at the fabric, wanting it off.

In one swift movement, he grips the collar from behind his head and rips it free from his form, the ripple of his arms, chest and stomach dancing in your vision. He swoops back down and kisses you anew, body against body. Pulling back, you sit up against the armrest of the couch, Steve leaning back onto his knees. He watches with rounded, heated eyes as you grab at your own sweater and slide it up and off your frame, revealing a matching black bra to the panties that now lay discarded on the floor.

Your fingers reach behind you to grip at the clasp of your bra, appreciating the way Steve’s throat bobs.

“Wait!” His shout has you pausing, your eyes narrowing in fear of rejection, until he eases that nervousness away with the fumbling of his jeans, pushing them down around his ankles before kicking them into the corner of the room. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. It seemed fair. We’re equal now.”

In one movement, you unclip the bra. Straps flutter around your shoulders, the cups freeing from your breasts, the warmth from the fire skittering along your flesh. Heart racing, you watch as Steve grips at the band of his boxers, pushing them down and off his thighs, the part of him you’ve never seen before slapping against the soft of his stomach. Against the dark hair that trails there. He’s hard and huge and there, the evidence of his desire on display.

Curiosity and reverence has you inching closer on the couch, settling your palms against his abdomen, gliding up and over his chest and shoulders, down his biceps, along the backs of his hands. Nervously, you raise one to your breast, gasping as his fingers cup the fullness of it in his palm, cradling it, brushing over a nipple with a thumb as his forehead drops against yours.

No one has ever touched you like this before. Before, it had been a rush and a hurry in the back seat of someone’s car. A flurry of movement. But Steve’s gentle touches roam your body, his other hand coming to cup the other breast, sliding down your sternum, along your stomach, between your thighs, making you whimper against his lips. Hesitant fingers reach out, trail along the rippling muscle of his abdomen, over the line of hair beyond his naval, the long and thick cock lingering in the space between you.

A trembling palm curls around him and experimentally moves, a gesture brought on by human instinct alone, an upward and downward stroke that has Steve’s forehead falling to your shoulder, rasping out a curse into your skin.

“Like this?” you ask through a pleasant sigh as he curls that digit within you in the way that had you crying for him moments ago, marveling at the way he grapples at your side with his free hand, fingers pressing tight to the fullest point of your hips.

“J-just like that, honey,” he stutters, lifting his head again to claim your mouth in a fervent kiss, swallowing your pretty noises. “Are we really — is this really happening?”

“You’re not dreaming,” you giggle, shrieking as he shifts you both over so you’re rolling onto the floor, onto the endless mountain of blankets and pillows below. “Steve!”

Broad palms press against your cheeks, lips falling against yours, a hum spilling from you. Without a moment to even try and stop your head from spinning, Steve drops kiss after kiss to your skin. The curve of your neck, the line of your collarbone. The dip of your sternum. A tongue glides over a pebbled nipple, bringing it into his mouth, hazel eyes locking on your own with a blazing heat behind him as another callused palm kneads the other. You could unravel just like that, with his eyes on you, drinking you in like he is now. But you know you want more. You want it all with him. Want to feel every inch of him that’s presently resting against your inner thigh, want to feel him inside, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Steve,” you rasp, curling your fingers in his long tresses, “I want — no, I need you inside me.”

He shifts up onto his elbows, peering down into your eyes. A shudder licks along your spine, the realization of what you’re both about to do dawning. The importance of this moment; a moment that’ll change everything you know about your relationship fully and completely. Where there might be nervousness, you only feel solidity in your choice — excitement, to finally be taking this step, this leap, with Steve.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks and chest warm under his gaze.

A palm comes up to seek his face, brushing back the hairs that fall over his forehead, so messy and perfectly him. With a slow exhale, Steve curls his palm around the back of one of your knees, parting you for him, lifting it a bit into a bend. Instinct has your ankle hooking around the back of his knee, tugging him closer, shuddering at the feel of him against your slick center.

“I’m on the pill,” you blurt out quickly, “And you know my experience is…”

“I want you to know right now that this is the best night of my life,” he promises, knuckles brushing along your temple, quelling your nerves, “you could never disappoint me, okay?”

A nod.

“I’m clean, and I’ve never —” he gestures to where you both lay bare, “without a condom. I just want you to be sure. We can stop at any point.”

“I want this,” you tell him, curling your ankle tighter around his thigh, the heel digging into his muscle to draw him closer.

He grabs himself in hand, those dark eyes locking on yours. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you feel him nudge at your entrance, “it’s just us,” and he’s sinking in.

Slowly, so, so slowly.

“P-perfect,” you stutter out, clutching at a forearm as he inches in a bit more, that unfamiliar burn making you wince. Worry clouds his eyes, but you shake your head, “just…go slow, okay?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pushes a little further, gauging your reactions, clutching at the bend of your thigh, thumb stroking along the inside of your knee lovingly. Another inch, and you lean up to kiss him tenderly. “Ah, shit —”

“W-what?”

Anxiety fills your tone, and he shakes his head rapidly to assuage your fears. “No. No. You just feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.”

Heat blooms in your chest at his words, hips rolling experimentally from beneath him, that burning dulling into a pleasurable fullness. The delicious stretch of him giving way to something…new. Something different. Twine spills out before you, a coil, a line you feel growing tighter with every passing moment. He gasps out a breath. A hot puff against your collarbone as his head falls, wispy hairs teasing along your warm skin.

“More,” you pant, clutching at his shoulder as he fully seats himself inside, pussy clenching around him at the newness of being so full of Steve.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod, head falling back as he pulls back, nearly pulling out, and drives back in. In and out, in and out, beginning something you know will forever change your relationship. “Oh god.” A gasp, as he repeats the motion again and again, brushing against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grounds out. He pulls back, pulls out, and you nearly cry with the loss of him, until he smirks and pushes back in, punching your breath straight from your lungs. “It’s like you were made for me.” You could cry, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you lose yourself to this, to this moment — to him. “Tell me you’re mine. You’re finally mine.”

“I’m yours,” you promise, keening as he lifts your thigh higher onto his hip, driving into you in a way that makes white flash behind your eyes, “and you’re mine.”

The words you want to say bubble on your lips. The three words with the power to change everything. The three you’ve denied yourself all these years in fear of the rejection that might come should you ever utter them. But you feel them with every beat of your heart, with every roll of his hips, with every kiss he presses to your lips as you inch closer and closer to release.

And it’s there. Right there. That elusive thing you’ve only heard about with friends in mixed conversation. That blooming low in your belly, the unfurling as he continues to grind into you over and over again, the flame licking in the space where you’re irrevocably connected to him now in a way you’ve never been before.

“Steve — I’m —”

“I’m close too,” he grunts, chest pressing against yours, lips at your cheek. “Let go with me, yeah?”

It ripples through you with a broken sob, and the feeling of Steve’s hips faltering in their rhythm as he finishes, warmth spilling into you. Hearts race. Mouths come together in the middle, foreheads pushing against one another. Your hands tangle together like whispered secrets on knitted blankets, against pillows littering the floors.

Neither of you pulls away, bodies only rolling enough to face one another, his softening cock still inside of you. Fingers trail along his bicep as his other arm slides beneath your head, cradling you there. It’s all sweet and soft kisses against skin. His mouth at your brow, your cheek, your jaw…lips. Different and yet it feels like something that’s always been meant to be. A part of the two of you never tapped into.

Until now.

“So…”

“So…” You nuzzle your nose against his, blinking up at his tired, blissfully hazy eyes.

“That was…”

“Perfect?” you finish, gliding your fingers through the hair curling around his ear.

“Perfect,” he agrees, index finger gliding up and down the line of your spine, “everything. Tired, hmm?”

He watches the flutter of your eyes. The telltale yawn that pours from you. The liquid form of your limbs draped over his own. Your head rests over his chest and fingers dig into his hip.

“Let me take care of you and then we can pass out, okay?”

He parts from you with a whine, limbs aching a little as you stretch and he disappears into the bathroom, only to come back with a warm washcloth to clean you with. It’s tossed across the room a moment later, the man of your heart rearranging the pillows around the floor into a better makeshift mattress, blankets already tucked low around your hips as you find him again, your bare chest pressing against his.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I just want to remind you that you’ve always been enough,” you tell him softly. Quietly. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“You have me,” he promises, squeezing you tighter. “I’m yours.”

And you’re his.

A beautiful thing that curls around you both as you slip into sleep.

You’re grateful for a holiday weekend, because for the next three days, neither of you leave the comfort of the bedroom. It’s there that you learn every inch of Steve. That you remember the way his fingers trace your skin, how he feels when he’s inside of you, over you and under you, what it looks like when you drive him to finish, the way he looks at you when you writhe beneath him, hands fisted in his hair.

For days, all you know is that. The complete and utter bliss of a new relationship — despite the fact neither of you have given things a title yet. And even so, you hardly feel like you need to. You’d both said those words: you’re mine, and I’m yours. Wholly and completely. In your heart you know it, in your mind, and in your body. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for years, this is what you know you want.

He’s holding you now, your back to his chest, his fingers stroking you between your thighs, the fullness of him sliding in from behind. Another arm loops over your chest, resting over your heart, keeping you close. And you pinch your eyes shut at the feeling of it, at the sound of your sweat slick skin against his, the place where you’re joined, the press of his lips against your spine, your shoulder.

“You always.” A kiss. “Feel so.” Another kiss. “Good.” He tips your chin up and kisses your lips, swallowing your moan as you drive your hips back against his, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl inside him if you could. “Taking me so well, beautiful.” A whine. “Gonna come for me, baby? Want it.”

You’ve been at it for hours. Or it feels like hours. He’d woken up that morning insistent on feeding you, before falling back into bed with you for the third day in a row. Had kissed every inch of you before rolling over and watching you with hooded eyes as you sunk down on him, robbing him of his very breath. That had been a frantic thing, hips rolling over him, his hands digging crescent moons into your sides, little medals for the honor of watching Steve completely crumble beneath you when his orgasm snuck up on him, knowing you’d done that.

Another whine punches from your lungs. Stolen from you as fire licks up your spine and you’re engulfed with it, clutching at his forearm and crying his name with your release, forehead slumping into your pillow as he follows soon after, hips slowing to a stop as he tugs you flush against his chest, whispering your praises against the skin of your cheek, his fingers dancing along your sweaty temple.

“I think that was our best yet,” you laugh, stroking along the hairs against the back of his arm, relishing in the shiver that ripples from him in the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “How about we shower and grab some breakfast at the diner or something?”

“Are you up to grab a tree with me for the holidays too?” At your nod, he grins against your shoulder, “maybe some ice skating and hot chocolate at the rink?”

“Is this our first date?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

He hums against you, breathing a sigh, and you know the contentment pouring from him because it mirrors your own. “If you want it to be. As much as I want to stay here forever, I'm pretty sure our friends are worried we’ve fallen off the face of the earth.”

“We kind of did,” you muse, recalling the parting words on Thanksgiving just days ago now. “I haven’t slept a wink in days.”

“Says the woman reaping all the benefits in the form of endless orgasms,” he teases, laying a love bite against your shoulder, pulling away from you to rise up onto his feet, nodding his head toward the shower. “Come on.”

“No funny business,” you tease, curling a blanket around your shoulders as you follow him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You only make it five minutes in before you break that promise by sinking down onto your knees.

…And naturally, he repays the favor after.

——

People notice Steve wherever he goes. As the town handyman, he earns a bit of attention. Smiles from those that pass by, waves as he walks down the street, calls of his name from across parking lots. So you suppose it should come as no surprise when you meander through the endless rows of trees, your hand in Steve’s, earning a bunch of stares of your own.

For a while, you’ve been simply the girl who follows in his wake. A familiar face around town while you’ve been here, and a figment of a past time to those who had been around much longer. Now, you were swiftly approaching what you knew to be a permanent fixture in the town all over again.

It feels natural — the weight of his palm in your own, fingers tangled, arms swinging in the space between the two of you, dressed in similar outfits. It’s nothing unusual in comparison to your years long friendship, though now you know what his lips feel like against every inch of you, you know that his heart against your spine thrums like a perfect tattoo while his arms circle you, you know what the weight of him above you feels like.

And even so, you earn the curious gazes of wandering eyes. The glances from those trying to garner what is happening here. You don’t mind it, though. Don’t mind the way people wonder, because you already know the truth within your heart. The depth of the feelings he has for you mirror your own, as sure as the sun rises and sets every day. The realization that this is the start to what you hope might be forever.

“How about this one?” Steve asks.

An hour later you’re both dragging a tree into his living room and decorating it in dozens of shiny lights and bulbs. He kisses you long and slow, fingers in your sweater, foreheads pressed in close, hearts even closer.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, staring up at the tree, beautifully lit and adorned with love.

“It is,” Steve says back, but he’s not staring at the tree, he’s staring right at you instead.

——

The Hideout is bustling with customers. Endless rows of children constructing and decorating gingerbread houses at one table, while parents and family members alike mill about at the other tables, conversations about the upcoming holidays filtering through your ears as you pass by, handing off drinks and food.

Steve’s not here yet. A fact you notice as you watch the table of your friends grow, the group bent low together, beaming at what the other is saying, caught up in their company as day turns into night.

You’re finishing up handing off water to a table of teenagers when you notice Abi waving you over, a weary look in her eyes. It’s when your gaze travels southward you notice the shaggy blonde curls that you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Nor the pristine suit and tailored pants, the too expensive watch, that tie cinched around his neck. Green eyes drift your way from the bar, arms crossing over a toned chest. Chiseled cheekbones give way to blonde stubble, a messier look than you’re used to on Clark’s conventionally attractive features.

His eyes narrow at your appearance. To him, you’re wearing no more than a pair of jeans you bought off of a clearance rack, and a black sweater with a hole in one sleeve after you’d gotten it caught on Steve’s truck handle. He’s seen you in designer gowns, shoes, decked to the nines with jewelry, looking like the ever dutiful daughter. And now — now his eyes roam your form with distaste, the curl of his lip making your stomach drop.

“I can ask him to leave,” Abi murmurs low against your ear as you slip behind the bar to join her, “just say the word, and he’s gone. Eddie wouldn’t mind if I toss him out. He’s kind of an asshole anyway. Asked me if I had a specific bottle of wine, and scoffed when I said we didn’t. I almost told him he could shove the credit card he slapped against the bar up his ass.”

“Sounds about right,” you grumble, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be okay. And if not, and you catch me ready to throw a glass and lose my job —”

“I’ll turn the other way and pretend I didn’t see it.”

Offering her a smile, you slip back out and round the bar, grabbing Clark’s sleeve and tugging him to a smaller table positioned away from everyone else. From here, you can see Steve when he arrives and escape if need be. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head up, staring into that blank stare.

“So this is where you ran off to,” he tuts, snickering, “it’s…charming.”

“It’s where I grew up,” you tell him flatly, “it’s home.”

“Home is in the city,” he says, leaning up onto his elbows, hand coming to curl over your own. Your eyes narrow at the contact, at the feeling of his finger cradling the back of your palm. “Come home. Stop this, please? Your family misses you, your friends miss you — believe it or not, I miss you.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Darling…” The hand around yours tightens, and you know he’s trying to narrow your window of escape, to ensure you stay rooted in place. “We had fun together, didn’t we?”

“At events, sure.”

He was kind enough. Was willing to laugh with you, to joke and tease, to talk. But there was nothing of any sort of romantic nature beneath the surface. Your marriage was intended for monetary purposes and those alone.

“You hardly even gave us a chance.”

“Clark, we were in an arrangement,” you remind him. “A mutually beneficial agreement for both of us.”

“Which has since fallen through.”

“And I am sorry about that —”

“Then come home,” he says again, eyes intent on your face. “Come. Home.”

“This is my home,” you whisper, catching the sight of Steve walking by in the window. His eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Clark across from you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Clark lets out a bitter laugh as Steve appears in the doorway, approaching your table cautiously. “This is the guy you ran out on me with. Him? You’re choosing him. What can he offer you that I cannot?”

“Love, Clark,” you say, voice breaking at the end, “I love him…and I — I think he loves me. So yes, I’m choosing him. I’m choosing to stay here…with him.”

He fixes Steve with a hard stare, mouth parting slightly, settling back into a firm line. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, and it’s watery. A broken off sob at the realization of your admission. “I do. We wouldn’t be happy together. You know that. I mean…you were kissing Christina on our wedding day.”

“She’s, ah, that’s…complicated.”

“But she means something to you,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We wouldn’t be happy. You know we wouldn’t. Tell me you can see that.”

His palm slides down his face, head shaking slowly. “Your father’s company —”

“You’re an amazing surgeon,” you remind Clark, “and my father will come around. Eventually. I’m certain. And…maybe when he doesn’t hate me for making the choices I’ve made, I can send over a glowing recommendation. We don’t have to do things just because it’s our family’s way. We can choose our own happiness.”

Clark leans back a bit, his hand falling away from yours, fingers curling around the chair beside him to make room for a perplexed looking Steve Harrington at the table. “Can I at least say hello the man my fiancée ran out on me — on our wedding day, no less — for?”

“Clark,” Steve mutters with a nod, sinking down onto the chair beside you, arm curling around your shoulders. “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. And, uh, sorry about your wedding day.”

Clark reaches over to grip his hand. “You’re really not sorry, though,” he chuckles heartily, shaking Steve’s hand.

Steve grins, because no. No, he’s not at all sorry, and you couldn’t be happier.

The three of you sit there in that restaurant for an hour, talking about plans for the future. About Christina and Steve. Christina, who is from a not so affluent family. A family his family doesn’t quite approve of, but he loves her. A fact you could even tell after seeing them together in their embrace.

In the end, Clark decides to head back to the city with the intention of making things right with the woman he loves. You also send him on the mission to talk to your parents, to convince them neither of you wants the marriage, and to let them know you’re okay since they don’t wish to contact you as it is.

Once he’s gone, you’re left to finish up cleaning your station, later announcing to your friends that you and Steve are heading for a little walk. Neither of you wants to stick around at the moment. Not when there’s so much to talk about.

Without him even saying anything, you know he’s overheard what you said to Clark. That you loved him. That you love him. Nervousness wells within you as you tug your jacket closer to your form, reaching out to lace your fingers with Steve’s, your hands swinging in the space between the two of you. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get used to this. Part of you doesn’t, wanting merely to rest in the excitement of finally having the one thing you’ve both always wanted come to fruition.

“So…that was nice,” you say, peering up into his eyes.

The moon shines above, but Steve’s eyes are on your face. A lingering look you feel all the way down to your toes. “He’s still an asshole.” He swallows. Here it is. “Did you mean everything back there?”

“Which part?”

He pauses on the sidewalk, hands curling into your belt loops, tugging you against him. “Well, for starters, the part where you said this is your home now.”

“If you don’t mind having a roommate for a little while longer. At least, until I get back on my feet. Pretty sure my inheritance is not happening ever.”

His fingers cup your jaw, mouth brushing lazily over yours. “I’m not kicking my girlfriend out.”

It’s the first time he’s called you that, no fanfare, no need for explanation. And it feels right down to your marrow.

“Are you…asking me to officially move in?” you question, head tilting back a bit to gauge his reaction to your words.

“Are you saying yes?” He bounces on the heels of his feet a little, your palms resting against his stomach.

“I mean, an endless sleepover with my best friend sounds pretty great.”

He beams. “And then there’s that other part of the conversation I walked in on.”

“What part might that have been?” you prompt, leaning up onto your toes, biting at your bottom lip.

His fingers slide around your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your denim jeans. “The part where you said you love me.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Steve,” you tell him honestly, “I’ve…been in love with you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

His nose runs down the side of yours gently. “I’m in love with you too.”

He says it so quickly, all in a rush, like he simply wants to breathe the words into existence. To make them known. To speak the secrets that have been lingering in the silent moments between the two of you for years. To give them the voice they deserve. To set them into motion, to flight, to give them the breadth to roam freely.

“All this time?” you ask, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill.

“Yeah.” He nods. “All this time, honey. Always, if you’ll let me.”

You trust that his words are true. You know within your heart he means every single one of them. You welcome the free fall, and what a beautiful, safe space to land you’ve found in Steve.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” A kiss brushes the tip of your nose.

A giggle. “Deal.”

——

Two years later…

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window. Warms your skin as a yawn spills from your lips, arms stretching against pillows, head nuzzling deeper into the mattress's downy embrace.

A warm arm slides in around your waist, a palm gliding over your stomach. “How are my girls doing?” It’s the voice of your husband that stirs you, chest rumbling against your spine, thumb stroking along your skin.

“We were just taking a nap,” you sigh, rolling over to face the man, “you finished for the day?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to look at the scrunched up newborn resting near your hip. “Uncle Eddie and Aunt Abi’s new house has a nice deck now. They also decided to keep the swing in the backyard just for when you grow up a little bit more, Summer.”

Summer sleepily stares up at her father as he carefully lifts her into the crook of his elbow, bouncing her a little to help her settle when her face wrinkles with the beginnings of a soft cry.

“She’s bigger than she was this morning,” he huffs, the hairs that are getting a little too long on his head now puffing upward with the hard breath.

Giggling, you roll over to lean against his shoulder, running the pads of your finger along her chubby cheek. “She’s the same as she was this morning.”

“Do you think she missed me?” He glances up, hopeful.

“Always,” you reassure him, knowing he hates going back to work after the initial few weeks he took off to spend time with his newborn daughter. “We got an invitation to Clark and Christina’s wedding.”

“At least that wedding won’t end with a runaway bride situation.”

“Hey, that runaway bride became your wife.”

Your own wedding was a year ago now. And because Steve had helped nearly everyone around town, it became a huge event. Nearly everyone in town had gathered around as you walked down a grassy aisle to the man who always had your heart. It was there he pledged forever, a promise to keep you close and your heart closer for all of time to come.

Your parents had even come, deciding that love truly mattered above all else — though a lot of that was thanks to Clark and Christina’s influence. Those two had even become closer friends to you than you ever thought imaginable. Just four people who had come together in the strangest of circumstances, finding that sometimes the person who people deemed ‘best’ for you wasn't actually the right one — and that choosing love would overcome any other obstacle that might try to get in your way.

“That she did,” he says, leaning down to brush a kiss to your forehead.

And now you had an extension of that, in the form of a bleary eyed baby staring up at the two of you. Equal parts him and you, and everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. “Come on, I have something to show you! Summer can come too.”

“You just don’t want to let her go.”

“I never do,” he coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over her forehead, “she’s like her Mom. Has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not even two months old.”

“I’ll say a prayer for her future suitors now —”

“Hey — she is not dating until she’s thirty and that’s final.”

You shove at him lightly as he leads you down the hall and into the newly extended part of the home. There’s a little sunroom, full to the brim with plants, and just outside on the back porch, he’s added a beautiful wooden swing that overlooks the water.

“Steve…”

“I know you like to read out here, but I figured now that we have Summer…” He settles down on one of the cushions, making room against his hip for you to curl up next to him, watching as the sun begins to set over Hawkins. “We could come out here…as a family. I have more plans too. A seating area over there for when we have company. Maybe some stuff for when Nancy and Jonathan bring their son over for a play date. A treehouse over there.”

“I love it, Steve.”

“I love you,” he says, brushing his lips against yours ever so softly, just as Summer starts to whine in the crook of his elbow. “Oh no, sweetheart, shhh shh. Don’t cry…this mountain I must climb…feels like a world upon my shoulders…”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh as he starts to sing, sides shaking with the memory of your return to Hawkins so long ago now.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” He continues, and Summer stares up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky for her. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder.”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” you sing along, snuggling closer into his side, looping your arm around his and lacing your fingers with his own. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the both of you sing-whisper out in equally as horrendous voices so as to not wake the baby that’s starting to doze off, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, the song falling off, along with the laughter, as Summer’s eyes flutter shut. “Thank you for this. For all of it. This life we have together. For choosing me every day. Us. Our family.”

“Thank you,” he breathes back against your lips, kissing you as the sun sinks further along the sky, soft and pink and golden — just like the life before you and the one to come.

——

#lunaloveseddie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

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