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#teacher relationship
notacluedo · 1 year
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he’s her fun lil social experiment
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steddieas-shegoes · 2 months
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it's not ever what it looks like
for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is saying you're sorry'
rated m | 3,299 words | cw: language, implied sexual content | tags: angst with a happy ending, arguing, established relationship, hurt/comfort, rock star eddie munson, teacher steve harrington, modern au, steve thinks eddie is cheating on him but HE ISN'T I PROMISE, marriage proposal
💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔
It wasn't the first time Steve woke up to pictures and articles about Eddie being seen with some model or actor, but it was the first time he'd actually been worried.
Eddie had been distant lately. Usually, when he was on tour, he'd call Steve on his lunch break and text him when he got off of work, and he'd try to Facetime him after his show if it wasn't in a different time zone.
But for the past week or so, he had excuses. They sounded legitimate until one of the afternoons he said the band was caught up in an interview so he couldn't call and Jeff called him ten minutes later to ask where Eddie was. Even with that, Steve hadn't assumed he was cheating.
Steve figured maybe Eddie was just tired or his social battery had run out. Those kinds of things happened before occasionally.
But not daily for over a week.
He was barely even responding to texts, and the ones he did respond to were hours later and hardly adding to any conversation.
And now this article.
There was a picture of Eddie standing with his arm around some guy who was taller than him, both of them laughing, looking at each other like...well. Steve knew that look because it'd only ever been pointed at him, but now he was seeing it pointed at just some guy.
The headline read EDDIE MUNSON GIVING UP HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEART FOR SUPERMODEL SUPERSTAR?
Steve decided the only way through this was to read the entire article. At least then he could probably convince himself they were wrong.
Except the article went on to explain how Eddie hadn't brough Steve to any shows yet this tour, and how he'd been flirting more with the crowd after the show instead of just during it, how he was seen at two bars over the last week when he usually doesn't go out after shows.
It went on to say that these pictures were taken shortly after they'd been seen sneaking away from a group of people they'd been hanging out with and that they seemed very close for the entire night. The article said the guy was a male lingerie model who made it big posing for Gucci last year. He'd just landed his first film role as a supporting actor and was looking to land a lead role soon.
Steve hated him. And he was getting a terrible feeling in his gut about what was going on.
He had 26 unread texts, most of them from Robin, Dustin, and Gareth.
All of them had said mostly the same things:
I can't get ahold of Eddie.
He wouldn't do this.
Something else is going on.
Call me when you can.
The last one was Gareth, and it's not that he and Gareth weren't close, but they never talked on the phone.
He tried not to think about he didn't have a single message or missed call from Eddie.
Steve called Gareth.
"Steve. Shit, I'm glad you called."
"What's going on?"
Gareth sighed. "Ed's kinda losing it. But before you call him-"
"Why would I call him? Shouldn't he be the one to call me? If he wants to be with some supermodel, he should probably be the one to break up with me, right?" Steve could feel tears gathering in his eyes, stinging the back of his throat. "I'm not sure why I have to be the one to hurt and do the breaking up."
"Steve-"
"Is there something you needed Gareth? Or were you just trying to defend your friend?"
"There's nothing to defend! I swear-"
"Yeah. Well. Tell him to call me if he wants to explain anything, I guess."
Steve hung up just before a sob ripped from his throat.
He never had to worry about Eddie being a famous rock star, spending 6-7 months of the year gone, meeting all kinds of flashy celebrities. Eddie loved him so much, he never had any doubt that he'd always be his first choice.
Until now.
It was a shitty feeling and he had to be at work in less than an hour.
No time to wallow.
He sent a quick text to Robin to let her know he was okay, but needed to focus on getting through work, then shut off his phone.
"Is everything okay?" the art teacher, Mrs. Phineas, asked him on their lunch break. "You seem out of it today."
"Just a migraine," Steve gave a half-smile, hoped it was enough to convince her to leave him alone. He still hadn't turned on his phone, and at this point, he didn't really want to.
She tilted her head to the side. "When are you off to see your man?"
"Don't know," he shrugged, ignoring the tug in his stomach, the sudden weight in his chest.
"Ah," she said, turning back to her soup. "Something happened."
"Nothing happened!"
"You look two seconds away from crying," she gave him a deadpan look. "Did he hurt you?"
Mrs. Phineas was a little older than Wayne, close to retirement, and had been his closest friend from the moment he started teaching at this school nearly six years ago. He'd told her everything about Eddie, their relationship, his hopes of Eddie taking a longer break after this tour so they could have some time just the two of them, maybe make a real plan for their future.
Steve nodded once.
Her hand covered his and she squeezed his fingers in her own. "I may not know him half as well as I know you, but I know that boy loves you. You two will get through this, whatever it is."
"I dunno if we will," Steve whispered, scared to speak louder and risk the tears falling. He'd been doing so well today.
She patted his hand and went back to eating, saying nothing else about it.
His students had caught on early that he wasn't quite his usual self, and the group of second graders had been on their best behavior because of it. As the dismissal bell rang and he started calling for bus riders to line up, someone walked through his door.
Eddie walked through his door.
He bit back the anger, knowing his students loved Eddie and wouldn't know he was here for any reason other than to say hello.
"Mr. Munson!" A few of them yelled as most of them ran up to him instead of getting in the line Steve asked them to.
"Hi kiddos!" Eddie was faking it, but luckily the students couldn't tell. "Sorry, but you guys have to listen to Mr. H right now. I promise I will come say hi again tomorrow."
The students grumbled about it and Steve took in his appearance.
He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept the night before, his hair was in a messy bun instead of perfectly arranged to fall on his shoulders, and he was wearing Steve's hoodie that had suspiciously gone missing the last time he'd been home.
The fact that Steve's first thought was how badly he wanted to pull him into a hug was not a good sign.
He checked names off the list as they filtered out the door and then called the car riders to line up. He went through the list and made sure everyone made it into the hall where they'd be called when their parent pulled up before turning back to Eddie.
He closed his door and made his way to his desk, ignoring the way Eddie awkwardly stood by one of the student desks in the front.
"What are you doing here?" Steve asked, signing off of his work email and organizing tomorrow's lesson plan.
"I needed to explain-"
"Right."
"That article wasn't supposed to come out yet."
Steve's jaw dropped. So he wasn't going to deny it, he was just gonna act like it was the media's fault for releasing it before he could talk to Steve.
"Yeah. So you decided to come break up with me in person because you got caught cheating instead of doing it over the phone right before the article hit online. Got it."
Steve was not going to cry about this. Not in front of Eddie.
He was going to go home, shower, try to eat something, and then he was going to cry for the next 10 hours.
"No, Steve, you don't understand."
"You're right, I don't. I don't understand how you could throw away a 10 year relationship for a model who doesn't even know your middle name. I don't understand how you can fly all the way here and interrupt my day at my job to try to explain to me why you were so cozy with a guy who doesn't even know that you like your hot chocolate with Bailey's instead of regular milk. I really don't understand how you couldn't even bother to text or call me one single time since the article to even try to explain anything." Steve wiped his eyes furiously, angry that his tears were betraying him. "I don't understand why you would expect me to care for reasons."
Eddie wordlessly picked Steve's phone up off the desk and powered it on. He set it down in front of Steve and waited.
Texts and calls and emails came through all at once, hundreds of notifications lighting up his screen.
Many of them from Eddie himself.
"Go ahead. Open them," Eddie didn't sound mad, he just sounded resigned.
So Steve read through the texts, many of them different renditions of 'please Steve, call me' and 'I love you sweetheart I'm sorry.' Not promising.
But then he started playing the voicemails.
"Stevie, it's really not what it looks like. It's never what it looks like. You know that. Please call me as soon as you can. I love you."
"I can explain everything if you call me back. I promise you it isn't anything more than a business thing. Everyone in the band can tell you. I swear. Just. Please."
"I'm getting on a flight to you now. I'm gonna keep trying to call you even when I land. I need you to know what's going on."
"Just landed. I'm on my way to you. The guys are a little pissed, but you're more important than the show tonight. I'm not doing my own thing until I know you understand."
Steve looked up at him, tears still falling down his face.
"Well?" He asked, broken.
"His name is Wyatt. He's trying to make it in the acting world and he was pretty much told he was the top choice for playing lead in a movie that's in early stages of development," Eddie spoke quickly.
"Great for him."
"It's actually great for all of us. The movie is a biopic of Corroded Coffin. He's expected to play me."
At any other time, Steve would be proud, he'd be jumping up and down at this chance for them, and he'd be kissing Eddie without a care in the world.
But he still saw that picture and that article, and no matter how much "business" was going on, it was pretty clear that wasn't all that was going on.
"So you thought sleeping with him would help him get into the role? Or did you just wanna get into him?" Steve bit back.
"The article was wrong! The picture was just really conveniently timed! You know the media are vultures, Stevie. How many times have they written about us breaking up? How many times have they said Gareth and I have secretly been married for the last two years? How many times have they tried to post shitty things about your relationship before me to prove that you can't possibly be queer?" Eddie pulled Steve to his feet and cupped his face in his hands. "I've been spending the last two weeks talking with him and the producer and the guys to see what might work best for production. They want us involved in as much of the writing and filming part as possible. And he had time in his schedule to come to a show last night, so we all took him out after so he could get a taste of what it's like for us. He's really excited for the role and all of us are really excited for the movie."
Steve felt stupid. Well, maybe not stupid. His feelings were valid and he wasn't dramatic about what he'd seen.
But he did feel a little shitty about doubting Eddie.
Eddie, who had literally flown across the country to explain in person so that there was no way Steve could misunderstand him. Eddie, who once Doordashed him soup from his favorite restaurant when he was sick even though he was in Europe. Eddie, who sent letters to the kids in his class once a month to talk about how important music is and following your dreams. Eddie, who loved him for ten years and wouldn't have let anyone get in the way of what they'd built.
Steve fell against Eddie, buried his face in his neck and his hands in his shirt. Eddie's arms wrapped around him, his voice saying something against his shoulder. Steve couldn’t hear him, but he didn’t think he needed to.
He just needed to feel him.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said against his neck. Tears soaked the hoodie under him, and Steve could feel tears against his own button down. “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Eddie shook his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone until the article hit, but I was still gonna call you and warn you but I didn’t and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. This is part of the whole lifestyle. I should be used to it,” Steve shuddered as Eddie’s hand scratched at his scalp. “I should’ve reacted better.”
“We both didn’t treat this the way we should’ve.”
Steve snorted, nodded as he found the spot Eddie had tattooed on his neck a couple years earlier. He pressed his lips over the tattoo of his lip print.
“You flew across the country over this,” Steve pulled away and looked at Eddie, vision blurred from crying. “Just to make things okay.”
“I needed you to know. I needed to hold you. I needed to have you in front of me. And I wanted to celebrate the fact that we’re getting a movie about our lives,” Eddie smirked. “I wonder who will play you. Someone with a nice ass is a must. Their hair will have to defy gravity. Don’t know if they’ll find anyone with that smile, though.”
“Me? Why would they need anyone to play me?” Steve played with the string of the hoodie. “That might be kinda boring.”
“How would they make a movie about me and not include you? You’re the reason I ever made it past Hawkins, sweet thing,” Eddie leaned in to kiss his bottom lip. “Maybe they’ll just cast you. No one else could pull it off.”
“Eds-“ Steve blushed. “Wait. Okay, I trust you, but what were you doing in the picture?”
Eddie laughed. “He had just finished telling me about his boyfriend who lives in Italy. He’s apparently just a regular guy in finance who has no interest in the whole fame thing. Sound familiar?”
“Sounds like you two have a lot in common.”
“The picture was me asking if we could crash at their home in Italy next summer on our honeymoon,” Eddie said casually.
Steve froze. “Honeymoon?”
“I’m open to other places, but you still haven’t been to Italy and I know how much you wanted to see Rome and Florence,” Eddie was smirking.
That bastard.
“You are ridiculous, you know that? I’m over here planning how I’ll survive a breakup with you and you fly across the country to propose with a honeymoon planned before I’ve even said yes! You know how crazy that sounds, right?” Steve shook his head. “You’re lucky I love you. You’re lucky I’m not interested in big romantic gestures.”
“Damn. Hold on, let me make a call,” Eddie reached into his pocket for his phone.
“What?”
“I gotta cancel the big romantic gesture,” Eddie explained as he typed furiously on his phone.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It was a whole thing. Robin was involved. There may have been 500 flowers ordered. I think it’s too late to cancel the singing telegram though.”
“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being serious,” Steve wouldn’t be surprised if at least some of that was true.
“Oh, I’m serious. The ring was being set on the bed in the middle of a heart made of rose petals. I didn’t half-ass a fucking thing, angel.”
Steve pulled his phone out of his hands and set it on his desk. “Don’t cancel anything. I changed my mind. I am very much into big romantic gestures when it’s you doing them.”
“It was a team effort. I mean, I had to move it all up unexpectedly, but this was all gonna happen next month when I came home." Eddie pulled Steve into a long kiss, tongue tracing his lips. He pulled away to rest their foreheads together. "I'm not doing this just because of what happened, but I need you to know you're it for me. You've stuck by me through failing senior year, through being broke trying to book gigs all over the midwest, through the stress of our first album being released and the unexpected overnight fame, every album and tour since then, every time I've had to miss things that matter to you because of the band, all of it. You love me anyway. I don't always deserve it, but I'm grateful."
Steve's lips pressed against Eddie's again. "I love the life we have. I love you."
"I'm not asking you without the ring. I made so many plans. Robin will murder me in my sleep if I don't go through with them," Eddie laughed. "So can we get out of your classroom before I do something inappropriate and get you fired?"
"I mean," Steve glanced at the clock. "Technically all the students should be gone. We could lock the door..."
"Steven Harrington! How dare you suggest I fuck you over your desk in a school! I can't believe you would tell me to unbutton your jeans," he said as he unbuttoned his jeans. "And get on my knees." He got on his knees. "And suck you until you can't stand anymore."
"Eddie!" Steve chuckled, shoving his hand in Eddie's hair. "We should at least lock the door."
"So you're not saying no?"
"Why would I say no?"
"That's what I'm saying!" Eddie got back up and ran to the door, flipping the lock and turning back to Steve with flushed cheeks. "This is like, maybe three of my biggest fantasies in one, so I may actually come in my pants."
"You're ridiculous."
"Baby boy, my hand is my only friend on tour, you know that. How can I possibly hold myself back when I've got your dick in my mouth?" Eddie dropped to his knees again, looking up at Steve with something close to reverence.
"It's not in your mouth yet," Steve smirked as he tugged his waistband down enough to free his cock.
"Oh, I missed you," Eddie said directly to Steve's hard cock. "Steve, I want you to fuck my mouth until I pass out."
"I'm not doing that."
"Okay, well I'll settle for until I have to tap out."
"Fine. But it's not gonna be long for me," Steve shook his head. "Missed you, too."
"The sooner the better, sweetheart."
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hitlikehammers · 2 months
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take the call
rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love
for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)
set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️
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Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.
And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.
He gets a message.
“Eddie?”
He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.
“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”
He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.
Maybe, maybe scared.
Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.
“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—
“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:
“She found the phone at a car crash?”
So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.
Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.
“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—
“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—
“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“
Green.
Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—
“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—
He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—
“Where?”
_______________________
Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.
Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.
But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—
Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.
He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—
Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…
Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.
They were—
Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…
He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.
Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—
Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—
And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.
Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.
Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.
Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.
It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.
If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.
So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—
“Eddie?”
He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—
He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.
“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:
“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—
“Are you okay?”
And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…
It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.
Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;
“Am I okay?”
Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—
“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.
“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—
“Are you real?”
Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.
He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.
“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“
“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.
Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.
No one.
Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“
“And you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.
“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.
“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“
Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.
Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.
Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.
“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.
Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?
Eddie also has some fucking questions.
“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.
Steve blinks, frowns a little:
“It got lost in the crash—“
“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—
“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“
And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.
Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.
Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.
And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—
He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.
“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:
“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.
“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:
“They called the studio.”
“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—
“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.
“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:
“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”
And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast
“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“
“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”
Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.
Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.
“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:
“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:
“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.
“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:
“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.
“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.
“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”
Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:
“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”
“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:
It’s the same for me.
And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.
“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”
“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:
“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:
“Not ever.”
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ink-covered-princess · 11 months
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Teacher x student relationships are really attractive. There isn’t even a professor I’m particularly interested in but damn, the thought of one of them using me like a cheap whore over their desk before being so gentle and reassuring. Or of conditioning me into thinking that underwear makes me dumber so I should never wear them so he can always admire my perky nipples and I can spread my legs for him under the desk.
Fuck, I’m supposed to be writing an essay 🙈
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waambles · 8 months
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We love Gale memes, we don’t stand real Gale slander.
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sugarhoneyicedgun · 11 days
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I hope Yolanda, somehow someway, knew that it was Kristen who saved her. I just wanna know that she was proud of Kristen one final time seeing that miracle she performed all for her.
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sugawara--san · 5 days
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thinking about aizawa pairing bkdk together for the final exams based on their relationship instead of their grades or powers
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takec0y · 1 month
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You ever wonder if they trained together…
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noahkirschtein · 2 months
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i can't believe binge watched all 6 seasons of 9-1-1 in 6 days just for buck and eddie not to kiss. like they're actually married with a child wdym they haven't kissed yet ?? and aren't dating ?? like who the FUCK is even natalia bro.
season 7, abc, my mental stability is in your fucking hands
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grassbreads · 8 months
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On a scale of Chang Geng to Luo Binghe, how well does your teenage protagonist cope with the realization that he has a massive thing for the guy that's basically raising him?
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dumbgirlmiu · 8 months
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Loving an older man hits different, the pain from it is just different tbh.
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virginsexgod69 · 15 days
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❝ Proud of You ❞
Pairing Professor! Rick Grimes x F! Student! Reader
summary Rick comforts you after finding out your biggest fear is disappointing him.
cw teacher - student relationship, power imbalance, age gap, crying, making out, riding, unprotected p in v, emotional hurt/comfort, pet names, 3rd person pov
1.1k words
series masterlist
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 She nervously chewed on the cap of her pen. She knew she was fucked the moment she walked into Professor Grimes' classroom. She regretted every minute she spent doing anything but study for this damn test. Failing the test, however, was the least of her worries- it was disappointing her professor that she was the most worried about. She blinked back tears as she tried her best to answer questions about unstudied materials. 
 Once the other students had filed out the classroom and she was the only one left, she grabbed her sorry excuse of a test and approached his desk. Her tear filled eyes and quivering lips didn't go unnoticed by him. 
"What's the matter?" he asked after collecting her test and putting it in a neat stack with the others. 
"I fai-" her words got caught in the lump clogging her throat. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt as she attempted to blink back her tears. 
"I failed!" she was finally able to say. But that admission broke the dam and sent hot, salty tears streaming down her face. 
"Hey, hey, don't cry, sweetheart," he soothed as he grabbed her hand and guided her to sit on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. He stroked her back and hushed her as her tears saturated his crisp, white button up shirt. 
"You're a good girl with good grades. This won' mess up your grade too bad," he reassured. She sat up and he wiped her tears away with his thumb as she sniffled.
"Th-that's not what I'm worried about," she confessed. 
"Well, then, wha's the problem?" 
Her chin and lips started quivering again as new tears formed. "Y-you're gonna b-be," she took a stuttering breath, "disappointedinme!" She buried her face in his shoulder again as she sobbed even harder this time. He soothed her until her sobbing dwindled down into little whimpers. 
"I ain' disappointed in ya. Everyone messes up," he reassured. She sat up and looked at him, mascara tears streaked down her pretty face. It broke his heart to see his star pupil in such a state. 
"N-not me! I never m-mess up!" Fresh tears filled her eyes again, but before she could bury her face in his shoulder again, he cupped her cheek in his hand and swiped her tears away with his thumb. 
"Sweetheart, look at me," he commanded. She couldn't look him in the eyes, not after this. It's one thing to absolutely bomb a test, but another to embarrass herself by being a sorry mess like this was something she doubted she'd ever come back from. 
"Didn't I jus' tell you to do something?" he said more sternly this time. Her eyes snapped up to his, fearing disappointing him even more. Even though it was hard to hold eye contact, she didn't let hers waver and neither did he. She didn't see anything resembling disappointment in his eyes. In fact, he was looking at her so softly. 
"You're r-really not disappointed in m-me?" she muttered. 
"Didn't I jus' tell you that?" he teased, earning a small smile from the pretty girl in his lap for the first time all day. She wrapped her arms around him, but this time instead of crying, she pulled him in for a kiss. He reciprocated with fervor, slipping his tongue between her soft, glossy lips. Without breaking the kiss, she readjusted herself to straddle his hips, sitting right on top of his bulge. His hands slid up her thighs, creeping beneath her short skirt, and cupped her ass in his hands. She giggled against his mouth, a sound he was elated to hear after all her sobbing. 
"I'm gonna make you proud, Professor Grimes," she whispered against his lips. 
"Oh? How's that?" he asked. She already made him proud, but playing into her games wouldn't hurt. She ground down on his hardening cock, earning a breathy moan from him. 
"The door's not locked," he warned. 
"Then I'll make this quick." She undid his belt and unzipped his pants with quickness. Once his hard cock was no longer restricted by its confines, she stroked it a few times causing precum to bubble at the tip. Moving her panties aside, she lined him up with her entrance before sinking down. Rick Grimes was well endowed, so the stretch stung each time. 
"Y'alright, sweetheart?" he asked. Her only response was pressing kisses to his jaw and neck as she undid his tie. His hands reluctantly stopped kneading her ass and instead helped pull her shirt over her head once she was done unbuttoning his. Her hands grasped his shoulders once she was ready to move again, and used them for support as she lifted herself off him, until only the tip was inside then dropped herself back down. His big dick filled her so good that the outline of it could be seen through her stomach. Rick's head lolled back as he moaned in pleasure, his grip on her hips almost bruising her soft skin. She squeezed him with her velvety walls, feeling ridge his veins provided.
"Feel so good, baby," he groaned as his student bounced on his cock. His hands traversed up her body, until they reached her bra. He unclasped the pesky thing and tossed it aside, releasing her breasts so he could watch the fleshy mounds bounce as she rode him. He took her nipples- hardened by the air conditioning blasting in the room- and pinched them between his index fingers and thumbs.
"Oh my god, Professor Grimes," she moaned out. Her calling him Professor Grimes during sex always did something to him. His cock twitched inside of her, his release not far.
"I'm 'bout to cum," she warned. He could tell by the way her rhythm became sloppy and the way she squeezed him.
"I know, baby, me too," he said before taking a breast into his mouth, nipping at and sucking on the nipple. His hand slid beneath her skirt and began rubbing the bundle of nerves through her panties. She screamed his name as she came, seeing stars as she did. Rick came too, his hot loads of cum filling up her sweet cunt as he threw his head back in ecstasy, guttural moans erupting from him. He continued to rub her clit until she came down from her orgasmic high. When she did, she slumped over onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, pressing a kiss to her slightly sweaty hairline. 
"Did I make you proud?" she asked. 
She felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. 
"Always been proud of you, darlin'." 
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would i even be who i am if i proofread this?
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hitlikehammers · 2 months
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safe under you
rating: t ♥️ cw: criminal-levels of softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar husbands, writing vows, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness
for @steddielovemonth day nineteen: Love is the comfort of quiet moments  (@tboygareth)
the rockstar husbands are back on their soft-sleepy-romantic bullshit idk ♥️ maybe I'll get around to writing the ACTUAL VOWS next time
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“You’re so quiet.”
Which meant Eddie should have heard his husband approaching but: as it stands he really, really didn’t, and he jumps hard when Steve whispers from behind his shoulder over the back of the couch.
Steve laughs at the glare Eddie shoots him—a half-hearted one at best but there—as he reaches to start rubbing at the crook of his neck, up and down on either side and the glaring goes away instantly because: Steve Harrington?
Has magical hands.
“Whatcha doing?” he murmurs close to Eddie’s ear and Eddie hums a little as he gathers himself from going immediately-boneless under Steve’s touch, the kneading of his palm against Eddie’s strained muscles because he’s been down here…not too long, he doesn’t think. They’d gone to bed together at normal time, and he’d fallen asleep, too; he’d just been restless when he woke up, and knew it was the kind of thing he wouldn’t get more rest out of unless he did something about it, so he’d kissed Steve’s head and rolled out of bed, regretful for it but hopeful, too, that if he gave in to the nagging at the back of his head, he’d quiet it enough to be able to slip back in next to his beloved, and lean against the mattress just so, so that Steve’s arms could curl around him as they always did: soft and sweet and waiting to hold him.
Eddie just hasn’t…managed to get there, yet.
“Writing,” Eddie sighs, and then whines a little as Steve’s hands leave their place on his shoulders, and he turns to look because where’s Steve going, Steve shouldn’t go anywhere, Steve should stay right—
Here.
And look at that: Steve’s plopping himself down on the sofa next to Eddie, a little too far but then he’s scooting further, and Eddie opens his mouth to protest but then Steve’s dropping down, draping his body over Eddie’s lap and laying against him, looking up at him with still-half-sleepy eyes and just…
He’s just so fucking beautiful, y’know?
“You’re never quiet when you’re writing,” Steve says, head tilted up, eyes closed as he leans back against the armrest where Eddie’s got his notebook, his face so soft. His mouth so soft—
“Campaign, you mumble to yourself,” Steve continues on, his voice syrupy, still only half-committed to waking; “lyrics, you hum if you don’t have a guitar,” and then he reaches down toward Eddie’s knee and taps rhythmic there:
“And you drum your fingers,” and Steve smiles as his fingers dance for a few languid moments before he eases his lashes open and meets Eddie’s gaze, because Eddie’s gaze has been on his since he settled in his lap.
Because: duh.
“Looks like it’s hard, too,” Steve sucks his lower lip between his teeth, face still soft but mouth quirked just a little downward, still a little dream-soaked and Eddie love that part, but: never the downturn of that mouth.
“Hmm?” Eddie rumbles low so Steve’ll maybe feel it a little where he’s pressed; the little hazy giggle Steve lets out as he nuzzles into Eddie’s middle just that tiny bit: he felt.
Eddie likes to think he’s never been so in love, but he doesn’t…he doesn’t believe he’s ever not loved Steve with all of his everything.
He’s just wholly convinced that his everything grows with ever moment beside this man, every heartbeat lived together: it stretches him wider, broader every day for the singular purpose of holding the all of his love ever-bigger.
“Whatever you’re working on,” Steve murmurs, just short of sleep-slurred; “you’ve got this,” and he reaches, bats a little around Eddie’s face before he lands between his eyebrows and smooths the skin there which, okay, fine, had been all wrinkled-up.
“Means you’re concentrating too hard,” Steve comments sagely, patting Eddie’s cheek a little blind as he settles wholly back in Eddie’s lap.
“This happens to be very important,” Eddie counters with a tiny flick to Steve’s ear, which is met with a little squeak that warms his insides so delicate, so thorough and full.
“Doubtful,” Steve manages to scoff, like he’s tipping closer to wakefulness but not there yet; “not important enough to make you,” and Steve’s the one flicking now, light at Eddie’s forearm in emphasis:
“Quiet and frowny.”
He’s so…he’s fucking edible he’s so adorable, that’s what he is—Jesus.
“Not frowny,” Eddie lets a little at Steve’s hair, all tousled from the bed; “invested.”
Steve purses his lips and tries—fails, but tries—to peek at the notebook on level with his temple.
“What’s got you so invested, then?” he finally gives up trying to turn and read where Eddie’s hasn’t even bothered trying to hide, not least because there is nothing there, and just asks. And Eddie could dodge it. Steve would respect it if he did.
But he…he doesn’t. Generally speaking he doesn’t hide anything from Steve. Big or small. Their life is a shared thing from top to bottom and Eddie loves that about them so fucking fierce, so. He just sighs and admit it.
“My vows.”
Because that’s what’s been keeping him up, that’s what drove him out of the soft joy of their bed, that’s what amounted to scribbles and cross-outs alone on the page in front of him and it should be this hard, Eddie’s a decent enough lyricist, not to mention most of his songs all this time are for, or inspired by, or just about, generally, all-encompassingly: Steve. It’s always Steve.
Which makes it that much more unbearable that he can’t seem to fucking write his goddamn vows.
Then, though, just then; the most unexpected thing happens. Or starts.
Steve starts shaking against him and there a half-second he’s worried—does it hurt his sweetheart, that he can’t get the words down, does it make him sad, is he cryi—
No.
No: it only takes half-a-second for the anxiety to fade and the sound to register alongside the trembling: Beautiful. Radiant. Still wholly unexpected.
Steve’s laughing.
“That’s silly,” Steve finally tells him, looking up at him with genuine north in his eyes and yes, he’s still a little sleepy-drunk, but the feeling is wholly present and…
Eddie isn’t sure what to do with it—wants to just wrap himself inside it and savor but: his vows…laughable?
Silly?
“What?”
“You’ve already made your vows,” Steve grins up at him, all brightness; “like, three times,” and, okay.
Okay, that’s not exactly wrong, though he could probably try to argue that it was more three proposals’ worth of vows, and are those actually vows, if it’s just a proposal—
“Proposals fucking count,” Steve waves his wrist definitively and…Eddie isn’t sure if he said any of that out loud?
Then: probably wouldn’t make a difference either way. They know each other.
“The first one was legitimately with the twisty-tie from a loaf of Home Pride,” Eddie points out because: because that…that’s probably not as important—
“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, and lifts his left hand: there’s a simple ring on his left hand, pricey for their budget when they’d gathered their family and committed to always in front of them under a temperate Indiana summer’s sky, bonfire and barbecue lively in the background: but that ring wasn’t smooth; it had a long-worn-bare stick of metal wrapped around it and soldered, one that used to be covered in bright paper to stick out against a plastic bread bag:
“I remember well,” and Steve sounds so soft, so blissfully taken in by the memory of that first time Eddie had proposed and, fuck.
Fuck, the butterflies never go away, do they? That effervescent joy stays fresh and vivacious forever.
Thank fuck; he wants no less of this; for them. The love they have deserves no less.
“Still want to melt down the Ring Pop,” Steve says as he plays with his ring; “make it match,” and that’d been the second time: Steve had bought Eddie a ring at a ren faire, and Eddie’d been beside himself to reciprocate, immediately, because Steve deserved no less, and that was how the bum-end of a long-licked Ring Pop came to live eternally on Steve’s keys.
To be eyed for melting into a full-hoop shape for years, now, but Eddie kinda thinks it’s loved and treasured plenty, just as it already is.
“I love you so fucking much,” Steve tells him, apropos of nothing, and that’s…that’s kind of exactly how they work, yeah. They just love.
So fucking much.
Eddie’s pulse kinda skips with it, bounces like pigtails hopscotching along, all unbridled glee. He draws Steve hand to his lips, kisses his knuckles.
“Aren’t you,” Eddie swallows as he lifts his blank notebook and shakes it around a little: “aren’t you stressing over them?”
Because it doesn’t sound like he is, and that’s…sure, they’ve done this before, if not with a license in hand like they will this time. But Steve’s always been more prone to worry over stuff like this. So while Eddie doesn’t want the man he loves to be anxious, he is…kinda wondering, is all.
“Not writing any,” Steve shrugs and lets the motion turn him a little against Eddie’s lap, to look up more straight-on.
“You know I’m not great with words,” Steve tells him simply; “like, planning them out, I’ll fuck it up in the moment and then I’ll just be more flustered.”
And, yeah: okay. That’s a fair point.
Then there’s a hand slipping up his jaw, and crawling his cheek, and turning him down to look at Steve closer:
“Figured I can just look at you, and I’ll,” Steve’s pupils get bigger as he exhales, as he takes in Eddie’s face and beams at him, strokes his cheekbone with his thumb.
“The most important things are always right there,” Steve breathes warm: “so I’ll just say what’s already waiting.”
And shit. The man says he’s bad at words.
“You’re the light of life, Steve Harrington,” Eddie whispers, contorting himself to lean and Steve sees, arches up to press their lips as Eddie mouths against him: “the song in my soul,” and fuck: he means it so many times over he could never count it, could never pin a number to it. It’s too vast.
“See, look at you,” Steve taps his cheek playfully, but so soaked up with love; “you’ve already got all your words, so,” and then he lets his hand slide off Eddie’ face, and he sits up just to grab at Eddie’s legs, swing them up onto the couch and settles himself between them, tugging Eddie from the calves further down until he’s propping himself up by his palms.
“C’mon,” Steve coaxes, and uses his back to ease Eddie down and: oh. Oh, he wants them laid out on the cushions.
And well: Eddie could, would, will only ever oblige, if the question is do you want to lay down with your husband thrice-almost-four-times-over?
Because again: duh. If they were really in the market for silly ideas.
Steve sighs so happily, so airy and bright even as Eddie reaches to flick the light off, and wraps his arms to rest around Steve, sure and close where he holds him to his chest, folds him in where he already nuzzles deeper and:
It’s how safe my heart feels under the weight of your head.
Well, fuck him.
Maybe he does know his vows already.
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tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson
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brienneoftarth1989 · 9 months
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Under Her Desk NSFW
Larissa Weems x fem reader
Summary: It’s been a long day at work and you just needed to let off some steam. You head to Larissa’s office to go have some wine like you normally do. However, no one knows your supposed to be there. Larissa shoved you under her desk when someone comes in to have a chat with her. What a silly idea that was
Warnings: fingering, pinning, teasing, cunnilingus, sensual, humiliation, dirty talk, shifted cock, aftercare, smut
Requests open
———————————
The end of the school day was always your favourite especially on a friday night because that is when you get to see Larissa. After a long working day you would normally head back to your room which was on site. From there you would normally do some writing which always helps you relax. You enjoyed writing fanfics about your favourite actress.
After about an hour you would normally then spend another hour just listening to music while you get ready for the evening. You recently created a Spotify playlist called the Era’s Tour. You have added the whole setlist from the Taylor Swift Era’s tour including all the surprise songs she has performed so far.
After then spending an hour listening to music and sorting yourself out for bed you would then go have dinner before spending the rest of the evening watching your favourite movies and series. The series you were watching at the moment was a series called Chucky which is about a serial killer who transferred his soul into a doll. It was a good series which you recommend.
However things changed for you one day after you had finished a one to one meeting with Larissa. She asked you if you had any plans for the rest of the evening, to which you told her that you were just going to go to your room and chill like you normally do after work. Of course Larissa didn’t like the sound of such a boring evening so she invited you to her office for a glass of wine later that evening.
From that moment every Friday evening you would make your way to Larissa’s office for a glass of wine and a good old chat about the week the both of you have had. It was quite enjoyable and as time went on so did the types of activities the two of you shared. It started out with the two of you just chatting and drinking but you started to develop feelings for the tall beauty.
So one night you decided to see how far things would go and you told her that you liked her more than just a friend. That night you ended up sleeping together and now the two of you have been together for just over 8 months. It still didn’t feel real that you were dating such an amazing person.
However the two of you did decide that you would keep your relationship a secret for a little while. You didn’t want your colleagues thinking you were getting special treatment from the boss and even after the 8 months of being together the two of you still meet up every Friday for a glass of wine and to chat about the week the two of you have had.
So you were currently packing up your classroom so you could then head down to Larissa’s office. When you arrived outside of the large oak doors you knocked your secret knock before waiting for Larissa to invite you in. You never wanted to just barge in because sometimes her meetings run late and you would never want to interrupt them.
Plus at least if you knocked if she was in a meeting the person wouldn’t start questioning you about why you just invited yourself in. Not even five seconds later you hear Larissa call for you to come in. You opened the door to see just Larissa sitting at her desk with two glasses of wine already poured for the both of you.
You walked over to Larissa helping yourself to one of the glasses before taking a sip. You definitely did enjoy Larissa’s choices in red wines. “Hey babe, how have you been today?” you asked her as you perched yourself on her desk. “It’s been alright darling, just writing up the report from the incident that happened on outreach day. I know it has something to do with Wednesday but I just can’t seem to prove that she had something to do with it” she sighed before taking a sip of her wine.
“I swear that a child always seems to be up to something and is always the centre of attention when it comes to these types of incidents. I’m sure she will cock up one day so you are actually able to prove that you were right” you chuckled slightly trying to get her to crack a smile which you managed to achieve.
Larissa and Wednesday seem to have a love-hate relationship at the moment. Larissa deeply cares for Wednesday but Wednesday seems to be trying her hardest to get to her last nerve. Larissa doesn’t want to have to be so harsh on any of her students but if they keep pushing her to her wits end then there will be consequences.
“Enough about me, how has your day been?” she asked you while closing her laptop to give you all her attention. “It was alright. Just been teaching and marking papers so nothing too ex…”
BANG, BANG, BANG
You turned to look at the door before looking back to Larissa. “Are you expecting anyone?” you whispered to Larissa. “No I am not” she whispered to you. “Who is it?” Larissa then called out. “It’s Marilyn, would I be able to have a quick word if you're not busy” Marilyn shouted from the otherside of the door.
“Quick get under my desk I can’t have Marilyn know you're in here, she will get suspicious” she whispered before shoving you under her desk. She then handed your glass of wine to you so Marilyn didn’t question why she had two glasses of wine when she was the only one in the room. “Come in” Larissa then shouted to Marilyn.
This was humiliating! Why did you have to hide under the desk? It was at times like this you wished everyone knew that the two of you were dating but you knew better to rush things. Therefore you sat patiently under her desk sipping on your drink and eavesdropping on the conversation.
“So I have some concerns about Wednesday,” you heard Marilyn say to Larissa. Of course this conversation would be about Wednesday and you already knew that Larissa wasn’t in the best mood at the moment due to her. You also knew that Larissa most probably doesn’t even want to hear her name so you decided to cheer her up the only way you could at the moment.
You placed your hand on her bare calf and started to gently stroke up her leg. You were quite surprised she had foregone her stockings which she normally wore. At least this will make things a little easier. As you let your hands wander up her legs you started to leave small little kisses along the inside of her legs.
You heard her gasp slightly which she then covered up with a cough. “Are you alright Larissa?” you heard Marilyn ask. “Umm yeah, I’m fine, just had a little tickle in my throat which I needed to clear” Larissa responded. All you could do was smirk at her lie. As your hands travelled further Larissa slowly spread her legs which gave you access to everything.
You continued to press feather-like kisses up the inside of her legs before finally reaching her core. You knew she was turned on from this as there was a damp patch on her panties. You continued to leave sweet kisses over the top of her panties. You knew this was going to drive her wild and all she would be thinking is when will Marilyn leave?
You carefully moved Larissa’s underwear so they were now out of your way before latching onto her clit which you sucked on and traced with perfect little patterns that you knew Larissa enjoyed. You knew this would drive her wild and it won’t be long before she can no longer keep her cries and whimpers in.
“So what are we going to do about Wednesday Larissa?” Marilyn asked her. Larissa was trying her best to hold in her cries and moans. What a stupid idea to hide you under her own desk. “Umm.urr.. I’m not too sure at this moment in time. I..I need to have a word with We..Wednesday before I take any further action” Larissa managed to get out.
“Are you feeling ok?” Marilyn asked, concerned that her boss wasn’t able to compose a simple sentence without stuttering. “Ohh..I’m fine I’m just not feeling that great. I think maybe I need to go for a lay down” Larissa managed to say quite confidently. “Ok no worries Larissa, I hope you feel better soon” Marilyn said before leaving the room.
Larissa was quick to grab your head with her hand and push you further into her cunt forcing you to eat her out. You would die happy from suffocation. “Fuck y/n, yes right there, please put your fingers in me” Larissa finally moaned out. How could you deny her such things? You trailed your hand up her leg before lining two fingers up with the entrance of her pussy.
You slowly pushed your fingers in which slipped in with ease. “Fuck baby, you’re soaked” you moaned into her pussy. “Yes, all for you baby. Now fuck me like a slut” she moaned. Fuck she really knew how to turn you on as well. You slowly started to move your fingers inside of her before picking up the pace ever so quickly.
As you pounded her with your fingers you sucked harder on her clit. “Fuck y/n, I’m going to cum!” she moaned out. “Yes baby! Cum for me! I want to be drunk off your cum” you moaned. That was all it took before you felt Larissa’s walls clench around your fingers before she cried out from pleasure. “Yes baby, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you moaned as she came all over your fingers.
You let Larissa ride out her orgasm before slowly pulling your cum covered fingers from out of her. You put them straight in your mouth, sucking them clean. “You are in trouble” Larissa said while standing up allowing you to crawl out from under the desk. “What? Why? I just made you cum and somehow I’m in trouble” you laughed ever so slightly.
“Because my dear you did not have permission to touch me plus what if Marilyn had caught you” she smirked. “Well I would put on a show for her. I’m sure she would have loved to have stuck around to see who you belong to” you moaned as you pinned Larissa to the nearby wall.
“Ah I don’t think so! You’re done being in charge. Now it’s my turn to have my way with you” Larissa moaned into your ear before flipping you both around so you were now the one with your back flat against the wall. “Why don’t we take this to the bedroom” you whispered as you watched Larissa strip down in front of you.
“Oh what a brilliant idea” Larissa purred once she had removed all her clothing. She then grabbed your hand leading you to the shared bedroom. She immediately pushed you onto the bed before stripping you of all your clothing.
You felt yourself shiver as the cool air hit your body. “Aww is someone cold?” Larissa teased. “Don’t worry my sweet girl. I will have you sweating in no time” she whispered once again into your ear before starting to leave a trail of kisses from your neck down your body.
You squirmed under her touch. You knew where you wanted her but you knew deep down that Larissa was going to take her sweet time getting there and that was just what she did. Larissa slowly kissed down your neck before paying attention to your breasts.
She immediately latched onto one of your nipples while her hand pinched the other. You arch your back out of pain and pleasure. She knew just how to turn you on. “Fuck Larissa! Harder baby! Treat me like the slut I am” you moaned. “Oh don’t worry baby, I will make sure you are fucked like the slut you are” she moaned against your skin.
She continued to torture your nipples before slowly starting to make her way further down your body where you were desperate for her touch. She finally reached your throbbing core to which she left a small kiss on your clit. You threw your head back in pleasure. “Please baby” you moaned.
Larissa ran her finger up and down your slit brushing against your clit every so often “Oh, you want me to pleasure you? Well all you have to do is ask baby” she smirked. You knew she was up to something. “Please Larissa! Please fuck me” you moaned as the teasing intensivied.
“Ah ah, that is no way to ask me to please you. Now what do you say?” she smirked as she looked up at you as she continued to run her finger through your folds. You had a thought as to what the right answer would be and then it came to you. “Please mommy, please fuck me. I’m desperate and I need your touch” you moaned as you tried to buck your hips into her hand.
“That’s better baby girl” she moaned as she pushed one of her fingers in you as she latched onto your clit immediately. She knew just the way you liked it. She continued to add more fingers before she eventually had four fingers deep inside you as she continued to torture your clit with her tongue.
“Fuck Larissa I’m close! Please can I cum?” you practically screamed. “Yes baby! Cum over these fingers! I want to taste every drop of cum that comes out of you” she moaned as she kept up with her pace which only brought you closer and closer. “Fuck baby I’m cumming!” you screamed as you felt your walls clench around her fingers as you rode out your orgasm.
Larissa helped you ride off your orgasm as she lapped up all your juices. Once she knew that you had come down from your high she slowly pulled her fingers out of you which she put straight into her mouth. “Mmm you taste amazing darling” she moaned as she sucked her fingers clean.
Larissa stood up and you couldn’t help but stare at her growing member. “Uhh babe?” you question. Had Larissa forgot to tell you something? You could have sworn you were eating her pussy out about half an hour ago.
“What’s the matter darling” she asked you, getting slightly concerned herself. “Babe you have a penis!” you told her not sure how to react. Larissa looked down at herself before quickly trying to cover herself up.
She sat down next to you clearly embarrassed about what had just happened. “I’m sorry babe. I should have told you. I’m a shapeshifter and sometimes when I’m really horny I lose control of my ability and this is normally the result. Let me go and sort this out as it’s harder for me to shift back when I’m this hard” she said smiling softly before standing up.
You grabbed her hand before pulling her back towards you. “I have a better idea” you smirked before getting down on your knees. You grabbed her cock before slowly wrapping your mouth around the tip. Larissa gasped at the sudden action before letting out a moan as you swirl your tongue around the tip of her cock.
You coated her in your saliva before taking her out of your mouth. “I want you inside me” you moaned as you stood up. Larissa pushed you back onto the bed before lining herself up with your entrance. She slowly pushed herself inside of you, which you both let out a deep moan. Larissa allowed you to adjust to her size before she started to move inside you.
It didn’t take long until she found that perfect pace that was bringing you both closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck Rissa I’m going to cum again! I want you to cum inside me” you moaned as you wrapped your arms and legs around the tall beauty. That was all it took before you were both sent over the edge. You came first which caused Larissa to follow straight after.
You felt as her cum fill you up and it felt amazing as she continued to fuck it deeper inside of you. She finally came to a stop before pulling out of you. She watched as the cum oozed out of you. All you could do was lay there in post orgasmic bliss. Larissa was quick to stand up and head to the bathroom.
You ever so slightly sat up and watched as she walked back with a warm cloth. She had already shifted back. Just shows how desperate she was to cum. Larissa came over to clean you both up before she snuggled up next to you in bed. “Get some rest darling! I think I might have just fucked you dumb” she laughed.
All you could do was mumble a response as she wasn’t wrong. “Goodnight my sweet darling girl. Sweet dreams, I love you” she smiled as she laid down next to you. “I love you too” you managed to mumble out before sleep finally overtook your body.
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thoughtkick · 9 months
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I hope that you never, not even for one second, become a secondary character in your own story.
spanish teacher
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