#tried to make it ABBA | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gh0stsp1d3r · 2 months

Note

Hey hey!! I hope you're doing well! I was wondering if you could do a fic based on the song "Kisses Of Fire" by Abba just like the reader in total love-sick bliss and knowing like Luke is the man he's him lolol

𝒦𝒾𝓈𝓈ℯ𝓈 ℴ𝒻 𝒻𝒾𝓇ℯ

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

A/n- I adore you for this anon. I love abba

Warnings- brief make out sessions, puppy love, foreshadowing his betrayal, pre!tlt Luke, their loves bordering on obsession but they genuinely still love each other if that makes sense

Lay your head on my chest so you hear every beat of my heart, now there’s nothing that can keep us apart

He held you closely, your head laying on his chest as you listened to his heartbeat. You both were sprawled out on the small, creaky bed, you both entwined.

You had a hand running through his curls as he stared up, his mind at ease for once in his chaotic life. You stared at him with the most adoration and love anyone could ever feel. A soft smile across your face.

He wanted to stay like this forever, he wanted to be buried like this.

Touch my lips, close your eyes and see with your fingertips

Your first kiss with Luke was like a dream. An awkward, but amazing dream.

It was quiet, nothing could be heard but the waves crashing against the cliffs next to you both. You laid staring at the night sky with him, and that moment felt more intimate than any other.

You both were staring at the same sky, the same stars and the same moon. Fate written in it, your names tangled in it.

He glanced at you and you glanced back, glancing turned into staring. Staring turned into his softly grabbing your face, whispering sweet nothings, telling you how he’s loved you for a while now, his whole life really.

You lean in, capturing your lips in his. Heads tilted and eyes closed, you leaned into his touch, his lips soft with strawberry lip balm from earlier.

Things that you do, and you know I'm crazy 'bout you

Your obsession with Luke got worse when you started dating him. You were friends before, of course you knew a lot about him. But you learned about him even more after, his secrets, his goals, his life, his dreams, his trauma and past.

You loved every single thing he did. The way he was with new, younger campers and the way he handled a sword.

Everyone around camp could tell you were infatuated, even crazy in love with him. And he loved that, he loved you.

Kisses of fire, burning, burning. I'm at the point of no returning

You sat on his bed, you were on his lap as you held his face in your hands, his hands on your waist.

He loved the taste of your lips, he let out a low moan as you slid your tongue into his mouth. He began to pay you down onto the bed, your back against it. A knock at the door interrupted the both of you. He just left your lips and looked at the door, it was Chris.

“Hey, what’s up?” Luke nodded, not bothering to get off of you.

Chris snickered, eyes going to you and back to Luke, he shut the cabin door behind him. “Just tryna get some sleep. Carry on. Don’t let me bother you.” He went to his bed, directly on top of Luke’s, a smirk on his face.

You looked back at Luke who just shrugged, and his lips were back on yours quickly, as he laid on top of you now, body on yours.

You wanted to never turn back, you wanted to stay with him.

Kisses of fire, sweet devotions. Caught in a landslide of emotions

His kisses were full of love, passion, they were intense.

His kisses were a show of love to you, his loyalty. He took it as a special thing.

You felt the happiest with him. When you were simply around him, or when you were kissing him. You felt overwhelmed by your own love and emotions when you kissed him. You felt fear of losing him.

I've had my share of love affairs and they were nothing compared to this.

You’ve been heartbroken by many, and the first person you went to was Luke. Every single time.

When you were growing up, 13 and your first boyfriend had broken up with you, Luke was there for you. He tried to comfort you to the best of his abilities.

Even when you were 18, going through the roughest break up. He thought you were the most gorgeous person in the world, he couldn’t comprehend why anyone would break up with you.

That’s when you got with him, when you realized you didn’t want to get with anyone else, you always had wanted him.

Every time he wished that you would realize it, that you would break up for those stupid guys for him.

And you were only happy when you were with him, the best you’ve ever been. Others noticed it too. You could love him in public, you could do things with him that your other boyfriends wouldn’t have even thought of doing with you.

He was better, in every situation, than your ex boyfriends.

Oh, I'm riding higher than the sky and there is fire in every kiss. Kisses of fire

Every kiss has fueled the fire in your heart, your love for him growing every time.

It was passion, a fiery and intense passion and love for you. He knew that, the thought of it scared him.

When you sleep by my side I feel safe and I know I belong. Still it's making me scared that my love is so strong.

His chest moving up and down, an arm wrapped around you tightly. Your hands tangled in his curls and the other on his body.

With his arms wrapped around you, you felt like nothing could hurt you. Not a Minotaur or echidna, no monster could come close. You belonged in his arms, with him, you thought as you stared at him. Even sleeping, he looked gorgeous.

You felt this anxiety at the bottom of your stomach. It creeps up. You’ve felt this before, it was fear.

You were terrified at the thought of losing him. You loved him, strongly, more than anything else.

It scared you, the thought of him betraying you or hurting you was always in the back of your mind. He could break your heart, give you broken heart syndrome, leave you to die alone.

Losing you It's a nightmare, babe, and to me it's new. Never before did you see me begging for more.

You never wanted to lose him. That you were sure of. You’ve never felt this intensely about a boy, it was strange, a foreign feeling.

Love was a foreign feeling. You’ve had boyfriends sure, but have you ever been in love with them as intensely? No.

You would do anything if it meant to keep him with you, in life or death, you would be with him.

#luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #gender neutral reader #luke castellan #charlie bushnell x reader #charlie bushnell #pjo disney+#percy jackon and the olympians

445 notes · View notes

munsons-melody · 10 months

Text

angeleyes

summary: after seeing nancy get pulled into a trance, eddie gets worried the same might happen to you and makes you a tape with your favorite song on a loop, even though you're broken up

pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader

cw: bit of angst but ends with fluff

recommended songs: 'disillusion' and 'angeleyes' by ABBA

word count: 3.3k

a/n: did i start crying while writing this? yes, yes i did. also NOT PROOFREAD! also feedback is always appreciated :)

masterlist

part two of this fic called ‘your song’ can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

the two of you were together for almost a year. you were inseparable from the start but as months passed, you each kept getting busier and busier and whenever you were together, it would end in a giant screaming match with one of you crying while the other stormed off with no apologies in store till days later.

even though you knew the two of you were in a rough patch, you never expected the last fight to be your final one. you were at each others throats, a silly bicker turning into a full blown fight. you were both teary-eyed, throats sore from screaming and holding back tears, pacing all around the trailer. neither really knew what the fighting was about, but it didn't stop the screaming match that definitely caused the whole neighborhood to wake up from their peaceful slumbers

you still remember the exact moment you felt your world shatter. you stood in eddie's room, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you diverted your eyes from him to the floor, littered with his clothes and various items. you didn't want him to see you cry as hard as you were.

all you wanted was him to say anything like "i'm sorry" or "come here" and have him wrap you up in those strong arms of his, while he stroked your hair and told you he loved you and the two of you would be alright. but nothing of the sort came. the quietness deafening after the two of you stopped fighting.

"maybe we just aren't good for each other anymore," eddie muttered out, and you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes

"what? no! don't say that, please" you said, inching forward but he moved back to avoid your touch

"i think we should break up y/n" he said. it was like someone knocked all the oxygen out of your body as your heart started pounding

"eddie-" you tried but he shook his head, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks

"y/n, please, just go" he said with anger hidden in his voice, facing away from you

"fine" you said, your blood boiling. you stormed out of his trailer and walked out into the cold evening air, using your walk home as a way to cool down and soon enough your anger turned into more sadness

once you arrived home, you couldn't help but let the tears flow freely, feeling as if your heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces

"shit are you okay?" dustin asked you as you crumpled onto the couch, not caring that you would most likely have to explain why you were crying.

"no" you muttered out, curling into a ball and putting a pillow over your face. he walked over to you, sitting on the coffee table across from you

"did you break up?" he asked and you nodded, turning your head to smush your face into the pillow, letting your tears soak into the fabric of the pillow

"shit shit you're gonna be okay i promise" dustin said with a panic

eddie's trailer was in pure chaos as everyone ripped his room apart, looking for some tape that wasn't a heavy metal song to aid nancy in freeing herself from vecna's trance

"music! we need music!" robin screamed out as you watched as she flung a handful of cassettes onto eddies bed, Eddie swiftly picking one of the iron maiden tapes up and screamed at her "this is music!"

right as you grabbed another box of tapes you heard steve yell "guys!" and all of you ran to the small living room, littered with debris surrounding the mattress that served as your 'landing pad'

you looked up to see steve holding nancy on the floor and you immediately thought the worst, your heart pounding as it skipped a beat, not prepared to see the potentiality of your best friend dead in steves arms

"she's okay! we're going to come through!" steve's voice rang out, laced with urgency. everyone nodded as they cleared the area. you watched as the two of your friends individually climbed up the makeshift rope and fall through the gate onto eddie's mattress

you saw everyone, or at least assumed everyone, swarm nancy, asking question after question of "are you alright?" and "what happened"

nancy just stayed quiet, holding her arms to herself blinking away tears, and you broke away from the group to get her some water as she slowly sat down on the couch

you moved through the all too familiar kitchen of the munson trailer, wanting to reminisce about the memories you shared with eddie in this kitchen, but refusing to do so due to the fact you a) didn't want to waste time helping nancy and b) didn't want to relive the memories that would just break your heart even more

once you handed nancy the water, you let her be, not wanting to overwhelm her or pressure her into talking about what just happened. you went back into the kitchen, not wanting to be in any ones way, and stood there with your arms crossed

this time you allowed yourself to let those memories creep back in. the early mornings where you would make pancakes for you and eddie's breakfast, and what would be wayne's dinner when he came home before he would go to sleep. the times you would teach eddie how to cook when you felt like making dinner together. the late nights you spent listening to the radio and would dance under the refrigerator light. the times you two would spend after hours of endless sex where even when you tried to have a break from each other to get some water just to end up fucking on the kitchen floor.

hell, you even smiled to yourself about the time eddie accidentally bruised his knuckles after enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation and smacking them on the cabinet, and you of course had to kiss them better.

you heard some shuffling and mumbling behind you and turned to the hallway just to make eye contact with eddie as you watched him drag dustin down the hall and into his room

you heard the door close and some muffled voices, but you couldn't make out the conversation

eddie shut the door and turned to dustin who stood there, confused as ever as to why he was being dragged down the hall

"what is y/n's favorite song?" he asked with urgency. dustin looked taken aback.

"excuse me?" dustin questioned, looking at eddie as if he had five heads

"your sister, y/n, what is her favorite song?" he repeated with a stern tone

"shouldn't you know?" dustin snapped with an annoyed look upon his face. even though eddie was one of his best friends and someone he looked up to, this breakup between his sister and him was so new and fresh, he didn't know how to act in this situation

"well it changes with her, like it changes all the time man... for a while it was killer queen by queen and then it changed to dreams by fleetwood mac then it changed to, i think, amoreena by elton john? ugh" he groaned

"eddie, why do you want to know? didn't you two break up like a couple of months ago?" dustin pointed out and eddie shook his head, rubbing his temple

"it was a little over a month ago but-" eddie started before dustin interrupted him

"and didn't you break up with her?" he questioned further, crossing his arms

"well technically but i-"

"'technically' my ass! you completely broke her heart and now you want to know her favorite song? why do you even care all of a sudden? you didn't seem to care when she would come home crying after seeing you at school all day. you didn't seem to care when she wanted to go to her favorite place in this goddamn town but didn’t cause she was scared she'd run into you there. you didn't seem to care when she spent all of her money to buy you those stupid concert tickets for your birthday..." dustin's voice trailed off from his originally loud tone

eddie looked down, a lump forming in his throat

"i didn't know any of that..." he admitted, moving his head up to look at dustin with glassy eyes

"what?" dustin said and eddie nodded, sniffling

"i didn't know she did any of that, especially those tickets" eddie said, his voice cracking which mirrored the cracks forming in his heart

eddie sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly stupid

"i am the biggest fucking idiot for breaking up with her. it was just the heat of the moment with that stupid fight- and i can't even remember what it was about! i was just tired of the fighting! and now it's been a month but i haven't even talked to her until all of this shit went down but god i love her so goddamn much and i will be damned if something happens to her- if nancy can get under his trance at random who knows if she's next" eddie ranted, standing up and putting both his hands on dustins shoulders

"please dustin, what is her favorite song?" he pleaded. dustin looked at him with sympathic eyes and sighed

"angeleyes" he muttered out and eddie stared at him with a confused look written across his face

"i think her favorite song right now is angeleyes by abba... i always hear her listening to it and singing it around the house..." dustin told him and eddie's eyes widened

he ran to the door to open it but as he did he it revealed you standing there, with your arm and fist up in a knocking position

"y/n" he breathed out and you looked into his eyes, the knots turning in your stomach reminding you of the heartbreak he succumbed you to and you blinked, looking past him at dustin standing there

"sorry, uh we're heading to max's next door, it's safer over there" you said bluntly before turning around and walking down the hallway, steve wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you headed toward the door

eddie watched you leave and made a b line into the cabinet that sat adjacent to their kitchen, opening the door and starting to rummage through the boxes

"what are you doing? didn't you hear y/n?" he heard dustin ask as he approached behind him

"i know for a fact that we have that abba song on an album somewhere" he rumaged some more before pulling out a handful of tapes by ABBA

"my mom loved them so we had a lot of their tapes," eddie explained, walking back to his room and grabbing a blank tape

he looked on the back of each tape till he saw the small words ‘angeleyes’ on the back of the voulez-vous album

he put both in his boombox, playing the song and pressing record so he was able to make a loop of the song

"eddie we need to regroup with everyone next door" dustin pleaded and eddie shook his head

"we can meet them after we get a good loop of at least 10 minutes" he said before turning back to his dresser

"we shouldn't risk being here longer than we already have, what if someone hears us or even sees us in here?" he pleaded again and eddie shook his head, being stubborn as a mule

"fine, we'll be all over there where its safe and you can be over here with the fear of being caught" dustin said with annoyance, starting to leave eddie's room when eddie walked over and stopped him

"just wait 5 more goddamn minutes" eddie told him with an angry tone

"jesus christ okay" dustin responded with his voice higher than normal

eddie heard the end of the song and quickly paused the two tapes, and rewinded before pressing the play and record buttons

he sat on his bed, listening to the song and the lyrics hit him like a train

'Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him And it hurts to remember all the good times When I thought I could never live without him And I wonder, does it have to be the same Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? How can I forget that name?'

shit he thought to himself, continuing to listen to the lyrics of the song

'Look into his angel eyes One look and you're hypnotized He took my heart and now I pay the price Look into his angel eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out he wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel eyes'

once the song ended, he rewinded and played it again, internalizing each word he heard from the song

he came to his senses that both of you were hurting just as much when it came to this break up and he felt guilt and resentment gnawing away at him

how in the world could i ever get her back? he questioned himself, feeling as lost as ever

he heard the song again a couple more times as it was recorded onto the blank tape, feeling like a piece of his heart was shattering with each note

he finally felt satisfied with the loop he had made, and quickly ejected the tapes from where they sat and slipped it into his walk man and shoved it into dustins bag along with a pair of headphones, and they carefully walked out of eddie's trailer and to max's trailer next door

you stood next to robin in the kitchen, the two of you hungrily snacking down a pb&j after finding your appetite now that you knew everyone was safe and was able to take a breather from the traumatizing experience you all shared

"here's one for you and nance" robin said, handing the plates to steve and he smiled before turning to nancy who was in the living room

"where's eddie and dustin?" max asked you, making a sandwich herself and you shrugged, gulping down some water

"i'm not sure, i mean i told them we were coming here and that was almost 20 minutes ago" you said, wiping your face

"should we go check to make sure they're still over there and not getting sucked back into the upside down?" robin asked and you nodded

"yeah i'll go, you two finish eating" you said, putting your plate in the sink and walking out to the front door but you noticed the two of them running across the street from eddie's trailer to max's and you switftly moved from the door as they jumped in

everyone stopped and stared at them since they were out of breath

"where were you guys?" lucas asked and dustin looked at eddie before looking at you and then back to lucas

"uh sorry we had to reattach the caution tape to the front door so it didn't look suspicious" dustin said, and everyone seemed to buy the lie, nodding to each other as everyone convened in the living room

you sat in the stolen rv in the back, looking out the window at the birds playing in the trees. it was parked on the side of the store where there was room to fit it without taking up spaces in the main lot.

you heard dustin and lucas up front near the steering wheel in some conversation when you felt the seat dip next to you.

you turned your body to see eddie sitting there looking at you.

"hey" he said softly

"hi" you said back, turning to face back to the window

you hadn't really talked to him over the past few days, not knowing what to do or say since you hadn't spoken since your breakup

"y/n can i please talk to you?" he asked sweetly, and you looked at him again, seeing his eyes in a fixed stare

you just nodded, turning to face him completely

"the reason i was late coming from my trailer earlier wasn't because dustin was fixing the caution tape" eddie started, reaching for dustins bag which was by his feet. you blinked at him, muttering an "okay?" which came out with a more annoyed tone than you intended

he pulled out a walkman from the bag, and popped the tape out

"y/n... i don't know what the hell will happen next but i know for a fact if anything happened to you and we didn't have a way to save you i-" he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes

your brows furrowed as you looked at the tape and back at him, meeting each others gaze

"i made this, uh, it's like a 20 minute loop of angeleyes by abba... dustin said it was your favorite song... after seeing nancy be put in that trance just so vecna could talk to her really freaked me out, and i don't know if he'll somehow use you as a pawn in his game, so this is for you" eddie said, fiddling with the tape before replacing it back in the walkman and handing it to you

"oh eddie..." you said, rubbing your thumb over the piece of technology

eddie's heart fluttered as he heard you say his name

"listen, nothing will happen to me, i promise" you said, grabbing his hand in yours. the fact that he was in the shittiest situation to ever occur and he was still thinking about you just made your love for him grow strong, which in turn only fed into your heartbreak because he wasn't yours to love anymore, and he had made that very clear

"yeah but if anything does, i want to- no i need to tell you... i love you y/n henderson. you were the best thing to happen to me in this godforsaken town and the fact that i messed things up will be something i will always regret. i hate that i told you i wanted to break up. i didn't- i was just so sick and tired of always fighting. i've never had someone like you in my life and i thought you were going to break up with me so i went and pulled the trigger before you could. this past month has been pure agony for me, and dustin went and rubbed salt into the wound when he told me about those tickets you got for my birthday, and jesus- im just, im sorry and i love you" eddie told you, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand

you cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him, craving his lips on yours. he kissed back before you pulled away to look at him

"eddie, i don't even know what to say" you muttered out and he shook his head

"you don't need to say anything, i just needed to tell you how i felt just incase" he said and you took in a deep breath

"i've hated you so much these past few weeks for what you did, but fucking hell i love you more than words can say eds. it was very stupid of you to assume i would break up with you just because we were going through a rough patch but, maybe when all of this is over and you learn not to be an idiot, maybe we could have a picnic by lovers lake, just me and you," you said softly, and eddie smiled

"yeah?" he asked, his eyes lighting up

"yeah, maybe i can even tell you about the concert tickets i spent all my money on... it was supposed to be a surprise but i guess dustin ruined that" you joked, and eddie chuckled

"oh honey you didn't have to spend all your money on me, especially not on tickets," eddie said, brushing his fingers through your hair to push it back on your shoulder

"but you deserve it, your birthday's coming up and ozzy osbourne was going on tour and i knew you wanted to see him" you shrugged with a small smile

he kissed you passionately, and you melted into his touch, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and you didn't realize how badly you needed him till this very moment. it was soon interrupted however as the door to the RV swung open, and you pulled apart, watching everyone clamber in yelling that we needed to go

the engine of the RV roared to life as steve sped off the premises, leading you guys onto the next part of your adventure to killing vecna

fin.

#stranger things #eddie munson #dustin henderson #munsons-melody #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x henderson!reader #steve harrington #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson hurt/comfort #hellfire club

1K notes · View notes

ataraxiaspainting · 5 months

Text

There is an Uproar.

Yan Gojo x F Reader.

Synopsis: Satoru thinks you simply haven’t come around yet.

Warnings: Yandere themes, stalking, threats of kidnapping, delusional Gojo, and manipulation.

Word Count: 3.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

Six Forty Seven by Instupendo

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Choke - Acoustic by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin

Breezeblocks by alt-J

Feeling Good by Micheal Bublé

Claus by Los Tres

Bleed Magic by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

This Could Be Us by Rae Sremmurd

Do I Wanna Know? by Arctic Monkeys

“You're like a half-tamed creature, still shy of the bridle. 'Except you enthrall me, never shall be free.' But freedom is an illusion, anyway.” – Nenia Campbell, Fearscape

*~*~*~*

Satoru came to your door with gifts again; mochi, bubble tea, bouquets of roses, keychains, jewelry, books… everything you could ever ask for he either had in his hands or would quickly get for you by whatever means necessary.

It’s a shame really that you refuse to show your true feelings for him, especially after all he has done to make you happy. But he can be patient when he wants to be, and so with a not-yet-broken heart, at least fifteen gift bags wrapped around both his clenched hands, and a chuckle he rings your doorbell twice. He could hear some shuffling from inside and a shout of coming.

The voice was high-pitched and cheery from the sound of it. His eyes lit up then as he smiled widely. But as soon as the door opened, his smile slightly faltered as his gaze met eyes he had never seen before.

The woman in front of him was not you. What was she doing in your apartment?

His first thought was to assume she was an intruder, someone who broke into your home, stole your belongings and money, hid you in a closet or under cement, and is pretending to be you for the time being. Well, he can’t be fooled so easily if that was the case. But he then chose to let the woman speak before coming to conclusions. Though she was wearing your cute Hello Kitty hoodie and utterly adorable My Melody headband and had one of your pore strips on her nose. She obviously knew you in some way, and so he in turn needed to know her.

The woman waved at him and slowly looked down from his face to the many presents in his hands. Her head turned then, a huh accidentally coming from her lips.

“Hello miss,” Satoru tries his best to be polite and not have any bias towards her, but it is indeed hard to do so. It is hard to not have any bias and not entertain the idea of snapping her neck, because he does not know her and she is not you. He does not recognize her from any of your friend groups, and it took everything in him to not sneer and glare at her and demand to know where you were.

“Hey,” She seems to try her best to be polite too, trying to hide her confusion behind a small smile. “Can I help you?”

Satoru nods, trying to put on an eager and friendly front. He then gestures towards the gifts in his hands and chuckles. He fakes almost dropping one for dramatic effect. It seemed like it worked because the woman gasped and then sighed in relief as Satoru caught it in time before it could fall on the floor.

“I am looking for [First], I thought she would be here.” The stranger nods, her smile becoming more prominent. As a result, his own became more prominent too, though his was fake. “I’m her boyfriend. Wanted to surprise her, you know?”

He is technically not lying. He’s right if anything. Once you stop playing hard to get and fall into his arms, he’ll officially be known as such. He’s right, if only you stopped pretending to be so disinterested.

“Ah, I see!” The woman answers, her eyes inviting and curious. He sighs, faking a small sob and groan. She looked concerned then.

“If only she was here, I always love seeing her smile!” He closes his eyes, trying his best to look sadder than a kicked puppy. “I suppose she’s not here right now…”

With how the girl steps to the side, her hand gesturing towards the apartment hallway, Satoru knows that his plan worked.

*~*~*~*

“I’m Eve, her roommate, nice to meet you!”

“The same to you.”

“So how long have you two been together?”

“A long time, we’ve been together since our high school days!”

“She sure is lucky to have such a devoted boyfriend, huh?”

He laughs at the compliment, his back crouched a bit downward at an angle so he could be more comfortable walking about. Eve chuckles at his casualness.

“You sure got her a lot,” Her tone is sweet, another piece of proof to reassure Satoru that she trusts him fully. Until you eventually show up from wherever you have gone and start spewing lies, she will continue to be that way. You seem to not have good taste in roommates, it seems because Eve is far too naive for your safety. “Like a lot. Do you come here often? I just moved in so…”

Satoru doesn’t pay attention to her questions as he fantasizes about the day when you move into his place and you sleep next to him and wake him up with good morning kisses. A beautiful ring will adorn your finger one day, and you will enthusiastically anticipate his arrival from work while adorning the makeup he favors and styling your hair to his liking.

It was a small, cramped apartment, one definitely not worth how much money you rent it for. “I never get tired of how cute [First] makes this place. With both her presence and how she decorates everything. She has good taste.” He goes into the kitchen area, still having his arms hooked by the strings of the many gift bags, and looks around at the scented candles, dried flowers, and baked cookies on the table. “[First] made these, right?”

“Yeah,” Eve really is stupid, isn’t she? If he were a burglar she would be dead on the spot. How could she possibly protect you from any danger? He would obviously be a better housemate than her.

Satoru leans towards the kitchen table and snatches a cookie from the cooled baking sheet, biting into it and chewing loudly.

“Delicious, right?” Eve asks, giggling. She does not seem scared at all and seems to have no boundaries whatsoever.

He agrees, quickly devouring the entire confection and licking his fingers clean. “She’s always been a good baker. There’s a good recipe she knows for pie too. Maybe I’ll ask her to make it for me sometime…” He hums as he sets all the gifts down on the back coffee table. “She sure is a catch, wouldn’t you say? Her baking is one of the reasons I was so attracted to her in the first place.”

Your roommate nods. Satoru considers taking his leave now, but he has never been in your apartment during the day before.

He may as well stay a while. It will be fun, he tells himself.

So, he walks into the living room and starts reading the titles of books on the shelving next to your writing desk. A lot of horror and romance books from the looks of it. Classic little you.

He then looks over to your computer.

“So sweet, like a cupcake,” He touches the top of the laptop, his fingertips tracing the many rainbow stickers that cover it. You really are just the best, aren’t you?

Before he could open it though, he could hear keys jingling. You’re here.

“I’m back–” As if you were a sort of lightbulb running out of power, your cheerfulness declines smoothly and steadily, being quickly replaced by a cute sneer.

Satoru lets out a loud laugh. He adjusts his stance, placing a hand on his waist.

“Ah, [First], honey! Welcome back, I brought you some gifts!”

Instead of responding, you turn to Eve, your scowl turning into a simple frown. Advancing swiftly, you approach her, closing the distance with eyebrows ascending in sudden understanding. Eve, on the other hand, responds by tilting her head to the side, resembling a perplexed canine, in clear bewilderment of your abrupt outburst.

Gently, you grasp her hands within your own.

“Eve, I forgot to tell you something important.” You point at Satoru with a shaky finger. He simply chuckles in response, amused with how quick you are to hide your excitement. “Whatever you do, don’t let him in.”

Eve lets out a sound of surprise. “Huh, what, why?”

Your gaze meets Satoru’s and you look like you could hardly breathe.

“He is a stalker; he is always lying to people and saying that we are dating and are head over heels in love, but don’t believe him one bit.”

His eyes dart across the room as he loses eye contact with you and Eve. All the while, as his head darts from side to side, he pouts, puffs up his cheeks childishly, and leans back slightly against the wall, not too oblivious but subtle to his amusement. His face is a mask of innocence and confusion, trying to appear like he is not aware of what is going on–when he is very much aware of it and is silently enjoying it.

He loudly sighs and rolls his eyes, his hands sliding to his face as he brings them up to cover his sunglasses and mouth. He is trying to hide a smile, the act of which is just too much for his face to handle. He keeps shaking his head in dramatic disbelief and he turns to the side to lean against the wall harder as he puts his head down, shaking his head in exaggerated betrayal.

Satoru tries his best to not laugh again, it would ruin his marvelous performance.

He is the most captivating person in this room, you and Eve must be hung up on his every action and word, you two cannot look past his incredible acting.

Nobody is capable of acting to the degree that he is, his performances are legendary and his acting skills are unparalleled.

He is simply the best there is and ever will be. If there were a competition in this room to win an Oscar for best acting, he is certain that he would be taking that home. There is nothing on God’s green earth that can get in the way of him delivering these lines and excellent movements. He is so talented and so experienced, who could ever deny his skills?

“Gojo,” You say coldly. “Get out.”

He expects you to see the gifts, how heartbroken he is, and finally admit that you are just as much in love with him as he is with you. Instead, he could swear for a moment that he could hear crickets, before realizing that it is the wick of the candle on your kitchen table burning. As he surveys you and Eve he notices that he is getting no reaction.

“Babe.” When you don’t respond to the nickname, he snuffs a huff. “Stop pretending, okay?”

He thought that he was killing that acting.

He can’t believe that no one is buying his performance. He’s got the attitude, he’s got the swagger, he’s got it all, but neither of you are falling for it. This is just insulting. He knows he’s great, he knows he is delivering the performance of his life but for some reason, neither you nor Eve can see it! He is in absolute shock.

So, Satoru walks up to you and grabs your face.

He looks at Eve and she doesn’t look at him, she looks at you. That is fine, as long as he can still talk to her and you everything will be alright in the long run. Everything is going to be okay, he tells himself.

“Eve, can [First] and I have a few minutes alone?” Her eyes race to every corner of the room and slowly but surely make their way to the gold coins in his free hand. Multiple emotions spread across her face; confusion, greed… consideration. “It will only be for a sec, okay?”

With a measured pace, Eve approaches his outstretched palm, her eyes fixated on the glistening gold. Her gaze mirrors that of a ravenous crow or a parched man deprived of water for days, or sustenance for weeks. Quivering hands accept the money, and in silence, she retreats to her room, closing the door behind her.

“Come on, drop the funny games,” Instead of directing your gaze towards him, your eyes fixate on the entrance of Eve's bedroom. The door is adorned with a vibrant pink poster of a popular musician, adorned with splashes of colorful paint. Inwardly, he reassures himself that this situation is acceptable. After all, the two of you are now in a private and secluded space.

There is no longer anyone to hinder you from expressing your genuine emotions towards him. Surely you will finally admit them. Then you will eventually move to his place and stay there, happy and loving towards him at long last. All in due time, because Satoru can be patient when he wants to be.

“Get the fuck out. You sick–”

But now he does not want to be patient. He just wants to hear those words leave your pretty lips.

“Ah, ah, ah, watch your language, sweetie.” He interrupts you, placing a finger on your mouth.

The mere expression on his countenance carries ample weight to silence your profanity-laden tirade.

He only perceives the captivating, extraordinary, flawless woman whom he is obligated to assist. You possess an excessive amount of independence - too unbound, unwilling to embrace his assistance, his presents, his finances - there exists a rationale why partners watch out for one another. Are you not aware of that?

“That’s better.” He smiles and you start faking a shiver. “You really can listen when I finally put my foot down, huh? You can be stubborn with other people, you know, just not with me.”

He possesses strength - you lack it. You are so small compared to him.

He possesses a keen understanding of the streets, while you lack that astuteness. The dress you have chosen to wear is excessively revealing.

“Now, now, don’t cry. Shh, shh, shh. It was the only way I could see you, with how much you love to play hard to get.”

One can only imagine the number of individuals whom you captivated during the brief period you ventured outside today.

He possesses intelligence, while you lack it. You may believe otherwise, and you indeed excel in certain areas, such as your meticulousness in personal hygiene, which he acknowledges with humility, and your skill in baking, as well as your expertise in creating a cozy and plush bed. However, numerous matters elude your knowledge, such as selecting the right candidate in the upcoming election, performing a tire replacement, or operating a debit card. He is strong, while you are not. He is drawn to you for not being - captivated by your feminine allure; the way your body gently curves, your delicate touch, the fragrance that surrounds you, the melodic tone of your voice, and above all, your complete vulnerability when confronted with danger.

“Now, open your gifts. I did carry them all the way here after all.”

When you finally surrender, he will assume control over every decision you make.

From selecting your attire to choosing items at the grocery store, he will dictate how you interact with other men and even how you smile. He believes you are incapable of handling even the simplest tasks. Additionally, he takes pleasure in instructing you on matters you are expected to be ignorant about. It's quite endearing, isn't it?

He views you as his possession and will never, under any circumstances, let you slip away.

At his place, he has so many pretty outfits for you to choose from. A lot of aprons and cute dresses. All the while he downs a beer or seven with his friends and jokes about how nice you look cleaning. You'll listen to him rant about anything that comes into his mind, taking it all with a smile. It is not unusual for him to lay awake at night imagining what life would be like with you as his wife. First, he needs to show you your position as his wife and get rid of this misguided sense of independence you seem to be clinging to. What a dumb girl you are. It was meant to be, wasn't it? You are meant to be his girlfriend and eventually his wife, and you will by any means Satoru has to take.

He does not care what he has to do as long as the result is you finally giving in and loving your place in his arms. It is what you were made for. It is what he was made for.

So pretty. So stupid.

“Now, now. Stop crying, you’ll only ruin your makeup.”

*~*~*~*

On that particular evening, Satoru once again paid a visit to your apartment. However, instead of observing from a distance, he ventured further into the room and settled beside you as you lay in bed, rousing you from your slumber. The bed groaned as it shifted under his weight, and he swiftly covered your mouth to prevent any outcry.

Without hesitation, he gently hushed you, his other hand tracing the contours of your cheek and collarbone with his lengthy fingers. As he did so, he rhythmically caressed your neck, humming a tune that only he knew. In response, tears welled up in your eyes, but he promptly brushed them away. His initial hand soon abandoned its position on your mouth, ascending to tenderly stroke your hair.

"Don’t touch me," You rasped, observing how the moonlight cast an ethereal glow on his body and hair while obscuring his face in darkness.

He simply shushed you again and you could hear him breathing deeply through his nose and mouth.

He sat on his knees beside you. You could hear murmurs from him about how pretty you were, and you didn't know whether he was telling you or telling himself. Your hands clench the sheets in fistfuls. You let out a whimper. You close your eyes and grit your teeth, hoping this is just another bad dream.

He keeps murmuring fantasies. You don't open your eyes. You breathe through your mouth because you can smell his cologne with your nose. It is so strong, suffocating.

You eventually open them when the anxiety is too much, and you stare at him, wide-eyed, at the ceiling above his shoulders and head, at your cute vanity and glittering gold and silver jewelry and pastel clothes. Was that why he liked you so much because you were feminine and utterly defenseless in the face of a real threat? You think of an escape plan, of running to the bathroom grabbing your razor, and screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Such a beauty you are,” He whispered in your ear, his voice still so sticky. “So cute. A doll that only belongs to me. All that’s left is for you to finally accept because I know you want to, don’t you?”

You can’t stop him.

As the silence lingers, you find yourself yielding to the role of his girlfriend. Tear stains dot your pillow and mattress, remnants of your emotional turmoil. Satoru's praises now echo within you, as you surrender to his caresses. Your gaze shifts towards the window, where a few distant stars twinkle in the sky, veiled by a cloud that drapes the crescent moon like a bridal veil.

“So good. I just knew I wouldn’t have to take more… drastic measures.”

He snaps a picture on his phone for later.

746 notes · View notes

bangaveragewhitewine · 7 months

Text

soft slow, morning glow

Steve Harrington x Reader

A prosaic peek at Steve Harrington’s inability to sleep in and stay in bed and his reasons for changing his ways.

October 1997; a cosy easy morning, where kisses are shared and ABBA songs are sung as a lullaby.

Word count: 4.3K

Content/Warnings: TW for talk of bleeding during pregnancy, borderline neglectful parents.

Mention of sex (18+), not explicit. This contains dad!Steve & mom! reader toward the end; pregnant reader. Kinda rambling. Very soft. Low angst (but not none).

Note: Thank you to my ST rewatch for making me fall for Steve all over again.

Proofread by @specialagentmonkey | Divider by @silkholland

Steve Harrington was always an early riser.

As a honey-haired little boy, he spent Saturday mornings on the sofa watching cartoons with the volume dialled low as his parents slept. He knew not to make a mess with the cereal, or the milk, rewarded with a stack of pancakes or a new toy for keeping himself amused as Richard and Katherine Harrington slept off the previous evening’s dinner party hangover.

Always the first awake at sleepovers, he would wait with bated breath for Tommy to stir or feign a sneeze to wake him.

He never had to be dragged from bed to go to school during the week, always up and at ‘em to go see his friends, play tag and swap baseball cards on the playground.

As a sporty and popular teenager, he started running when he didn’t have early swim practice or basketball. Steve rose with the sun and waved to his neighbours politely as his shiny sneakers slapped the pavements of Loch Nora.

He was never sure what he was running from, or towards, but the burn of chilly morning air in his lungs made him feel alive.

When he started going to house parties and hangouts on Saturday nights, his Sundays still started early, dragged to show face at his parent’s church. It was less about faith and god and all about appearances. He snuck out of bedroom windows, hopped white picket fences as the sun rose, fought hangovers as the priest’s voice droned and caught the eyes of pretty girls from the convent school a town over - they always blushed when he smiled at them or dropped them a sly little wink as the collection plate was passed around.

When his parents started travelling more, after the shortlived re-commitment to the church, Steve’s Sunday morning hangovers were kept at bay with cold swims in the pool or hot coffee and loud music in the kitchen as he tried and failed to focus on homework.

Steve started working right out of school as punishment for unsubmitted college applications and lower-than-predicted grades. He volunteered for the opening shifts in Scoops Ahoy and Family Video - he liked the responsibility and having a purpose, having an excuse to be out of the house before his parents could tutt and fuss and lecture him. It was easier when they weren’t there; when the office in Indy needed Richard’s attention more than his wife and son did, when Katherine spotted smears of lipstick on his collars again and insisted she spend some time with him in the city apartment.

In their absence, the Harrington house was a mausoleum of failure that Steve couldn’t bear to be in. So he raised his hand for early delivery shifts and stock takes and drove his friends to school when he didn’t have to, already awake after another night of nightmares, memories of flying fists.

Steve Harrington rose early and burned bright; burned out quickly when he realised he didn’t know what to do with himself or what his purpose was.

He filled his time with making himself useful to other people, chasing and seeking a purpose or a person to fill the gaps and spaces in his chest; the hollows once reserved for the people who didn’t return the outpouring of love he offered so freely, so innocently. He found and made a rag-bag bunch of friends, a found family, who returned the love he deserved in the ways they knew how. Woven and knotted friendship bracelets, squished candy bars, mixtapes, weed sold and rolled at buddy rates or for nothing at all.

Steve Harrington moved to the city with his best friends; a Beemer and a battered van filled with boxes and suitcases. The early morning drive made Steve Harrington glow golden in the rising sun, his excited eyes hidden behind dark-tinted sunglasses as Robin Buckley snored in the passenger seat and Eddie Munson listened to metal at an ear-bleeding volume in his van and flipped Steve off with that big grin in the rearview mirror. They stopped for strong coffee and sweet pancakes and started a new chapter in the city.

When you fell in love with Steve in 1990, he found a reason to stay in bed a little longer. A reason to slow down, soak up the sunshine glow you shone on him.

You spent Saturday nights with friends, a patchwork group cheering on Corroded Coffin and selling T-shirts and tapes at a merch table when they scored a bigger venue and a bigger crowd. Movie nights and takeout Chinese food and a stack of new and old movies from Blockbuster. Date nights at swanky bars and restaurants, with flickering candles and pizza on the way home because you didn’t want the night to end yet. You spent hours in bed together, night and morning, talking about everything under the rising sun and dwindling moon, learning about each other’s life and mapping each other’s body with kisses and gentle touches.

In the morning he gazed at your sleepy softness and took his own pulse to make sure he wasn’t dying. No heart attack, just falling in love.

He brought you cups of coffee and sweet pastries from the bakery a block away when his limbs felt restless. He always got back into bed with you to cuddle and while away the morning without a moment wasted. With Steve, those mornings were syrupy slow; he worshipped you between your thighs and held your hands as the headboard bashed against the wall.

You became Mrs. Steve Harrington in the spring of ‘94.

A small wedding. A big party for your friends. A honeymoon week where every morning felt like a perfect lazy Saturday.

When Steve found his reason to stay in bed, together you created a reason that kept you from it.

Bethany Rose Harrington. Born June 21st 1995.

Beth had her Daddy’s eyes and her Mama’s nose, and the sweetest little dimples in her smiley pink cheeks. She was her Daddy’s little doughnut, her Mama’s little bee. She inherited Steve’s charm and wrapped her extensive collection of doting uncles and aunts right around her tiny finger. She took after you in the way that Steve was completely and utterly in love with her.

Just like her Dad, Beth liked to start the day early. After a few weeks of seeking out and settling into a routine, Steve spent the earliest part of the day feeding his little Bethie her bottle of milk in the cosy armchair nestled in the corner of her pale yellow nursery. As he watched her big brown eyes gaze and blink, felt her tiny fist wrap around his finger, Steve decided that these were the happiest mornings of his life.

On those soft and slow mornings, you could hear Steve’s low murmur to your little girl through the baby monitor when his excitement to see her gummy smile or stop her sad fat tears bypassed the off-switch. You fell back asleep to the sound of Steve telling Beth about how the Cubs and the Bulls (their teams now) were doing this season, or about the walk in the park you were going to go on once ‘beautiful mama’ was awake. He sang to her; never typical lullabies, Queen and ABBA and Dusty Springfield.

Steve basked in the joy of her little smiles, soaked in the soft cooing noises as Beth found her voice to talk back to her Daddy. When she fell asleep again, milk-drunk with her cheek against his heartbeat, Steve watched the morning sky shift and brighten and listened out for the sound of your waking time. The soft thud and shuffle from bed to bathroom, running water, your yawn and stretch, the gentle steps to seek and find him and your little treasure. You filled reams of camera film, documenting Steve as a Dad, your little girl's first weeks and months. Lit by morning light, by afternoon sun and the shade of the tree in your yard, and dusky nighttime lit by nightlights.

When your laundry list of chores allowed it, you took one of your three options on those mornings of parenthood - take turns to bask in the warmth of lavender and milk-scented baby cuddles while the other showered; bring the sleeping beauty back to your bed to gaze at the ten fingers and ten toes you had created together; or leave the sleepy and full-tummied grub to sleep in her crib again to spend the slow dawn hours holding each other and trading kisses, and knotting yourselves up in the sheets together once the doctor gave you the all-clear and a prescription for birth control.

You did plenty of all three.

Summer turned to Autumn, then Winter, and Steve balanced being a father and husband with keeping a roof over your heads and the final year of his programme to get his qualification to become a guidance counsellor. His mornings with Beth were part of his routine, leaving her smiling and drooly for you when he kissed his girls goodbye. Missing him during full days of supervised sessions and hours in the college library when he wasn’t in classes bonded you and Beth, thick as thieves and lovestruck for the golden Harrington boy-turned-man. You made sure that he never missed a moment with how many pictures you took, and Beth saved all of her firsts for when he was home. You coached her to say ‘dada’ in Steve’s absence and he sobbed happy tears when she parroted it back. (He had been coaching her to say ‘mama’ during their early mornings together).

Your late nights of talking turned to early-to-bed nights, sleeping when the baby slept and when your little home was some semblance of clean and tidy. Steve fell asleep to the sound of Bethie’s breath on the monitor, your heart under his cheek and the soft stroke of your fingers in his hair, along the length of his arm.

Both of you were exhausted. Neither of you had ever been happier.

When he graduated in the Summer, you and Beth cheered and clapped for your golden boy along with his best friends - the loudest bunch in the college auditorium. A picture of the Harrington trio - Steve in his shirt and tie and graduation gown balancing a smiley baby and his degree as you kiss his cheek and tickle Beth’s tummy for the camera - was placed with pride on his desk when he started a counsellor job that landed in his lap in the late summer of ‘96. He coached basketball two afternoons a week on the side; it was perfect for him.

You go back to work part-time and you balance taking care of Beth and each other with the utmost care. With help from your family and Steve’s trust fund from the Harrington’s, you make it work. You are what he holds dear, pride of place in the centre of his chest, once vacant and hollow. The gaping space he yearned to fill with the wrong friends, the wrong girls, watery beer and too many cigarettes.

By the Fall of ‘97, Steve had learned to sleep again. Sleep when the baby sleeps. Enjoy your days off. Enjoy every moment. He is. He’s so tired but never happier.

This morning, you wake first.

Your little house in the Chicago suburbs is bathed in autumn darkness on a lazy Saturday. Six a.m. and Steve snores peacefully.

Beth is silent, dreaming of her two favourite things: fairies and pancakes. That top five list favourites is rounded out by her Daddy and Mama and Mrs. Murphy’s orange cat that visits the backyard.

The littlest Harrington is an early bird too, twirling in your tummy beneath Steve’s protective hand. Until Steve can take the morning shift, you are the early riser.

Beth is your sleepy little dreamer, she loves her bed like her Mama. She sneaks in between you and Steve (and the bump now too) when she wakes too early; you spend those mornings gazing and counting fingers and toes again like when she was a tiny thing.

This baby however seems to take after her father’s love of sport, the way she practices the aim and strength of her kicks on your bladder. You don’t officially know yet (they were less than cooperative at the last ultrasound), but you know it’s a girl. Steve swayed to boy for a day or two before realising you were right. Maybe next time…

The flush and sigh-groan from your aching back pulls Steve from sleep. When you pad back in from the little bathroom, he’s just about upright and wild-haired.

“Y’okay?” Eyes swollen with sleep, he reaches blindly for you to help you back into the cosy nest of blankets.

“Mm, needed to pee.”

You try to keep your cold feet away but Steve sandwiches them between his own size fourteen and always warm feet. His lips brush your shoulder and the back of your neck when you settle into a comfortable position; Bump dictates what will suffice as ‘comfortable’ and settles under her father’s comforting hand. Harrington’s magic touch is famed in your home; settling gassy babies and working out knotted shoulders, fixing leaky faucets and carrying all of the groceries inside in two heavy handfuls, making shadow-puppet shows on the bedroom wall and holding back your hair when you’re not well.

Slowly, small-spooned by Steve’s bigger body, you drift again. Sleep comes and goes like an inconsistent tide, and you are anchored safely in his arms. Baby names ebb and flow into your tired head and you wish Steve was awake to tell you what he thought of ‘Heather’ or ‘Ava’. Whether your (very slow) re-read of Little Women was influencing you too much to ‘Josie’. You wonder about how much candy you should get for the trick-or-treaters, and whether Beth will be too scared to help you answer the door to them this year.

You wish he was awake - because you always wish your every waking moment was spent with Steve Harrington - but you’re so glad he is sleeping soundly, snoring sweetly behind you. You wish you could take more responsibility, take the pressure he puts on his own shoulders from him, but this pregnancy is less easy than the first and you hate that you can’t do it all anymore. You take solace in the fact that Steve is asleep, not awake worrying or nesting.

Turning in his sleepy hold, you place his hand back on the bump to keep the littlest Harrington settled and content, and watch your handsome husband look like the teenager you wish you had known. You map the laughter lines instead of the ones etched by worry, counting the happy memories (which are insurmountable) as you fall back to sleep with him at last.

Sleeping Beauty herself slumbers on until almost 8 a.m., meaning that both you and Steve sleep until almost 8 a.m. too - later on you will toast coffee (decaf for you) over that parent win. For the next few months, the weekends mean Steve will be hitting snooze on his body clock when the chances arise.

This morning Beth’s little voice sings his name down the hall. Steve wakes with a smile and kisses your sleepy face as you stretch and peel your eyes open.

“You’re up, Coach.” Your voice is a tired yawn, mumbled into the fluffy duvet Steve untangles himself from.

“Bring her in for cuddles please.” You pout for a tired kiss and hum happily when he grants your wish.

Steve’s ankles crack as he walks from your room to Beth’s. She’s wide awake and wild-haired, matching her Dad, and she sits up in her bed with her bunny-teddy clutched in her fist.

“Hi bumblebee,” he gasps, his tiredness swept away by his genuine joy to see her. Steve lays down on her too-small-for-him baby bed and pretends to get comfy to sleep again. “Sleepover?” he asks, opening his arm for her.

“Nooooo, yo’bed!” Her sweet voice crackles with sleepiness and the remnants of a cold she picked up as the seasons changed.

In the warmth of your bed, you can hear the mini-eye-roll she’s giving her Dad as he plays up to her dramatics. Uncle Dustin has a lot to answer for.

“Bethie,” you call from your nest, “I miss you.”

Steve watches with barely restrained amusement as her face beams bright like sunshine before leaving him in the lurch to seek out Mama. “Hey! What about me?!”

You can hear his grumbling as he hauls himself up from the tiny toddler bed but your focus is the bundle of sunshine that bounds her way to your room in her sky-blue jammies. Pushing messy hair from her face, she squeaks happily as you lift her before Steve can beat you to it. You didn’t want another moment apart from your girl and she burrows against your chest under the toasty-warm duvet.

“Morning Betty Boop.” You press kisses to her smiling face and hear Steve stomp and flop back into the room and into the bed.

“Is Daddy not invited to this love-in? Just for Mama and Beth?” he asks, scowling at your smushed-together faces.

You cuddle Beth and stroke her back as the girl shifts her impish gaze to Steve. “What do you think, Betty? Kisses for Dada?”

She can never ever resist him and reach-grabs out to be gathered in his big strong arms for kisses and cuddles.

Steve lights up, features relaxing from his feigned annoyance, as he gives and receives morning kisses. You are gathered up alongside the titch of a girl and with her help, you smother kisses all over Steve’s happy face.

“Never ever not invited to the love-in, my love.” You kiss his shadowed jaw once and tuck yourself under his arm.

“Kiss d’baby?” Beth’s messy head pops up and looks at you hopefully.

“You wanna say good morning to Baby?” Steve asks, and she nods. “Mama?”

“I think she’s asleep, but I bet she’ll wake up when she hears Big Sis and Dada.” Beneath the pitched tent of the duvet, you lift Steve’s t-shirt and present the rounded bump for inclusion in the morning love-in.

Beth has been immensely eager to meet her baby since she took notice of your bump and realised the new baby was actually in there.

The little girl’s pillow-soft cheek rests against the curve as she hugs around your middle. “Moh’nin, baby.” Her little voice is still a little stuffed up, nasal.

Your heart and tears swell as you watch her with Steve, who kisses the bump and murmurs hello. You’re at that point of pregnancy where you could cry when the wind changes and you cover your eyes so Beth won’t go out in sympathy-tears with you.

Steve’s big hand squeezes your hand as he distracts Beth, who babbles in toddler talk to her sibling. His eyes are wide and worried as he looks up and sees the hitch of your chest. He’s had that worried look since you bled at ten weeks and the doctor put you on bed rest, just three weeks into actually knowing you were pregnant. Everything has settled bar your hormones and emotions; two perfect heartbeats, an active healthy baby, a happy but tired Mom. Steve is more scared now than he was with Beth but pretends to be brave for you.

You swipe at your hot tears, dry your hand in your t-shirt before reaching down to stroke through Steve’s thick hair.

“M’okay.” You give him a watery smile. “She’s just… so sweet, Stevie.”

Moving up to lie along your side, Steve wipes your cheek and presses a kiss to the trail of the tears left behind. “Sweetest. Sweet Bee. Feelin’ okay?”

His hand stays on top of your bump and then passes over Bethany’s bedhead when she looks up curiously.

Seeing that she is missing out, Beth decides she has had enough and wants to cuddle with you instead of the baby who won’t kick back hello. She wiggles up to lie on Steve’s chest, little fingers poking into the freckles and moles as he pulls the duvet back around you all like a cosy cocoon.

“Feeling good. You okay?”

Steve has tucked away his worry again, but you still see the pinch in his brow - though the curious little fingers might be the reason for that.

“Peachy.” He chases the poking fingers with a growling kiss, pulling a shrieking giggle from Beth. “Hello, can I help you? Why are we poking Daddy this morning, huh?”

You giggle with Beth and kiss where her fingers had pressed, modelling the gentle sweetness you know she possesses in multitudes. “Poor Daddy. See, Betty? Gentle kissies.” A kiss is snuck onto his mouth for good measure.

“Daddy,” Beth sing-songs, patting his cheek lovingly.

“Bethie,” Steve sings back to her, echoing her melody. He accepts a wet baby-kiss as you curl close to them both.

You twirl a finger in the messy wave of her hair. “What will we do today? Do you want to get some library books? Or we could… go to the park?”

Steve pats her back gently. “Oh wow. All the possibilities, huh?” His lips press to Beth’s forehead as she cuddles up to him, her fingers distracted by the gold chain he wears around his neck. “Gentle, please.” He kisses her head again and looks at you. “We can do both… Go get a t-r-e-a-t?”

You smile and nod, covering Steve’s hand on Beth’s small back. “I like t-r-e-a-ts. What do you want to do, big guy?”

Steve’s fingers slot with yours. His lips brush your head as you share his pillow - the firm one to help with his neck pain. “Just be with you two. Could stay right here all day and I’d be the happiest guy.”

You press your nose against his cheek and close your eyes; you’re both surrounded by your favourite people, it is utter bliss.

“I love you.” Your voice is soft and tired against his stubbly jaw.

“Love you. So much, babe.”

Steve tilts his head so you can share a morning-breath-be-damned kiss. He wishes he had woke up sooner, before the wide-eyed toddler, so that he could have showered you with kisses, made out like teenagers (despite the baby bump between you).

“No! Me!” The frustrated little whine makes you smile apologetically to each other, chancing one more peck before you both look to scowling Beth.

“Sorry, Bee. Mama’s too delicious for me to resist.”

“Steve!” you tuck your face in his neck as you laugh, an affectionate headbutt.

“What? The kid’s gotta know.”

The two-year-old smushes her face to her Dad’s chest, still too little to comprehend her Dad’s silly banter when she just wants to be the centre of both of your attention. You have a few months left to figure that out before the baby arrives, but it scares you that she might feel like she’s not the best thing that ever happened you (bar her Dad, of course).

Your pout matches hers and you push back the stinging Mom Guilt Tears. She is only coaxed away with sweet little cheek-kisses from you as you hum-sing Take a Chance on Me (accompanied by Steve’s tapping fingers on her back ‘take a chance, take a chance, take a, take a chance-chance.)

The girl's smile splits her frustrated face, a quiet giggle as she is serenaded by her current favourite song (you have just got I Was Made For Lovin’ You out of your head after Steve had introduced her to KISS in the car). Her little arm hooks around your head as you whisper how much you love her, soft voice tickling her ear and cheek.

Beth’s laughter coaxes a fluttering kick against your belly, which Steve feels against his side as you spoon against him. He wears the same wide-eyed joy on his face every time he has felt your babies kick.

“Oo, she’s awake again. Finally joining the party.” You rest your hand against the side of your rounded belly and telepathically tell the tiny one how much you love them too, how you can’t wait to meet them but please stay in there until they’re fully cooked and ready.

Steve’s free hand - the one not keeping Beth upright as she sits up on his torso - joins yours and echoes your telepathic communication to the littlest Harrington - I love you, I can’t wait to hold you, please stay safe in there and be nice to your Mom.

His wide palm on your bump settles the fluttering before she aims her kick right against it Hi Dad! Okay, Dad!

You share a secret little smile with him and kiss his cheek as his eyes shimmer before rolling onto your achy back, feeling the satisfaction of the pop and crack as your spine relaxes against the mattress. Steve’s hand stays on your belly, and you hug his arm to your chest, as Beth sings her toddler-babble version of an ABBA mashup for you both from her throne.

Steve’s face hurts from smiling as he listens to her, hears some semblance of the lyrics in Beth-speak. He doesn’t remember mornings like this with his parents, few and far between were the times he was even allowed to cuddle with them in bed on a weekend morning.

You glance at his face, watching shifting emotions come and go as he remembers, tries to forget and focuses on the memories being made right now in your cosy nest of a bed. You squeeze his arm and hold his hand on your belly - matching gold wedding rings clicking against each other as your fingers intertwine.

Steve squeezes your hand, three pulses. There is simply nowhere he would rather be.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington character study #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve stranger things #stranger things fic #steve harrington x f!reader #prosaic fic #bangaveragefics

840 notes · View notes